Surviving

Feeling the warmth of the sun on a cloudy day. A glimpse into a blind billy goat's unique, ever changing perspectives.

2017 04 26 Poetry: The Gift April 26, 2017

26 days have passed this month of April, and as the feathered flyers make their furied trek north, the buds on the trees yawn and begin to stretch awake.

I love the spring, except for mud season. It really is an amazing time of year as it all starts to wake up from the frozen grips of the old man of winter.

Sometimes the natural gifts are overlooked. I remember each spring, when I would notice a different flowering bush, color of a flower, shades of new leaves, and of course the smells of the first lawn being mowed. That smell, most of all, reminded me of baseball, which I seemed to live for as a youth.

Things come to us in many different ways. Some we have to fight for, some we have to work for, and some just seem to fall in our lap. The ones that matter the most are those things you need to work for and fight for with the fierceness that the warriors were known for. It’s all about the goals, and the journey towards those goals.

Enough rambling from me. This is my submission for this, the 26th day of National Poetry Month, and don’t look now, but the 27th is clicking its heels and heading for Kansas, or New Mexico, or perhaps even Maine?

We’ll have to wait and see.

Have a great night, and an even better tomorrow.

Deon

***

The Gift

Passions peak with a glint in the eye.
A savory taste of reality’s treasures can only impress.
Much to do about what is hoped to be proclaims itself the endeavor.
A fortitude of magnitude enhances the motivation of desire.

Reach out into the unknown and begin the task of making your mark.
A goal awaits patiently with captivated anticipation.
Breathe in deep and praise the gathering rush of a beating heart.
Amazement becomes description as the victor ascends the next plateau.

Revel in the present, as the gift of life embraces thee.
26 days have passed this month of April, and as the feathered flyers make their furied trek north, the buds on the trees yawn and begin to stretch awake.

I love the spring, except for mud season. It really is an amazing time of year as it all starts to wake up from the frozen grips of the old man of winter.

Sometimes the natural gifts are overlooked. I remember each spring, when I would notice a different flowering bush, color of a flower, shades of new leaves, and of course the smells of the first lawn being mowed. That smell, most of all, reminded me of baseball, which I seemed to live for as a youth.

Things come to us in many different ways. Some we have to fight for, some we have to work for, and some just seem to fall in our lap. The ones that matter the most are those things you need to work for and fight for with the fierceness that the warriors were known for. It’s all about the goals, and the journey towards those goals.

Enough rambling from me. This is my submission for this, the 26th day of National Poetry Month, and don’t look now, but the 27th is clicking its heels and heading for Kansas, or New Mexico, or perhaps even Maine?

We’ll have to wait and see.

Have a great night, and an even better tomorrow.

Deon

***

The Gift

Passions peak with a glint in the eye.
A savory taste of reality’s treasures can only impress.
Much to do about what is hoped to be proclaims itself the endeavor.
A fortitude of magnitude enhances the motivation of desire.

Reach out into the unknown and begin the task of making your mark.
A goal awaits patiently with captivated anticipation.
Breathe in deep and praise the gathering rush of a beating heart.
Amazement becomes description as the victor ascends the next plateau.

Revel in the present, as the gift of life embraces thee.

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2 Responses to “2017 04 26 Poetry: The Gift”

  1. Walter and Dorothy Woitasek Says:

    Hi deon. Thanks again for your poem. I hope this post comes through. walter


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