Orange-red sunset glows,
Dark-hued clouds reflecting down,
Loosing the light, Gone.
Thank you for visiting today! Terre’s Blog – Women of All Seasons c2019.
Photo Prose
Shimmery glows of soft pink
and gentle hues of blue,
paints the calm at end of day.
Thank you for visiting! Terre’s Blog – Women of All Seasons
c2019
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Haiku
Waves crashing on shore,
pelicans dipping, diving.
Whitecaps endless new.
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Quilters’ Haiku
Scrap bag overflows,
more colors than the rainbow.
Cut, Piece, Sew, Quilt, Done!
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Haiku
Look across the sea.
Insignificant am I
standing on the sand.
Thank you for visiting! Terre’s Blog – Women of All Seasons. c2019
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Haiku
Haiku
Warm, clear morning sun
Blooms wakening, opening
Beautiful day, joy!
tch c. 2019
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Poetry: Let’s Not Pretend
Let's Not Pretend
To know you,
or really anybody for that matter,
I need to see you,
spend time with you,
face to face.
To see what you are saying,
with your body,
your eyes,
the timbre of your voice;
at times more important than your words.
To know you,
or really anybody for that matter,
I need to see you,
face to face.
We need this,
to really know the essence of you
and you, me.
c.2019 tch
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Poetry: Requiem for the American Worker
Requiem for the American Worker
I hear America crying
across the flatlands, hill and dale.
Embittered tears of weary souls
the beaten down, the proud.
American workers holding on
with a cry in their voice.
Fighting hard to not be counted
among the growing poor.
The waitress at night with a babe upon her breast,
The coal miner tired of his long rest.
The automobile worker doing her best,
The bakery is closing, the baker is next.
The bus driver without a human load,
The young black man never given a chance.
The hospital worker called off, worries how to pay the rent.
Telephone workers marching, out in the cold.
Voices, hands, and hearts
traded for those across the seas.
The small, American farmer
still fighting hard to believe.
I hear America crying,
as those “who have”,
with no remorse, no guilt,
build empires upon the workers backs.
Americans trying, trying, and trying.
I hear America crying.
(Printed with one time American rights, Labor News, Indianapolis, In. Feb 2006.
This Author: tch maintains rights).
Reprinted @ Terre’s Blog – Women of All Seasons c. 2018.
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Poetry: Seasons
Seasons
Many seasons have passed
since we met.
Tiny wrinkles and creases
have sneaked in
to mark tiny paths.
Yet, when I look at you
I see you as you are now,
but I also see within you
the young lover when we met,
that time tries to hide.
But I still see and smile,
Many seasons have passed.
tch c. 2018: Terre’s Blog – Women of All Seasons
