#literarygenres

3 posts
  • realnotreel 65w

    Mr. Summer never ceases to live up to his name, often bringing massive wild fires and lots of pain. Man-made cooling and few if any power shortages are what I'm praying for and expecting until Mr. Autumn arrives.

    Mr. Autumn and Miss Spring are two of my favorite friends, and every year I look forward to them. Being very aware of Mr. Summer's actions, Mr. Autumn is pleading for some relief, but is patiently waiting his own season. Mr. Autumn promises faithful delta breezes cruising through the central valley like a luxury ocean liner docking port to port. He will bring color filled leaves bathed in beauty, falling from the trees like snow flakes in Mr. Winter 's world.

    Mr. Autumn speaks to us with the spirit of gratitude in the language of harvest, of reaping, and the scales of balance. He bridges the gap of hot and cold, rendering solace to our souls. Mr. Autumn knows no greed. He speaks the language of a feeder. He's a giver and not a taker. He's indeed a God send.

    #autumn
    #literarygenres
    @mirakee

    @pic credit: Pinterest.

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    Mr. Autumn.
    "The year's last,
    Loveliest smile."

    ©realnotreel

  • realnotreel 65w

    Dwell not, O soul, on yesterday,
    on sorrows past and gone -
    the sketch you drew so long ago,
    today may be redrawn.
    Dwell not upon tomorrow's wars,
    nor borrow from their pain -
    that energy you need today
    let not your worries drain.

    Dwell not, O heart, on failures past
    though each one left its scar -
    rich lessons you have learned have forged
    the person you now are.
    Dwell not upon your victories,
    for those shall also pass -
    let not your pride construct a shrine
    to trophies made of glass.

    Dwell not, O soul, on others' gain
    nor envy those with much.
    Contentment, paired with gratitude,
    brings peace no wealth can touch.
    Dwell not on anyone's downfall
    as though it lifted up
    your own estate; we're siblings all
    and drink from the same cup.

    So what is left, O soul - where does
    the prudent soul pay heed?
    Become less of a taker,
    always give to those in need.
    Where is the plot of ground to plant
    your seed - which soil to plow?
    Sow seeds of love, be brave, and dwell
    in the eternal now.

    #passconc
    #literarygenres
    #poetry
    @writersbay

    @pic credit: Pinterest.

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    Conversation With My Soul.
    ©realnotreel

  • realnotreel 70w

    April,3,2021.

    Let there be dust !

    Dust interpreted it's story of abandonment, solitude and despair.
    Everything in that room lay asleep under the silken dust, a collection that could only ever have been brought together by an artistic heart.
    Earth dusts them in a blanket not to hide yet to protect, to keep safe the treasures of today.
    They lay hidden allowing their vibrant colours to be hidden until the time of waiting was over.
    Ready to awaken the day that a fresh wind polished it clean.

    Re-Quoted
    ©realnotreel