NEW POEMS
Written by J. Circosta
- Tiny Poet
- Tiny Poet
The Morning Quiet
Thank you God for a quiet morning
with the rain in my ears
but the sun upon my eyes.
Monday’s are mostly abhorred
at just the thought-
and early morning rises
with kicks and screams at the bell
but the scent, is so fresh today...
The sun,
is so bright and clear
like hanging crystals strung
along stained glass and the air
is sweet.
Oh, and the grasses!
Green and grand,
standing full of spice and vigor!
Thank God for quiet mornings,
so still-
a moment to breath deep,
to find oneness inside
the oneness-
To witness,
the awe and wonder
of pure unaltered living,
breathing life-giving breath,
living all around you-
Have you ever bathed so intently
in silence that you could hear,
that you could be heard..?
I can hear my footsteps
pound pavement
how black birds swallow worms.
I hear the rustles of wild
in bushes
behind houses
and my breath-breathing,
breathing-breath
inside my belly,
my chest,
inside my face.
I’m alive while all the cars sleep,
slipped into their spaces
while dandelions give hope
outside doors and white wishes
sail down from the heavens.
How do wishes fall from heaven
and hope stay so grounded..?
Only God knows-
It’s a mystery within the quiet
that the birds chat about,
those boisterous little
bellow fellows!
I can hear them-
and I learned that quiet,
is not the absence of sound.
No, its simply the balance
of all senses,
all at once and all at peace.
Finally, some peace...
- Tiny Poet, 5.6.19
with the rain in my ears
but the sun upon my eyes.
Monday’s are mostly abhorred
at just the thought-
and early morning rises
with kicks and screams at the bell
but the scent, is so fresh today...
The sun,
is so bright and clear
like hanging crystals strung
along stained glass and the air
is sweet.
Oh, and the grasses!
Green and grand,
standing full of spice and vigor!
Thank God for quiet mornings,
so still-
a moment to breath deep,
to find oneness inside
the oneness-
To witness,
the awe and wonder
of pure unaltered living,
breathing life-giving breath,
living all around you-
Have you ever bathed so intently
in silence that you could hear,
that you could be heard..?
I can hear my footsteps
pound pavement
how black birds swallow worms.
I hear the rustles of wild
in bushes
behind houses
and my breath-breathing,
breathing-breath
inside my belly,
my chest,
inside my face.
I’m alive while all the cars sleep,
slipped into their spaces
while dandelions give hope
outside doors and white wishes
sail down from the heavens.
How do wishes fall from heaven
and hope stay so grounded..?
Only God knows-
It’s a mystery within the quiet
that the birds chat about,
those boisterous little
bellow fellows!
I can hear them-
and I learned that quiet,
is not the absence of sound.
No, its simply the balance
of all senses,
all at once and all at peace.
Finally, some peace...
- Tiny Poet, 5.6.19
