Morning Poems
Dawn
by Nkwachukwu Ogbuagu
Dawn is a broad, unflawed painting
hanging on the loose threads of light,
hiding first behind wavering bulrushes on
the soft spikes of day
before spilling the good spell on us
of a new beginning.
On an Amber morning
by Sapper Morton
I like my coffee bitter: the bite of the day to come. It is a brace for the velocity with which I seek to conquer the world.
Black as the night and stripped of distraction—Occam’s razor in a cup—it is the guaranteed path to victory. I love its caustic, grounded depth; that scent of maple, nut, and smoke that fills the nostrils like a gentle hand upon the cheek.
It is a kiss of fervent intention, a warmth, an earthly deity.
But more, I like my coffee made by loving hands—with eyes as still and calm as the liquid in my cup. I seek a smile as sweet as the gentle lapping of milk against the inky, grounded brew.
Every sip is a kiss from the hands that made it; every stir binds the sinews of my heart.
......
Morning
by Nkwachukwu Ogbuagu
The clouds have opened their eyes wide
And all blackness wiped off the face of
The earth.
Night’s curtain has been drawn.
The rising birds in one single squadron
Halloo the world,
Winging and swinging through the
Broad lanes of the ceruleans.
I wake and tremble with the coldness of
Netted fishes;
......
Early hours in an early morning
by Mario Odekerken
The sky is not yet a color,
just a fading memory of night.
Everything holds its breath,
rooftops,trees,even the wind.
Coffee steams in silence.
No voices.No footsteps.
Only the hum of a refrigerator
pretending to be alone.
......
Voice of the Voiceless
by Ayatullah Nurjati
In twilight’s fading glow, a voice stirs unseen,
It is the song of those from shadows gleaned.
They Walk with broken backs, hands worn and bruised,
Society’s edges, abandoned and used.
Is justice but a whispered prayer in the dark?
Or does it stand, a flame, a fierce spark?
To the powers that sleep in golden halls,
Hear now the cry from those who crawl.
......
On an Amber morning
by Sapper Morton
I like my coffee bitter: the bite of the day to come. It is a brace for the velocity with which I seek to conquer the world.
Black as the night and stripped of distraction—Occam’s razor in a cup—it is the guaranteed path to victory. I love its caustic, grounded depth; that scent of maple, nut, and smoke that fills the nostrils like a gentle hand upon the cheek.
It is a kiss of fervent intention, a warmth, an earthly deity.
But more, I like my coffee made by loving hands—with eyes as still and calm as the liquid in my cup. I seek a smile as sweet as the gentle lapping of milk against the inky, grounded brew.
Every sip is a kiss from the hands that made it; every stir binds the sinews of my heart.
......
Early hours in an early morning
by Mario Odekerken
The sky is not yet a color,
just a fading memory of night.
Everything holds its breath,
rooftops,trees,even the wind.
Coffee steams in silence.
No voices.No footsteps.
Only the hum of a refrigerator
pretending to be alone.
......
Dawn
by Nkwachukwu Ogbuagu
Dawn is a broad, unflawed painting
hanging on the loose threads of light,
hiding first behind wavering bulrushes on
the soft spikes of day
before spilling the good spell on us
of a new beginning.
haiku : shaped : crow
by Ghairo Daniels
haiku
crow polishes beak shine
morning dew fresh washes window ~
gorgonzola sky
_________
hiku
wwww
......
Diamond Dreams
by Evelyn Judy Buehler
Tulips of morning
just waked from amaranth dreams,
meet glittering sun.
Dogwood rose opens redly
Pink dawn's jewel shines steady.
Beautiful flowers
respond to warmth's mute caress!
They're a dream come true
in varicolored versions
......
