Door
Dark oak
Creeping slowly open
Crack of light appearing beneath
Expectations
Poetry about the light within the dark and the dark within the light. Nature and the sense and feelings it provokes.
Showing posts with label write. Show all posts
Showing posts with label write. Show all posts
Friday, May 25, 2012
Friday, April 6, 2012
Pesach
Today is a day to remember
Of years gone by and years to come
Days spent in bondage
Years spent in solitude
Remember that hope shall come
And that you have been set free
For generations to come
Let them too remember the pain
But not let them suffer
Let them taste the bitterness
but also sweetness of release
So they shall never forget
Labels:
Ilana,
Ilana Welch,
Passover,
Pesach,
poem,
poetry,
remembered,
write,
writing
Friday, February 24, 2012
Contrasting Similarities
Light the essence of that is seen
Dark the presence of all the is hidden
In equal measure love is but a thought
And hate takes quite a bit of thought
From the nightmare that springs you in fear from bed
Find comfort in the new day’s lights embrace
The ocean deep is a stubborn brute that will succeed
The unbending rock is a stubborn brute that will fail
Time plays tricks; it folds in upon its self ever moving
Space lays out in solid focus a path to be followed
In the end there was a beginning
In the Beginning there will be an end
Dark the presence of all the is hidden
In equal measure love is but a thought
And hate takes quite a bit of thought
From the nightmare that springs you in fear from bed
Find comfort in the new day’s lights embrace
The ocean deep is a stubborn brute that will succeed
The unbending rock is a stubborn brute that will fail
Time plays tricks; it folds in upon its self ever moving
Space lays out in solid focus a path to be followed
In the end there was a beginning
In the Beginning there will be an end
Ever More
What good is a day without the night
What is the moon without the stars
Can the world turn on a dime
Can the clouds hang on a string
Why do we remember the falling star
Why do we love the day and fear the night
Will you be there, even when I change my mind at a drop of a dime
Will you catch the falling stars and hold the night tight as the world hangs at the end of a string
Be here when the sun sets and rise again
Be here when grey skies smile down on us
I love and always will
You are my one and only ever more
What is the moon without the stars
Can the world turn on a dime
Can the clouds hang on a string
Why do we remember the falling star
Why do we love the day and fear the night
Will you be there, even when I change my mind at a drop of a dime
Will you catch the falling stars and hold the night tight as the world hangs at the end of a string
Be here when the sun sets and rise again
Be here when grey skies smile down on us
I love and always will
You are my one and only ever more
Thursday, January 26, 2012
Winter Turns
The cold days grow longer
The Sun still slinking away before the day is done
Heavens cracked and snow poured forth
Ice hid sneakily under the heaping piles of deceiving whiteness
Clouds once white start turning grey and heavy
As the Rain grinds deep into banks of snow
The Wet snow sinks heavily into the ground
Mixing snow and rain to slush that freezes in irregular patterns
of foot prints and shovel tracks and half melted shapes
Winter rushing in had tripped and turned to spring
The Sun still slinking away before the day is done
Heavens cracked and snow poured forth
Ice hid sneakily under the heaping piles of deceiving whiteness
Clouds once white start turning grey and heavy
As the Rain grinds deep into banks of snow
The Wet snow sinks heavily into the ground
Mixing snow and rain to slush that freezes in irregular patterns
of foot prints and shovel tracks and half melted shapes
Winter rushing in had tripped and turned to spring
Sunday, January 8, 2012
Grandfather Clock
Tick Tock
Tick Tock
Goes the Grandfather Clock
at the end of the hall
to the right
Tick Tock
Tick Tock
The pendulum swings.
Ticking away the minutes,
the hours of the days
Tick Tock
Tick Tock
With the face of the sun
and eyes of the moon
Stands the Grandfather Clock all alone
Tick Tock
Tick Tock
The key has been lost
for over a year
and still it goes
Tick Tock
Tick Tock
The chime rings clear
Down the hall in the parlor we hear
the strike of noon
Then...
We wait
Held breath in anxious pause
Has it rung its last toll?
Tick Tock
Tick Tock
Goes the Grandfather Clock
at the end of the hall
to the right
Friday, January 6, 2012
The First Snow Fall
The first snow falls
and the woods grow white
The mighty fir trees rise out
from blankets heaped high of snow
Their ever greens peaking through
Silence has fallen
Even the wind speaks in hush tones
Whistling through the trees
No creature is viable
and the woods grow white
The mighty fir trees rise out
from blankets heaped high of snow
Their ever greens peaking through
Silence has fallen
Even the wind speaks in hush tones
Whistling through the trees
No creature is viable
The only signs of life
small footprints traced
among the trees
Of some unseen force
That pranced lightly
here and there
Before fading in the dusk
Suns light filters through the cracks
Beams of light gleam off
snow covered towers
Sinking lower the colors shift to
oranges and pinks
That warm the cool landscape
As night moves in
Purples and midnight blues
Warping all in pale moons light
Turning forest greens into nights black
Snow glittering silver under the stars
Not so far away an owl cries
and night begins
small footprints traced
among the trees
Of some unseen force
That pranced lightly
here and there
Before fading in the dusk
Suns light filters through the cracks
Beams of light gleam off
snow covered towers
Sinking lower the colors shift to
oranges and pinks
That warm the cool landscape
As night moves in
Purples and midnight blues
Warping all in pale moons light
Turning forest greens into nights black
Snow glittering silver under the stars
Not so far away an owl cries
and night begins
Labels:
Ilana,
Ilana Welch,
moon.light,
night,
poem,
poetry,
snow,
sun,
sunlight,
trees,
winter,
write
Saturday, December 31, 2011
Herald of the New
Heap the conffite in the air
let it sparkle in the night
let the horns be blown
for the new has come
and the old is gone
Let the roar cesce but for a moment
to reflict on the days
Then hear the rumble of the new
come bounding in
With a BANG its here.
let it sparkle in the night
let the horns be blown
for the new has come
and the old is gone
Let the roar cesce but for a moment
to reflict on the days
Then hear the rumble of the new
come bounding in
With a BANG its here.
Anew
The sunsets
The ink has dried
The page is turned
And so begins the new
The old seeps into the past
All that is left are the shadows
Of the sins of life
Let them be washed away
With the rising sun
The ink has dried
The page is turned
And so begins the new
The old seeps into the past
All that is left are the shadows
Of the sins of life
Let them be washed away
With the rising sun
Friday, December 30, 2011
In The Night
How dark is night
That it precludes the day
That’s its stars shine brighter
Then our sun could ever hope
In night anything is possible
There is no gleaming reality that
Forces it’s self into our minds
Shining a light onto our deepest hopes
That it precludes the day
That’s its stars shine brighter
Then our sun could ever hope
In night anything is possible
There is no gleaming reality that
Forces it’s self into our minds
Shining a light onto our deepest hopes
Lay To Rest
Let me go home
Lay my bones to rest
among the fields to grow
Let the sun shine me to sleep
Let the wind caress me
and share my joy
Lay my bones to rest
among the fields to grow
Let the sun shine me to sleep
Let the wind caress me
and share my joy
Sunday, November 13, 2011
Will I be remembered?
Will I be remembered?
Will my name be written in stone?
Will I be remembered when dust turns to dust and over again?
Will my name be whispered and echoed thought the halls?
Will I be remembered when the last leaf falls?
When all is gone,
Will I be remembered?
Will my name be written in stone?
Will I be remembered when dust turns to dust and over again?
Will my name be whispered and echoed thought the halls?
Will I be remembered when the last leaf falls?
When all is gone,
Will I be remembered?
Labels:
Ilana,
Ilana Welch,
nekas,
poem,
poetry,
remembered,
stone,
will,
write,
writing
Wednesday, August 31, 2011
The Night Flower Blooms at Midnight
Watch its petals of pearls as they
Slowly come to life
Each stirs softly unfurling
The fringes waking first
Stretch lavishly never moving
But still it creeps outward
Each petal settling in its place
The Night Flower blooms at midnight
Turning slowly it faces the Moon
The Moons silvery beams lighting
On dew encrusted petals gleaming in the night
Its heart reveled at last it settles with a sigh
Sunlights first touches fill the sky
Sun sparks fall on the Night Flower
It withers in the suns light
Its head is drooping low
Its petals singed they cascade
In sorry circles to the ground
The night flower blooms at midnight
Then it is gone
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