Up and Adam!

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Up and Adam!

By: Addison Byrne

Isn’t it pleasant to awake with the smell of bacon?
Coffee wafts into the morn,
Crisp breezes rattle the porch door,
The east light warm up calm waters,
Up and Adam, my grandma used to say…

The innocence of childhood rushes back as I watch my own,
Sitting on a rocker as if I’m 80, but I’m not,
Sipping on strong java, munching on bacon,
Delighting in the awe of the scene,
Up and Adam, I said…

So glad I did.

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Walk into my Picture

Walk into my Picture

By: Addison Byrne

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Amazement of a genuine soul is simple and real;
Time is past by years, and an occasioned moment presented itself-
Languidly, he walked onto my wall and into the scene

Eyes of purity are the colour of carbon coal;
An element of creation, and needed for the strongest to prevail-
Pleasantly, he glossed his coat with tremendous care

Flawless sounds of calm drew me in;
No taunts, as would be from a person-
Coaxingly, he stretched his limbs and posed

Waves of Green

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Waves of Green

By: Addison Byrne

It stands in loveliness with whispering blooms,
With stillness deceiving the raspy invader,
Among the waves of green, a farmer stands guard

The door is flashed red inside to ward off evil,
But only the curious cat inside will know,
Among the waves of green, the wise hand pledges warmth

Interwoven tops of thatched security peek above,
With a crackling fire to warm heart and home,
Among the waves of green, a woman awaits, with pen in hand

Quilts are strewn inside with patterns, blocks and smoldering colours,
And the telly sits docile in the corner, until the appointed time,
Among the waves of green, a book is written

Windows are large and wide to allow the rays of sun or to push off the beating of rain,
Yet the hearth inside is always with warm laughter, teas, whiskey, and ale,
Among the waves of green, a child and mother cook with pleasure

The herds of sheep, marked with blue, run toward the sea
But stop again, to languish among the tall grasses stretching before them,
Among the waves of green, I gaze, knowing my true love will come

Or will it matter?

Stepping on Cities

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Stepping on Cities
By: Addison Byrne

I will walk, stomp, saunter, tread
Not to gain power,
Not to hurt,
But to be free

I will be gutsy, powerful, sassy, dynamic
Not to gain favor,
Not to sneer,
But to be strong

Those who think they are in power are delusional;
Stepping on cities
Stepping on people
Stepping on hearts

Walk in your city, stomp in your city,
be gutsy, be powerful
Saunter in your city, tread in your city,
be sassy, be dynamic

Do not hurt, just be free
Do not sneer, just be strong

Delusions hurt cities, people and hearts

Which are you?

 

Grace

Love this!!

belsbror

Loneliness woke me up,

Encouraging desperation,

When I tried to make it stop,

I looked outside for inspiration.

What I saw was unfortunate,

Showing the departure of hope,

Positive feelings in a debate,

I have to ask you, why mope?

Darker you are this morning,

Seems heavy with sorrow,

Perhaps, not to your liking,

Carrying the burden, I know,

Why, O, why you do this?

When you can stay there,

Is there something amiss?

That you do not even care?

Floating in the thin air,

Loving the view below,

You see me in despair,

In misery, you know.

Cannot watch you gray longer,

I feel your temptation to go away,

Do leave, be gone somewhere,

Keep me dry and empty today.

But, you seem not the type,

To balk, defy, or torment,

Oh, yes, the time is ripe,

To unleash your torrent.

I call out to you, right now,

Pour…

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You’re a Mystery, dear Sun

 

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You’re a Mystery, dear Sun
By: Addison Byrne

If I worshipped you, I’d say you are glorious;
If I studied you, I’d say you are energetic;
You’re a mystery, dear sun

If I could touch you, you might heal me;
If I could taste you, you might burn me;
You’re a mystery, dear sun

If I praise you, I’m odd;
If I reject you, I’m odd;
You’re a mystery, dear sun

If I talk to you, will you answer?
If I cry for you, will you care?
You’re a mystery, dear sun

But keep shining, dear sun.

Keep shining.

It Matters

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It Matters
By: Addison Byrne

It’s all a matter of perspective;

What will you do?
What will you drive?
What will you love?

It’s all a matter of creation;

Will you make a difference?
Will you choose a direction to travel?
Will you love yourself?

It’s all a matter of character;

When do you open the door?
When do you start your engine?
When do you look at the person in the rearview mirror and say, “I love you?”

Perspective, Creation, Character
You do, make a difference, and open the door…it matters
You drive, choose a direction to travel, and start your engine…it matters
You love, yourself, and look at the person in the rearview mirror and say, “I love you.”

It matters.

Where is Home?

countryside ireland

 

Where is Home?

By:

Addison Byrne

 

It’s not home unless there is surf nearby,

a road that goes to a place of tranquility,

simplicity at its best.

Greens, blues, crystal air,

a road that goes to a place of transparency,

simplicity at its finest.

Judgements are not heard within the knolls of a countryside,

a road that goes to a place of equanimity,

simplicity at its nonpareil.