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(Nonet/Reverse Practice –nine of them – because you know – it seemed poetically just)
A Week Awake
Seven day weeks are numbered pretty
as peaches—juicy-ripe, waiting
to be devoured in moments
set out neat as boxes
heavy sweet with hope
of doing right,
doing well,
all for
love.
Start
Sunday
as all days
with gratitude,
true worship of God
in church or field. Sow good
deeds done in service of each
neighbor loved as self. Rest too, stands
paramount. Remember why you breathe.
Monday, child of bella luna bids
newness; opportunity knocked.
Answer day’s call with vigor
born in renewal caught
full-force, two-handed;
carried along
on strong back,
head held
high.
Tyr
or Tiw,
Norse god of
war (Roman Mars)
now Tuesday hailed; seeks
shiny bronze third-set place
deep in seven, hourly drawn.
Choice remaining, unassaulted;
making peace an option fine instead.
Wednesday, way of Asgard’s Odin, found
upon the straddled hump. Pause to
one side, seeking balance; new
designs still possible,
too soon to pack in
what remains for
garnering
notice
here.
Thor,
the hunk
who’s taken
Thursday up to
heights most women crave.
New momentum gaining
power; smashing limpid trace
remaining of past confusions.
Thunder – pound your mighty hammer strong.
No misogyny allowed – Frigga
turns sweet Friday’s page, looking fore
to wildest weekend; party,
pleasure-planned persuasive,
maintaining focus,
monumental
effort, now
required
full.
Note:
Weekend
rung in on
Saturn’s glowing
belts profound. Book end
settled, Saturday holds
all preceding, adding last
minute chore-full, scurrying for
higher ground of ecstasy’s delight.
Never moment passed as wasted. Flush
among each pause or itemed meet,
opportunity choiced to
live moment fully or
pass time ennui bound.
Go for golden -
finishing
highest
place.
©RhymeLovingWriter 2016
A Week Awake
Seven day weeks are numbered pretty
as peaches—juicy-ripe, waiting
to be devoured in moments
set out neat as boxes
heavy sweet with hope
of doing right,
doing well,
all for
love.
Start
Sunday
as all days
with gratitude,
true worship of God
in church or field. Sow good
deeds done in service of each
neighbor loved as self. Rest too, stands
paramount. Remember why you breathe.
Monday, child of bella luna bids
newness; opportunity knocked.
Answer day’s call with vigor
born in renewal caught
full-force, two-handed;
carried along
on strong back,
head held
high.
Tyr
or Tiw,
Norse god of
war (Roman Mars)
now Tuesday hailed; seeks
shiny bronze third-set place
deep in seven, hourly drawn.
Choice remaining, unassaulted;
making peace an option fine instead.
Wednesday, way of Asgard’s Odin, found
upon the straddled hump. Pause to
one side, seeking balance; new
designs still possible,
too soon to pack in
what remains for
garnering
notice
here.
Thor,
the hunk
who’s taken
Thursday up to
heights most women crave.
New momentum gaining
power; smashing limpid trace
remaining of past confusions.
Thunder – pound your mighty hammer strong.
No misogyny allowed – Frigga
turns sweet Friday’s page, looking fore
to wildest weekend; party,
pleasure-planned persuasive,
maintaining focus,
monumental
effort, now
required
full.
Note:
Weekend
rung in on
Saturn’s glowing
belts profound. Book end
settled, Saturday holds
all preceding, adding last
minute chore-full, scurrying for
higher ground of ecstasy’s delight.
Never moment passed as wasted. Flush
among each pause or itemed meet,
opportunity choiced to
live moment fully or
pass time ennui bound.
Go for golden -
finishing
highest
place.
©RhymeLovingWriter 2016
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