Showing posts with label Poetry. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Poetry. Show all posts

Sunday, August 13, 2023

Our Pet Kitties: A Beautiful Poem Written for Cats by AI

 


In the heart of a bustling cityscape,
Where honking horns and sirens wail,
Two feline souls, Katcha and Chai,
Embarked on a journey, a feline tale.

From New York's streets, so bright and grand,
They bid farewell to the lights and sway,
With twitching whiskers and paws in hand,
They headed back to sweet home Chicago way.

In Central Park, where dreams take flight,
Katcha chased pigeons with wild delight,
While Chai lounged on windowsills high,
Gazing at the skyscrapers reaching the sky.

But now they tread on Chicago's ground,
A new adventure, familiar sights surround,
They stroll along the windy shores of the lake,
Marveling at the beauty, their spirits awake.

Katcha pounces on autumn leaves,
Chai dances through the snowflakes,
Their playful antics weave tales of glee,
As they settle in this city, their hearts awake.

The windy city's breeze whispers their names,
As they explore its neighborhoods and lanes,
From Lincoln Park to the Magnificent Mile,
They find comfort and joy with every mile.

In moonlit nights, they roam the streets,
Through alleyways and beneath city lights,
Katcha and Chai, their bond grows strong,
In the heart of Chicago, where they belong.

So here they are, these feline friends,
Katcha and Chai, their story transcends,
A tale of love, of homecoming sweet,
In Chicago's embrace, their souls meet









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Monday, December 10, 2018

Celebrating Poet Emily Dickinson

Painting of the Dickinsons
as children
American Poet, Emily Dickinson, was born on December 10, 1830.  What strikes me most was her almost unnatural reclusiveness. For her this was the norm. For someone who was often out of sight, there was much going on behind the scenes as revealed through her poetry, writings, letters. I barely scratched the surface here.

Solitude was for Emily Dickinson a necessity; it was her natural state.  As she explained, "The appetite for silence is seldom an acquired taste."  Like all creative persons, she needed time in which to set down her fast-running thoughts, to capture them before they swept past ... she must find an outlet for the thoughts pounding within her.  Only in poetry did she find release.  And there must be time for books ... 'those enthralling friends.' (source, unknown)









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Friday, April 28, 2017

April is National Poetry Month: She Walks in Beauty

She Walks in Beauty  
( A personal favorite!  Our oldest daughter memorized this poem years ago, and recited it before a church audience that we were visiting.  I was mildly shocked as I had expected her to recite a scripture passage, LoL.  )

She walks in beauty, like the night
Of cloudless climes and starry skies;
And all that's best of dark and bright
Meet in her aspect and her eyes:
Thus mellow'd to that tender light
Which heaven to gaudy day denies.

One shade the more, one ray the less,
Had half impaired the nameless grace
Which waves in every raven tress,
Or softly lightens o'er her face;
Where thoughts serenely sweet express
How pure, how dear their dwelling-place.

And on that cheek, and o'er that brow,
So soft, so calm, yet eloquent,
The smiles that win, the tints that glow,
But tell of days in goodness spent,
A mind at peace with all below,
A heart whose love is innocent!

by Lord Byron, 1813