(Poem 334 for 2024 – I am writing a poem a day)
When one door closes,
the outside is kept out,
which gives the traveler
a chance to look inward.
It is then that another
door swings wide open
revealing universal secrets
free to anyone asking
without words, looking
without eyes, finding
without even seeking.
@Home Studio – 334th poem of the year
Runner ups for the Doors photos to accompany my poem:
(Poem 316 for 2024 – I am writing a poem a day)
AI Generated image I prompted on Gencraft.com https://gencraft.ai/p/aqLk7a https://gencraft.ai/p/XaodDL
Dance, little girl
when the music
calls to you
and starts
your feet twirling
When your heart
makes you soar
in pattern with the birds
whose wings beat time
to the rhythm that is you
When the sky’s painted
hues look like melted
cotton candy and the trees
sign your name
with their branched hands
This joy that you feel
is the song
of your birthright
and proof that the universe
was built as your playground.
@Home Studio – 316th poem of the year
Runner ups for the Wind photos to accompany my poem:
(Poem 160 for 2024 – I am writing a poem a day)
At the center of the universe
is a sunflower that radiates
beautiful, perpetual energy—
spirals and sparks, rays and
bolts, streams and streaks—
emanating every which way
from the black inflorescence.
Each petal bursts forth with
eternal seeds of galactic life,
bound for destinations pre-
determined by destiny’s map.
@Home Studio – 160th poem of the year
Runner ups for the Power Source photos to accompany my poem:
(Poem 78 for 2024 – I am writing a poem a day)
The flame of wisdom
is held aloft by an aged
snail who carries a galaxy
on her back as she glides
through the universe
leaving a trail of stars
in her slow-moving wake.
The wax that drips forms
rings around planets and
her eyes see through
time to the essence of
reality’s lover—authenticity.
She’s best friends with
both integrity and prudence
and the enemy of hubris.
When she tires, she rests
on the banks of compassion
until her spirit is restored,
then resumes her course.
Her gravity is the perfect
balance of curiosity and
contentment, and her laughter
creates starquakes like
cosmic fireworks brilliantly
painting heaven’s expanse.
@Home Studio – 78th poem of the year
Runner ups for the snail candle photos to accompany my poem:
rebekahjmarshall 