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My Poetry
By Bruce Flanagan



Bruce Flanagan


As the fiery color of the sun is absorbed by the leaves, the true beauty of fall finally emerges.

The grass, feeling the cold come on, goes to sleep and forgets the winters cold wind

which will soon be rattling through its brown, seemingly dead blades.

The trees give there beautiful red, yellow and brown coats to the ground

attempting to keep it warm.


Now, only a few are lucky enough to keep there green coats, which will keep them, and the

sleeping rabbits under there bows. warm throughout the winter.


The trees are silent now, the birds have all left,

there is no playful rustling of the leaves by wind or squirrel for there are no leaves.


Then, from the bright yet cloudy sky, a single snow flake falls.

It glides to the ground and melts ever so slowly.

Then, another, and another,

The excited children whipping on their coats, run out into the sky

and greet the snow as if it were a long lost friend come back to play.

Soon, the ground is completely covered except for the tip tops of the grass

peeking out of its cool white blanket to see all this wonderment.


The night is clear, the snow has stopped,

leaving several inches of snow for the children to play in when they wake up earlier than usual

the next morning and rush out into their new playland.

Snowmen are the landmarks of the ground that the children have conquered

and claimed as their own.


Then, as if life were a story book, the snow begins to fall again,

but this time, it means even more, because this is Christmas eve.

As depicted in so many stories, it will be a white Christmas again.

Christmas comes, and Christmas goes.

The end of the year is here and we ring in the new year and prepare ourselves

for what's to come.


We know that spring is back when we hear a few birds,

then the trees sprout into a green dotted mass.

As we watch the leaves of the trees flourish and the flowers begin to bloom

and the animals rejoin us,

we know that new life has begun and summer is on its way.


Summer arises and like the warm first beat of a heart a new beauty is born.

The grass is awakened, and new like the trees,

it ferments into a green growing shelter for the ground, as it has so many times before.


Life is all new and beautiful during the summer, and yet, by the end,


we can't wait for fall.

 Check out Renewal in a whole new light



{or what ever might happen}


Bruce Flanagan


As the fiery sun sets upon the cold white blanketed world,

it seems to give us a sign that it will return tomorrow even brighter than today;

forgetting all that has gone on and forgiving the bitter cold trespasser of the night

that has passed through, leaving the world in yet another cover of this lazy neve of snow.


It warms the world with its bright seemingly tepid rays

to make the icy surroundings a bit more bearable.

And in many a case, a bit more beautiful.


The sun, although often taken for granted, gives somewhat of a feeling of security

and serenity.


Although at night we can not see the sun, we know that it is out there,

helping someone else get through the day, as it has helped us

and that it will reciprocate this for a long time to come

in the best and worst of times.


It helps us through the day in many ways.

Obviously it may warm our bodies with its fervent rays

making the day more enjoyable.

But at times, this warm feeling is not only with our bodies, but within our hearts.


Even if the sun doesn't shine today,

it gives us hope for the days to come.

And the world seems a little warmer

even in the dead of winter.



this isn't a poem,  just something I wanted to share

You are like a pebble thrown in the water,

you become wet on the surface,

but are never part of the water.

Take that as you will, it can have several meanings.