Wednesday, April 30, 2025
Time
Thursday, April 24, 2025
You
yes you,
Wednesday, April 23, 2025
Peace
but I would offer this to so so many right now ...
Tuesday, April 22, 2025
Fragrance
who are missing someone ...
Monday, April 21, 2025
Shine
just for you all ...
Friday, April 18, 2025
At the Hem
by Lyn Marinello
I am an open book
Incredibly pensive
with thoughts unworthy to think
I've battled foes
unseen by the masses
Sprinting through life
as I trudge in molasses
I see little I like
in my mirrored reflection
Rise from the ashes
to greet new dejection
I dance to life's cha-cha
on sore, calloused feet
Feast on hope never ending
that tastes so bittersweet
There's a pain in betrayal
the soul can't correct
An ache indescribable
from complete disrespect
As a tired head raises
adrift in a hurt filled haze
I can almost see clearly
the error of my ways
I have searched for the answers
in the person adjacent
Thought "little" wrongs don't count
I became completely complacent
I bartered and bargained,
plead for forgiveness, redemption
Thought that maybe some status
provides a safety, exemption
I've learned salvation exists
as I see when I probe
Not in material, money or man
but at the hem of His robe
Thursday, April 17, 2025
A Little Levity
has been weighing heavy
on your mind and heart,
here's a little fun for you today.
I hope you smile.
Wednesday, April 16, 2025
Decide
but it doesn't matter.
It was said and I'm sharing ...
Tuesday, April 15, 2025
Same Premise
with very similar meanings.
Monday, April 14, 2025
Carlos
Love you and miss you much!
Carlos, through my eyes
by
Lyn Marinello
A
mountain of a man
Opinionated,
loud
Completely
unmistakable
When
enveloped in a crowd
Like
a bull within a China shop
Undeterred
where he has trod
Comfortable
with who he was
No
need for pretense or façade
Bacchus
in human form
Indulgent
to grand excess
A
bit too much for some
But
I wouldn’t want him any less
A
big and booming voice
An
even larger heart
I’d
sit in eager anticipation
As
his escapades he’d impart
He
had pie-in-the-sky ambitions
Cherished
time to conversate
Always
game for a glass of wine
And
a sports or political debate
He’d
wrap you in a hug
That
you’d never want to end
He
was much more than a relative
He
was an honest, gracious friend
A
zillion weather-induced phone calls
To
check upon our health
Anxiously
awaiting
His
upcoming expansive wealth
There’s
an empty space you’ve left
A
chasm where you’ve been
Please
know how much you’re loved and missed
…
until we ride again …
Saturday, April 12, 2025
Stories ...
we all become stories.
Friday, April 11, 2025
Friday Frivolity
to fall apart
Thursday, April 10, 2025
Thankful Thursday Twain
Wednesday, April 9, 2025
No Idea
broad in its scope,
Tuesday, April 8, 2025
All Is Ours
A most wonderful concept ... it consists of three parts:
Monday, April 7, 2025
Monday Mother
Saturday, April 5, 2025
Surround Yourself
but I sure do like this ...
Friday, April 4, 2025
On the Watch
must always be
on the watch
for the coming
Thursday, April 3, 2025
Every Leader's Mantra
Wednesday, April 2, 2025
Roots and Branches
this beautiful little gem ...
Tuesday, April 1, 2025
Mosaic
who left us this day ~ far too early ~
forever ago, as raw as yesterday!
Enjoy ...
Mosaic
by
Lyn Marinello – 3/29/25
I am all
the pieces
of
memories and places;
of
triumphs and of trials;
of hearts
and all the faces.
Covered
wooden bridges,
railroad
tracks and trestles.
The
valley in the mountains
where the
setting sun sleepily nestles.
Winding
wooded paths
with scattered
pine needle floors.
Sad and stonewalled
dreams
by loudly,
angrily slammed doors.
Crystal
clear azure waters
near
powdery soft white sands.
Beaten,
battered self-esteem
by
ridiculous reprimands.
Mossy
covered hideaways;
freshly
polished maple pews.
A million
stars on inky skies;
kaleidoscopic
morning hues.
Wandering
on fairways;
red
spotlights on a gymnastics mat.
Echoes
too deafening to ignore
of
‘you’ll never be good at that’.
Duets on
a piano.
Plays on
a high school stage.
Trapped
and sometimes tortured;
my haven
was my cage.
A sweet
date down at Deep Hole;
hours
sweating at the gym.
Nomads in
the Smokies.
Adventures
on a whim.
Music is
a constant,
accompanied
by the Word;
Crutches
used quite frequently
to hobble
through the absurd.
Queen
Mackerel, Marinara,
Easy
Rider, Muffinhead.
You
cannot run, you cannot hide.
You must
face the things you dread.
There’s a
constant ebb and flow;
occasional
shattering and breaking;
rearranging
of the shards;
a
transformational re-making.
For I am
a mosaic;
a
compilation of each broken part;
the good,
the bad, the in-between …
a truly
unique work of art.