Ornament

A ring on a finger

    serves no useful purpose,

Save to adorn the wearer

    and be part of looking pompous.

Yet it can be highly prized,

    it's sought after by many,

Greatly valued, though small in size,

     it's worth a lot of money.

           It's an ornament.

A pendant on a necklace

     when worn around the neck,

Brings no helpful benefits

     save attention to attract. 

Yet it may cost some pieces of gold,

     afforded by only a few

To the most discerning it is sold,

     for looking bright and new.

          It's an ornament.

Like pendants, necklaces and rings,

     many such things we love,

We're willing to pay a price, to bring

     home to our treasure trove.

          Such are ornaments.

20191017
#Poetry #PoetryByHaroldHuang #Inktober

Ornament

Wild

Animals foraging in the wood,
Fishes swimming under sea,
Birds flying as high as they could,
All are living wild and free.

The lion has no money to worry about
The dolphin no loan to repay
Nor parrot has any wealth to build up
Like humans do today.

Under sea, on land, and in the air,
Their abode is far from me,
While I'm burdened by many a care,
They're living wild and free.

20191016
#Poetry #PoetryByHaroldHuang #Inktober

Wild

Sunrise

The sun arrives each pristine morning
      to mark the break of day,
She ushers in a new beginning
      in a silent intrepid way.

Ascending slowly in the sky,
      along an unseen line,
Going forth and rising high
     upon the land she'd shine.

On the days of equinox
      vernal and autumnal,
Sunrise comes at time o'clock
     when days and nights are equal.

During summer solstice day
      she rises very early,
Traversing skies for a longer stay
     and sets reluctantly.

But on cold winter solstice day,
      she loathes the early dawn,
Instead, she makes her own delay
      to bring forth a later morn.

Over and over again she appears
      each time at break of day,
We welcome sunrise without fear
     in every place we stay.

20191016
#MyWritersPoetryPrompt
27th / 2019

Sunrise

Legend

The Legend of Words,
     is an extraordinary writer:

By a few simple words,
     many are impressed;

With short simple sentences,
     profound truth expressed.

In common phrases,
     deep meaning is laid;

Via concise verses
     interpretation made.

Through a few short lines,
     a clear image is drawn;

And within a paragraph,
     a vivid picture borne.

Many are thus smitten
     by this extraordinary writer;

For no one else has written
     in such legendary manner;

No other
     but the one and only,
     the Legend of Words.

20191015
#Poetry #PoetryByHaroldHuang #Inktober

Legend

Overgrown

It's just a patch of vacant land
Overgrown with weeds,
And everyday the passer-by
Pays scarcely any heed.

But little do the humans know
That hidden deep beneath
The tall grass and thick undergrowth
A village you will meet.

In one corner a snake lays still
Sleepy from its meal,
Down a path, an earthworm creeps
So slowly through the fill.

A spider keeps watch in its web
Waiting for its prey,
To fly in unsuspectingly
From just a mound away.

The crickets in their happy mood
Are chirping loud and clear,
While bugs and bees fly through the wood
Buzzing in one's ears.

All this while the human thinks
There's not much underneath,
It's just a patch of vacant land
Overgrown with weeds.

20191014
#Poetry #PoetryByHaroldHuang #Inktober

Overgrown

Switch

A switch is but a small device
That lets a current through.
We use switches everyday
To ease the tasks we do.

A switch is used each time we need
To make a lamp light up,
To make the TV come alive,
And drip coffee into a cup.

Switches exist everywhere
More widely than we think,
Without them we'll be in despair,
In every electrical thing.

Submitted to
#MyWritersPoetryPrompt
26th/2019

Switch

20191014

Ash

There is a little kitchen
       where fire-wood is stashed.
The air is often smoky,
       the stove is full of ash.

Each day before the cooking
       some fire-wood is placed
neatly into the brick-lined stove,
       and slowly set ablaze.

When the fire-wood's aflame
      burning well and good,
The cooking starts to go ahead
      with sparks and ash and soot.

When at last the cooking's done
       and the wood is in a stash,
All that's left is smoky air
       and a stove that's full of ash.

20191013
#Poetry #PoetryByHaroldHuang #Inktober

Ash