A New Earth

Birdless sky swells grey blue against
trees that stand like brushes 
stiff in the cold

The penultimate breath
of a new earth

The dark disappears in a steadfast
philanthropy of color: red, orange, rose 
blush up from the land over lakes and hills 
and roof slats to tell the inhabitants

Night has not prevailed.

EarthΒ  e x h a l e s
as the Sun spills her promise.


135 thoughts on “A New Earth

    • You know what, Ian? I would not have thought this. Feedback sure is helpful. It’s almost always more giving (meaning, I believe my readers are with me) than my own take on my work.

      Thanks, as always.


  1. I love this. The beginning brings to my mind one who is admiring a painting. Or abandoned it for lack of proper light. (The sun). Thanks for inspiring me. And continuing to write πŸ™‚

    • So nice to hear from you. =) Would you elaborate on the interesting reflection that you were made to think of one who might abandon the painting for better light? I…guess you….mean that I came through in painting the sun as I did? Taking a stab.


      • Well, thank you πŸ™‚ and of course: I took the first three lines as being barren & empty, because of the grey blue. And because you compare the trees to brushes, I immediately saw it as a painter. Abandoning it makes me think of God resting after the 6 days He took to create earth. Resting in wait for His sun to rise. πŸ™‚ I think I went way too in depth for this simple poem..maybe not. This is totally random, but would you like to collaborate with me on a poem?

      • Just love your thoughtful read. My simplest poems will always be less simple than appears. =) Thanks so much for the feedback and the offer. I am officially swamped, for the RACE that’s on. It’s a lot of work behind the scenes.

        Appreciate the hearty support.


      • Thank you πŸ™‚ I understand. The offer will still be open after you finish the RACE, if you would like πŸ™‚ You’re welcome for the support. You touch many people I’ve noticed with your words. Keep them coming ❀ it truly is a gift.

  2. I agree with the commentor above – your poem is very visual, and very well written in that sense too. Really liked how you wrote ‘exhale’…I sort of held my breath reading that word slowly. It also sounds very tranquil but at the same time very mysterious. Not too sure if this was an ominous and uplifting poem, but I suppose with the creative arts and creative passion, either interpretation is neither wrong πŸ™‚

    • As I just validated a reading by a blogger here, it was to encourage you that light will win out in the end.


      Thank you much for the feedback, M. Appreciate the conscientious read (and your b r ea th ing along).

    • I changed it from “It is the penultimate hour”.

      Which is the predawn. The second (stage) to the finale of night’s surrender to the light.

      Must say I am pleased at the commendation. Thanks so much.


  3. Spring! Effective use of words, Diana. I notice that there is a visual element to your poetry that I had never considered with mine. E.g.:

    Earth e x h a l e s

    The “e x h a l e s” seems to act as a visual compliment to the onomatopoeia nature of “exhales.” Clever writing, lovely poem.

  4. wonderful poem! Starkly alien initially, then it begins to feel as if a ‘breakthrough’ has happened, a breakthrough which lends hope for a better day…

  5. Such beauty, Diana. My favorite line ” It is the penultimate breath
    of a new earth.” You remind me that we can take what is outside our windows for granted when brand new stories are being told everyday. Happy Friday.

  6. I love this; trees that stand like brushes We have some really wide/fat busy trees and then some really tall thin, almost anorexic ones and they really stand out like the brushes you mention πŸ™‚ Lovely poem

  7. -technical

    for some reason,
    the ‘and’ just before roof sings
    in a delightful rhythm,
    singing out a bit more poetic
    than her neighbor words.
    oddly pleasant for such a little word.

    the brush is stiff,
    though I cannot place as to why –
    perhaps I place the trees as inhabitants,
    rather than creators?

    • So apparently I’ve done something right
      to hear from DG – in two comments, categorized!
      Perhaps the “and” resonated because there is
      room for it in your mind,
      a space to embrace

  8. – contentual (I know it’s not a word, but I am a poet)

    unfortunately for some,
    the promise that she spills
    is composed of alpha and beta and gamma –
    none too friendly for the little fleshpots,
    as that energy blasts little holes
    in our deoxy sequences.

    Thank God for a liquid nickel core,
    and for Maxwell’s suggestions
    about magnetic flux….

  9. So beautiful and inspiring. I absolutely love this poem. The sun spills her promise. That right there took my breath away. It fires me up for the tomorrow, which in many ways will give me a better today. Thank you for writing and sharing!

  10. Beautimus. This reminds me of yoga. The instructors always seem to tell us to breathe in deep, pause, then exhale completely. Then, the key, leave your lungs empty for a moment, experience the fear of zero oxygen, then inhale the next breath. Life is breath.

    • Buddy, you grow more impressive in my eyes with each comment. =) I haven’t had a yoga instructor say that although I’m familiar with the progressive breathing (deeper successively for a count of two, three times) to strengthen lungs. Lovely. And yes, I come back and again to the reality of life being breath. I said in my About that I’m no longer holding it.

      I’m writing.

      You’re this poetic athlete. LOL.

      Thanks, Scott.


      • Lol, again, where was my rep to start with? Ha, seriously, I’m glad to rise up. I try to remember yoga lessons when running. Calming my breath and being in the moment for example. Btw, I’ve been told my whole life that I’m a walking contradiction of what they expected from me.
        Please keep poeming.

      • LOL I know, right? I realize I talk like you were really down there.

        ” I try to remember yoga lessons when running. Calming my breath and being in the moment for example.” LOve iT. Yeah, you sure are a surprise. But as interesting as you is the question why many assume you into a box. =) But always a good thing, in my book, the surprising. Esp in the blogging. πŸ˜‰

      • Thank you! And I never thought of why they think that way. Truthfully, I’ve always just enjoyed breaking peoples stereotypes. I’m glad we’ve met virtually. But I don’t know why I enjoy impressing you.

  11. Another fine work! I really loved how your eye for the moment was a tuned as a photographer’s, especially with the inclusion of roof slats catching the warm hues. Thank you for making me appreciate my morning commute more! πŸ™‚

    • “the darkness of night and the darkness of the soul.”

      Hmm. Interesting distinction, Curt. All too familiar with both, I have needed to soak in – WANT – the beauty of light.

      A telling remark you made, my friend. I know you a leetle bit better each time. (And will do so even better when I get through your race post.)


  12. This was an exciting read! I love how each verse takes you into a place unlike any other. A world one has never seen and cannot imagine to be like any other one (in beauty and splendour). A truly is a wonderful reflection of a new earth.

    I couldn’t help but take a quick look at what this, “darkness,” experience was about. Curt is right though. I love the transition from the events that took place then (from the writing process color) to where you are now. The growth. The confidence in who you are and how all this, in a way, reveals itself in, with and through your poems. Thanks for this.

    • Gosh, you are something. “Thank you” doesn’t seem enough for the dedicated reading. I am excited for where your observations take you on your own journey. =) Always, that is my chief aim here.

      Grateful for the vested reading,

  13. Unique descriptions, lovely phrases: a philanthropy of color—trees like brushes stiff in the cold—–
    blush up from the land—-the sun spills its promise.

    Night has not prevailed. Marvelous use of language, perfect for inspiring hope.

    Once again delighted I finally had time to drop by……..always a treasure trove.

  14. Enjoyed the moment, particularly the way you used “blush” as a verb where I didn’t expect it. Good job! Thanks for stopping by & liking my post today.

  15. There’s a really elegant use of language here, which I love. A really good free verse landscape poem, with a touch of T. S. Eliot in its sharp urban/natural (“roof slats” in one hand, “lakes and hills” in the other) imagery.

  16. Pingback: A New Earth β€” A Holistic Journey | gramirezblog

  17. Lovely – in a way, melancholic – “birdless sky” however in the end the sun spilling her promise. The struggle between light and dark, perhaps.

My Two Gold Cents in the Holistic Treasury

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