Poems by Jordan A. Leturgez

In the hush of dawn, where shadows recede,

A tender whisper looms, as day takes its lead.

The horizon ignites with a shimmering grace,

Awakening dreams in this luminous space.

Crimson and amber entwine in the sky,

Each brushstroke of light makes the night say goodbye.

The world holds its breath, for the moment is grand,

As the sun spills its gold from a painter's soft hand.

Heartbeats align with the dance of the light,

In the warmth of the amber, all sorrows take flight.

The past fades to twilight, a chapter now closed,

In the cradle of morning, a new tale is posed.

Each ray a reminder of battles once fought,

Of laughter and love, of the lessons life taught.

Through the veil of the morning, hope rises anew,

In the promise of gold, a horizon so true.

For life is a canvas, each dawning a chance,

To weave in our stories, to sway in the dance.

In the golden break, where the old meets the new,

We find in the light, all the strength to push through.

So cherish the moments, let gratitude speak,

As the world turns to gold in the dawn's gentle cheek.

In the splendor of morning, find peace, and partake,

For we are all bidden to witness the break.

In the hush of dawn, where the sky meets the sea,

Whispers of wanderlust beckon to me.

Palm trees sway gently, like dancers in time,

As sunlight awakens, in rhythms sublime.

A canvas unrolled where the heart paints its dreams,

Where laughter is woven in gossamer seams.

Footprints in sand, a map of delight,

Tracing our stories from morning to night.

The taste of fresh mango, the salt on the breeze,

Each moment a treasure, each sigh a reprise.

Barefoot and free, beneath azure skies,

We gather the sunsets, where fervor resides.

Mountains that cradle the clouds in their arms,

Valleys that echo with nature's soft charms.

A symphony plays in the rustle of leaves,

In the heart of this journey, our spirit believes.

With every goodbye, there's a promise unfurled,

Of the whispers of travel that dance through the world.

For though we may wander, with time's gentle tether,

Vacation is more than a fleeting endeavor.

It's the joy of connection, the bond that we share,

In laughter and silence, in love and in care.

So let us embrace these moments divine,

In the tapestry woven, your heart next to mine.

Beneath the Roman sun, where sand meets blood,

Brave souls arise, in the echo of the thud.

Gladiators, forged in fire and in fate,

Their hearts beat fierce, their destinies await.

In armor glinting, they stand, resolved,

An ancient pact; their fates entwined, evolved.

With each fierce clash, the crowd's roar ignites,

A symphony of valor, of daring fights.

They dance with death, in a waltz sublime,

Each strike a story, a heartbeat in time.

Fingers wrapped 'round swords, bright with hope and pain,

They carve their legacies in the bloodied grain.

Faces marked by struggle, the lines of despair,

Tell tales of triumph, of love laid bare.

For in that circle, where glory meets the grind,

They fight not just for the crowd, but for what's left behind.

A brother's shout, a lover's name,

Each breath they take, ignites the flame.

For every fallen hero, a ghostly cheer,

Resonates with the dreams of the ones held dear.

Oh, magnificent warriors of the sunlight's grace,

In your savage artistry, we find our place.

You rise from the ashes, like phoenixes of old,

Our hearts entwined in the stories you've told.

When evening falls, and the cheers subside,

The echoes remain, and the spirits abide.

In the legacy of legends, where honor may fade,

The poetry of gladiators is forever portrayed.

When shadows stretch and hopes grow thin,

And doubts like whispers claw within,

Remember this, though tempests bend--

The heart will find a way to mend.

Each tear that falls, a seed of grace,

That sprouted in a barren place;

With every struggle, every fight,

We gather strength, we summon light.

In valleys deep where darkness looms,

Life's sweetest blooms amidst the glooms;

For every night that's harsh and cold,

A dawn awaits with dreams untold.

The path is long, with twists and turns,

In every loss, a lesson burns;

Each stumble teaches, each fall inspires,

To forge a soul that climbs and never tires.

So when the weight of the world feels grim,

And worn-out shoes make hope seem dim,

Lift up your gaze to the skies ahead--

Believe, dear heart, you'll win in the end.

For victory's not just a final score,

But the courage found when we love and soar,

It's in the bonds we choose to forge,

It's in the hearts that brightly gorge.

So march forth boldly, let fears rescind,

Embrace the journey with open arms,

For every heartbeat, every hand to lend,

Whispers softly: "You will win in the end."

In the heart of the forest, where shadows weave dreams,

Lies a haven of silence, where sunlight gleams,

A family of bears, with souls intertwined,

Embody the bond that nature designed.

The mother, a guardian, strong and so wise,

With eyes like deep waters reflecting the skies,

She cradles her cubs, soft breaths in the night,

In the whispering woods, they find warmth and light.

The cubs, ever playful, like leaves in the breeze,

Stumble through meadows, with laughter that frees,

They tumble and chase, beneath branches so green,

Life's simple joys in a world unseen.

With each gentle hug, the world fades away,

In the strength of their bond, they find hope and play,

Through thorny brambles and rivers so wide,

Together they wander, with love as their guide.

When storms roll in with a thunderous roar,

They huddle together, hearts beating like oars,

In the chaos of nature, fierce winds may blow,

But in the arms of each other, they always will grow.

As seasons keep turning, the years swiftly fly,

The cubs become giants, under vast, endless skies,

Yet still in their hearts, where memories rest,

Lies the essence of family, the eternal quest.

So here's to the bears, in their wilderness space,

A testament woven of love, time, and grace,

May we cherish our own, through tempest and calm,

For family, like forests, nurtures the balm.

In a sunlit room where shadows play,

Where laughter dances through the day,

A world awakens, bold and bright,

Where toys come alive in the soft twilight.

Woody stands with a heart so true,

A cowboy's courage in every hue,

With Stinky Pete and the others near,

They conquer fears, dispelling tears.

Buzz Lightyear, with courage unbound,

To infinity and beyond, he's found,

A space ranger lost, yet never alone,

In the realm of the young, he's truly home.

Through whispers of friendship, loyalty's song,

In the face of the night, they steadfastly throng,

From the bedroom floor to the wide-open skies,

They teach us the magic that never quite dies.

Yet the bittersweet pulse of a child's embrace,

In the passage of time, we all must face,

For as dawn creeps in and the playtime must wane,

In the heart of each child, the echoes remain.

So look to your toys, with love in your gaze,

For they're guardians, wrapped in our childhood haze,

They know every secret, every untouched fear,

In the silence of dusk, their wisdom draws near.

In the heart of each story, where memories dwell,

The magic's not lost; it continues to swell,

For as long as a child dares to dream and to play,

In the land of lost dreams, we'll forever stay.

In twilight's embrace where the horizon bleeds,

A caravan dances, where the wild heart leads.

With laughter like fire, and footsteps like dreams,

They weave through the shadows with vibrant moonbeams.

With skirts made of sunbeams and crowns made of stars,

They travel the night with both hope and with scars.

The wind in their hair, like poems unsaid,

Each breath is a story, a path they have tread.

Oh, gypsy, oh wanderer, what secrets you keep?

In whispers of freedom, in the nights when you weep.

Your spirit, a river that cannot be tamed,

In the language of wanderlust, you have named.

With eyes deep as loam, burdened yet bright,

You carry the echoes of ancient delight.

For love is your compass, and the world is your kin,

In the rhythm of life, you let the wild in.

You gather the moments like fireflies caught,

In the nets of your laughter, the lessons you've taught.

Each campfire the cradle of tales to be spun,

Of shadows and moonlight, of hearths yet undone.

So dance, O free spirit, let your saga unfurl,

In the tapestry woven of this vibrant world.

For the gypsy, dear heart, is a melody clear,

A hymn for the wanderers, a song without fear.

Through deserts and mountains, through rivers that sigh,

Your journey is endless as stars in the sky.

In the whispers of twilight, we hear your sweet song,

A promise of belonging, where each heart finds its home.

In the hush of a winter's embrace,
Where the snowflakes dance with delicate grace,
A tapestry woven with twinkling light,
Whispers of magic ignite the night.

The tree stands adorned in colors so bright,
With memories glimmering, hearts take flight.
Ornaments hanging like stories untold,
Each one a treasure, a dream made of gold.

The crackle of fireside, warmth in the air,
Laughter like music, a melody rare,
Voices unite in sweet carols that soar,
Reminding us gently of love at the core.

Children with wonder in wide-open eyes,
Chase shadows of joy beneath starlit skies.
The world feels enchanted, as if it will freeze,
In the magic of moments, our hearts find their ease.

From kitchens arise scents of cinnamon spice,
Gingerbread houses, oh, how they entice!
As we gather 'round tables, our souls intertwine,
Grateful for blessings, both yours and mine.

With each soft "Merry Christmas," we share and we beam,
A promise of hope woven deep in our dream.
For love is the spirit, the light ever true,
In the warmth of this season, I find my way home to you.

So let us be merry, let us hold each other tight,
In the glow of the season, in the stillness of night.
For when we embrace, with hearts open wide,
Every Christmas, my dear, becomes our sweet guide.

In the heart of stillness, where whispers unfold,

A kingdom is woven from dreams spun in gold.

Where shadows find solace, the weary take rest,

A realm of compassion, where love is the guest.

Beneath the wide heavens, the stars brightly gleam,

Each twinkle a promise, each sigh is a dream.

Mountains bow low and the valleys arise,

In the kingdom of grace, where the humble are wise.

With rivers of mercy, ablaze with pure light,

The broken find healing, the lost seek the bright.

The laughter of children, like soft silver chimes,

Echoes through fields of the most sacred rhymes.

Here, justice is tender, and mercy is strong,

Where hearts beat in rhythm, a harmonious song.

The outcast embraced, the orphan held dear,

In the kingdom of God, all are welcomed near.

In gardens of hope, where each seed can take flight,

Faith blooms like the blossoms, eager for light.

The burdened find freedom; the captive, release,

In a tapestry woven, the threads weave in peace.

So let us be pilgrims, on pathways divine,

With love as our compass, in valleys we'll shine.

For the kingdom of God, it whispers to all,

A call to believe--come, answer the call.

In the hush of morning light, they gather,

Soft whispers fold between the pages,

Crinkled tales of hope and dread,

The pulse of a world, fragmented, aged.

Ink-stained fingers trace the headlines,

A tapestry of stories, bold and brave,

Where sorrows are etched, and triumphs shine,

Each article a wave upon the vast grave.

In the city's heart, they spill like secrets,

Crumpled destinies in black and white,

A mother's plea, a soldier's testament,

Lives woven in newsprint's tight embrace,

Each word a lantern glimmers in the night.

The fickle hand of time races by,

While history's notes inked in urgency,

Unfolding humanity's fragile cycle,

A mirror reflecting our epiphany,

The chaos, the beauty, a collective cry.

But in between the stories spun,

Lies the quiet ache for things unsaid,

The love unspoken, the dreams overshadowed,

Voices lost in the silence, blood-red.

Oh, bearer of truth, hold us dear,

For in your embrace, we are both alive and dead.

So as we sip on our coffee's warmth,

And scan the stories that paint our day,

May we remember the hands that crafted,

Each line a heartbeat, each phrase a ray,

For newspapers cradle our very essence,

A testament to those who dared to say.