The way he gazes at the moon,
Doesn't quite feel right; every day he has a different tune.
I envy his starlight, the perfect fit for a groom
The kind that doesn't find a reason to fight
With much passion, I was drawn by his spiritual side,
Putting on a show with his flamboyant stride
Like a jewel, he sparkles brighter than 100 years of TWILIGHT
Without a remedy for fading away, I see no reason to stray
He has never shown an ego larger than mine.
Nor a side that needs to conceal how he feels inside.
For some reason, in this relationship, "I'm Always Right."
With my narcissistic personality, he complements my OCD.
When he dreams and closes his eyes,
I can sense and envision __ sunrise
Gorgeous, like a rainbow at any given moment
He's every fantasy come true, nevertheless, too good to be straight...
When he holds my hand, he wears a smile that lifts every mood.
This feels like heaven in any LGBTQ book everything feels good
No straight man gives a grin with every given look
With boundless joy and passion, sometimes I feel he fell from above.
Involved romantically, everything one might dream of.
The hues he wears are not of my yesteryear.
Vivid yellow, a reminder to himself of how happy life should be.
When he buys flowers, one can feel he's in love.
Not in love with me, but his unending SANITY.
Every night, he sits and shares his lovely poetic verses,
delightful between every course, he has me under a curse
Always writing about butterflies and Cloud Nine.
I won't mention his sensitive side, which is more intense than mine.
When we talk on the phone, I can feel the pleasure in his tone
Life with him feels like a novel; everything about him feels unreal.
It's surreal, sometimes I feel Danielle Steel wrote his fictional character
What if he's merely an angel in disguise? This would explain everything
Nevertheless!!! As my mother used to say
If he seems too good to be true, then he must be gay.
Copyright © Poet Destroyer A | Year Posted 2025
Lotto Day Buzz/Tony Adamo
Thoughts spin like a top high.
my head’s a blur of numbers,
9 8 9 7 3-no!
Wait, hold on,
8 6 7 22 slips away.
Not quite right.
Man don’t rush me, damn!
People waiting behind me,
the pressure’s real.
Wish I’d hooked up those lucky picks in my head,
but hey, I gotta keep my cool,
21,67,15,32,25,52- pick up,
yeah, I’m hip to those numbers.
Lotto day buzz.
what can I say?
Chasing dreams,
to keep the bills away.
Copyright © Tony Adamo | Year Posted 2024
Life In Reverse
My journey’s ending where it first began,
a clownish act reversed in backward mode,
as brain cells scramble forth to read the code.
Perhaps I need a comprehensive scan
before diminished cells embrace implode.
My journey’s ending where it first began,
a clownish act reversed in backward mode.
I search to find a worthy rescue plan
my baby steps lead up and down the road
so often saddled with another’s load.
My journey’s ending where it first began,
a clownish act reversed in backward mode,
as brain cells scramble forth to read the code.
Copyright © Cona Adams | Year Posted 2015
The fog sits heavy on broken ground,
Snow lays light where the stubble’s browned.
No sun, just hush and hoofbeat slow,
And breath that drifts like chimney smoke.
The cows stand scattered, heads hung low,
Dark shapes caught in a pale gray glow.
I ride out quiet, don’t make a sound...
They know this hat, this horse, this ground.
A calf’s come early, slick and thin,
Laid out cold with his legs tucked in.
I swing a loop with a steady hand,
No sudden moves in this kind of land.
The stubble snaps beneath each step,
And time don’t care how long you’ve kept.
It’s just you, the rope, the breath, the need...
And a life hung tight between frost and feed.
My mare don’t flinch, just shifts her weight,
Knows well the line ‘tween luck and fate.
Ain’t no crowd, no song, no stage...
Just a man and stock and an honest wage.
I rub him down with gloveless skin,
He blinks, then breathes the cold back in.
His mama lows, I step away...
That kind of trust ain’t earned in a day.
I ride on slow through fields gone bare,
With wheat stems pokin’ through thin air.
And I reckon that’s what winter is...
A test of quiet, a trial by whiz.
This life don’t shine, don’t boast, don’t beg...
It’s a coffee pot, a frostbit leg.
But it’s mine, and I’ll ride it true...
Just like this ground remembers you.
Copyright © AJ Alderman | Year Posted 2025
In the hard times on the land
leaning on each other lend a hand
In this storm we will stand
We do our best give a smile
staying strong in the meanwhile
In this storm we will stand
Isolate stay inside
take things daily in stride
In this storm we will stand
Unsure of what will be done
Is no cure none
In this storm we stand
Asking for blessings for all
some survive some will fall
In this storm we stand
In the adversities of life
amid all the strife
We stand in the storm.
Copyright © Phyllis Babcock | Year Posted 2020
Listen to poem:
See that cross on the hill?
Salvation hung there for humanity
Once a Man on that cross
Was crucified for my iniquity
At that cross on the hill
Where Jesus died for the sin of the world
His blood paid the debt for eternity
Came to earth as a Man
Relinquished divine immortality
The Word became flesh to be tempted and tried
But the sin price was paid and atonement was made
When He cried, “It is finished,”
And so we give glory, and honor, and praise
To Jesus forever
Son of Man lifted up
Enduring the wrath of the Father
Forsaken and spared for the sin of the world
At the foot of that cross
The mockers cried out as He died in their place
Innocent Substitute sent to die in our place
Then the veil rent in two, age of grace born anew
When He said, “It is finished,”
And so we give glory, and honor, and praise
To Jesus forever
Now the sin price is paid, the atonement is made
Since He cried, “It is finished,”
And so we give glory, and honor, and praise
To Jesus forever
See that cross on the hill?
Salvation hung there for humanity
Once a Man on that cross
Was crucified for my iniquity
Copyright © Andrew Baffi | Year Posted 2020
Just, stand tall, do not bend,
quietly lean and sway.
Morals are in your heart,
to guide you … every day.
Just stand there like a tree,
when feeling leafless bare.
The structure of your roots,
well grounded … in God’s care.
Just stand up, just stand there,
silhouetted against the sky.
Not your strength, stay standing,
on God’s strength … please rely.
Just stand son, simply stand,
beside you someone’s there.
When alone remember,
I left you in … God’s care.
Copyright © Barbara Barry-Nishanian | Year Posted 2024
Christmas Tree Over Dresden
Feb 14,1945 Dresden Germany
In their un-loving light, to stop a heart,
descending in the night, revealing all,
fortelling all to come, right from the start,
the soul of man did make its deathly call;
and dressed in light, a city stripped so clean,
their Valentine, to pray now is too late--
an ending not conceived--nor ever seen,
is close at hand, and in the hands of fate!
Warm in the night, a child could see the glow
of all the light, and see a Christmas tree;
just falling from the night, and then to show
that what we see's not really what we see;
Exploding in the night, death makes its call;
brought on by wrong and right, but butchers all.
Copyright © Vee Bdosa | Year Posted 2011
This chorus sarcastic and wrong
Is a spoiled thug throng sing along
(Loud) "Drill baby drill"
To the green crowd seems shrill
Still republicans love Palin's song
Copyright © Duke Beaufort | Year Posted 2009
It was great for a time
Sex and wine
Wine and sex
Then commitment and open and shut curtains.
Special delivery of child made the bond complete
Six months down the line
Breastfeeding was action watched from a distance
Intimacy was a tired look
The neighbour's cat looked hot
Killed the lonely nights
Killed the commitment outright
Got to know the lawyer through rapid bank withdrawals
Weekly child visit watched over by Brutus
Bar visits watched over by the world's condemned
Special occasion became a twice-yearly treat
Birthday and Christmas, a bit of hate thrown sideways.
Then the new man.
Felt good for her.
Maybe some pressure off.
Maybe missed that lobotomy bar lecture.
Years dragged the hate forward.
Time moved on.
One day I wrote her a letter expressing my anger.
She wrote back in triplicate.
I wrote back in double triplicate.
She sent a thesis on men and asses.
Suddenly, without thinking, we had dialogue.
After a while, we moved on from the anger.
We became human again.
I actually liked writing her letters and receiving them.
We never got back together.
But the letters kept us close.
Sometimes there would be a kiss at the end.
The little bit of love I probably never deserved.
I would mention it to her in my next letter.
Even an ass deserves a solitary kiss now and again.
The bar-room lawyers would probably agree.
Copyright © Paul Bell | Year Posted 2023
Rip out, read my heart,
I pour out all my feelings,
For all to inspect.
Copyright © Fire Bird | Year Posted 2023
My time in fear
Rejection in not wanting anyone near
My tears are my experiences I saw
My mind told me to completely ignore
No flourish to soar
My tears pour heavy
They are like a Dam levy
But they are holding steady
How do I overcome?
I am surrounded by lonesome
My tears are next to none
I must step out in courage
That is the only way to nourish
Tears come at a moment’s notice
My tears show I have no confidence
It’s obvious in an instance
No matter how tears fall
I must be able and not stall
I feel more of a regret
My tears have that effect
Stop now tears
This is the right time to preserver
Encourage me and come near
My tears have drawn back
My darkness is no longer black
I am responding now in just reflect
My moment being a detect.
Copyright © Anthony Blake | Year Posted 2023
now is all there is,
that's the nature of the beast,
relatively speaking
advantaging 'those' who control time...
now is a situation of absence and meaning
'those'...are us and our day to day routines
slowing down, to take advantage of the scenery...
remember the most wonderful childhood song,
'what a wonderful world' by louis armstrong...
well, now is all there is and it is a wonder(full) world...be strong
Copyright © Sand Blown | Year Posted 2018
“A Christmas Gift”
By: P. G. Borgia
1
An evening of peace, city streets still,
Snowflakes settle upon your windowsill.
Snuggled in your rocker, pleased to see
A day’s work of love, trimming your tree.
2
Fragrance of pine and lights pulsing bright,
Shining stars lighting a joyful night,
Red stockings hung with hidden treasure,
Toys piled high for a child’s pleasure.
3
Raising your glass to warm, glowing embers:
Here’s to Santa—he always remembers.
Your work complete, you begin to doze;
Grinning at the thought, teary eyes gently close.
4
With silence deep and wavering thoughts
Of times in your life happiness brought,
You hear again that solemn voice—
Lifeless emotion—dry cheeks now moist.
5
You stir with unease, deep in a maze
Though mercy is brief in nature’s short daze.
You drift into dreams of yesterday’s glee,
Seeking—a child’s voice, sadness-free.
6
Less than a wink, awakened by a tug,
Your child excited, giving you a hug:
“Look, look! Santa was here;
Presents and toys everywhere.”
7
“Can we open them now? Can we please?”
“If I get one more hug,” you playfully tease
Another big hug, a sweet bribe for sure,
Moving hand-in-hand to gifts on the floor.
8
With a smiling peek at your child’s wide eyes,
Each present opened, another surprise.
Praising your Creator for what you are seeing,
A sense of warmth envelopes your being.
9
Gift wrap and ribbons scattered everywhere,
You quietly return to your rocking chair.
Your child stops playing, gazing up at you:
“Did Santa bring you a Christmas gift too?”
10
Drawing a smile with gleaming pride,
Your little angel moves to your side.
Searching your thoughts, as your lips quiver,
Moments of silence, memories flutter.
11
“Once upon a time, not so far away,
Santa brought presents on his reindeer sleigh.
One special gift was a stocking of cheer,
When gently I peeked; my eyes did tear.”
12
"For inside there you were, my beautiful babe,
A silent night of joy, pure love we save.
Now in my arms, my gift softly sleeps,
Dreaming a child’s dream, in stillness deep…
“To you, to us, and to those we've loved:
A BLESSED and MERRY CHRISTMAS”
© 2011 P. Borgia © rev 2024
Copyright © Peter Borgia | Year Posted 2024
Last seen in the newspaper shop.Susan.Susan
Deakin.About 11am.Small blonde girl of eight.
An impassive constable was recording the statements
Inwardly weary with the usual hysteria.
Inwardly quailing at the thought of her daughter's reaction,
Her frantic grandmother was stumbling over the details.
Once the story rippled through the village,
A miasma of fear settled like a haar
Upon the sunlit streets
Where mothers now kept their children tight to them.
Little knots of elderly women stood chattering,
Every utterance dripping with deadly speculation,
Drowning any pious hope that she was off safe with her friends.
Solitary males must have keenly felt
The sharp glances of suspicion and wondered why.
Beneath the warmth of an otherwise bright sky
Swam an icy current of deepening distrust
Threatening the community with its riptide of rancour.
There was now nothing to be done but wait.
Copyright © Denis Bruce | Year Posted 2005
Perched upon his Mast
A Lions Roar perfused his Sails
Bearing down his paw on the waters current
Ferociously solid is this Leopards Hull
Traveling Our Seven Seas
Letting the Dragon route the course
Tossed to and fro by the waves
Carried about by every wind of doctrine
Only to be pierced with a sword......
Spared..
Healed....
Perception of the Lord...has been..... Lost At Sea.....
Copyright © Ninette Carey | Year Posted 2015