the world would be a lovely place
if everyone was you
Copyright © Joseph Healy | Year Posted 2023
It was many years ago,
After many kisses too,
A young girl fell in love,
Beneath a sky of blue.
God brewed up a storm,
Snowflakes roared like thunder,
What God has joined together,
Let no man put asunder.
A blizzard roared in,
On a cold winter's night,
The moon casting shadows,
Onto a bed of white.
The moon was the only witness,
To passions they had shared,
Blankets of snow ,
Covered all that they had bared.
These are memories for a woman,
Who looks for each winter's snow,
Staring towards the heavens,
When the winter winds blow.
It's then that she remembers,
All the promises made,
So very long ago,
It burns for her a warm fire,
And a bittersweet glow.
Vickie Hurtt- Thayer
Copyright © Vickie Hurtt - Thayer | Year Posted 2017
Within the hour of love a red poppy night
a warrior prepped for dawning flight
no bullets no musket to his flank
just memories of wartime- rank
settled in his aureole, the light;
no bullets no musket to his flank
just memories of wartime- rank
That final day the guards did still salute
dressed in uniform with lips of solid mute
they came to honor him the gent
who's trust they underwent
consentingly agreed a man of no refute;
within the hour of twilight God found his heart,
within the hour of love he got a fresh new start
No bullets, no musket to his flank....
Copyright © Mystic Rose Rose | Year Posted 2018
She descends from a summit vestibule
on powder fine as cotton down this day
of days in porcelain chiffon and tulle.
The winter firs in frost echo the way
her snowflake peau de soie in frozen jewel
cascades like waterfalls of ice. Tears weigh
the same as beaded pearls and just as cool;
they glisten in her bodice. The light plays
from a ghost sun inside them as in pools
of diamonds. She glides in mist-white sleigh
down slopes of eider, the cold glitter fools
even the nearest celebrant and strays
from hearts of men for she's just as cruel
as flood or famine on Winter's first day.
Copyright © Dale Gregory Cozart | Year Posted 2017
Whispers
Listen to the whispers in the winds,
In the rolling waves of the wildflower on the hills,
Where poppies dance and flaunt their golden colors.
Hear the musical chirp of the little birds,
Enjoying the vast yellow mustard fields,
Listen to the whispers in the winds,
Spring has arrived with flowers in vivid colors,
Hummingbird forever whispers and hovers on the daffodils,
Where poppies dance and flaunt their golden colors.
The delicate pink lily magnolia scatters her petals in the winds,
It is a red petal beauty bestowed on trees and land,
Listen to the whispers in the winds.
The charming Monarch butterfly, adorned with painted wings, kissing flowers,
She must be whispering her silent music on milkweed wildflower in spring,
Where poppies dance and flaunt their golden colors.
All the spring splendor does not only show in day lights,
Hear the nightingale serenade her music on cherry blossoms trees in moonlit starry nights,
Listen to the whispers in the winds,
Where poppies dance and flaunt their golden colors.
Copyright © Jay Narain | Year Posted 2023
My habit is to rise early
Before the hush of dawn is gone
When all is still and quiet
Except the lullaby of bird songs
I go to my lush garden
To pick one dew kissed red rose
And some delicate babies breath
Within cool water they will last all day
A tour of the garden is next
As my little cat follows me quietly
She is waiting for that moment
I turn to the kitchen for breakfast
And a saucer of milk for her
Taking my tea outside on the porch
I contemplate my coming day
Sheltered by hanging baskets of petunias
And there in the silence
I dream, my dreams of tranquility
For this is my quiet place
My favorite place to be
_____________________________
August 8, 2012
Poetry/Verse/What Dreams Are Made Of
Copyright Protected, ID 08-414-443-08
All Rights Reserved, 2012, Constance La France
_____________________
Featured Poem Week of September 4, 2016
Copyright © Constance La France | Year Posted 2012
It was our pride and joy, that boat...our prize.
We'd sail to Key West every year in fall,
After summer downpours left the noon.
We made our pact there as we both had suffered
from the plague ungluing all our lives.
Now, I'm here next to his pallid body -
pale blue masque on, jaw aslack, grotesque.
He made the leap; he had escaped, was gone
Upon a journey I could not attend.
He left me all alone to to sail solo.
Yet, he was captain and I his lowly mate.
Who would pull the spinnaker to catch the breeze?
Or talk with me as a person, unaffected?
Now, I was all alone just cast upon the water...
I sold that boat...
Copyright © Dr Richard A Martin Jr | Year Posted 2020
Red robin searches for worms
Goldfinches out in the storm
Hummingbirds flutter about
A red squirrel chirps and spouts
Worms near wet feathers of red
Storm drops on hummingbird's head
About, a finch lands on seed
Spouts from red squirrels with greed
3/11/19
Jueju-Qijue With A Twist Contest
Sponsor:Charles Messina
Copyright © Tania Kitchin | Year Posted 2019
OL'E TY COBB OF YESTER YEAR,
WAS A GENIUS IN SPIKES, OR SO I HEAR.
HE RAN THE BASES WITH A BURST OF SPEED.
LIKE ADRENALINE JUNKY IN TIME OF NEED.
STOLE SECOND BASE WITH HIS FOOT HELD HIGH.
A SERIOUS THREAT TO SPIKE ONES EYE.
LIT UP THE CHARTS, WITH ALL HIS STATS.
TRIPLE CROWN WINNER AND THATS A FACT.
NINETEEN-ELEVEN (1911), COBB SET THE PACE.
WITH A FOUR-TWENTY(.420) AVERAGE, HE STOLE EIGHTY-THREE (83) BASE.
LED THE LEAGUE IN TRIPLES FOUR (4)TIMES.
HOMERUN KING NINETEEN-O-NINE (1909).
CHECK HIS STATS, HE LED THEM ALL.
THAT TY COBB COULD PLAY BASEBALL.
THIRTEEN THOUSAND-0- SEVEN-EIGHT(13,078).
NUMBER OF APPEARANCES MADE AT THE PLATE.
DON'T FORGET THE BASE ON BALL.
TWELVE-FORTY-NINE (1,249)AND THAT'S NOT ALL.
FOURTY-ONE HUNDRED EIGHTY-SIX (4,186)HITS.
THE RESULTS OF THE WAY HE SWUNG THAT STICK.
BATTING CHAMP ELEVEN (11) DIFFERENT TIMES.
WON NINETEEN TWELEVE (1912)WITH A FOUR-O-NINE (409).
LED EIGHT TIMES, IN TOTAL WITH HITS.
LED STOLEN BASES WITH A TOTAL OF SIX.
EIGHT-NINETY-TWO (892)TOTAL STOLEN BASES.
IMAGINE THE LOOK ON THOSE CATCHERS FACES.
TWENTY-TWO-HUNDRED FORTY-SIX RUNS.
AFTER TWENTY-FOUR SEASONS, HIS CAREER WAS DONE.
HE ONLY STRUCK OUT SIX-EIGHTY(680) TIMES.
OVER TWENTY-FOUR SEASONS, THAT BLOWS MY MIND.
HALL OF FAMER, THATS A FACT.
WITH HIS NINETEEN-THIRTY-SIX HALL OF FAME PLAQUE.
GEORGIA PEACH IS DEAD AND DONE.
JULY SEVENTEEN SIXTY-ONE. A
A HUNDRED YEARS HAVE COME AND GONE,
THAT TY COBB LEGEND, STILL LIVES ON.
Copyright © Michael E. Harris | Year Posted 2016
Surrendering gives life,
To surrender is to have power
Power over every dominion
Power to change
Power to lead
Power to go untouched when every hand is against.
With every inhale and exhale
There’s a submission
To the next breath that allows
The lungs to fill up with air and release gases
That’s power within.
Whether it’s used for good or bad
So, what source do you submit?
What gets total surrender?
Whatever you choose to surrender to
That’s what you’re responsible for.
That’s what you’re entrusted with
Don’t allow you’re fear,
Lack of belief,
Or understanding
Deter you away from your assignment.
Submit to His will!
Copyright © Shy Brown | Year Posted 2022
I have wondered long on how it would feel
If true love I ever found
Would I know in my heart that this is the one
To whom my soul would be bound -
Is it to you that my soul is bound?
How should I respond to the words you speak
Can I know whether they are sincere
Am I able to tell by the sound of your voice
As you whisper in my ear?
When you look at me so lovingly
With that twinkle in your eye
It stirs my heart and lights my soul
There are times it makes me cry
I am overwhelmed at the depth of your love
How tender you are to me
And I think to myself - can this really be true
Or is it just fantasy?
Are my fears misplaced - Do I wonder too much?
Am I using my doubts as a crutch?
Should I open my mouth and reveal to you
Just how deeply my heart has been touched?
I'll let fear and doubt go now - and trust in our love
For I know I have finally found
A treasure of love burning bright within me
And to you, my soul will be bound
Yes. It's to you my soul is bound!
Copyright © Neva Romaine | Year Posted 2014
Thunderheads
Written: by Tom Wright
O, boisterous clouds,
Why do you pout on high?
With friction so among you,
Will lightening too,
Not soon cross the sky?
In bumping heads,
You cause the thunders burst
Then in your sorrow weep
And once again your tears,
Quench earth's thirst.
I stand alone surveying aloft,
Your strength and might.
But then like curtains,
You're parting once again,
For God's sunlight.
Seeing a rainbow hanging,
In a distant portion of your sky.
I need not ask the question,
Where do you go
When not in sight, or why?
Copyright © Tom Wright | Year Posted 2008
This whip is a relic of war
an instrument of severe education,
come now Avia, look how lovely and vulgar,
it is essential for you to appreciate it's intention,
feel it's supple weight, the simple fright,
I use jasmine oil to keep it alive with impact
is it not the most gorgeous braid, three feet smooth and tight
come now don't pout, it is the cord of our compact
run your fine fingers over it's raven silk,
this braid of hair belonged to a Queen
her name was Ariella, her defiance was thick
see how her scalp covers the handle clean
I had lion nails sown to the end so you learn from the hit
I will beat you with it, choke you with it, and love you with it,
I will beat you with it, choke you with it, and love you with it,
like Ariella, you are my captive now, my precious property
and I will destroy you if your heart is unfit,
if I even sense ingratitude or pondered treachery
like her Avia, you will weep unto Azrael's wings
Egyptian law and custom grant to me this measure
but let us not frown and fret over penalties and harsh things
the Pharaoh gave you to me as a gift, a breathing treasure,
you and I shall become close as love to law
I will be the law of exchange
you will be the love for life without flaw
and together we will honor the business of bondage,
those pyramids on the horizon stand on the knowledge of sacrifice
your beauty Avia, will survive in the legend of Goshen's price,
Your beauty Avia, will survive in the legend of Goshen's price,
When I arrived in Hispania the smell of Roman cruelty was in the sunshine
disembarking from the ship we passed an abominable masterpiece
a man with his face skin split, peeled down, crucified upon an X on the shoreline
above his head was a sign that read...I have assaulted Rome's authority...
I was in Carthage in '46, twelve years old when the legions of Scipio came,
before Hannibal cut his wrists, looking at me with death wet in his eyes, voice hoary,
he said...Mathos, make an empire of your heart...I ran to defend my Mother's name,
I've been pickin' these silver veins almost a decade without a fix
after arriving from Sicily they had me run the water wheel
the mine master couldn't believe my stamina, said I ran like the river Styx
eventually I had to walk deep, to where silver and sulphur make you kneel,
I've seen men perish in the pits, basket boys buckle dead as fumes crept
brutality is in the very bedrock here, within the law insanity kept,
Brutality is in the very bedrock here, within the law insanity kept,
What do you know about honor and campaign
you're just a goddamned butcher of chickens and pigs gut swept
I was a galearii of the ll Legio Parthia when the whole world wanted us slain,
I've butchered and built in defense of Rome
along Hadrian's wall, in the Rhineland and in Parthia's dry plains,
I led the rally of camp slaves in 217 that staved off the cataphract storm
when all we had were some caltraps, short swords and rusty chains,
the Prefect of Antioch awarded me a gold phalerae chest disk,
you might be a freeman but I'm a traveler of Rome's eagle,
yeah, I'm just a State slave for baggage trains headed towards an imperial dusk
where the march goes on to Jupiter's bloodbath renewal,
remember this freeman, within every heart there exists a whisper of cowardice
yet it are the truly noble whom rise to death with confidence,
Yet it are the truly noble whom rise to death with confidence,
I knew from the moment I bought you from your bankrupt Father
that you'd become a precise killer, an armored angel of fatal chance,
it was tragically obvious that he cherished you but had four more, a farm and your Mother,
I needed to convert the rage of your abandonment into ruthlessness
to cultivate a sharpened hate, a taste for glory, my athlete of terror,
in my school you learned the spark of steel and lethal finesse
within the arenas Decimus you became a legion of one, exact, fury's victor,
you've taught the Roman world how to cheer for the lonely conqueror
and tonight my gladiator, amid the light of a thousand torches
in a full capacity colluseum it will not be men but beasts that you will encounter
six starved lions will be chained loosely near six ceremonial arches
commemorating six centuries of triumphs, you'll be lathered in bull's blood to attract their frenzy,
slay the symbols of captivity and you'll be set free,
Slay the symbols of captivity and you'll be set free,
look here you Teutoni shewolf
you had better summon an unsalted seduction for the buyers to see
lest you be sold to some pig pimp in the Dacia district where life is ugly rough,
your pompous pouting won't last a day in the cheap chambers,
in five minutes your body will be on the auction block
and don't dare speak unless you wish to be blinded by pain,
charm some cock out there and just maybe you'll be bought high end,
listen woman, your life is about to change real fast
either you're gonna die soon in a disease ridden dump,
live on for who knows how long in grueling grinding misery
or perhaps, you'll live decently as the mistress of a sensitive patron
you have the power to influence this outcome, tempt intensely,
Gentlemen, behold, the wild yet curious Laurentia, an unexplored beauty,
J.A.B.
Copyright © Justin Bordner | Year Posted 2016
The Mirror
When I look in the mirror I don’t see me, I see who I used to be. A little lost girl that was so abused and so misused, so ashamed of who she was, so helpless and so selfless. Yet somehow she refused to give in, refused to give up on life. Even though she tried.
She used her books to take her wherever she wanted to be. Away from all the hurt, all the suffering, all the sadness, all the misery. She could become the person she aspired to be in that book. It was her story. She was the glory. She had to be that person in her book.
Because real life was off the hook.
The shero was not what she saw when she looked in the mirror. She was no shero. She was not indomitable. She did not know how life would go.
A lost little girl is what she would see.
The person she did not want to be.
It was out of her grasp. Instead she had to gasp for air so that she could breathe another day, so that she could live another hour, so that she could move away from the pain and the strife, so that the sadness of life would not make her cower from the madness so rife.
In her real life story would she continue to be the victim, or will she emerge victoriously? It’s time to stop being controlled, seeking to be consoled and be in the role of her own destination. Move away from the chaos and strife. Make her way, in life, make her mark, walk her stride.
Will she ever be able to look in the mirror and see a true reflection of who she has become not a deflection of who she was? Will she see the woman that has emerged from the pain and the hurt and instead see the swarthy girl of a pearl that was a result?
It’s time to look to someone higher than me. I can’t do it by myself. The valley is too deep to crawl out of, too deep to dig out of, too deep to shovel out of by myself. I felt I had no one. No one that could console my sadness, that would not add to the madness, that understood my weakness, that would not exploit my meekness. No one that truly understood me.
That did not mean I had no one. Feeling alone is only a feeling. It is not necessarily so really. Yet those feelings have you reeling in and out of sadness and darkness and loneliness. There were always ones right by my side. My sadness blocked their view from my eyes
My good dad would say, “anything you want to be, look, just read it in a book”. Mom would say “you could write a book, when ended, send it to Oprah she’ll just love it, I’m sure of it. .I said “mom ok, whatever you say.”
I truly had big sisters that would tell me “don’t hurt yourself because someone else hurt you, hurt them”. They would tell me “you’re smarter than that don’t let them put you down. Don’t let anyone run you around or take your crown. And certainly don’t let them beat you down emotionally”.
Then there are my dear brothers when grown up beyond the past, looked out for our lives. They took us out of the misery and strife. They put us in a safe place away from all the pain we faced.
That was enough to get me through the
tough teen years. For all of them I will be forever grateful. For sure those years were truly fateful. Yet the heartache and pain lingered through the years on into adult tears.
When you look in the mirror ask yourself; Who provided your safe place, helped you move past the disgrace, wipe the tears from your face? Be grateful. I certainly am.
Now I can say I found that someone. I had never met a person—man woman or child that I felt was truly worthy of my love or whose love I felt worthy of. Until my sister introduced me to the one and only Jehovah that dwells up above.
That’s when I began to learn that in order to feel loved you have to know that you are loved by him. Life does not begin, life does not extend, life does not resend but revolves around the love that can only come from the one above.
Have you allowed yourself to be loved, to be graced by the essence of the mightiest love that like a dove only comes from above? Then and only then will you truly know love.
Now I can say my life is complete not just because I found my soulmate a man with no hate, that has never closed the gate of his heart to me. My Eddie, a man that is worthy of my love and I of his for 35 years.
My life is complete not just because my family is the epitome of family love that takes the hurt and sorrow and suffering and pain and deals with it without placing blame. Instead to the core we come out loving each other even more. Keeping each other from being maimed, instead keeping each one in the game of life.
My life is complete not just because I have a brother hood of friends that are out of this world good. Friendships that this world can not dismantle, they are the panel that holds the key to what friendship should be. We help each other bear what they can not handle because love is there.
My life is complete because I am never worthy but graced with undeserved kindness that will not be erased. He has taught me how to love. I know what love looks like, acts like, and should treat me like. I know how to have self respect and how to respect others. Without Him life is truly over!
Today I can breathe. Today I feel free.Today I am not needy but feel needed. Because of His reflection there is no deflection. I can give direction of how you too can find love.
Today I can see not the me that use to be. Today in the mirror, I can see me.
https://youtu.be/XKldnolBrbw
Copyright © Linda Carter | Year Posted 2022
Silence prevails
as earth drinks
from the chalice
of the condemned
blood seeps
into the ground.
A bruised face holds
evidence of violent force
dull unseeing eyes
turned to heaven
as if beseeching
an answer
to why?
Are we so righteous?
have we no sins?
to temptations
don't we fall?
so how can we justify
and condemn
who among us has the right
to cast the first stone?
Copyright © Running Wolves | Year Posted 2017
The Fighting Temeraire
I lead this Queen to a guillotine
She follows me with dignity and grace
all English oak and 98 guns.
I am an unsuitable escort for my Lady,
my low born coarseness, the effort of towing her punctuated
by upward belches and grinding grunts, I am unbecoming as a royal guard
but she is silent, already haunted
She no longer flies the Union Jack as she did in battle
but a white flag of sale
and surrender
She is no longer adorned by ornament or armament
She will never again feel a storm fight to strip her sails from her body in violent passion
her clothes have been sold
In her nakedness, she is ethereal
but I am aware of Temeraire’s glorious past
The Battle of Trafalgar;
She swept to the side of the wounded HMS Victory,
and through intrepid maneuvers and savage fighting,
saved the shattered Victory from certain death,
and took two ships hostage.
But today, the sun sets in the distance on the days of elegant,
tall-masted warships
There are streaks of red in the sky and sea, that match the streaks of red
on her deck, that can’t be washed away
I’ve been paid a purse of coin to escort her to the other side.
As I am reluctantly relieved of the tow ropes that bind us,
I hope that pieces of her live on somewhere
In tribute to the Fighting Temeraine.
Copyright © Lacey Jones | Year Posted 2024