The woods were silent except for the shifting
soft sounds of his hooves as they fell upon
the forest floor. There he stood amid the mist in
his white majestic coat calling to me to come
to him and ride upon his back, vanish with him,
(as the sun lay dying into quiet shades of twilight)
into an unknown sacred realm where no
one's footsteps could follow.
I stroked his soft warm velvet nose and felt the
subtle flair of his nostrils breath on my hand.
When I climbed upon his back we rode
as one as our love and trust in each other
had slowly grown into a synergy unsurpassed.
Moonlight filtered through the verdant trees
as darkness enveloped the starry sky.
Suddenly we found ourselves in a glade
where we were surrounded by the soft glow
of tiny faeries as numerous as fireflies.
We were warmly welcomed into their sacred
sanctuary and I felt enchanted by their sylvan
beauty as two tiny faeries braided long strands
of my golden hair, intertwining fragrant flowers.
I was asked if I would help to keep the forest
safe from clear cutting, and I promised I would.
I awoke to the faint sound of hoofbeats as dawn
was rising and there were pretty flowers in my hair.
© Connie Marcum Wong
Poem of the Day April 4, 2016
Copyright © Connie Marcum Wong | Year Posted 2016
Lemme tell ya' about a
I met her one night
under disco lights
up at Candies
starin' at me
grittin' her teeth
aimin' ta' see
if I wanted a piece
by way of flashin' granny panties
actin' a fool
took a shot
and one tiny glance
but got caught
lit up a smoke
and tried to play it off cool
but it was too late
she had pulled up a stool
"Hey young felluh, where ya' been all my life!"
"Sorry to burst yir' bubble, but I got a wife!"
"That don't matter kid, what she don't know won't hurt the girl"
as she fisted my collar and yelled, "I'LL ROCK YIR' WORLD! Annie the Tranny is what they call me. Bet you been wanted ta' bone me since you first saw me!"
Fear and frustration danced on my face
I begged the bouncer to
"Get this he/she outta the place!"
My pleas were to no avail,
and that sea donkey lurked hot on my trail
flailin' it's arms and grindin' bar stools with it's tail
Speakin' of tails...
a shiny blue wale tail crept up her back
Her jeans were mean, but couldn't hold her underwear's elastic slack
but at least it beat feastin' eyes upon her crack
wrapped her grimy hands around my neck and asked,
"You n' me, boy, what the heck!?!"
"Look here lady, you seem real nice for a tranny;
to hit the bricks,
and yir' Granny Panties!"
At that point the joint started to really heat up
people were glarin' like they really wanted me beat up
I can't recall how the hell I got out of there
alive and free
it was like a big manly freight train
headin' dead at me
I'm pretty sure I owe the good Lord a big favor
that beast was the devil
and Jesus was my Savior!
It's a night I thought would never end...
the night at Candies Bar n' Grill
Granny Panty Annie got a thrill
tryin' to make me her sexy friend!!!
Copyright © JSLambert Mister ROBOTO | Year Posted 2012
Riding an elephant
Down the narrow trail looking triumphant
Scanning the golden landscape
Like Hannibal with enemies in flight
Sight from a lofty height
King of the jungle moving
With lioness by his side
Climbing Mount Kilimanjaro
Guides by my side with packs on their backs
Some paths steep with rocks
Boots slipping below our tired feet
Beautiful birds in unison flight
Moving with terrestrial light
Stunning sunlight summit on the peak
Praying in an Ethiopian Church
Preserved in rocks built by humans’ hands
Never touched by conquest plans
Protected from the invaders’ footsteps
Queen of Sheba and Solomon’s nest
Touched by Arch of the Covenant
Mary, Joseph, and Jesus once slept
Eating yam, sipping palm wine, and tasting milk
Freshly squeezed by experienced hands
Taste of life in the mosaic grassland
Sustaining and soul refreshing
Cradle of humankind adorning
Invaded for its gold, riches, and human capacity
Birth of life on earth with tenacity
Respecting its living and arduous journey
Essence of life once was and is again to come
Riding a camel across the hot Sahara sand
Once wet now dried, exported gold from Mali…
Treasures from the hearts of once African empires
That which was, is, and shall forever be
Africa the birthing Motherland
We still love and respect thee!
Seventh Place Winner
"African's Pride" Poetry Contest
Sponsored by Adeleke Adeite
June 30, 2010
Copyright © Joseph Spence Sr | Year Posted 2010
Tea Leaves On The Bosphorus
Seated at a table by the stirring water,
My eyes absorb the shore of Asia.
Minerets and aged worn stone
Stand haphazardly along the banks.
Istanbul is a lady with secrets
She'll lure you with her unrevealed virgin beauty,
Then seduce you with her ancient lovers.
Grilled sardines filled my charger
Fish pulled from the strait just minutes before,
Lay garnished with parsley and mint .
Red pickled turnips and warm flat bread
Are the implements that help feed me
And scoop up the humus,
Turkish nourishment for my soul.
The empty plates are cleared by a handsome waiter
With dubious intentions I feared,
But I was flattered none the less.
A bowl of yogurt was placed before me,
And my admirer arrived with a comb of honey.
He held it high above the creamy cloud and let the heavy ochre
languidly pour atop the milky whiteness of delight.
After his seduction,he left me alone to my pleasure
As I lapped at the sweet and sour heavenly temptation,
that parted my lips and elevated my being.
As I recovered from my rapture, two eyes caught mine.
The heathen that destroyed my diet approached the table uninvited.
He pulled up a chair and sat down across from me.
In his hands, a cup.
He offered to tell me my future.
White, small, as fragile as an eggshell with the top lopped off.
Within was a dark tea with floating leaves.
In a chivalrous attempt at English conversation,
He handed me the libation and the offer to read the remains.
I, alone in a man's world, unmarried, and of a certain age,
Did not need encouragement and I accepted his offer.
I drained the tea in one gulp and returned it to his hands.
He placed the cup in one palm , then turned it upside down,
Allowing the remaining fluid to drip out around the cup and onto the table.
Once the cup was upright again he studied the leaves, then he spoke.
His voice was soft, at times , unintelligible
His reading was honest, and truthful, and painful.
His prophecy, amusing, and entertaining
His vision and it's accuracy were astounding.
Fifteen years later, the leaves delivered on their promise.
Long fluid lines inside the cup foretold of a marriage,
To a man who would cross a sea to find me.
Two shorter drippings were the children that now delight me.
The tea ring that he was able to complete around the cup ,
Was the warmth of a love that would soon envelop me.
Copyright © Brenda Atry | Year Posted 2011
It's Christmas Eve and through the house
there creeps a curious little mouse.
He climbs into the big arm chair
and finds the cookies waiting there .
He only takes the smallest bite.
Santa will find his treat tonight.
He gazes with wonder at the tree
and the bright wrapped gifts left there to be
a mystery tale to tell his spouse,
when he gets home, this curious mouse.
What an adventure it has been,
he has drunk of some spilled gin
that had been left upon the table.
His wife will think it is a fable
he has concocted to amuse her.
She is homebound, we must excuse her.
He once came home all out of breath
to say he had been scared to death
by a huge rat with fluffy tail.
She noticed he was very pale.
"While I was nibbling off some cheese
to bring to you, my love, to please,
he almost had me in his paws.
I'm sure he wasn't Santa Claus".
But this night is so very quiet.
He spies some fruitcake, has to try it.
It reminds him of that sip of gin
and wonders if his head will spin.
He hears a noise, runs for his life,
carrying fruitcake for his wife.
Christmas morning, spread before their eyes
for the baby mice, a grand surprise.
Their mama had fixed a Christmas feast
from food their dad had saved from beast.
A bit of butter, a glob of jam
and a fairly good-sized piece of ham.
Bread crumbs saved from other forays.
They had enough to eat for days.
Those little mice would never waste it.
If they didn't like it, they'd still taste it.
This food their mama set before them,
their dad risked his life to get it for them.
Copyright © Joyce Johnson | Year Posted 2014
I looked up at a silver moon
Peering through a cloud of misty gloom
As we sailed across the Atlantic Sea
That fateful night in June
And as I stood upon the bow
A furrow crossed my troubled brow
When I saw a dying star fall from the sky
As the wind out of the north
Began to cry
'Twas then with fearful heart
I came at last to realize
That we were sailing
On a wave of ill-tidings
Known as 'The Devil's Tide'
For no omen of the sea
Brought more fear than thee
A fallen star - a silver moon
Together in the month of June
If legend true would surely bring us doom
So with no trace of land in sight
We sailed onward through the night
I - the Captain 'Louie Lou'
With my faithful crew
Aboard the 3 mast schooner 'Angel - of the Blue'
On canvas wings we flew
Upon the wailing wind that blew
Then suddenly a hush of malaise
Crushed the summer night
Filling all the crew with dreadful fright
As all the stars in heaven lost their light
And the silver moon dipped completely out of sight
Leaving us to drift without guidance
To our unknown plight
An eerie sound began to roll out of the west
Growing louder and louder as we held our breath
Until it was upon us and the ship began rise
As we looked in horror into the Devil's eye
As the Angel of the Blue began to fly
Up the Devil's breast she climbed 20 fathoms high
One by one the Angel's wings were torn away
As she fought to save us from the Devil's rage
Screams of horror falling from her timber sides
As the crew fell into the Devil's tide
And I - tethered to the helm - watched them die
As we climbed even higher into the Devil's eye
And as the Angel's body creaked and cracked
We finally scaled the crest and rode upon the Devil's back
Just before I fainted and my world went black
I woke up in the morning high on a mountain side
Never knowing just how I had survived
knowing only that my Angel and my crew had died
Many years have come and gone since then
And I am forever haunted by each and every one of them
My faithful crew and my mighty 'Angel of the Blue'
I see their faces in my dreams
As I awaken to their screams
Wishing, too - that I had died
But someone had to live
To tell the tale of the 'Devil's Tide'.
Author: Elaine George
Entry for contest: Legends
Awarded: First Place
Copyright © Elaine George | Year Posted 2007
And the music began,
And with power so strong, I nearly fell back from the force
Snarling, smiling, demons held me upright,
As the Precarious Prince began,
“Dare you in silence come to me, Daughter of Eve,
To challenge my wisdom with your lust to sing,
A child of God—you provoke His flea,
A monster in the dark—a sight to see!
In meditative silence, I was ever blooming,
The passion for power in my mind consuming,
In silence, my brilliance berated all other
My beauty, shocking, my wings of color
Etched in golden array,
Silence was my everything,
A bud so tight, so light, so moist,
In heaven bright—its beam rejoiced!
And now, as knowledge, as power do burst,
I sit in silence, though in the worst
A quiet so perturbed your stomach curbs,
I long in luster for demons to disturb
Silence, once a subordinate to my wit,
Had found its way into this grimy pit,
Where now your God has given me,
A work of sloppy treachery…
Had I been He, and He been me,
I would throw His heart into the sea,
And watch the eels suck each artery
And listen to his lullabies for a century,
To feel his spirit sweat in the flames of my power,
I would shred his head on the highest tower,
Give him something to really Bab-bel,
Make him wish Eve had crushed that apple”
He smiled at me with teeth protruding,
Keenly waiting for my reply
My throat was insanely dry, and my heart racing
I had expected more, yet expected less…
And now all my wits were a wretched mess
Yet still Death severed those deep bass chords..
I began as a child would, with a doubtful sigh,
I wondered yet again what kind of trouble I was coming by
And inspired by The Reaper’s little push, I began
“In my days in your presence, dear one
Silence shall not roam too close,
I do not sing to disdain you,
Rather to know you,
I do not grow quiet,
To decompose you…”
I stopped for a moment,
To see him staring rather attentively,
As if he were expecting a miracle
His almost angelic expression changed as quick as it came…
“Go on…” He demanded. “Sing me what your God would have sang…”
“You speak of silence, in the fogs of doom,
In your pit you dwell, and with a child you make room,
I have ached long in the vision of your cries,
Watching the happy children, and the relieving sighs,
I imagined you just as I see you today,
A beautiful sufferer, with wit, bite, and sway
Crushing courage in your wake,
I implore you—you quake
Moments like these I will never forget,
To win, to lose, to KNOW I wait yet!
What is it with man and his thirst for the truth,
Leading him to fall, to intercede his youth,
And as I do now, wrong or right,
By God and his angels has found delight!
Allowed me with confidence to face you Prince,
A sauntering being of ire and impertinence
I see where your attention bleeds,
I see your mind and I see your needs
Such darkness must now allow some light,
By accepting my challenge—a bravery so bright
Do I mean to admire you, accept you, despise you
Am I hear to judge you, taunt you, transpire you
You and you alone I come for, oh Prince
To show you I care, to break the silence
To share with you the precious gifts of song,
To love, to sing, and in turn…belong…”
The demons chimed with laughter dark
As the Prince sat close beside me
He stood very slow, towering over me,
And took me by the arm
“Charming voice, darling,
You sing quite well,
Shall we sing for as long as you say?
Will you not be missed?”
He pointed above me, and stared at me deeply
There was warning written all over him
A threatening, distant eye,
The other full of desire
“I am missed by you, though I stand before you,
This I say, Prince
I shall stay with you 40 days and 40 nights,
And then I shall leave you, in the breaking dawn of day…”
His grip tightened upon me,
“I have you, child, woman…light…
For 40 Days and 40 nights…
Before then, let us make history of song
Yes, my dear... let us both belong…”
The demons gasped,
And Death stood still…steadily strumming a pulse of daring life
----Thank you once again, Justin Bordner, for the title to this work.
This may be confusing if you have not yet read the other parts to the poem. If you are interested, they are called Light On the Devil’s Chord – Part 1, Part 2 Part 3 as well as The ChallengeThanks for reading friends! ~Laura
Copyright © Laura Breidenthal | Year Posted 2015
The clouds are now fading,
as the rainbow of life breaks through,
once my tears fell heavy,
but now only a trace of misty blue.
Sometimes we have no reason,
answers can't be found,
but we still stand on our Faith,
praying for stable ground.
Many pathways are given,
that's where common sense can't be blind,
for what we choose today,
can push us forward, or leave us behind.
Years are a blessing,
if we learn from where we've been,
but if we never humble our self,
the clouds will come again.
Everyone has a story,
our journey of tears, and smiles,
we are the keepers of the memories,
and all those lifetime miles.
Copyright © Christy Hardy | Year Posted 2008
I wonder if my false smile fools anyone at all?
Perhaps I am pulling it off!
Do I look like someone who does this every day?
Do I seem self assured and confident?
No one seems to pay me notice...
I purposely chose an aisle seat
Yes....I'm ashamed to admit it...
I'm one of those you hear about,!...Go ahead...laugh if you like...
Yes, hate to tell you, but I'm cursed with a fear of flying!
Oh I know....you'll tell me all that nonsense about aeronautics
How it's safer than driving the freeways...yeah...right...
Sorry....I can't hear you....my heart is pounding too loudly
My head is throbbing...my hands are shaky, my knees are trembling...
Ahhh.... a deep breath, ...ahh...another....wheww....
Oh-oh!! OHHHHHHHHHHHHHH this is it!!!!!
Ohhhh...ohhh....oooooo ....here we go!!!......
I'll just look at the floor, ...
O.K. O.K. come on..!! ....Try to think of pleasant thoughts!
Ummmm...green grass, ....uhh, butterflies,.. flowers, ...dirt,...wonderful wonderful dirt! ...
HEAVENLY MOTHER EARTH!!!!
What are those for?? Oh yes, I remember,...the small lights beneath our feet
Leading us (HOPEFULLY!!)...( just in case...you know...)
Oh, God...for escaping in the dark!! ....IF escape were necessary (or even possible!!)
Little lights that lead ...to..to...where is it??? Oh, there....the exit!!
That's the nearest exit...(must remember....closest one I count is five rows ahead)....
Hmm...better count again....five rows...
Count them again...yes...one, two, three, four, five...
Do NOT listen to the deafening noise of the engines...
What was that??!! I said... "DON'T LISTEN!!"....
The couple next to me
So animated in their conversation
They seem deeply enthralled by the landscape below them
Just sitting there...joking, and enjoying and pointing.....
Hmm..just a peek....WOW!...Look at that world...it's shrinking in size so rapidly!
Hmm....well now, ....this isn't so hard...
Actually, well, maybe just another quick look....hmmm.....
If I crane my neck a bit....wow...I can see the ocean in the distance
I can see the patchwork of man's mark on the earth
Wow! Wow !! ...would ya look at that???!
Wow, beautiful !! .... Gotta get a window seat for the flight home !!!...
Wow!.....Amazing..........! That view.....................incredible!!!!
What's that....?? "Oh...yes..a coke would be nice..thank you!"
Hey...this isn't so bad.... Wow....look!! I can see the curvature of the earth....Wow!!!
Hey.....this is AWESOME!!!!
Copyright © Carrie Richards | Year Posted 2009
We bound down the stairs, out into the light-of-day, and into the blue of the
misty breezes, heavily laden with the smell of wild sea salt roses that grow in
perfusion along the winding road, that bends and turns in gentle lifts and dips to
the other side of the bay, where it crosses the bridge and rises up and winds
away, over the hill.
Overhead the seagulls screech and glide over the ocean spray that washes on
the rocks on the lower banks behind our house along the Fundy Bay, where we
run like the wind through the fields of fresh cut hay and make our way to the
rocky mantle below .
There in the volcanic plateau, worn smooth as glass by the constant rolling
weight of the ocean, is our pool, known by all in our village, as ‘Lizza’s Bathtub’,
created by the eruption of the earth’s inner core, millennia’s ago.
We slip into the still, salty water that has been warmed beneath the blazing sun,
and float with the perry winkles and tiny crabs and listen to the sound of the
ocean, that roars beneath us as it leaves in the receding tide, while we drift
away, in our minds, my little brother the ‘King’ and I, the ‘Queen’ for a day on
the ‘Fundy Bay’.
Copyright © Elaine George | Year Posted 2006
In a new road,
Rain will fall,
Wind may blow,
Swifting our woe.
The road forever on and on,
Many paths to choose,
Many paths to take,
Through the shadows,
Through the night,
Clouds going by,
There we will lie,
Seeing shivered land,
Seeing the dead seas...
Through the edge,
Miles to go,
Rain may fall,
Through the nightfall,
Through the twilight,
Through the dusk,
Through the dawn,
Paths on and on,
'Till the road comes along...
Copyright © Ruben A. Hernandez Diaz | Year Posted 2013
Wedding Night in Raqqa
Cyclonic violet vision
Etheral and immortal
She swirls her sand baked torso.
Evoking the initial collision of primordial seed,
Swathed in gossamer purple veils,
Writhing to the stomping and clapping
Of jeweled ankles
And henna stained hands.
The tribes have united for my wedding to their son.
I ,foreign and naive, swoon to the power
Of ancient rhythm and verse,
Ripe, fertile gestures,
Pregnant with throbbing pulses
And scattered beats of flailing arms,
Bleating tongues, spinning robes.
A cacophony of incessant chant rose from the dancing women,
Growning louder, feverish in their pleasure
And the nearness of release.
I join in the dancing.
They swath me in voiles and lead me to the center
I dance, and I succumb to my wedding night in Raqqa.
Copyright © Brenda Atry | Year Posted 2011
It was on the other side of the rainbow
When I slid into a dream
I guess at that time nothing was, as it truly seemed
People came and people went
The needle played my blues
Through the rainbow dreams into leprechaun schemes
I was Papa Smurf with the magic brew
I built a Crystal Castle
On the shores of nevermore
I guess sometimes I wonder, “What was I searching for”
Beauty danced with big brown eyes
Though the faces always changed
Many times I slept with gals I thought were rather strange
Magic slides that no one hides
I wonder where they go?
I once slid down the rainbow just to see the show
The stars are bright it’s a beautiful night
Moonbeams illuminating mushrooms all around
Here by my house crickets and frogs are the only sound
Fairies dance like fireflies
It’s really quite the sight
Ever tripped down Hollywood and Vine on a Friday night
I have lived through many dreams
Shared many angels souls
Shattered dreams and broken schemes, nothing but empty goals
Broken hearts torn apart
Blowing in the wind
Like fairy dust you just can’t trust
Not even your closest friend
I dove into a crystal pool on the other side of the hill
I swear sometimes in my ears I can hear the ringing still
I rode upon the tornado just to go spinning through the sound
Landed in a concrete room bouncing all around
Leprechauns and rainbows
Unicorn’s beautiful and white
When I finally kicked the horse
It wasn’t a pretty sight
Like a frog on the log or a sick old dawg
Just a skeleton in a box
With the strength of Arthur's sword and trust in the Lord
I shattered a thousand locks
Now I’m back on this side of the rainbow
And every thing’s looking bright
My Guinevere is here and I love her dear
She is such a lovely sight
Trials come like waterfalls
Flooding though our life
I truly am a lucky man to face them with my wife
Well let’s gig the frog and fire up the log
We’ll roast us a pig tonight
Life is good in my neighborhood
Nary a single vice
The other side of the rainbow now seems so very far away
I guess that is really about all I have to say
Copyright © Michael Jordan | Year Posted 2009
Early one morning a group of rookie's and veteran's ballplayers emerge onto the prac-
tice field destine to began an grueling season of hardwork and a dedication to an common-
goal of Superiority. They come out of the locker room after the coach has given assign-
ment's and now everyone minds are on one accord, one agenda and together they all say to
themselve's. "The road to a Championship began when the priority to be the best", "is know
from one and all roads to success is gear towards teamwork and passionate loyalty to suc-
ceed at any means there is". Loyalty to push on through the inclimate weather, hardwork off
the field as well on the field is approachable only when a championship atmosphere surrounds
itself with ballplayer's and not attitude's disrespectful to the cause of the challenge's to be-
come the best at what you do, and do the best at what not to do. Teamwork is a do-able part
of the puzzle, but there's more to it then that. There is hunger, and then all the pieces falls
together when that hunger is fed an astronomical desire that fill-up the body and your minds
with offensive and defensive individual's that love's victory and enjoy's a desire to not finish
the race in last place. So out emerge's a champion in his relationship to his fellow ballplayers
and to his family as that of maturity and that of unlimited resources of the uncoachable en-
tangable fortitude that seperate the advantage's over the disadvantages that make his or her
teammate's reach the level of sportsmenship unseen and redeem as the fans come to see a
player that value's himself and value the diffucult task of Sunday to Sunday ability to be not
only a scholar athelete but also The road of a Champion is what make's him love to compete:
Copyright © John Streeter | Year Posted 2010
In the cool of the evening he laid there basking
as my fingers touched the gleaming surface of the pool.
Deeper i penetrated till my hand was beneath him,
slowly my fingers engaged his slithery belly,
then gently with a slight single movement
to and thro, then up and down
his whole body fully relaxed as he rolled a little
to accommodate me.
As he laid there his eye and my eyes connected
each of us wondering no doubt what the next move would be,
while carefully not to let my nose which was just above the surface
play any part in this my devious quest.
Suddenly a water skater bug came floating by
and decided to explore my nostril,
at this point making me sneeze, the force of the blast
sending the bug careering on to the surface.
In a flash swallowed by my impending supper
who then scurried away to the safety
of the rocky bed of the creek,
to become King Trout for another day.
Harry J Horsman
Copyright © harry horsman | Year Posted 2011
Summer scent is the smell of freedom
where we can escape the flavor of boredom
so we plan to have our vacation on the beach
where we can relax and fresh air is within our reach
The warm wind tenderly embraced my spirit
I felt excited on this first visit
on an island where refugees can find paradise
an island where spending time is wise
The dulcet breeze gently kisses lush green trees
and the mirthful sun smiles over the vast seas
Where surfers play with gigantic waves
and are not certain on what road it paves
The fluffy clouds are smoothly sailing
the birds are singing and harmoniously dancing
There are butterflies that are colorful in hue
like enchanted fairies changing colors from pink to blue
I need my sun block, it's time for swimming
the tables are full because later we're all eating
Ladies are smiling to many cool surfer dudes
Children are hungry seeing delicious exotic foods
I picked a shell that whispered peacefully in my ears
and we built castles that we fancied over the years
out of the small grains of white sands
and all you need is helping hands
God was really great in creating splendid wonders
that were loved by all especially the nature lovers
There are numerous oceans that are aquamarine
and abundant trees and grasses that are green
The brother sun was slowly hiding
because the sister moon was coming
I guess it was our time to pack
but there will come a time for us to go back
Go back to a place of leisure and freedom
where you'll not taste the flavor of boredom
It would be hard for us to say goodbye
because truly we will come back and say Hi!
Copyright © Nadine Fababier | Year Posted 2008
My eldest brother, nine years old,
Thought he could break a horse.
Our mother strictly forbade him.
A mother’s right of course.
Her young son mustered all his wiles,
Hoping he could sway her.
Unwilling to be defeated,
He vowed to disobey her.
He gathered a rope and bridle,
Went to the big corral.
He was there to break a wild colt,
Three brothers there to yell.
Our youngest brother, four years old
Yelled, “I’ll tell Ma on you
Unless you take me up there
And give me a ride too.”
In his eagerness to hush him,
His big brother agreed
And lifted him to the bare back
Of that big, trembling steed.
Our father came in nick of time
To salvage little brother,
Then watched as his son rode that colt.
No one told our mother.
Copyright © Joyce Johnson | Year Posted 2011
For thoose of you who may not know.
Just call me gonzo I write the absurd for life is insane and sometimes
it takes a madman to speak the truth so very clear.
I write for the broken vacant faces that have lost all hope.
To the dreamer who's well is slowley running dry from everyone
telling him to stop wasting his time.
I write like a endless highway fueled by whiskey and wild women
every adventure leads to pain but life is pain and i love in spite of it.
I thirst for every unseen mile the desert my brother it's people dwell
in the spirt of the west the opium parlors and brothels spirt still linger.
I write with a hint of danger and a promise of disaster.
Im a blues player whos trying to out run the devil.
Im a outlaw riding to cross the border a woman looking to the
empty range for my return.
I write because I breath in a world were the creative air has gone
The bottle sits apon table and I welcome any strangers company
I just rather that stranger be a warm woman instead of a
unfriendly amigo who is a little jelouse.
Write to be more than just part of the highways landscape.
Some may call me crude crazy insane some even vulgar and
liar and thief.
But aside from thoose compliments.
No matter what you may call me.
Dont ever forget to just call me gonzo.
Copyright © DR Robert Gonzo | Year Posted 2010
Through shadowed forest glade she rode
'Midst grey and gloomy chill
No single thought of safety did
A moment stay her will
The mist clung to her nostrils as
She charged into the brush
The creatures of the forest paused
In terrifying hush
Foreboding seeped into her bones
Ghastly, from ages spent
Urging her mount to breakneck speed
Resolve would not relent
To slow would mean downfall into
A consequence of dread
She knew if she but lost an inch
He lover would be dead
This morn she was awakened by
His servant at her door
And with his last breath utterance
Fell bloodied to the floor
It seems a tartan wearing clan
Appeared in red and green
‘Tis true that a more fearful sight
Is rarely ever seen
Unwittingly, they’d crossed the line
Into the Fraser realm
It was then they were set upon
In stand of noble elm
So, now she raced to intercede
Upon her love’s behalf
To beg for mercy from the chief;
That he withhold his wrath
The secret she had hidden would
Surely offset slaughter
It was true she had been born the
Fraser Chieftain’s daughter
She’d fled her home ten years before
With young Lord Cameron
The rival clan’s incumbent heir
Her lover and champion
She’d not been sorry up to now
For following her heart
She knew the toll her love would take
Right from the very start
But this would be a sacrifice
She'd never wished to make
That for his life she would exchange
Hers for the clan to take
Copyright © Donna Golden | Year Posted 2009
A raging river tenaciously floods
Tannins and silts combine to dark blood
A hut, just fifty metres, occupying their sight
Two men, cold and wearied, stuck for the night
An adventure all planned, lasting a week
In the middle of nowhere with red deer to seek
Twelve-hours of hiking, commencing that day
Now trapped with some refuge a stone throw away.
Cracking of boulders being pushed by the current
Affirming the folly of crossing this torrent.
Necessities shaping a cold camp till the dawn
Just tattered old plastic, to use as an awn.
Soft moss as a bed but soaking from rain
Ferns as a pillow don’t cushion colds pain.
Dark of the evening only adds to the pall
Deaths favoured colour, as rain continues its fall
Shivering endless; bodies fighting the shock
Drops of clouds tears slowed to the tick of a clock.
Moisture still falling, no hope for them now
Prospects were mirrored by the dark of the hour
Subtly the winds whispered breathe in their ear.
Rekindling the flames to survive their harsh plight
Packs full of food, swiftly emptied for fuel
Bodies recharged in spite of the cool.
Rain in the dark hours continued to pour
Sounds from the river commenced to fair roar,
First crack of dawn and they got up and away
Wilderness wins this particular day.
*Based on a true story however my companion and I were stuck in the elements
for 2 days and nights. Another river flooded and blocked our exit.*
Copyright © Mark Woods | Year Posted 2015
They burst forth and charge downwards
Matching uniforms shiny against the grey sky
Their only desire to smash suicidally upon our ranks
We hear the thunder of them coming, and carefully prepare
The vanguard already lie smashed upon the ground
The rest will soon swell the regiments of the defeated
Moments before they arrive we deploy our umbrellas
Countless warriors smash harmlessly inches above our heads
Their watery remains dripping from our defences
Mingling with those of their already fallen brethren
Contest : FALL YOUR CHOICE any theme/any form max 12 lines
Copyright © Nick Bagnall | Year Posted 2011
Marry Your Best Friend To Get the Best of Both Worlds
Not many can claim they met their spouse in a battle of wits
much less the fabled (don't believe a word of it!) Internet.
But my uncle, he's not many. And my new aunt? Well she's a keeper.
And it wasn't love like a summer fling --- but it goes much deeper.
The rumors you heard - it's all too true - they met on Online Scrabble:
sesquipedalians by heart, but in the strictest sense, true Word Warriors.
Her last turn was an "I Do"... and when it came, he knew that he was done for:
pussyfooting through the back door, the tenacious Triple Word Score.
The date was planned - his bachelorhood canned. Compensated on Christmas day,
a wifie from Wales to tie the knot with my uncle the Stud from the Spud State.
The Red Dragon Damsel flew in (too strong to be distressed) into my uncle's country life.
(I still remember his clenched fists pouring buckets at the altar ... his first love)
And she brought her little Dragoness, too --- a fiery spark named Emily.
My job was to walk my new British cousin down the aisle,
as she whispered to me, "Should we link arms?"
And though I should have said, "What's the harm?"
instead of a rather robotic canter --- it now brings a smile.
My lovely Aunt Laura wore an eggplant dress, as if too challenge the mountain majesty
that peaked through the church window of that fine Idahoan morn.
Her glorious entry introduced by a Celtic song that would have made Enya weep,
as the vertigo of vows came to a close like a caged bird being released.
Mariah Carey's famous Christmas hit took to life --- All I Want Is You, rang true,
as they took each other's arms to dance celebrating an unlikely circumstance.
Crossing oceans to become One: she from Barry, and he from Boise.
The After Party --- filled with giggles, tears and rip-roaring stories from every point of view.
The wedding cake (believe it or not) was a Scrabble board:
one slice was Congratulations - and though a bit silly, to me it was poetry.
And my uncle - you could tell - was simply dumbfounded
as she took the words right out of his mouth
... with a crumb-filled smooch.
Written February 27th, 2016.
For the My Wedding Day Is Special Because... hosted by Olive Eloisa Guillermo
NOTE: I've never been married before, so I hope writing about my uncle's wedding instead is acceptable.
Copyright © Timothy Hicks | Year Posted 2016
The crucible savant.. by Steven Hudson
(Crucible: A place or situation in which concentrated forces interact to cause or influence change or development.
Savant: a person of learning…)
Through sleepless, hopeless nights
With liquor on breath and dull head
Alone and cold in lay,
We made our passage to manhood,
Many days in suffer and want
Through tears and hardness of heart,
With sorrow for cellmates
In a prison self-made,
Rather hunger and want
Then submission to those above,
Wild wanderlust thrust us into darkness
Uncertainty of survival, without care,
Knowing no other way,
We strove to understand the deeds done to us in violence,
Shiver, quake, lie awake, as hopelessness covered us like a blanket,
Thieves and murderers as strange bedfellows,
Ladies of the night for use and forgotten,
Laws of the land forsaken,
In desperate want, Never knowing if we’d awaken,
Making our way through this world
Boys living as men,
We threw the line, heaved and toiled
In bright sun and fear,
With hands and feet against the frigid snow,
We lived beyond the breaking,
Many before us have sought their manhood,
While others have had it thrust upon them,
Much has been learned, much has been taught
By the flames and the fire, the crucible savant,
It has been our right of passage
Through bloodstained cloth and scars,
The fathers who came before us, live forever in the Arms,
Painted grey, now I see, the path laid out for me,
By the Infinite Son, whose Glory was won,
Making the savant, a reflection of Thee..
Copyright © Angel fire | Year Posted 2012
Before spring came, in late February
to the blooming and jolly hills
I ran, breathing heavily and frantically,
touching the perfumed blossoms
of a solitary, old cherry tree;
and underneath it I sat writing poetry
that hadn't a perfect rhyme and beat!
Weren't my skills marred by imperfections?
Canaries and red-breasted robins
flew down and rested on my outstretched legs;
perusing my lines to spot their names,
and when they did, they flapped their wings in gladness!
I could have imagined their joyful words,.
if only they had acquired the gift of speech,
and deeper in their thoughts I would have reached:
to dispel the myth that they had no feelings...
After my short poem was completed,
I reached for my harmonica to play my favorite classic tune;
and being surprised by the paleness of the fading moon,
I dedicated that happy melody to her not to let her despair:
by waving my hand to make her farewell less sad, while I whispered,
" Silent moon, eternal companion of every poet,
what's beyond the realm of this universe?...
Tell us more of those invisible suns and planets! "
Before spring came to the dormant valley,
the mountains' peaks allowed the sun to melt their snows,
to create gushing torrents to feed its water to the dry and cracked soil,
which needed rain instead of harmful frost;
and I drank the freshest water and washed my sweaty face,
while fighting off the bees' stubborn rivalry!
That spring has come again to dress herself with incredible splendor,
and this discontent and wishful heart desires nothing more than being there!
My theme is: Happiness In Childhood
Copyright © Andrew Crisci | Year Posted 2009
Soaring in my mind above the blue skies.
Warmth penetrating across my brow.
Diving to feel a cool breeze and soaring again
On strong wings. Time is no importance while on top today.
I look across the vast sea and know I can swim fast and free.
I float, dart and flipper my way to this destination.
Mostly content though when I gaze upward...
Fleeting thoughts of discontentment come as flashes of light.
My dream...to soar as an eagle, majestic, across the sky.
Copyright © Doris Culverhouse | Year Posted 2010
In evening, the evergreen forest darkens while the cool breeze relaxes my
thoughts. The lone trees silhouette against the yellow sky and setting sun. Trials are
ever present in my thoughts; darker thoughts than the serene dusk can muster.
Candles burn in a row along the porch rail. His dark eyes peer through my reverie to
touch deep in my soul. He doesn't know how he makes my pulse race and thoughts
go purely lustful. My reaction has to be kept from his piercing eyes. My eyes roam
over his face openly in the candle light and lingers on his philtrum...I long to kiss him
right there, over and over.
His voice returns my thoughts back to reality, "mam will you need any other
chores done tonight?" Stammering I say "No...that will be all. tomorrow will be a hard
day due to the cattle sale. Better get a good nights sleep." The cowboy's hat tips as
he retreats into the bunk house. I hear the clop of his boots go silent and enjoy the
view of his backside walking away. Wondering what it would be like to see his eyes
go to fire at my touch....I have to get a grip on my thoughts....before....
Copyright © Doris Culverhouse | Year Posted 2010
To the fighting men and women and to all military personnel,
I only want to wish for you safety and God keep you well.
We are proud of what you do and you are always in our thoughts and mind,
I am working on a weapon too that when you shoot someone with it they turn
from mean to kind.
My Mean To Kind (M.T.K.) weapon is nearly done.
I’m in a hurry so I can produce enough for everyone.
Just point my M.T.K. and zap them once or twice.
The more the zap the more the nice.
No more blood will either side ever let,
Maybe just an honest days worth of sweat.
How cool will that be to finally bury the grudge,
And sit down with your enemy over a hot chocolate sundae with fudge.
Instead of a hateful staring glare,
Just zap him once and end warfare.
Heck I may just zap myself again,
I’ll zap you too and you can be my friend.
Copyright © Ronald Bingham | Year Posted 2007
Everything is so still as the morning slowly comes,
from afar, the sound of a babbling brook is heard.
Perched high up, I wait for daylight to surround these peaceful woods,
as I sat listening to the dew dripping from the trees.
What a beautiful place to be, on such a cold November morn,
the first day of Deer Season has finally come.
Shhh, listen, strange sounds coming from behind, as I turn to look,
I can't believe my eyes, he is big, so big, sniffing, and grunting
he comes closer.
Counting the points, yes, ten I see, trembling, I take my rifle
in hand, zero in, he is mine, monstrous rack..
The echo rings through the woods, perfect shot, he is down,
shaking I climb to the ground to take a look at this BOSS of the Pines.
My first hunt of the season, and what a deer, one for the record.
I have two and a half months of this to listen to......
and this is his dream every night, and I hear it every day.
Copyright © Christy Hardy | Year Posted 2007
Face for fading music
Disappearing in the distant
Those that stood still
Were called forth by the mystic
To answer a question
To answer the inquisition
For this was not the path
That they had been thinking
The witch doctor stood fast
His crazy eye twitching
He spoke slow...
"Your path... You will be switching!"
Batting his lashes
His vibes bellowed long
Their initial reactions:
Over looked and over drawn
With a wave of his hand
His visions showed real
Finally their eyes opened
Now looking to deal
The shaman then laughed
And threw up his arms
The skies began spinning
Bringing down the stars
The chosen few looked all around
And before long at each other
Awe lost in disbelief
One right after another
While the mystic's laughs grew hysterical
The rest fell to their knees
For no one knew the awful truth
Behind what the witch doctor sees
Copyright © K.C. Moonshine | Year Posted 2008
Between the lines, of fact, and tale,
a persons life, we know not well.
Some insight we have, but not all the truth,
between the lines, read by me, and you.
A release of sort, in our words of rhyme,
our therapy to calm, when we feel like crying.
Days will come, and then they pass,
bringing sunshine, and shadows that last.
Thoughts rekindled from yesterdays mind,
reading the words written from a poet in time.
Miles between, separate our face,
but words of wisdom we daily trace.
Explore the words from everyone here,
although very far, they are always so near.
Copyright © Christy Hardy | Year Posted 2007