Peering through plate glass at a puzzling view,
In the midst of hot coffee’s morning ritual brew.
Staring out with amazement and wonderfully struck,
By our Cherry Tree’s overnight sensation run amuck!
By nature’s own standard, cruel joke she has played,
Million blossoms wide open one February day.
This juvenile sapling knows not what it feels,
Sprouting vivid Pink colors, the show it now steals.
From those all around laying dormant in state,
Expecting nature’s cue to blossom their own petals awake.
And by then poor young cherry will have muted her splash,
Replaced by green leaves summer storms will soon thrash.
But alas all this splendor making warm visual sense,
In the short time required for fresh java to dispense.
Tomorrow I’ll once again observe through plate glass,
The wonders waiting just beyond cold winter’s Rye Grass.
Submitted to Giorgio A. V. Contest themed: Impress me with a small poem II!
1) user name: wedge
2) choice of motif: nature
Copyright © Michael Wegman | Year Posted 2014
I'm only crazy ever did worlds transformation
it's crazy thinking.
Roam conceptual "crazy minds"
seeking philosophical philosophy
writer changing worldwide sentence's
timed artists limitless fears strength,
limitless power abilities of
Transduce fear to fevers,
conception of a philosophical
call me crazy a poet,
crazy me what you
change crazy every time,
before crazy ever changed a
Philosophical to the Astronomy of life
it's the "flossofeer" who takes view of life.
Prophet in profits it's
jungles with sweeter Roses,
philosophical of foward looking attitudes,
pondering is the prolific minds wadering around
hovering, pandering the time,
every time theres capital of a personal gain..
Retrospect rear view mirror,
clear as crystals clear view,
no mirror it's the rear view
retrospective preview premier
Double scripts in life's wicked flips
three verbs and throwing nothing but reverb.
Twice the lyrical lines, avast steer clear of this
lyrical pioneer with mystical lines
futuristic rhymes killing the physics of time.
My intellectual beauty its brilliance,
resilience of this philosophical crazy mind
with speeds in excess of a Maserati.
Crazy is the vehicle of world's transformation
it's finicky essence of brilliant
master's of the mind.
Live love with the sweat of fears
life's wicked in so many way's.
To the crazy mind's of a crazed thinking way,
crazy changed before crazy ever changed
a crazy mind.
Go for life of the amazing,
choose what you want & be much more.
Provocative model of a photograph
a clay sculpture of a lady in kind.
Artist of provocative art's mending an bending
hour's to love.
Transducer of fear to fevers
love's virtues of unconditional greatest philosophy.
To world's of philosophical philosophies
in prophet's of profits of a personal fee
in which life agrees.
Guns To jungles it's sweeter roses,
to the unconventional wisdoms
which has never been.
To stand & live for better,
other than some kind of gun.
Fast lifestyles of the rocking chairs,
sit back and enjoy the speed of memories
life's to live once an life has it's own pace.
Composer's of compromises the sediments
of our settlements are noteworthy symphonies
in musical scales an impale
to life's frail detail. ?
#song #property #verse #poetry?
?U N I V € R S € ?
INT€R »°O ? N S £ € F°« CONN€T€D
Pen's broadcasting name
#intellectual #property #rights #reserved
? #poet #poetry #Wicked #Romancer
Copyright © Terrance Upham | Year Posted 2016
Do you believe in the things that you've always known,
Can you understand the things you've been shown.
Is it the visions you see that make you believe,
Or is the feelings you get when you've been deceived.
The pain you feel a never ending ache ,
Tearing your heart and soul from you every day.
Time ticks slowly pounding away at you,
Throbbing heart breaking and there's nothing you can do,
Must I settle for these lost and broken dreams,
Because it has all the signs that what it seems.
How much should a man endure to find his way,
It cant possibly be like this hard for me every day.
There is nothing so frustrating as being so confused,
Especially when you've discovered that you've been used.
I will get through this lonely phase I have no doubts,
But I'm sure there will come a day I'll figure it all out.
Cautiously I walk the path that's been laid before me,
In faith I will continue for I know he will let me see.
Life will be thrown at you in so many different ways,
I will be prepared for these things for the rest of my days.
Broken dreams will be the learning tree for me to grow ,
Living my life with Joy Happiness is what I'll always Know.
Copyright © TIMOTHY CARTER | Year Posted 2013
Time had sewn,
And we had wrought,
Against a force
And we had dreamt,
And we had dreamed,
Of a world
And we had run,
And we had ran,
As if we could arrive
At such a land,
And the world was one
Grey with gloom,
The old slave
Bent over the loom,
As a tear shed from
We were yet to
Beat him with a mace,
And a tear shed
From my face,
And a tear shed
From your face,
Only in death,
Only in sorrow,
Thy come a sparrow
From the old wood;
A torn sparrow
From the old wood,
Among the grass
It was contained;
Among the green grass
It was contained,
Its beak broken;
Its wings only silt,
The young sparrow
Presented us guilt,
And through the wind
It blew away,
And through the wind
It flew to fly,
Arise from death,
Into the the fair day;
And a phoenix
Had flown away.
Only in death,
Only in sorrow.
Copyright © Charlotte Nickerson | Year Posted 2014
I am me
Do you see
I am not fake
And I don't take
I am not Plastic
But, I'm fantastic
I know my jewelry is great
Make no mistake
I am married to an Awesome man
So do you understand
I say I am unique
Don't even try to critique
I am no stalker
Your the one who is a talker
I am told I am a great poet
You bet your ass I know it
I am no creeper
So just dig the knife a little deeper
I am no liar
And you twist wire
I am one to keep my enemies close
You think that is wrong and just froze
I am me
So I say to thee
I am me can't you see
So stop being so angry.
Written By: Unique Poetry 2015
Copyright © Michelle Born | Year Posted 2015
Sleep's the Great Healer—
Sleep's the Revealer
Of hidden meanings,
When sorrow aches us,
Sleep overtakes us—
Stealing away grief,
Like a welcome thief.
Night is the coverlet
For a longing lover— yet
It's Sleep who delves
Deep into our selves,
Finding dusty dreams... on shadowy shelves.
When life's a jailor,
Sleep's the unveiler
Of an inner key...
To set us free.
Sleep's our best friend
At a hard day's end—
Weaver of fantasy... with reality,
Make-believer of what could be...
Sleep's the Great Healer... of you and me.
– Harley White
< 1987 >
Copyright © Harley White | Year Posted 2014
Loves magic riddle, shepherds the flower,
blossoming elegance, land to sea.
I never knew, how that love grew,
until I laid eyes on Lucy Dee.
Blindly sifting through the hazy maze,
emerging aware, holding a key.
That fixed a hole, which filled my soul,
thanks to the love of Lucy Dee.
The force behind the forces of life,
made me question how to see,
Suddenly views, were less askew,
thanks to the insight of Lucy Dee.
Now I care not, for transparent fog,
or the rain that pours for weeks.
For the weather, never weathers,
the amorphous Lucy Dee.
When my petals finally wilt and wane,
storms bring me to weary knees.
The radiant shine, forever binds,
lucy’s light within me; and without,
by loves decree.
Copyright © Nicholas Rush | Year Posted 2015
I get up early at the crack of dawn
Gotta see my babe ‘fore she’s dressed and gone
Daylight peekin thru the window blind
Me and that gal get to feeling fine
The crack of dawn, nothin’s wrong
My baby starts shakin when I sing her that song
The crack of dawn is my favorite thing
I get inspire-ation and it makes me sing
Makes me want to sing my favorite song
About stuffin that muffin at the crack of dawn
The crack of dawn is the finest way
For shakin, up wakin, up every day
Pushin that cushion at the crack of dawn
Wake it up, shake it up, all day long
It’s Mabel on the table in the afternoon
Chiquita finds pita by the early moon
Shagin in the wagon don’t turn me on
We got to get up early at the crack of dawn
Two legs over, three eggs up
Mix it up, fix it, in a coffee cup
Shake that bacon up, shake that pan
Shake my belly up, man oh man
Baby said daddy you’re a big old jerk
She’s still shakin and late for work
Keep it to the right and hold on tight
I wanta see my shake-it-up home tonight
Gotta get outa town ‘fore the days is done
Gotta get more chicken, oughta to get it done
Gonna see my bade at the crack of dawn
Gonna get more shakin, gonna get it done
Dawn-der-deen won’t you be my queen
I like it when you shake it like a wash machine
Be my queen, be my rose
Shake it like a chicken, when the rooster crows
Rooster crows at the crack of dawn
Got to see my babe ‘fore she’s up and gone
Up and gone, she’s up and gone
Choke that chicken, she’s up and gone
Copyright © Mike Martin 2015
Dedicated to Sheldon and his Girlfriend Dawn
Copyright © Mike Martin | Year Posted 2015
When you look at the hills faraway at sunset,think of me:
I am the black flock of birds that disappears into the horizon;
I am the beautful golden sunset that touches your heart;
I am the wind that blows towards the hills;
And I am the dark house upon the dark hills;
I am the old grave that lie silently in the dark moist forest,
Copyright © RAYMOSE JOSI | Year Posted 2015
My flesh and bone, can't seem to hone
in on the substance I once had
Right and wrong, difference known
I never can choose anymore good over bad
I once was an optimistic hope filled inspiration
Now consumed by an empty shallow occupation
Fame, sex, drugs, feels good to the touch
but never, inevitably, amounts to much
Loving pleasure, hating to face pain
The suppression just makes me insane
Selfishness, recklessness and pride prevail
My half hearted attempts at decency always fail
Not because normalcy is unattainable
But because I choose instead to have my belly full
Once I chose depth and sincerity over surface greed
When darkness calls I now heed
While these things seem to satisfy now
I can't help to see my outlook on life is increasingly foul
A self inflicted wound, I must admit
I know this life is not a good fit
Once again I'm reminded that time after time
and all the same signs
I just can't seem to repress
This growing emptiness
Copyright © Merry Marie | Year Posted 2014
With pawns to sacrifice and a king protect,
silent and wooden, they shan't object.
Ever forward and never back,
North east and north west, pressing the attack.
Denizens of the church, crossing the field,
For the King and for god, the diagonal they wield.
Castles that move, the corner they keep,
Knights riding steeds, with loyalty they leap.
Two opposing armies across the great divide,
Eight spaces by eight, the battle will decide.
A queen well regarded by all kings, they tell,
Conquering her enemies, in all directions they fell.
A king must pace himself with each square he'll try,
Avoiding all conflict or his kingdom will die.
Lo, a haven, the corner would seem,
But a trick and a trap, his enemies would deem.
With rooks and bishops and knights in play,
Behind his army, the king must stay.
For he is important to country and state,
Survive it he must or he will end up in Checkmate.
Copyright © Josh Oliver | Year Posted 2014
You are the light of a day,
I am the darkest of grays.
You are the significant Sun,
I am the forgotten Moon.
You are the sweet make-believe dreams,
I am the tragic nightmares.
You are a glorious angel,
I am a dreary demon.
You are the bright rainbow,
I am the dull rain.
You are the boat that floats,
I am the anchor that sinks.
You are the peaceful Valley,
I am the destructive war.
You are the tame beauty,
I am the wild beast.
You are the precious living,
I am the shallow dead.
You are the glistening stars,
I am the darkening night.
You are the wonderful strength,
I am the terrible weakness.
You are the beautiful heavens,
I am the unpleasant hells.
Copyright © Katie Tiller | Year Posted 2014
When Love comes to town
so the saying goes
flee will the foes
except the sad clown
Love is always in town
and out of town
in fact has left the building
Love is in all places
and nowhere at all
if you don't look
or lack the social graces
The sad clown is
a metaphor for you
for you are so blind
in your apparent happiness
Yet Love conquers all
gathers up the lost
when I am weak
Love does the most
(and so I must post)
Copyright © Uwe Stroh | Year Posted 2013
Two and sixty days ago —
Two months, or so I'm told —
I wandered, wistful, without cause,
Through a memory of old.
A hall of walls I wandered, tall,
As tall as tales I could weave,
But none as tall as this regale,
A story that you won't believe.
I walked near endless hours,
My only friends the cobblestones,
Ringing in my steps the sin
That only time atones,
When upon that pallid plaster
I did spy a shocking sight:
Upon that place's rocky face,
The wall had turned to light.
"Curious," I cooed and questioned,
Calm as I could never be,
"Perhaps it might be that this light
Is rightly mine, I see?"
And as I pondered that hall I wandered,
A chilling change I never chose arose:
That light so rife with delight and fright
Began to open, and I froze,
For that particular portcullis I pondered
Put me in a vice.
I nary noticed that walls in focus
Had changed into a hall of lights.
Transfixed, the light engulfed me so,
As slow as my bewildered head
Could comprehend the candid land
I planned my final stand in dead.
I whizzed through spaces, unknown places,
In stasis from the faceless force
When finally I fell, the frenzied light
Still tight from an unseemly source.
All at once, those two months
Became a fraction of a wink;
The frost was lost as I was tossed
Among the lights of what I think.
And where else would I find myself
But in this courtyard we call love?
My journey never left my head,
Nor bed's unconscious dreamland hub.
Two and sixty days ago,
I heard these words so true,
And in the dark they were my light:
You told me "I love you."
Copyright © Sean Pope | Year Posted 2013
on the night that i was born a storm formed while the sun slept...
my mother left me scorned in her womb as the moon wept...
darkness filled the room as i emerged from my cocoon fresh....
i rumbled heavens floors as a roar replaced my first breath...
Thunder made me humble as i slumbered in my vortex...
Dangers in abundence when the beast is at your door step...
Copyright © Micah Watkins | Year Posted 2016
The Hyper-Logos of Good Living
A poem about how to live a more balanced and harmonious life inspired by Ancient Greek Wisdom
Avoid being vicious and malevolent,
Instead, be magnanimous and benevolent.
Express, in myriad ways, your goodness
And be polemic and quixotic in your kindness.
Let your friendship be all-encompassing and egregious,
And incite your gentleness to be ongoing and ubiquitous.
Be laconic in speaking and attentive in listening
While adamant in pursuing truth and love expressing.
Do not let other passers-by in your life enervate you,
Making you expend your time and energy in ephemeral efforts.
Pray to Benevolent God, Almighty to exculpate you,
Making you remove your human passions and tribulations.
Live your life in a way, quite humble and ascetic,
Avoiding all expressions of senseless acrimony.
Never be a bitter character and sour acerbic,
Choose instead, sweetness and melodious harmony.
Replace your human soul’s traits of cacophony
With our only God’s manifestations of clemency.
Do not employ, ever, credulity
Nor overdue, futile cupidity.
On reaching old age, strive not to be an anathema
But instead, a councelor, like the ancient Athena.
Drive yourself away from social antipathy
With the greatest value of alacrity.
Always taking into deep consideration the following 2 things:
1. The concept of ‘Hyper-logos’ defines the holistic integration of the Aristotelian aspects of Ethos (Character), Pathos (Emotions) and Logos (Logic, Reasoning, Accountability, Responsibility) in conducting one’s own affairs in life; and
2. The following wise sayings of the ancient Greeks:
Democritus: ‘It is an act of magnanimity for someone to withstand vicious acts with humility and gentleness’.
Pythagoras: ‘Seek the true value of all things, and enjoy all gifts of God according to Measure’.
Copyright © John Kyriazoglou | Year Posted 2015
... For Theirs Was A Loyal Love That Would Nay Suffer Guilt
Nor Wander, Nary Wrangle, Nor Waste, Nor Wrong, Nor Wilt
Whether Slow In Coming, Or of A Moment Passing Swift
Not Even An Enemy’s Blade Plunged In His Side To Its Hilt ! …
could Halt His Soft Footfalls Towards Forever …
Even In Whispered Woe & Weeping That Winds Would Nay Lift
Or Thru A Last Dance, Last Duty, Lost Dreams, Or Long-Ago-Drift
Even In All The Combined Separation Or An All Alone-Shift
Even Thru Gut-Struck-Grief Or The Unknown – Aye, Even If …
Out of Cold Shadows’ Desperation … Over A Highland Crag-Cliff
… slips The Soft Footfalls Towards Forever
Out of Cold Shadows On A Highland Moor
Will You Come Walking To Me As Hard Rains Pour?
Beneath A Tree of Life I Stood and Swore
To Bring You My Body & Every Beauty, It Bore
To Reach You Before Even Death’s Read Banns Door …
and Right Before, Our Soft Footfalls Towards Forever …
… Out of Cold Shadows, On A Highland Moor
Will You Wake For Me, When The Full Moon Soars?
Beneath A Tree of Life, I Stood and I Swore
To Bring You Back, Body ‘N Breath & The Beauty It Bore
Whether To Walk On Water Or Just Footprints On A Shore
in Soft, Footfalls Towards Forever To Explore …
yea, In Soft Footfalls Towards Forever … Still Furthermore …
(Isaiah 50: 4, 5 / Song of Solomon / John 11: 23 – 27 /
Genesis 3: 4, 13 – 15, 24 / Revelation 21: 3, 4)
Story Poem Written & ©: 1/ 3-6 /2013
by: MoonBee Canady
Copyright © MoonBee Canady | Year Posted 2013
Metaphor of multi plug
The metaphor of the multi plug
With lines and leads connected lugs,
To keep you on their lead,
Believing all their krappy creed,
from some dirty unwashed thug,
You poor mental as passive weed,
Do you dig the drain I’ve dug
Or has you brain gone off to seed,
The master holds a grudge,
Deceptive television yes do heed,
It’s fool the drongoes, brainwash, drug,
The millions watch and get a feed,
Of Tory bullkrapp every seed,
You are treated like a mug,
The Super rich will tug your weed,
Brainwash, every deed,
Your television it does shrug,
Repetition keeps you up to speed?
Jammed in your brain poor slug?
The unsuspecting brainwash need,
Manilipulated poor, poor dud…
When the Rich control the news media effectively,
You are battered with propaganda,
Television always showing no respect for thee,
Your goose is cooked old Gander,
To the Drongo rich they pander,
Their connection, pull the plug………………
Copyright © DON JOHNSON | Year Posted 2013
Profile Of A Killer
A secret is a silent stalker
It follows in the shadows; unseen
Patiently waiting, biding its time
Keeping that which had been
A secret is a breathless whisper
Sideways glances; a rustle if leaves
It creeps ever closer, and closer still
Yet It's presence no-one believes
A secret is a rolling thunder
A sonic boom over hearts and hills
Its weapon is truth, for so long sheathed
But it's intent is none the less to kill
A secret is a remorseless killer
Its solitary purpose is to bring to light
That which we we seek dearest to hide
But secrets kill, try as we might
Copyright © Hugo Venter | Year Posted 2015
ASKING MY KEYS BACK
You found the keys to my heart
Unlocked the door walked in.
You dusted off the unused house,
Opened the windows, let it begin.
You set up the gas stove, cooked delicacies.
The aroma of your love, spread throughout.
Crease on the carpet, you straightened.
The ones that had accumulated without.
Then came the night, when you wore the dress
Spread the rose petals, set the bed.
Lights were turned off; it was pretty dark.
Yet, for the first time, my heart glowed bright red.
The house that had never been inhabited,
Was finally full, satisfied, well-fed.
The twist of fate, but, came uninvited
A storm shook up our roots, leaving us bereft.
You turned off the light, closed the windows,
Packed your bags, locked the door and left.
Each time I sent a note your way
The sound echoed back with no effect.
But you still have the keys to my heart.
You left it frothing and hopeful to claim.
The house is still owned by you
Even though it’s not on your name.
So now I’m asking my keys back,
Let someone open the door to the rain.
The void is relentlessly painful.
Let it get inhabited again.
If you like this poem, check out a more detailed and better version of this and other works of mine on my blog. You may also find the inside the scoop, inspiration, technique of writing for your intrigue on the blog, just a click away
See you there :)
Copyright © Shivam Murari | Year Posted 2015
she is the neon glow but i am the rusty sign
she is the moonlight but i am the the dusty ground
everybody says they need to add a light angelic
the kind that only can be found in the hearts of
pretty girls like her on nights like this
a light that leaves you in such peace with all you have done
a light that leaves you beautifully complete
with mind romancing reasons to capitulate
its not so bad after all this carpetbagger life
with your tidal water jewels and ransom notes
with your fragrant notions
and whispered dreams
its that angelic light that leaves hope when all other lights have gone
its that angelic light from the young girls heart that gives
breath to old man dreams
and a younger man's schemes
let me dance a little longer in her angelic light
let me taste these last few passing moments sweetly
it is that angelic light that gave me reason to go on
its that promise that still keeps the daylight alive
so let me sell you some tidal jewels
and strands of golden thread
let me invite you to sit in the angelic light while we sip the wine
and pass the summer's time
old man dreams
and young man's schemes
they seem so kind
in the angelic light
Copyright © mark junor | Year Posted 2015
Come in, come in and sit ye doon
a warm spot by the fire's for ye
the kettle's on and 'bout to sing
a cuppa's brewing soon for two
Come in, come in and sit ye doon
there's so much that you need te hear
I kenna keep it to me self
such sorrow needs a friendly ear
Come in, come and sit ye doon
I've such a sorry tale to share,
the world's a hard and nasty place
me fate's unkind and life's unfair
Come in, come in and sit ye doon
ye ken, I'd love your company
there's nay so treasured as a friend
for poor, wee me, Miss Misery
Copyright © David Brown | Year Posted 2015
Upon the paper the pen bleeds, casting its sullen gaze upon the ideals of its mere existence. Trying to unravel the mystery of its being. Uncovering the wisdom locked inside of its core, threatening to overheat and cause a meltdown the pen cannot overcome.
In times of raw emotional imbalance a window of understanding illuminates the veil of protection our ideals protect us from. Seeing its truth can undo the thin fabric of wisdom sought, making all for naught. Letting the art consume you until nothing remains.
Copyright © Luke Acton | Year Posted 2015
It's a sad night,
when a warm light,
In the moonlight,
lovers do fight,
It's a hard sight.
When they fall right,
Back to their lie,
It's a time bomb,
Ticking to explode.
Love can be strong,
But it can be wrong,
It's a bleak scene,
Such a cold thing,
When you're reaching,
It's a dark day,
When you can't say,
Why you still fight,
For this sad life,
There's no hope,
It's a time bomb,
Ticking to explode.
Love can be strong,
But it can be wrong,
I know, I know.
There's a small place,
When they embrace,
It's a heart string,
But it shows.
Copyright © Bo Vigoren | Year Posted 2016