LIST POETRY - A FUTURISTIC INTERPRETATION
I cried yesterday
and I think I broke the world
so I braided some words into twine
planted some sweet and sour coated seeds
I grew free standing expressions and then I joined
them with left over thread to present these interlocking pieces
in their proper order regardless of the number they wear in an attempt
to confuse and deceive. I offer this humble list for your reading enjoyment
It is an honour to have you visit my page. The pleasure I assure you is all mine
WORDS ON PAPER - THE LIST
I loved you centuries before we were born.
You lived in my dreams before I ever slept.
When others wasted time picking flowers
I waited for when it was time to pick you.
Love calls you in the natural scent of your partner.
You'd feel their touch in the vacuum of outer space.
Your desire for them would melt away the ice age.
I want to find a door in the brightest part of the sky I
could open to erase what was, to shine a light so bright
it, like a book of golden words, would write ideas so vital
as to eradicate even a suggestion of our mournful past.
I want to be that magician who does not bother with
illusion but rather heals wounds and shatters burden.
We were at the fair, joviality in the air.
A memory filed, I was a young child
holding balloons floating round like full moons
in vivid colours bright. Fixed on this joyous sight
I was on Cloud Nine proud these were mine.
If I had not let go of them. If I hadn't watched them
as they flew higher and higher as my heart sunk lower and lower
I might of never learnt what it felt like - hurt.
Hope gloats, hope floats.
either your way or just away.
sometimes the afternoon sun is.....too hot
to walk barefoot........on the concrete path
still even then.......I refuse to wear my hat
I guess I'll never change, I'm just like that.
sometimes when I jump in the lake in late summer...
with all of my clothes on...I do it in the evening......as
I go down...way down to the bottom...there's a gentle
peace overtakes me..I want to stay down like a rock...
revel in the ecstasy...not swim back up..........not ever
ours was a paper mâché love
living in a cut out cardboard home
with a macaroni art painted lawn
and nothing real to call our own
nothing solid that we could hold.
we tried stacking lego bricks
but you have to be able to pop your cheek
to qualify as a kid - to get a license to build.
the castle we assembled didn't pass the test.
so much for fairy tales - hello reality check.
we rolled the dice but our thimble went
straight to jail and our mouse ended up trapped.
can you hear that buzzing the operation failed. where
are you going? your tricycle is still in the shop and I might
as well tell you..............I have no eights................."go fish!"
we fell through
the bunny hole
where i - jack fell ddddownnn
nnnnnnn and broke my crown
and you - jill came tumbling
it is a choreographed ballet our love
legs at the base digging deep
delicate hands branched out
long slim fingers define twigs
the body of our trunk thick
music fills our human needs
wind pixies dance meticulously
sunlight leaks effectively through
lifts carries holds and shapes
it is a choreographed ballet our love
our bodies their senses once immersed in I
I know the last thing I want to feel as I leave this world, it is your lips on
mine. When I take my last breath I want to feel yours with its loving touch.
no matter the roar or intensity of the storm
how severe the attack even out of the norm
i offer my hand with sincerity
aim to deal with it peacefully.
then suddenly it hits
like a swarm of locus.
a deep dark manifestation that greases my mind
my very existence in its unforgiving sense of doom.
every bone stiffens,
when I move, a sound
of dead dried out forest twigs
breaking against the boots of hikers
echoes in the confined space of my skull.
i reach for a pill
slowly it dissolves
under my tongue
my body is soaked in a sweat with its own cold and hot tap.
i assume the position, lying on an unstable floor. the creature
depression is now in full control of my faculties. this too i will survive
...that is what i do...what i do...this is what i do.......somehow i survive.
there is a deafening hush...
silently raging through the core
of my existence...still...I am humbled
by the light and the love I have witnessed
in my brief appearance...........here on Earth
there is a river...that walks at my side...
walks with me........at the same stride...
April 14 2015
Copyright © Maurice Yvonne | Year Posted 2015
A reflection of the coloured pencil drawn sky
skates on the glass smooth surface below it.
While a rebellious group of shades take their positions
on a glorious stage to express themselves artistically and
i think of you
Wisps of clouds shaped like a palm leaf
fan the winds that stoke the fire
of a randomly sketched sunset.
i think of you
The cool of an ocean breeze
travels the shadows of this low lit evening.
Caresses my skin like the essence of romance.
Enthralled by the allure of a candle lit sky,
i think of you...
Our French Bakery early mornings.
Café au lait and croissants.
Our freesia soaked baths.
Your mink soft body.
Its milk and honey scent.
As I fall off
the edge of the world,
i think of you.
March 19 2015
Copyright © Maurice Yvonne | Year Posted 2015
Shine, midnight pearls!
The smoke curls up
in whirls of doom.
On the wet sand
my own hand draws
unplanned pierced hearts.
Deep blue-black sky
I play by rules
and sigh despair
to lay aside
that hide a sin.
Shine, distant stars!
through guitars notes,
through scars of time.
For her first kiss
an abyss drains
all bliss from me
and far away
shadows play down
their spray of doubts.
Opaque pearls, shine!
On this fine night,
define my north.
Copyright © Usual Suspect | Year Posted 2012
None are just titles.
I live those titles every day through my actions.
I am successful at those roles every day.
I possess unconditional unwavering love .
My profession as much as my titles defines me.
It is not just my career it is my love.
Directing theatre has my unconditional unwavering love.
I am successful at this role every day.
defined by my actions.
I act on my beliefs.
defined by my beliefs.
I believe in the fiber of someone's character
not their words,
in their intent not just their actions.
Peoples needs are important to me not just my own.
committed to forgiveness,
Humans are basically good.
The forest is dense predators lurk in the shadows.
Fear plays too important a role in too many lives.
I help others rather than judge them negatively.
Even though the task ahead seems insurmountable
we will find our way through the black of these days.
People with completely different views can and do bond.
We must learn tolerance for without it we are lost.
I do not give too much importance
to words and ideas.
I learn from nature
like the mighty oak
I can bend with the wind.
I prefer more round tables,
less round 'em up.
In less locks
more open doors,
in more heart
less knee jerks.
I have the strength to accept I die
the will to live every day.
I worry about the incredible suffering
exists away from North America.
above all else
It is about put up
or shut up.
I am anything but silent.
one of many
in the end
that is who
Sponsor: frank herrera
Contest Name:"I AM"
Copyright © Maurice Yvonne | Year Posted 2014
Two statues of stone
On pedestals in the park
White objects of a perfections beauty
Yet they stood erect and alone
When the rain fell
This was their tears
The stared at each other with longing
The trees grew tall
Season by season the flowers bloomed
Two statues standing erect in the prison of life's hold
A poet walked in the park
Glancing at lovers, kisses at dusk
He stared at the statues above his head
He knew, with dread, the loneliness of stone maidens
He waited for the park to become enclosed in the twilight
With toil and sweat he did succeed on his lark
Pushing the statues close rather than apart
As one statue danced and the other one sang
They kissed the sweetness of night and felt the tears of joy
All because a poet
Wished them a lovers embrace
He knew them like they were his children
For here he was as well
Copyright © arthur vaso | Year Posted 2015
I never knew following dreams could be this lonely,
But up on the hill, looking back, thank God I'm not the old me.
If the tears will fall, let them be;
I believe this is God's plan, follow your dreams.
Copyright © Kevin C. Martin | Year Posted 2013
Ah, memory is a fickle lover succumbing to the tide
grasping for the grains of sentiment sometimes left.
In cold or torrid waves, spent passions now abide
for you have left me, long ago, I'm now, alone bereft.
Grasping for the grains of sentiment sometimes left:
beside a roaring bonfire, where sparks on night winds glide;
for you have left me, long ago, I'm now alone, bereft.
I huddle in a dune's dark shade with nothing left inside.
Beside a roaring bonfire, where sparks on night winds glide,
we conceive a wayward child, a changeling child, a thief.
I huddle in a dune's dark shade with nothing left inside,
as the waves of age and ages, return only grief.
We conceive a wayward child, a changeling child, a thief.
In cold or torrid waves, spent passion now abides,
as the waves of age and ages, return only grief,
ah, memory is a fickle lover succumbing to the tide.
Copyright © Debbie Guzzi | Year Posted 2012
Shackles of cynicism have displaced your heart,
the love that once transcended time is no more.
No wordsmith can bring beauty to an invisible emotion,
lost in translation to an ignorant uncultured mind.
As you searched for a definition of the tangible,
intangible feelings were ignored, even with eyes shut.
Funny, how three words cause a chemical imbalance,
but the euphoria is short lived when ego takes hold.
Promises to comfort, wipe away tears, anguish and pain,
come with no guarantee of satisfaction - no refund for regret.
Love does not say when the fire is burning to wage war,
it provides an opportunity to nourish peace and harmony.
Love does not say to be bitter and live with a grudge,
it asks for you to forgive, not to antagonise another's soul.
In a world lost to materialistic commercialism,
the skeptic doubts like a pessimistic detractor.
Love is not like money, that must be reciprocated with interest,
it is simply an undetectable phenomenon that graces us all.
To some a second hand emotion, but the language of love
still remains the most powerful feeling known to humanity.
One tongue that has no religion, race nor geographical boundary,
which only fails to blossom when limits are implanted.
28 February 2016
Copyright © Silent One | Year Posted 2016
Questions hang suspended like stalactites
Time, circumstance and elements contributing to its formation
(—then something else seeps in, pushing me to call it fate)
Questions that know not whether they should be voiced out and see light
...or remain hidden in caves, destined to be only heard
by the labyrinthine chambers of the heart
But yes, it is inevitable that these questions d
They drip, bit by bit, oozing with curiosity,
forming more queries, that turn into stalagmites—
Grounded questions to the suspended ones,
open-ended to the closed.
Sometimes meeting, creating columns,
melded complements of each other.
And then this makes me wonder—
When these questions meet,
do they ever find answers within themselves?
Will the truth ever be brave enough to come out of hiding?
This then makes me think of the words within souls,
how these souls are the questions, in search of answers.
...And of how your words, your thoughts, your feelings,
can drip into mine, feeding that inner glow
It then collects, forming this deluge,
flooring me as it creates a bond so powerful,
it seems to defy time and even reason.
A fascinating influx,
that makes me smile despite myself
Where sometimes I don’t know the beginning from the end—
where bliss swims freely there,
immersed in waves of laughter and ripples of tears.
This for me is the beauty of it all,
the search, the mystery...the discovery
That constant ebb and flow,
the give and take,
that push and pull
the flooding and trickling,
that hiding and seeking
Where one listens as the other speaks,
but ah, both feeding off each other—
hungry, thirsty, full, satiated yet craving for more.
It’s something akin to, but not quite to
how sunlight makes way for moon’s glow,
how thunder rolls after the lightning strikes,
coming hand in hand...yet both so defined.
Yes, the questions may still hang like stalactites,
and sometimes I do wonder if they will fall—
And if they do,
will they shatter,
piercing hearts as they do?
Or will their fates let them stay there,
melding with stalagmites,
standing the test of time,
June 17, 2012
Copyright © binibining P.iNk | Year Posted 2012
Christian Love frame
The only need for death to every exist
Was to slay the fictional self
And all the embellishments used to support it
Fear not, Love’s little flock
You will not be set to fly
And then be allowed to fall
To be strong in your Love
Is to inherit the power of God
That now lies dormant in your essence
For your possession of absolute truth
Is a point at which your Love and your reality
Both become one in God
Slaying your fictional self, being honorable
Is your first step toward your recovery
Of your conscious immortality
For what is sin but the force and mischief
Used to instill and empower
Your mentally invented lower realities
Is the ego’s assault against life
Love does not judge
For what is the mercy of Love
But that it repeats it’s lessons of life
Until they are learn by the mind
For Love already knows,
What life is yet to learn
Therefore learn from who you are
And teach your outer self
Love’s absolute truth
Love is your true reality, a constant source
Has no beginning or no end
The unlimited potential, quite essential
My prayer for 2010 is that;
These proceeding sayings
Become obsolete this year
In the face of your Love itself, Smile!
Stay in your Bibles, my little bibles
For Love is your title
Not your mind of idol!!
Copyright © john freeman | Year Posted 2010
for your arm wrapped around
my clavicle. I thought
I would loose my breath.
for the cusp of our hip bones
struggling to pull the drunken color
from our orange cheeks.
and our sweat, our sweat, our sweat
in the drenched summer air.
Our pants futile afterthoughts
Left crumpled on the floor
It is here I asked for your respect
And you filled me with it.
for the musk smell of our blanket den. I would watch the way dawn light
speckled your shoulders, pale, white-blue
I would trace the ink
of your skin, fingertip hovering a half inch
from your bone.
for how my name would hesitate
on your breath in brief puffs
like dandelion seeds blown from
My wistful lips when I was
waiting for them to bring back my wish.
for my sleeveless dress, as we strolled from
your father’s funeral.
It was the only time I watched you cry.
There were little holes in the cement sidewalk.
They filled with rain, oil
And your tears.
I watched your face change through
their watery colored reflections.
for the way your skin repels from my
Touch, quivers as though my finger-
print were a red hot poker.
You haven’t allowed me to touch you
In a year.
for the color of her font, as she responds to you. It is an eager
Color. She responds with all the passion of an Eskimo kiss.
You left her waitng..always.
I have been special to you,
she replies to your
like a maid
Who’s felt the hot moist
whisper of something naughty
tickle against her ear lobe.
for the way your eyes punch accusations
sharper then your razor tongue.
blue crackled lightening,
like an angry alley cat.
My words cannot reach you here.
You will leave.
We will divide our booty
Words that once held my name like a piece
Of carefully folded origami
now hiss cold
devoid like the plaster of our empty room.
for the morning
now knocking on my window.
I am livid in my withdrawal, tossing and turning
I can find no comfort
the tangle of these vacant sheets.
Copyright © Jennifer Brooks | Year Posted 2006
I do not know?
I wish I knew how, had ability to turn
away from you and not look back to see if it
affected you, my turning away, walking off.
I want you to miss this, and I fail to pass off
the distance as a gravely unfortunate turn
of events, see truth within desperation, it
blinds, consumes, and (I hate to, but) I admit it
impossible to justify the breaking off
of any contact to once again inward turn.
I want to reach within, find this, and turn it off.
Copyright © Tracy Decker | Year Posted 2006
Love was in the air when he laid eyes on her.
Childhood; elementary and even high school with her.
Walking towards her, he greeted her.
Anxiety spiraled as he hugged her.
Conversation grew deeper as he sat with her.
Wanting to get closer because he was falling for her.
Another woman called pausing the time he was having with her.
Knowing he had to answer; he stepped away and spoke to her.
She stated that something wasn't quite right with her.
She said that her stomach had been bothering her.
Now he's thinking back if he came inside her.
Thinking if she lied to him about her tubes being tied within her.
Does he blame himself for listening to her?
Knowing right from wrong and yet he can't blame her.
Does he blame the devil for allowing him to be intimate with her?
Is he not a human that makes mistakes just like her?
Begging God to make a way for him and her.
Asking God to forgive him for committing the sin with her.
God said, "relax my son, you were only dreaming of her."
Copyright © Pace INK-U-SCRIPT | Year Posted 2012
You are the wild flower in my palm
With no stem to keep you anchored to this covetous earth
You are the fragile thing I dare not cup,
As your petals whittle away under the wind
And flit unfettered in the air;
Exaggerated fear leaves my fingers numb
Hungry need leaves my fingers twitching
And my hand is paralyzed by turmoil
As every breath of wind takes another petal from me
And brings to my lungs, my chest and my heart
An overwhelming scent of need-
You are the wild beauty in my palm
And I dare not hold you to my chest
For I fear to crush you
To know first hand
That caged beauty, is beauty no more.
Copyright © Samir Georges | Year Posted 2011
I do not know?
Where was I
when repo men invaded,
boxed me up within his cool heart
fragrant in its distaste of warmer climates?
climates governed by love.
(Daydreaming of knights, that's where.)
Now I have only so much patience remaining
for this slapstick brain-
a nasty reminder, the heckler of my heart,
what spews sensibility
when I simply yearn to err.
And I scarcely have time to mourn
his devil's smile
leaving southward in moving vans
transporting my pieces
(all the valid ones)
as I sit numbed,
next to climbing ivy poisoned by my disbelief,
Copyright © Melissa Schwartz | Year Posted 2005
different drumbeats, separate Lives
he inhales the wind song, a static cling to yesterday
held in his heart until his melody fades
life, love, hope circle the drain
aging realist at one with his pain
love’s last aria, a melancholy oboe resigns with setting sun
when two are no longer one, the chasm widens between haunting roars
tribal drums on opposite shores
*For Brian's "2, 4, 6, 8" contest
Copyright © Carolyn Devonshire | Year Posted 2010
We talked at length
The hours we passed
The life you lived
Oh the horrors
So many men's live snuffed
Oh Arizona, a dedication
Whose souls be at rest
Amidst oily scum
And so many others
Sightless eyes watch
The world in disintegration.
Yes, you’ve seen
Many unimaginable horrors
Those only Man can inflict
You’ve grasped my heart
I watched you whither away
A hero by all accounts
God rest your soul
Oh gentle man.
God rest ye gentle man.
My heart aches
With your passing
Now I have your cherished one
She that you know
Rested in my heart
For years and years and years
The one that tended you
All that time
Oh yes, that woman of women
She is in my arms
Forever… my very first love
The thought of whose love
Brings tears to my eyes
Just so you know…
Semper Fidelis... you are my hero Donald Canan,USMC, WWII veteran Western
Pacific... he told death to get bent. May God Rest your soul.
Copyright © Michael Santner | Year Posted 2007
We let down the top to soak in the sun
Now that the harshness of winter is done
As you let back the seat and put your feet on the dash
Saying, “keep your eyes on the road I don’t want to crash”
I truly must admit that I’m torn completely in two
The coast has its beauty, then again so do you
As the beauty of the Sun is absorbed by your skin
Like a kid at the candy store I simply want to dig in
If life is a candy store sweetheart you are the treat
All the other candy I tasted, never tasted so sweet
The reason I love summer is because of the heat
The skimpier the bikini, the greater the treat
I can’t begin to express how wonderful you are
Saying, “hey take a look at her I’ll steer the car”
At first I truly had no idea what I should say?
Though now it’s, “ok sweetheart, have it your way”
I think that is because you know these words are true
I may take look at her but I shall forever belong to you
Summer is a time that is as bright as the sun
Out goes the cold as it’s replaced by the fun
We have our barbecues and sit under the stars
Let down the tops and go for rides in our cars
Go tend to our gardens in farmer John clothes
Truly amazed at how fast everything grows
Go hang out at the river as well as the lake
Cover ourselves in oil than let our skin bake
Embrace the moments because these words are true
The days last much longer and the sky is so blue
The dog days of summer I reckon that’s so
We bark and howl at folk we don’t even know
If life is banquet then summer is the feast
I think we should gobble it up, to say the least
Written for john's Summer contest.
Copyright © Michael Jordan | Year Posted 2009
hushed breaths draw ebbing tide,
soft virgin sands, un-walked and damp, shine.
A delicate filigree of silvery brine
brings an interlude where grief and beauty entwine,
gently swaying between now and then.
Thoughts of ‘remember when’
Scattered far and wide,
bygones shimmer in rock pools,
scents on breezes ride...
elusive remnants of love
under bitter-sweet moonlight.
There is a place where reveries reside,
ensconced in time between the lows and highs,
where troubles disappear in ocean’s sighs
and hopes return with happiness inside.
Where shades of blue, and rose hues coincide
to nurture promises of sweet reprise,
there is a place where reveries reside,
ensconced in time between the lows and highs.
A haven to reflect on love’s divide,
recall that smile, the twinkle of those eyes
with fondness, then let woven dreams arise
with threads of gilded memories to guide...
this is the place where reveries reside.
**For Jared Pickett's Trois Par Huit /Tanka/Rondel contest
Copyright © Sharon Tideswell | Year Posted 2010
Come and gone like small twister
like the cloud of debris he’s left.
Echoes of Charlie Brown’s buddy Pigpen
blow through the cobwebs in memory.
Left over coffee cups replacing
Transformers still dumped in the attic.
Reams of knarley skateboards, wheel-less,
lay in piles like so much unburnable refuse.
The obligatory hugs and peck, over and done
the never paid chauffeur collapses…
Ah, to have him always near,
So, each kiss was not quite so dear.
The last fair maid on parade has wandered across
the home front, wondering about her predecessor,
still tacked with magnets to the fridge,
still part of my heart and his…
Sons…they say, do not cause such angst.
Couldn’t prove it by this mother.
This maternal blimp of unused helium
was not permitted a girl child.
One did come and fleetingly leave before formed.
We’ll never know the sweetness of her.
Let the image of his manly self disperse, this son..
into the mist as his Father’s has…
to be remembered again, only in times of need, his need,
for to do anything else, would be to rub salt
in an open wound.
Poet: D. Guzzi
*the day after Christmas
Copyright © Debbie Guzzi | Year Posted 2010
Let not my heart become in my old age
"An empty room, cobwebbed, and comfortless"
But an open sunny porch, a welcome sage
A loving heart to those in distress
Let not my pain sabotage my soft heart
Let me remain a gentle, kind spirit
Writing a course of good 'pon my sea chart
Let love from heart's depths to God submit
Enjoining to You oh Holy Spirit
Flow through me like a circuit open ended
This vessel delights in your benefits
Let the love seed grow with fastest speed
Let my heart not be controlled by body's pain
Fill my heart with Thy love 'til it can't contain
"An empty room, cobwebbed, and comfortless"
Direct quote from Edna St. Vincent Millay
It was in more than one of her works..
Copyright © Sara Kendrick | Year Posted 2013
A gray and dreary sky was drawn this morn
though love was in my heart of hearts aglow,
as I called out to you, a rift was torn,
and through the rift, so silent, fell the snow.
Ah, you have passed my heart, my love; I know,
a barefoot specter follows through the white.
Once warmed by passion’s kiss and love’s delight
now, only memories fill my beating heart,
and I can but shiver in the dead of night
awaiting the cock’s crow, I will depart.
Copyright © Debbie Guzzi | Year Posted 2011
Soft creeps the splendid dream tides of the night
The burning embers of heavens breath descends upon my dreams
Dreams of you, my love tonight
Sparkling wishes, amulet stars, a kiss goodnight.
Heart withstanding aches I dare retrace,
I am accompanied by a newfound face, an explorer’s vision
Tears of joy sprout from their jeweled wings,
Flying toward the smiling moon,
I welcome dreams…tonight, I welcome you
Where whispers trail the sleeping waters.... my love goodnight
Unending sails, hearts submerged in love's delight
Tonight I dream of you
On the rosy fields of memoirs sweet
Soft, tender breezes remind me of your crescent touch..
I curl into the swaying waters, cradled by our memory
Where once you smiled in afterthought, and I in golden reverie
Would beauty among these gentle scenes kindly draw you in?
So maybe we can share the graces of light that lives within
Soft moonlit roses, dripping in night-shined dew,
Yes, even as they close, tonight I dream of you.
Take my hand, don’t let me leave this land
For it thrives on our love’s horizon,
Draw your words upon my life, and let night take its stand
But before I sleep, my love tonight. Oh let me seal it with a kiss.
That in beauty's dream my light would float in your love's eternity.
A thousand saddest days may come, and a thousand darkest dreams
But I'll chase them all for you my love, just to have you in my dreams.
These eyes closed tightly with the rosebuds ,
Shall open before clouds, dark and awry
And in the ground, my love for you shall yet still bloom,
Fed by the healing rain, and your steady love refrain
When tonight I dream of you
-A special collaboration with poet Mustapha Mohammad-
Copyright © Laura Breidenthal | Year Posted 2015
For you, my love, I’ll be a single rose
of crimson hue, and velvet to the touch.
So warm in contrast to your fallen snows,
yet yearning for the thrill of winter's clutch.
Soft petals form a heart so firm and true,
unyielding to the tempest of your reign,
and though a cold wind nurtures doubt in you,
such purity of love I could not feign.
Dilemmas of the soul so keenly felt.
Bestow my love? or must it stay a dream?
for if I warmed your heart 'twould surely melt
and I would lose you to the flowing stream.
And so, my love, this single rose I’ll hide
and keep the love I feel for you inside.
Copyright © Sharon Tideswell | Year Posted 2010
Wont you find me here?
Drifting in an expanse of swirling storm
Outstreched fingers graze debris...
recklessly circling reminders.
Stand in the eye with me
Lick our wounds rebounding
Warriors victoriously smiting circumstance
leaving wolves discouraged
disparaging darkness with insane glee
Walk here and find me
Reach out think here
You create me and I construct you
Piece me in missing places
Mending voids delicate and knowing
I slay inherited growths of insecurity
Stating truths untold to your beautiful ears
Know this warmth....
Let these branches sprawl
grow in all directions to withstand walls closing in
A grand old tree would remain...generations of our eyes
taking glance from limbs strong and true
You crush my cycle--end it's existence
I'll destroy your boundary...kill it's constriction
Our tower stronger and rooted
Yet with loftier cloud grazing height
lets disorient ourselves in this foreign altitude
Touch this sky with me
Copyright © Steve Voorhees | Year Posted 2009
Those Sounds That Now Arrive In Early Morn
Can one ever believe in this hope and life,
when infancy now has no great strife?
Yet soon a decision simply must be made,
nobody sits forever in contented shade!
In this ole world evil and chaos abounds,
chases us like a mad pack of wild hounds.
Across flowering meadows we swiftly race,
doing most anything to not this life face.
Sadly, desperate flaws we all must endure
our souls weak, none so clear and pure.
Living bravely is what we really should do,
this world's low standards give no clue.
Often our silence seals our sad fate,
yell or scream before its too late!
When that boulder hits you from above,
curse it and swiftly give it a shove.
Along this path signs will soon appear,
yield not to the ever present fear.
Boldly strive to give love that is true
knowing, a record is always kept on you.
We may see with our poor, muddy eyes,
its all there in our imagination skies.
A ship with our happiness its only load,
upon these stormy seas we must be bold!
Are we to be mere victims of our world,
never defiant with our banner unfurled?
Nay, tis better we pray for hope greater,
follow not the path of saddened life hater.
This life is now resting in a true, loving place
faith, love and joy smile upon this face.
Those sounds that now arrive in early morn;
Yes, I remember-
they were there back when I was first born!
Robert J. Lindley, 01-24-2015
note: Facing life with courage and hope.
Ending will come someday but I now know I was granted mercy,
a great blessing and true love of wife , family and friends!
Copyright © Robert Lindley | Year Posted 2015
When all of youth flees
and even the whitest eye reddens, rheums,
words, fair words, dispel the gloom.
When hands are mapped with age and knurled,
still, they transform the page, the eye, the cage,
for where words flow, the mind goes,
to the pristine smiles and
the smooth curves which once were
yours, your cheek, your neck, your hip.
Deny me anything but the word
for it’s magic will soon be all that remains
of fleeting youth.
Copyright © Debbie Guzzi | Year Posted 2009
When I am Colder,Older and then alone...
I will collect the sky on my own...
When the art has faded and the days then fade-
when everyone has gone away...
I may finally see what never was saw
.....ahhhhhhhhhhhhh............... the quiet sky
The unlit room which bares my end...shows the flashes of my pains my joys and sins.
This life has been a strange one since the curtains were drawn
These paper and plastic figures have clouded the dawn
I was once younger,foolish,and obsessed with truth
Now I am bitter,sour,dour faced with my heart under shoe
The children were all searching or lost in a crowd
All weeds in a garden...growing vile and foul
Though beauty was sold it never came true
Obsessions and vanity have traveled safe through
Materials and poison and everything lost
have been burned in the fires or lost in the frost
I stand face to mirror tearing my being apart
Winding thoughts of love,pain,god,and art
As the sun sets and the darkness grows
I too shall follow this pattern in tow
Death has a friendly hand and a pretty face
She has given me comfort as I leave this place
The wars have occurred,humanity's lost
Souls have been burnt in the fire or lost in the frost
Day was Life,Night is Death
And the latter has given counsel on my final steps
Copyright © Winter Wallace | Year Posted 2009
I do not know?
I dream of you
I see you when
I close my eyes
I speak your name
With every breath
I vow to love you
I think of you
All the day long
My love expressed
In verdant song
I speak of you
To all my friends
I long for you
When each day ends
I see your smile
In every face
In my heart you hold
A special place
I know that we
Were meant to be
And that you're the only
One for me
And when I go
To sleep at night
I know this love
Is more than right
Copyright © Kathy Littrell | Year Posted 2006
Blood that screams mixes with tears of fears,
Over your hypocrisy and useless years.
Fresh cuts don't matter - your attentions yet wane.
It's just too easy to shut down, I could end this pain.
But, escape artists aren't artists at all.
When life ends the real journey begins, the journey to be
Above imperfection and glorified weakness everyone sees.
Life trickles into the drain of the sink, wash it and pretend
The veil is burning off,but there is only so much fire can mend
Besides, escape artists aren't artists at all.
Copyright © Lyndsay Dupont | Year Posted 2008