In England’s pleasant pastures amid the free wild flowers
Lie pagan ways the wise ones do not mock
And one adept at harnessing these ancient rural powers
Was Oggwool Fleece, the black sheep of the flock
Oggwool was old, much older than the old oak it was said
Beneath whose boughs the dark sheep’s plans are sealed
‘Twas said the sheep had come back from the other side of dead
With the darkness in that corner of the field.
The farm hands better knew to venture in the oak’s strange shade
Or to the long grass that the darkness gripped
Where Oggwool lurked amid the spells and potions he had made
A sheep unshorn and magically undipped.
Not limited by four hooves in working his deft skill
Unhindered in ambitious sheepish plans
Harnessing the dark elves to do his dark sheep will
Dexterously with little dark elf hands.
From that darkened corner of that English country field
His influence extends itself outside
His arcane woolly web through which his mystic powers wield
Reaching parts and persons spread worldwide
He has extensive vineyards in Italy and Spain,
He has mining operations in Peru
He owns a flock of ostriches down in the Ukraine
(Although he never quite intended to)
He’s engineering world events on scales beyond the ken
He has his hooves in business of all kinds
He interferes remorselessly in world affairs of men
With night-time thoughts drip-fed to human minds
Little green men fly through space in saucers flat and round
On interstellar missions without cease
But on their furthest journey yet, their enterprise is bound
To the ever growing plans of Oggwool Fleece
The politicians spin their words and armies shoulder arms
And yet do not beyond their small acts see
But Oggwool Fleece with thistle skills and other sheepwise charms
Is planning how to rule a galaxy!
Copyright © Lee Leon
I was thinking today
That in itself
Is a very scary thought
About all the people who
Through our lives
Some of these people
Without any doubt
Are just people we want something from
People who want something from us
And once that need is gone
So are they
Then there are other people
That we know forever
But wish we had never met
And lets not forget
The ones we only met once
Wish we would know forever
But never see again
Well this isn’t about any of them
This is about
We loved and lost
But never should have
Please know that the love I’m speaking of is friendship
Our friends define who we are
More than anything else
My best friend and I
In now on 15 years
In all honesty
That is my fault
It is also one of the worse mistakes
That I ever made
I was so hurt
The hurt brought anger
The anger brought action
And it all happened so fast
Soon as I did it, I felt so ashamed
I think his father could see that in my eyes
The whole family was a part of my heart
Dennis was my best friend
Judy was my girlfriend
Kristin, Jeffery & Haley were my step-kids
Dale was my younger brother
Jack & Joy were Mom & Dad
We had all known each other
Since I was knee high
I learned a valuable lesson that day
I learned that no matter how strong love is
How many years of foundation it may have
Addiction will destroy it
--- It’s the nature of the business ---
Copyright © Michael Jordan
When a person approached investigatively,
He chases his relations suspensively,
He finds clue and works dramatically,
Suspection always works progressively.
Confirmation of belief confirms sensitivity,
Growth brings a change to work relatively,
Hunger is seeking growth for productively,
A limit of growth confirms value qualitatively.
When population has highly density,
Unemployment works offensively,
Poverty grows to increase crime,
Disaster comes to balance creatively.
Everything is naturally fast and slow,
A person has patience for a balance flow,
Air can’t across a gravity line,
Sun has different heat rates a limit to grow.
Copyright © Daljit Khankhana
on the pond-
Copyright © Brian Strand
The Color Missing
Red, black, and blue are the colors of our work pens. Red is the color of the blood we spill on other people’s mistakes. Blue is the color of the songs we sing on tax forms or pay stubs- every page has a secret melody. Black is the color of the streets we fear most. Black is the color of our signature of approval. Black is the color of our death.
‘But what about the Green pens?’ I ask. They say ‘the ink is too hard to see.’
Copyright © Jacob Reinhardt
YOUR MORNING BAGEL Doylestown PA
Consider this, as buds break out on trees
not yet a leaf, the sight that no one sees
as walking through the borough mesmerized
past ancient mansions seen, not realized.
Through early morning air, our sence of smell
arouses to a bagels morning bell;
it tells us to awake, this is a day
we gain another try to make our way.
Past tiny shops of books and pottery
of artists who record what used to be
and at sidewalk cafes, we take a pause
considering what's real, or never was.
We hear the groan of traffic come alive;
the buzzing of our time and constant hive;
but who can see the budding of the tree
that's made for us to always never see?
Consider this, of time we've none to spare
to capture in our heart the birthing there;
no longer for a blinking of the eye;
what time has brought along, too soon will die.
© ron wilson aka vee bdosa the doylestown poet
Copyright © Vee Bdosa
Alas there is no more confusion,
finally found my last conclusion.
Expect me as if Jesus will return,
from a ghost to a realm of concern.
Your dreams are portals like doors,
welcoming spirits into hasten wars.
Leaving the thoughts without trust,
keeping your fears in much disgust.
And though you sought no consequence,
deeds that confirm a wicked malevolence.
Awaiting in your nightmare of screams,
enjoy what is left amongst your dreams.
Copyright © Eternal Victor
Hurrying and rushing even at eight,
usually just to avoid been late.
been doing this for a while and I am so accurate,
the day I relent, my Boss Anger I activate,
the beauty of Nature and sight seeing, no room to accommodate,
so focused on my Job and nothing to motivate,
through the Trolley Bus I get to the Office straight,
none present yet, not even a mate.
I'll sit alone for some minutes as I wait,
and this I terribly hate,
I do not even know for how long I can tolerate.
Then one day, I deviated from my usual line.
In the Bus, taking my time and making it mine,
not giving a damn even if I reached at nine,
watching the passers-by smile so fine,
up the sky the Birds happily dine,
moving in groups like flying swine.
Just observing the 3 in 1 street lights was a sign
that my Job intoxicated me like wine
and all this while with a perfect sight, I've been blind.
The Unique Victoria Bar, I've never seen.
The "Dark-Ages" band, performing so obscene,
showing their 'half-naked' dancing body is what I mean,
and the Statue close to the Adidas Shop looks so lean.
Aha! The writing on the building is just a signature
and the photo on it gave a nice gesture,
initially, it puzzled me like a difficult literature,
but now the advert seems to be a blend of perfect mixture,
as it reads "Gym with us and better your posture"
Just understanding the popular Joke about the Pear,
It is two round Toys I noticed and a bottom they share.
Looking like one big Apple green and clear.
Also enjoying the glaring Banks with the colors they wear,
not observing all these is worse than to err,
and making me feel Nature was never near,
this is a burden I am about to bear.
How on Earth can I explain this?
It's so hurtful not experiencing such a bliss,
crying intensely like my niece,
is not enough justification for a 5 year-miss.
Copyright © Funom Makama
A strange sight upon a lonely road.
A dream ripped in half.
Looking closer, I wonder what was the travail.
An old price tag attached, making me wonder at what price it was sold.
Along the edges, tattered and torn, it gave forth an evil laugh.
As if some sly devil concocted a way to turn someone pale.
Onward I traveled, with pack upon my back.
To the left and right of the road were littered with more broken dreams.
So many that one could not keep track.
Some having been blown into the parallel stream.
So, I checked the pack upon my back.
And, yep all my dreams were there in a stack.
Cold winds howl, trying to rip my back pack to shreds.
Freezing were the winds, but forward I march.
Never losing sight of my dreams in spite of many dreads.
They all hold up strong even though many times I'm in a lurch.
Suddenly I see people returning to the road.
Going back and picking up their dreams.
Dusting them off and restoring them to their pack.
Each and every one said to me, you are quite bold.
To go forth and not let the cold winds of fate not destroy your knack.
To face life as it comes and not give up even if offered gold.
Good, bad fortune, are likewise of no importance.
Put a failed dream back in your pack and maybe a new day will appear.
Where you can unpack that dream and give it another go.
But, for today, march forward, today's failure might tomorrow's dance.
You gave it your best, and win or lose, that game has ended with a spear.
Win or lose, that game is done so pack it's knowledge away in your pack and grow.
Suddenly down the road a new vista appears and a brand new game.
Left high and dry or victorious are the two possible ends of any venture.
But in truth, knowledge is all you will have, win or lose.
For tomorrows game is just around the bend, all the same.
Win or lose, the game of life only ends for the moment within sight of the new adventure.
So, to quit and call it the end, only makes you look like a goose.
Copyright © James Ray Morris
< Horses and snowflakes
Illuminating to it's tongue's pallet's plate
Open carriage rides
Falling flakes in the eyes
City strewn lights
Hoof's echoing through out the night
Cider drank it
New York's Central Park
An home for many after dark
Four miles of bridal paths
Drawn coaches to bring you back
So horses and snowflakes
Fills this ones poet's pallet's plate
Written By Katherine Stella
My Theme Was Both
Horses And Snowflakes
This Is An Entry
For Constance ~A Rambling Poet 's ~ Contest
Copyright © Katherine Stella
Contractual agreements with publisher caused DELETION
Copyright © JSLambert Mister ROBOTO
morning frost twinkles
while rancher sips coffee and
whiffs new arrivals
Copyright © Lisa Lee
northern white clouds rise
each morning, any weather--
sky of morning smog
*For strict Haiku contest
Copyright © Cathy Ncube
should I believe you man in the suit?
oh your hair looks mighty fine
combed back, your polished slacks
a slight tan
you are irresistible in your presence
you have a face that looks right
nothing you say would be out of sight
nothing you do would steer me wrong
oh man in the suit,
you are my god.
you have the power to make us thrive
dig a hole
to the other side
not to china, but to the fuel
oh man in the suit
I cannot trust you
you dug too deep
into a pocket of the earth
looking for more resource
to fill your own pockets
but I don't want pockets
man in the suit
all I want
is for you to tell the truth
your polished smile did us wrong
lies lay upon your clever tongue
and you continue to rule the earth
digging your holes
you find more girth
to your hungry pockets
which you try so hard to fill
when will you learn
that filling pockets kills...
Copyright © Amy Kramer
Gulf Oil Spill
Another disaster ,
Caused by man.
Oil spills far…
We do what we can.
We’ve damaged our Earth
By spilling a gift
Its given us, of worth.
The fish will die
The oil companies will lie
If things don’t change
The world will die.
Copyright © Graham Eakin
Upon such unnatural paths do men set course
Jacks walk the trail with axes, and their horse
They have come to rape the forest by brute force
Rested, and ready from yesterdays good night
Minds fixate on profits, hearts ignore the blight
Taking with them every last tree in their sight
Leaving a grave yard behind when they turn, and walk away
There will be no sleep lost for nature content with their pay
Copyright © Edwin Baldwin
Contractual agreements with publisher caused DELETION
© 2011 JSL
Copyright © JSLambert Mister ROBOTO
has no more blood;
no tissue to slide through my teeth.
I have bitten my tongue
my message deflates beneath.
© 2011 ~JSLambert Esquire
Copyright © JSLambert Mister ROBOTO
You have unfailingly demonstrated your love
every law supporting our galaxy
is so harmonious that this
little blue paradise could not exist
every thread and movement
so precise we can measure
its movements right down to atomic levels
All so this small space
could provide everything anyone
who had any appreciation
might understand that we have
been provided abundantly every delight
in the way of plans for a Utopia
Yet the movements of every ruling body
of science religions governments corporations
seem bent on destruction
tampering with the finesse of precision
incorporated in the molecules of life
Continuous self reproduction and regeneration in nature
right down to making "seeds who self destruct"
to make nature exactly as themselves
I divorce publicly these unions of violence
demonstrated in their every thought and deed
poisonous words poisonous chemicals
totalitarian ideology pandemic to
the leaders of these factions
warring with each other hoarding the
wealth of a planet given freely to
the father of our species
And if you don't believe that
then think nature gave it freely
of her every fruit produced by her ground
YOU WARRING FOOLS
who delight in the peril and fall
of your own family
who know not nor recognize
your own worth or the worth
of everything and everyone around you
No , but you fall at the feet
admiringly of all these mongrels
the media who worship
these fine movers and shakers
who roll right over you and think
you should be trained groupies
these men who kill your planet
with ideologies and philosophies
whose very design is to denigrate
your worth and exalt themselves
Therefore I will exalt in your instruction
the progenitor of life for as surly
as we examine the work of life
we are moved by its abundant wealth
freely shared with all who live on this little rock
to examine why we all are unable
to fluently live within its confines
I think I will not walk off the cliff today
gravity is my friend if I know her rules
COPYRIGHT © 2012 C Michael Miller
via Duboff Law Group LLC
Copyright © Poetryof Providence
brown eyes wander
in a loud crowded room
a mouse scurries
Could this be regarding the mouse
or is it a head executive bored with the chatter....I don't know....???
what do you see.................
Modern Traditional Haiku
Copyright © Rick Parise
A Resolution for This Time
(Based on Eccl. 3:1-15)
©2011 C. Brent Cloyd
I long to see the beauty of my time
Hear music from eternal bells that chime
Enjoy earth, till this good life I sever
Look toward heaven that last forever
I’ll grasp my part in each life occasion
Banish thoughts and deeds of ill persuasion
Accept God’s design for each life season
Submit that I need not know His reason
I will celebrate life so wondrous born
Understand that death is not always scorn
Propagate goodness and wholeness in life
And uproot that which causes pain and strife
I’ll concede it’s sometimes proper to kill
But until convinced I’ll promote goodwill
Useless things I will tear down and destroy
Then plan to build, and work efforts deploy
I will comfort the hearts of those forlorn
Together find God’s healing as we mourn
Dare to dream, love, have hope, and take a chance
Embrace the moment, laugh, and learn to dance
I’ll speak with passion, let pieces scatter
Gather the fragments, avoid the chatter
Engage opinions, proceed with a shrug
When acceptable, open arms and hug
For things of value I’ll search at great cost
When searching is exhausted count it lost
When usefulness has ended, throw away
But don’t allow important things to stray
Now is the time to tear some things apart
Then with care I’ll mend and make a new start
Learn the lesson that silence is golden
Of words fitly said men are beholden
I pledge to hate what is cruel and unjust
Teach that kindness and fairness are a must
In war, anger and malice find release
But I’ll use my voice to encourage peace
Yesteryear’s events once again will be
To measure their success we wait and see
God’s deeds are good, lasting and without flaw
Of Him and His works I will gaze in awe.
Copyright © Brent Cloyd
Scorching sun and
No more blossom rose
No drop from the sky
No thunder other than
Patch of sands like desert
No trench for the spy.
Copyright © Abdulhafeez Oyewole
Could feel the smiling and risen sun all gleeful and gay,
It had ushered in me a beam of energy earlier today.
Could sense now at twilight it chuckle at the rising milky white moon,
And softly in me restore its light to make me excite and swoon.
The virgin cold watery sprays of the falling drops of rains,
Slowly washes my worries off my face and down the drain.
The fragrance of wet mud and lush sweet garden breeze,
Blows into me, pure strength and happiness in me gradually increase.
As I walk bare feet, wet grassy paths of my garden gently,
My subdued muffed up feelings erupt over my heart’s brim intently…..
I let go of all feelings and experience inside me a sensation so very light,
my vision clears and thoughts to me for my life's path ahead seem so very bright...
Copyright © sashi prabhu
I do not know?
Man to blame,
Once again to his shame,
His record continues to destroy !
The beauty he did not create, nor can he save…
He will never learn how to properly behave…
Nature screams pointlessly once again ?
Fearing where next we’ll drill ?
Gulf oil spill.
Copyright © William Arthur Tell
The peace within
Such peace it lies within so deep
The beast within be fast asleep
The breath of love it just pours out
Oh my, what is this all about?
The bird song chatter echo’s deeply
As heart takes over mind completely
And silver silence sings to me
As I be here, alone I be.
The finger’s pointing out the way
Behind the moon, the warm sun rays
Reflect through her the breath of love
As stars shine brightly high above!!!
The sun be hiding from the day
As stormy skies below, they lay
I see as flowers open wide
The space where pristine love abides.
I sit here in this garden chair
Senses sharp and so aware
As the day cries out “Wake up you fool
Eyes open wide, it’s beautiful!!!!!”
Copyright © Peter Duggan
Numerous number systems beyond the real:
complex numbers, octonions, omnions which can eat whole black holes.
It's axiomatic that your personal history, preferences, how you feel
account for nothing at all.
$30 buys a flock of chickens for a needy family (International Rescue
$29 gets a girl a school uniform (CARE), for $300 you can stock a fish
pond (Heifer International)
$69 can start a female entrepreneur in the sewing business (Mercy
$5 will buy a bed net that protects a family from mosquitoes (Against
20th century experiments demonstrated that electrical charge is
quantized; that is, it comes in
multiples of individual small units called the elementary charge, e,
approximately equal to 1.602
x 10-19 coulombs (except for particles called quarks which have charges
that are multiples of
Why has the experimentalism of the avant-garde, which has failed in the
novel, succeeded in
poetry? Because poetry is always experimental; while the novel, on the
contrary, by its nature,
cannot be . . . which is to say that experimentalism is synonymous with
poetry, and that applied
to the novel, it leads simply to the substitution of the novel with poetry.
Man made the town, Fibonacci inflated zero to be the wheel
around which the universe turns and language is the soul
walking and talking quietly or going angrily to war.
"Counting is in its very essence magical, if any human practice is at all.
For numbers are things no one has ever seen or heard or touched."
As are words.
Joan Didion thought the scariest stanza in all of poetry
starts Row, row, row your boat gently
down the stream. The elements, the material penumbra,
irresolvable for the mortal, readily dissolve in words and numbers.
Copyright © Robert Ronnow
In Hell where I may reside,
if death is not on my side.
Hunger that weeps to no end,
this darkness within my den.
As you enter my palace of pain,
fear not if you have not to gain.
Though previous life proved not,
judgement upon fears are sought.
And so the righteous shall avenge,
in my domain that seeks a revenge.
Cannot escape a wrath left in wake,
my vengeance is all that keep sake.
When I merge the dead with your dreams,
absolute power amongst all that screams.
Should a hundred years from my death,
not exist within the truth spoken breath.
Thus my soul is sacrificed for trading,
greatest power in all my soul waging.
Shall this price not be enough to pay,
the wicked shall cower before I prey.
Copyright © Eternal Victor
Sun breaks ridge like bell
Squirrels scurry like stock brokers
Leaves like orders fall
By Robb A. Kopp
All Rights Reserved © MMX
Copyright © Robb A. Kopp
What about us…!!!
The life of an ENGINEER is not more less than of a NOMAID
Away from home
Days so good & bad
In a world of their own , they are all Dwelled
For them the world is all there, where they have nothing to loose
Nothing to fear
No difference of colour
caste or creed is found there
all runninG in one gear
Young brains with truthfull hearts
Like the tides of oceans,, rain in skies ,breeze in mornings
they are flowing within the tides of fate where the destiny is a dream to them.
After all the hurry n furry for such a long time,,
The souls are all lead to dark.
Unaware of the world outside , they keep grooming their faith .
But its All watered when they come to know,,, that time was like a woe.
Broken hearts with shrinken thoughts look for the way…in the land of greedymen
The unlonging hope is all graved like a parrot in lion’s den
& the minds with quest wonder with thrust ,, where to rest
& what is best.
We are no beasts from mars or Neptune,
We are the beings of distant thought.
We are the part of a world you are,
We seek refugee from the curse of fate & the curse of being called as a fresher.
No men are born with everything learned,, with a fine coarse of time all have to learn..
To learn & earn is the soul aim ,
To progress and prosper everyday ,
But we are still at the same bay,,, when they return us with same astonishing say…(fresher)
Itsn’t we are incompetent but u are…
Itsn’t we have left the hope. .we always will walk for us
For whatever & however it is we are still in our way,,
singing the same
What about life…
What about us..!!
Copyright © KAMRAN RASHID
Sheep’s Work Is Never Done
Life calls after sheep in morning to continue
Everyone else sleeps in
Hiding from the corporate coma for awhile
People rise, at a later date, from beds dead tired
Smiles crack on faces; lines move the traces of age around
And break the new dawned day wide open
You can’t count on sheep for anything
They cut wood down in forest
Place it into piles
I know this can’t be done
They have no work permits
Their visas have expired
They line up to be deported
You can’t count on sheep when sleeping either
They wake up freezing cold in wooden homes
Catch colds, catch fire with the trees
To burn the forest down
Weep with matches hidden in the wool
Call it an accident
No one keeps the peace and secrets like death and sheep
You can count on that
Death takes everyone with it, with or without their visa
Sheep move back to their own countries
Work is never done there either, but
To be continued
Copyright © Earl Schumacker