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Age Art Poems | Age Poems About Art

These Age Art poems are examples of Age poems about Art. These are the best examples of Age Art poems written by international PoetrySoup poets

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Details | Sonnet | |

A Painter's Pine

The void calls through gossamer veils and widow's peak. Shifty-eyed now of necessity I lie, bone-wrapped in rosaries black as my rheumy eyes, death speaks. Uncomforted by down or velvet, role trapped corseted, board stiff with age like calf skin vellum peeled and bloodied by the dual edged knife of man. The scene is set and I shall not whimper, as do some, or call to God, or blame the fates of those whose clans remain earth-bound, when I have left this mortal glade. Pigment on canvass, linseed loosed, stretchers taut, displayed, all of this, I've had a plenty, and been royally paid. My life was art, and it was art that fanned my life's flame. So, stretch me on the pine boards and lay my edges down; monochrome me in umber, drench me in shades of brown.
Self Portrait See About the Poem

Copyright © Debbie Guzzi | Year Posted 2013

Details | Epic | |

TRUE INDIAN

On the land of miracles,
Took place a miracle,
Missile man of our country was born.
People's president he was known,
APJ Abdul kalam was his identity.
Paving a path for young generation,
In the field of science and technology.
He inspired young minds.
He is no more on this earth,
But his soul hasn't left his motherland.
Freedom, strength and development
Were his dreams.
The day he was born,
He dedicated the day to learners.
The spark in his eyes,
The smile on his face,
And the confidence in his attitude,
Inspires me and every indian.
I am proud to be an indian.

Copyright © AHALYA NAIR | Year Posted 2016

Details | Rhyme | |

The Winter Blues

The Winter Blues
Robert J. Lindley 

Winter blew in with a scant little whimper 
Fall skulked away with hardly a peep 
Deep cold, blowing winds fit some's temper 
Yet others they sadden enough to weep! 

Snow brings its beauty and shining charms 
Frigid air sets furry critters about 
Blizzards blasting forth set great alarms 
Where frozen forested cries ring out. 

Nature knows best and gives as she pleases 
Hardest season sets the coming stage 
Death and pain, of which Spring then eases 
Time for each, says the wizened sage! 

Cold chills, hang glisten silent through the night 
Decembers solstice sets the stage northbound 
Jack Frost pretends to be Earth's white knight 
Dark days of winter winds; ice-kiss the ground 

Autumn renews chilling barren vows, 
Wonderland enables the sun on numb 
Icicles form, a voice shared -leaving nature roused 
Winter's blue melodies washed down with rum 

A cold peril storm, enjoying the winter sky 
Frostbitten dawn, desolate sunset of worthlessness 
A leafless desire to intensify nature's supply 
Loss from exposed skin, of hopelessness 
*** 
Snow, Sleet, and hell; patients needing detox 
Atlas Spring gives way to the Viral Equinox 

(Robert Lindley and Poet Destroyer co-write) 

~ ~ A Poet Destroyer Collaboration ~ ~
----------------------------------------------------

Contest: Collaboration Celebration- subject- Winter Reflections. 
Sponsor: Poet Destroyer A

Copyright © Robert Lindley | Year Posted 2015

Details | Sonnet | |

I Am Mortal Man, Made Of Mere Flesh And Bone

I Am Mortal Man, Made Of Mere Flesh And Bone

Sad and lost soul walked in his old worn shoes,
dark clouds covered his bowed and forlorn head.
Life had beat him hard, made him pay heavy dues,
cast jagged stones into his every night's bed.
He looking back at all his dear family now gone,
his broken soul cried- God release me please.
I am mortal man, made of mere flesh and bone,
my every path hard, nothing comes with gentle ease
Yet the spirit was strong and his heart held dreams,
hope that another day would great blessings bring.
Each night's prayer he found new flowing streams,
such that morn's new light made his joy sing

As each day brought its bricks and falling stones,
Hope, his greatest shield, prevented any broken bones.

Robert J. Lindley, 4-15-2016 

Dedicated to all my friends here that give me hope each day.
Hope that life will give future blessings and my family will
be well and safe when I am gone.

Copyright © Robert Lindley | Year Posted 2016

Details | Lyric | |

While You Sleep

While you sleep I tell you all of the things I keep inside throughout day.
Now that you can hear but not listen I find them much easier to say.
My hopes, my dreams, my fears, and everything in between
Your subconscious hears so keen, or so it seems.
My tongue is soft; I speak so sweetly 
Knowing your reaction will never greet me.

Tonight will be different in what I want you to know.
It has everything to do with what I can’t help but show.
I hold no claim to any religion but you’ve given me a place for my faith.
Somewhere it will never stale or lose its lavish taste.
You’ve shown me something I can see, touch, and feel, 
And so before it I choose to kneel.

I know I don’t say it but I miss you every day.
Sitting, thinking of the perfect words to be my choice,
Yet when you call I can’t find any of the right words to say.
I’m just happy to finally hear your voice.
Even just a moment is enough to sooth my heavy heart;
Fearing the ends of conversations knowing we’ll have to part.

I’ll never be too far from you, always within arm’s reach,
And in your days of darkness I’ll be the light that you will seek.
I’ll never let you leave too far from me, I’ll stay close behind you in this world;
Secretly protecting what is mine, you will always be my girl.
I only want the best for you so the best of me I will employ.
Faithfully yours, I will always be your boy.

I close my eyes and kiss your soft sweet lips
And see the very best of you in loving bliss.
I see past the physical which makes you attractive
And focus on the things I can’t see in which I’m attracted.
Your thoughts I’d love to hear them all.
Of the things you speak disinterest never makes its call.

My day will come, I know someday I’ll be the only one.
And you I will pursue viciously,
Because I’ve given you the greatest gift I can give, to love unconditionally.
Yes our day will come, I know someday we’ll be as one.
And you I will pursue viciously,
Because I’ve given you the greatest gift I can give… to love unconditionally.

Copyright © Kristopher Higgs | Year Posted 2012

Details | Free verse | |

The Color Missing

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 | Year Posted 2013

Details | Crown of Sonnets | |

Mankind

I am lost
I can feel no presence
I know of no human or animal that has a measure of significance alike mine
I have a teacher
A teller of all there is to be known of the world
She has bestowed upon me the gifts of a magi
I have sailed deep oceans with noblemen and written great works with worldly scholars
All of this I owe to her, my "teacher"
But through all her wisdom I have heard or seen of no such creature
The one of whose value is as mine
I looked upon the oracle and many great libraries with scriptures overflowing
I still have read or seen of no such monster
I've heard witches speak ancient incantations
and I have sung songs with the sirens
Out of the monsters and spirits that came none of which had a significance as is mine
Upon my dreariness and woeful thought came the final place
A painting of life and death
A tale of heaven and hell at war
The purity of truth blackened by man
 I saw upon them a thing of which is mine
Not upon the dead who will be missed
Nor the skeletons carrying away the dead, the ones with purpose
Not even of the severed limbs and broken bones discarded at random in the field of chaos and confusion
No, I saw my equal upon the shadows
A black being darker than silence
A causer of mischief and misfortune
A wielder of pain and sorrow
My equal is hated by all for all he has done
My equal is upon the wicked and the damned sadly he is to dumb to care
My equal of such tresspasses is a demon
My equal is a man who dressed in black kills and dies and is born again through his ashes of filth
He sees his crimes
It is because of this he wept upon his hands
His hands
The hands stained my children's blood and scared by the scratches of the innocent
But I was wrong
I am not equal to a demon, for these are not the acts of a demon but of man
That is my equal 
My equal is man
My sins are everlasting 
My transgressions are in stone
Man is the cause for the failure of men
Man is the cause for the failure of many!






Posted by Haley Melton at 3:37 AM  
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Copyright © Haley Melton | Year Posted 2014

Details | Free verse | |

The 80's

This is a decade that many wonderful things happened; 
I was born, the reign of hard rock began, 
Michael Jackson began to moonwalk, Cars became smoother 
on the road, Cold War reigned, and also a time that soul music 
massaged our souls and emotions.
This is a decade that never dies. People who were born 
and lived in the 80s still live, the music still exists in hard-drives, 
teenagers have immortalized the fashion sense, and
my yellowing birth certificate still lives on, with one piece.

Copyright © Teddy Kimathi | Year Posted 2015

Details | Free verse | |

Forgotten You

Forgotten you
As your mind collects the memories of yesterday
Forgotten You
Epiphanies tie into knotty strings of realization
That very moment. . . 
You merely exist

Back then. . .those smiles
Those. . .distant laughs
Some you remember by name
Gone now maybe
Like the exhalation of the wind
Others dispersed in the world of arbitrary happening
Like leaves from falling, man-made trees
There is no doubt that they have
Forgotten you

Activate the bomb
Ignite the fuse
And you’re on next year’s history book
Never forgotten
But drained of all remaining good

That smile you gave
That happiness
The warm embrace so long ago
Salt-coated with piles of rubbish
Over last remaining mental spurts of comfort
Evil, evil, evil, evil, EVIL. . .
Always absorbed and remembered
. . .though never forgiven. . .

All good and gracious sentiments
Packed up in a box set nonchalantly in Downstair’s storage
. . .that chair with the broken leg in the corner of the room
That mangled cobweb holding a dangling, lifeless spider
A drowned sailor’s hat drifting through the current of the ocean
The single tear from a soldier’s vigilant, memory-stricken eye
The frustrating thoughts of a mute
The unchanged. . .HATED deformations

Forgotten you. . .
One soul brings to light weary, unthought-of happenings
Wedged deep into what she can only imagine
With not even a hint of understanding
. . .of the pain. . . .of the bewildering distortions
Of the ugly. . .
One soul merely vomits sickly verse after verse

As humanity embraces its downfall
The poet hangs onto her unjustifiable, forgotten. . .
Words

Copyright © Laura Breidenthal | Year Posted 2013

Details | Rhyme | |

A Tribute To Peter Duggan

A Tribute To Peter Duggan 


What can I say as tribute to this great man
the kindness in his poems just beams out
His great love of Nature, family and life can
cause my heart to rise up and sing out!

First, I saw a man writing with a sweet soul
with clear flowing waters in his stream
Writing about good and even about life's toll
never lets up on heart and mind's dream!

Rivers he knew just like his own huge heart
a man of passion that danced with glee
Yes, he wrote with gold right from the start
honorable man, great poet he surely be!

Love of all life, family and his darling wife
Peter ran a path I dreamed of as well
Never one to mince words about past strife
he inked the page, often giving it hell!

Poetry seemed melted into his Aussie blood
sweet verses he grew as Nature's flowers
Energetic and valiant, no stick in the mud
his poems were all like Spring showers!

Nothing more to say except tribute is sincere
would love to meet he and family some day
Where our gathering would bring all good cheer
Thank God if that blessing came my way!

08-04-2015 

Silent One
Contest Name--	Tribute 
 
Enter Poetry Contest
Deadline	9/2/2015 12:00:00 AM

Copyright © Robert Lindley | Year Posted 2015

Details | ABC | |

HAPPILY BORN

Through the screams of pain,
I heard a cry,
A cry that indicated a birth of a new life.
Sitting in the hospital corridor,
I could hear the cry of happiness from tiny lungs,
I could experience the same happiness,
The family was going through.
Yes a girl child!
I thought to myself,
She might be lucky,
She has a modern family who cared for her
Thank god! she did not go through the pain of being killed.
This world has learnt to accept a girl child!
I am happy.............

Copyright © AHALYA NAIR | Year Posted 2016

Details | Rhyme | |

Gone, Our Days Dancing In The Splashing Rain

Gone, Our Days Dancing In The Splashing Rain



As this our time retreats into faded thought
  and our nights of love become a pain
We can both see that with a dear price bought
  our days dancing in the splashing rain
Should we again find our way into love's realm
  tempest breaking the greatest storm apart
Ship on truest course with heart at the helm
  finding treasures not seen on any chart

When hope, our only saving grace fell very far
  did we regret the touch of our lips then
Or invite in the misery creating this deep scar
  thus viewing all our love passion as sin
What of the sorrow that chills us both so deep
  deadly words that slash with no remorse
Nay, the damnation and costs make us both weep
  each crying out for a much happier course

Has this time sealed our doom and failed pride
  a journey based upon mistakes and lies
Drowning as we fail to cross darkness so wide
  death under black waters with broken ties
Never reaching up for that romance saving hand
  content to lick and eat our own pride
Saddest traveler into desolation's blackest land
  moaning out regret as we enjoy the ride

Will our stubbornness give birth to great defeat
  a testament to anger's futile arrogance
A nasty meal we each still find begging to eat
  no victory in foolishly killing romance

Robert J. Lindley

Copyright © Robert Lindley | Year Posted 2015

Details | Free verse | |

A Look Back

A Look Back
 

Fleeting the moments of laughter and joy,
   Love promises so much more:
There is no finality in the life garnered
   Once we see the dread of its end.

So short were the days in the sun:
   Where shining dawns offered deep hope
All we once were has now been done
   We live and loved in a dream.

Robert J. Lindley. 06-30-2015

Copyright © Robert Lindley | Year Posted 2015

Details | Sonnet | |

Tinge Of Purple Rests Within My Heart

Tinge Of Purple Rests Within My Heart

Tinge of purple rests within my tired heart
Soft touches of a heavy old soul
Now pulling on my heavy empty cart
Often my world seems to be lumps of coal.

I heard thumps of acorns falling on down
That majestic oak sheds its little seeds
Old age has me feeling like a sad clown
Longing to ride again, runaway steeds

Tis winter! Culprit bringing its bleak cold
Seeds resting secure in the frozen ground
Spring will come and they rise out very bold
Yet again life comes right on around

Nature teaches us, all will be alright
Life and death matches just like day and night

Robert J. Lindley, 1-26-2016

Poem Syllable Counter Results
Syllables Per Line:	
10 10 10 10 0 10 10 10 10 0 10 10 10 10 0 10 10
Total # Syllables:	140
Total # Lines:	17  (Including empty lines)
Words with (syllables) counted programmatically:	 
Total # Words:	107

NOTES: 
 1. My muse woke me at 4 am to write this.
I told her no but she nagged until I rose to
do the deed. I' tell ya , I want to strangle her
sometimes but then at other times love her to
death..
 2. The immediate repetition of the word "heavy" in verses two and three is intentional and used for effect, as both the old soul and its life's burdens are now currently found to be very heavy to bear. Poet's prerogative , norms be damned says I. 



Copyright © Robert Lindley | Year Posted 2016

Details | Rhyme | |

The Fight, The Prize And Fate

The Fight, The Prize And Fate


I fought you viciously for my dear life
You that puts dread into long, dark nights
Deep mental cuts were like a sharp knife
Blood gushing forth, horrific sights!

Fought you alone in the midnight hour
Cursed you into deep hell each day
You that cuts down youth's eager flower
Kill all bravely standing in your way!

In the black caverns you cast forth
A chill resides to eat on my bones
Colder than icy wind from the North
Time eating curses uttered in sad tones

Victory over your void I will not gain
For time yields to no earthly power
Yet my fight will remind you yet again
I fought you, fought until the last hour!

Robert J. Lindley, no-date.
Note- a rewrite of my poem written back in 1978

Copyright © Robert Lindley | Year Posted 2015

Details | Rengay | |

She, Forever in Boxes

So confined to the boxes is she who
Tries to free herself from them
Breaking down barriers of all political and cultural design
Constructing opportunities and 
Imagining their trite and expected 
Downfalls
She, who reigns supreme in the art
Of lability 
The morning being the promise
The afternoon, the despair
The night, a restless dance to 
Hopeful unknowing 
So that it may all begin anew
And she may float with ambition,
Flirt with lofty goals
(Which are so very tangible once realized to a more substantial degree)
All through which comes the 
Bitter devastation
The cerebral revelation

For her mind and the World work in harmoniously demonizing tandem to erase the sketches of a life 
Of her own craft

Copyright © Christy Chow | Year Posted 2015

Details | Free verse | |

Road To My Yesterday

I saw the knife like shape approaching,
The woman holding it was smiling,
My mother was weeping profoundly behind,
My little aged eyes were watching
Trying to know what the knife like shape want to do.
My bead danced off from my waist
And, I saw tears filled a cup in front of me
Ready for me to drink it and eat my wrickled pains, 
But I shoulder courage to be a woman;
Even though I hail from a lost barberic people whose minds are black and thirsty of knowledge,
I tried to run but couldn't because they were mightier.
That woman grapped me and  whispered to  
to my craving ears that  it is my  traditional right,
My right to be called a woman in the emerging years.
My fears overpowered me as I screamed in pains,
The fan swirled and the clock tick tack and the 
Light bulb gave out an angry flame in tears,
I was lowered in an unconditional madness.
The knife like shape went straight in my opened legs,
It went closer to my womanhood, the pains shot;
The fears broke my ribs and my vein shouted.
The opened woman tried to escaped but my emotions
Held her back to my body.
"Jesus"! Mother screamed with her eyes closed,
The two women continued their work in my angry woman.
"The circumcision is done" the fat woman said
" You are now a woman" the other said
" Would she be ok ?" mother asked but no reply to her.
"Women circumcision is bad, so bad!" father cried 
Years later, black years later, here I am childless;
I can not even enjoy the sensional joy of meeting a man who could service me like a woman.
I can't behave like a woman any more?
Here I am like a tree planted in a desert of shame,
I am now the problem of my problems, the custodian of the woman I am through shamed illed tradition of circumcision of womanhood;
Standing in gap between ancient and modernity,
My road to yesterday cannot be close until I mother a son who can call me mother.

(C) John chizoba vincent
#morning sadness# against woman Circumcision#
#speak out for women#

Copyright © john chizoba vincent | Year Posted 2015

Details | Imagism | |

Young Age

When age was young 
Just to confuse legends
I wrote poems
I shaved and shoveled all roads
Pulled all seeds that needed speed and clean education for growth
With no free breakfasts from hypocrites i lied 
so i can lay my bosom on any king's favorite lie
The king of words ruling metaphors
Baking biscuits on guaranteed standing ovations 

The oven
Fading visible guilty conscious poems in early ages
Poetic adolescent was on my age
Cooking low budget poetry
Singing verses composed by blind hand writings
Saving healers in cages

When age was young
I did fasting 
I placed hunger on my own starvation tricking my own mind i was not hungry
I sold prayers to heal one eyed angels that never saw real motivated rhymes
Running faster than natural reactions

I cared
For useless words i cared
They carried useless surprise party motives
Labelled sins defining age restriction

I cared for rotten expressions pressing my inner wrong buttons
I cared for rotten expressions pressing my inner wrong buttons
I cared for blossom expressions pressing my inner suffocated floors
I planted punctuation' in different national wet tensions
My earth visit felt like a surprise visit organised by God
It is!!
Yes it was!!

I implied all i spoke multiple times in different flights
Applied and disguised my style in piles while my tongue grew taller
My head could not enter lessons 
When age was old I was young
I spoiled my paintings with funny connotations
My teen-ager sense of writing was never childish though I was a child of poetry 
I had anger
When age was old I was young

© Raymond Ngomane

Copyright © Raymond Ngomane | Year Posted 2014

Details | Rhyme | |

This is me

My knees were the things that 
kept me up and my skin is my 
cutting board my eyes are the 
rain clouds to the fire running 
down my arms and my heart is 
the fire place that keeps me 
burning so calm

Copyright © brittney lopez | Year Posted 2013

Details | Free verse | |

I love you

The love was a dream so I hope that I keep the length of my life asleep 
The series was your love I do not want him to be the end of the 
If your love so I hope that breathe air 
If your love I want a cigarette that has become addicted to them 
The love was a wealth so I hope to live in my body 
The love was the most beautiful bird dreamed of his upbringing


Author : Omar Hachmi 

Copyright © Omar Hachmi | Year Posted 2014

Details | Ballade | |

BALLADE TO MATURE BEAUTY

Easy comes beauty in youth’s natural spring,
But with age its mellow dimensions grow.
Like to a bud, a full bloom, age will bring.
With grace its beauty does ebb and glow,
Its liberty allows its new functions to show.
Mature beauty is and will be admired always,
Youth’s beauty and its esteem goes to and fro,
But ageless deeper beauty has endless days.


Mature beauty has a melody to sing,
And this it releases so that you will know,
The elegance and blessing of its echo’s ring.
The evidence of a mind is part of its show,
For it opens tastefully with a view to bestow.
Ageless beauty never lacks for praise.
The beauty of life’s spring may lose its glow,
But ageless deeper beauty has endless days.


In poetry and melody its praises we bring,
For mature beauty’s many dimensions we know.
With fervid dignity I see it take to wing,
Giving the young buds an inspiring show.
May you long guide youth as they grow,
Leading them in elegance the celestial ways.
So youth will  know how easy beauty may go,
But ageless deeper beauty has endless days.


Now young buds aspire to full blooms grow,
And become worthy of nature’s timeless praise.
Allow your charm in majesty and grace to glow,
And may your ageless beauty have endless days.

Copyright © Albert Price | Year Posted 2008

Details | Free verse | |

Just Be

Sometimes I admire the littlest things
A simple rock. A blade of grass. 
They need no future goals, no tax exemptions
They don’t need to go anywhere or be anything
They just are. 

Sometimes, especially when I’m reading life insurance policies,
I envy the rocks and the grass
And try to be like them for a moment. 
I sit perfectly still and give myself to the wind-
And it whispers in my ear:
Just be.
And for that moment I don’t need to go anywhere or be anything.
And at the snap of my fingers, 
All the complex widgets and gizmos that make up my life
Fold into paper airplanes and fly off in the wind.

Jacob Reinhardt
10/07/13

Copyright © Jacob Reinhardt | Year Posted 2013

Details | Blank verse | |

A THOUGHT OF A COLLEGE KID

THOUGHT OF  A COLLEGE KID

Tomorrow holds more blessing
I shall live a blissful coloured life
When I leave the four corners of
This boredom of a place called school

The world shall be at my finger tips
My pen Shall rest once still I shall
Come back to it when I have fallen
Into the world and see what is made of.

And
I shall explore my potential
Live life at very best to me.
Nothing shall be impossible to
Achieve only with hard work.

I shall starve my distractions
But feed my determination to the core
For with her shall I rise to stardom
The death of my focuse is never born.

I shall conquer with hope and Drive
Shall not be split like a milk in a plate
I will rise like god and rule my world
The world is Waiting to hear my voice

Copyright © john chizoba vincent | Year Posted 2015

Details | Free verse | |

Who Am I

A new photograph floats to the surface
Playfully dressing up as the world around me
Hat, striped socks and all
Tiptoeing at the top for one last sweet moment 
Before sinking back into my ocean mind.

One after another they arrive
Single file,
Steeping my eyes in the world 
As the minds shutter, ever fluttering 
Strings together this conscious stream I play in.

My photographs fade in time’s wrinkled arms.
Joining their brothers and sisters at the ocean floor,
They hold hands and try to answer the question that is always asking itself:
Who am I?

Jacob Reinhardt
10/3/2013

Copyright © Jacob Reinhardt | Year Posted 2013

Details | Dramatic monologue | |

Angels In Our Pathway

I look deeply into The Children's Eye's
 
The War;Hatred and devastation,Why???  
I see it upon the faces of The Elderly Deaths.
The Wisdom We buried as They take Their last Breath.
I have sat with The Forgotten Mentally Ill as I start...
I still See The Promise in Their Souls beyond A concerned Heart.
The Belief with-in Our Hearts:To Heal and cure Our Wills.
I've been to See The Cripple Veterans of Our Wars...
They fought to Preserve Our Lives,Our Dreams,and Protect Our Shores.
I have been risen by fables,literature,and bed time stories.
I have loved The Weak and The Meek risen by Their hard work and Glory.
I have seen PAIN;Buried People and Children that died in Flames...
I know They Are ANGELS walking now in A Kingdom of Heaven domain.
I've had Friends murdered by the fate of Their Own Hands;Anger and Rage...
             
              The Truth pours,As I soak Ink to This very New Page:
               For Today blood spills still; My Concerned Thought of The Day!
               Peace On Earth seems so distant;just like a small microwave ray.
               The Labors and Fruits of Our Principles Fallen from straight Above.
               As though Hope walks into Faith lead By LOVE.
 
It is definitely A Prayer of mine In Completion;Open All Books of Every Season...
For The Spice of Life is inside You;All Angels In Our Pathways For very strong 
                                          REASONS!!!

                                By Charlene L. Wilcox            09-24-2014

Copyright © Charlene Wilcox | Year Posted 2014

Details | Free verse | |

Country Cemetery

It is the way the light
Filters through the gum trees
The way the rows of graves
Reflect a certain reverence
The way the crosses
Cast a shadow
The way the magpies
Drink from the puddles
In those shadows
The way people dress
Formally and respectful
The way young children
Restlessly wrestle with
The somber atmosphere
The way we reflect on
A life that might have been
The way the pastor
Shoes the friendly flies
That makes it what it is. 

In the soft wind
And the cool breeze
Our prayers rise up
To resonate eternally
And life goes on
As we walk stronger
Into the future
Of whatever comes our way.

Copyright © Uwe Stroh | Year Posted 2014

Details | Bio | |

GET WELL SOON MY QUEEN

O My Queen please gets well soon
So you take your cake you asked from Ayah
I know you are in pain

And you know how much I love you my dear
I cannot express how deep I am wounded with pain
The pain you are feeling

It is your destiny to feel such pain in your birthday
It is ordained by Allah so you may be strong enough to face this world
I knew you would be well kalasahanku (my love)

Ayah still thankful to Allah that you are to feel the challenge
But had that challenge could be transferred to me
I am greatly willing to take it to ease you my darling

Be strong enough because Allah still loves you so much
As I do love you My Queen, Ratuka Sihku Ashasulu
Remember and inked this in your heart
Your Ayah indeed loves you so much

I love you so much Anak, I love you so much
And I miss you so much and you are always in my hug
My tears maybe whispers you calmness and peace
If my weep comforts you; I will make you feel it

I am far from you physically, but my love embraces you
You may not see me crying but I am letting you to feel it
You are in my prayer every seconds of the moment
So please get well soon lasa!





27th April 2013. 11:00am
University Condo Apartment, Kota Kinabalu
Ratu still in the Melaka Hospital treated for Leptospirosis
Her birthday is 25th April 2013. Exactly four years old.

Copyright © Neldy Jolo | Year Posted 2013

Details | Haiku | |

Rising Moon

As if deep in thought
The spring moon rises
Between flowering ancient trees.

Copyright © Uwe Stroh | Year Posted 2014

Details | Free verse | |

Return Of Your King

Reflections of imperfections have shown me a way that I can move mountains through my power of faith even though I can't see him I know he is real through the power of prayer and a Love that I feel It's growing inside me like a flower in bloom shall I reveal my powers or is it too soon I am reading the signs through my darkness I find a reason for belief in the light of mankind that I know shall overcome the greatest of odds the Love I seek amazes me especially through the flaws because now I am inspired through the hero's that bring my throne through the darkness on which I return on as your King.

Copyright © Bj Fard | Year Posted 2013

Details | Dramatic monologue | |

Silence

SILENCE I walked desolated in thought. My life, as is, however, was fulfilled with internal joy. The privacy I possess was bleak. An austere appearance I kept. A woman with child sighs. I hear her murmur to self that I seem to be upset. I looked away and said nothing. My feet begin to drag. I straighten my poster very fast. The silence was taking over my mind. I had not spoken in quite a while. The screaming down Main Street did not disturb me at all. I was so deep in thought but very aware of my surroundings. The bullet came flying in air. The whispering I heard when I enter the Square was such a pleasant change. I saw friends sitting there and spoke to them. The stillness of the afternoon had begun to disintegrate to a pattern of sounds. The silence I enjoyed was the same as the pleasant environment I enter now. This old world will continue to prove that it is not that old at all. The omen is oracle that does not change. We are life formed. We employ a difference but only in similar growth. The silence when heard tells us that we are the manifold. User Name: Verlena Pseudonyms: Oblivion Dark Sunshine & Poethics Oblivion Stareyes Motif: Silence

Copyright © Verlena S. Walker | Year Posted 2014