It’s such a windy day, what a delight
Daddy says I can go and fly my kite!
We head for the beach to have some fun
Dashing onto the sand I run and run
My kite so blue trails on the beach
I wish it were in the sky out of reach
Suddenly a gust of wind whisks the kite up high
Soon it’s dancing in the bright blue sky
I hold on to the string with all my might
The breeze is strong; the kite takes flight
A tail of red ribbons flutter from the kite
Seeing the kite weaving is a wonderful sight
My legs begin to tire and the wind drops
We head for an ice cream at the shops
Daddy and I have had such a lovely day
If it’s windy tomorrow we’ll be back to play
Contest: Oil Painting 4 & 5
Sponsor: Eve Roper
Copyright © JAN ALLISON | Year Posted 2015
He's used to war, he fights real hard,
He's a soldier, he's battle scarred.
The enemy is weak, there is nothing to fear,
His compassion is gone, he has no tears.
He was taught well, was taught how to kill,
He's done it so much, it's lost it's thrill.
He no longer feels bad, when the enemy dies,
Tears don't come any more to his tired eyes.
In the beginning it was against his will,
But he soon broke down, and got used to kill.
Never thinking that his foe, was also just a man,
Like him with a family, doing the best he can.
He cannot have feelings, for anyone,
But then, for a moment, he thinks of his son.
He wants to go home, but it's not time yet,
So he goes back to a war, that he wants to forget.
Next day on the beach, on his tour of duty,
Lies a child's body, on the coast of Turkey.
He cannot believe what he sees with his own eyes,
A cute little boy, with no signs of life.
Lying face down, right there on the sand,
He picks him up, with his big strong hands.
And when he saw that there was no hope,
The soldier realized he could not cope.
He shuddered deeply...letting out a sigh,
And that's when...the soldier cried.
Now the whole world mourns that little boy,
Many children elsewhere, receive another toy.
Yes, people stand by, while these refugees die,
Some see the news and say, please...pass the pie.
John Derek Hamilton September 04,2015
Copyright © John Hamilton | Year Posted 2015
As tears flow from my reddened eyes
I can see what I have purely missed
As I look up to the dark grey skies
I will always remember our first fist
I sit here and think of your face
The first time I saw your light fluffy cheeks
I always wanted to lay my head on that place
Even when I was buried in my girlfriend’s twin peaks.
You never knew my love for you
I waited until it was too late
I often yearned for a way through
Both your heart and your front gate.
But now you’ve passed away
Slipped through my limp and lifeless fingers
But I still yearn for that fortuitous day
And the smell of your tobacco colour coat still lingers.
As I stare at my homage dedicated to you
I can feel a heart shaped hole called ‘Noah’
My body is conflicted, I don’t know what to do
It’s such a shame that you were found in pieces underneath a lawnmower.
So many holes, and opportunities now
I feel my body grow harder
For you Noah would only allow
One hole to be ventured in farther
As you led there erotically
on the grass that day
with your legs so lovely
I couldn’t take my eyes away
So I didn’t see
The lawnmower draw near
The blades running free
And beginning to career
Ever closer to your toes
To impoverish your heart
I’m the only one who knows
How a love like this does start
To think I won’t see you again
Striding majestically down the Bath Road
And, protecting your shoulders from the rain
Your little tobacco coloured coat
I wish I had been able to say
All this to you when you were alive
I came so close once, that fateful day
When we were standing outside the Beehive
Your hair was golden in the glow
Of the solitary standing streetlamp
Yet still, you couldn’t ever know
My feeling for you or my heart would cramp
And now you’re dead you selfish thing
You’ll never hear me speak these thoughts
You’ll never feel me ‘flap my wings’
Or ogle me as I cavort
But now you’re in the ground
In the darkness and despair
But I have now created a mound
Where I can collect your hair
My heart is soaked in liquid salt
My clothes cling to my body
Although I know that it’s no-one fault
Staring at you was my favourite hobby
Now it’s time to say goodbye
My lovely little pet
My heart still yearns, my eyes still cry
Although we never met
Copyright © Poetry Aircraft Carrier B | Year Posted 2013
'Baby, you taste like chocolate,
You and me we'd make a great rhyming couplet.
A.K.A a grinding couplet.'
'You can get on top of me like enjambment.'
'I can show you some wild imagery,
Me on you, you on me.'
'Metaphor stands for meet-at-four,
We'll get it on till the break of dawn.'
'Damn, could you BE anymore sexual?' -an example of a rhetorical question you could include...
'S-s-s-s-s-SEX!'- an example of sibilance you could use (and probably will).
'Annotate me honey, and together we can achieve a deeper meaning.'
Copyright © Poetry Aircraft Carrier B | Year Posted 2013
The Apple PASTURE
Oh how I long
To drift into the apple pasture.
Were once was and all well meet.
A pure and dear site.
Where silver reflection cover the still waters that holds the golden
grains of morality and the grazing souls lie young amounce no stars.
Oh how I long
To drift into the apple pasture
Were winds smell of melon and the trees whisper spring corals in the mellow dark and best of light and time creeps into no tomorrow.
Copyright © JAY JOHNSON | Year Posted 2011
I do not know?
hello! hey! boungiorno! what is the date?/
this world of dimensions created duality/
no letters/ no words/ are enough to express/
someone like you/ in reality/
i filled all your emptines/ MY still quiet bay/
as Jhon opened world in his Yoko/
you searched perfect princes/ looked for "right him"/
now at only one overman looking/
i swear/ i will hold you/ as much as i can/
would become all the axes/ and outer space/
voice is speared by the screaming wind/
falling down/ flakes to your place/
going crazy just seeing your knees/
don't regret anything/ my Benito/
unbelievable/ perfect/ unbearable/
you whisper/ "la comedia e finita"//
Copyright © Ilya Emelin | Year Posted 2013
The sailor starts his adventure,
and the sea accepts his overture.
Birds flock in flight as a multiple sum,
while the vessel acts like a lost drum.
The ocean is his unstable map,
and the waves continue to clap.
The chef races around the boat,
catching a cup of wind to stay afloat.
His eyes flicker like amber flames,
as he remembers nature's games.
Now, he becomes part of the sky.
His boat, a wooden cloud ready to fly.
Dedicated to my father Blaize Cooke
September 30th 1938 to February 1st 2010
He sailed from San Diego with a crew to Hawaii in the 1960s.
Copyright © Chantelle Anne Cooke | Year Posted 2016
The summer sun shined in the sky like a jewel.
Dad and daughter happily played in the waves.
Beach sand was hot but the saltwater felt cool.
This day in my memory, I'll always save.
A ride on Dad's shoulders always made me smile.
Holding my hand, we walked the beach for a mile.
My dad wearing flip flops and his cut off jeans,
searching for shells, my mind's eye relives the scene.
Hot dogs in hand as sea gulls swooped down to spy,
hoping to steal a bite of our beach cuisine.
Sodas in cans, rock and roll played in hifi,
bare feet in the sand, body doused in sunscreen.
Details have faded over the many years,
but this day's imprinted behind salted tears.
A vision of ocean sparkling in the sun,
hearing Dad's laugh on the shore, our summer fun
By Rhonda Johnson-Saunders, April 14, 2012
for A Summer Memory contest (Frank Herrera)
Copyright © Rhonda Johnson-Saunders | Year Posted 2012
Hearts torn & twisted --- All left to rot
The hate swarming & flooding rapes me inside
I wish to wake up in a hospital sometimes on a sexy nurse's cot
Burns & swells with adultery he committed that sinful night --- absolutely bled my pride!
Like splitting a pole, or demolishing a tree, inside reciting over & over in me
Our baby not even a year old yet --- he left us for no reason at all
Finally as far as I could see --- was nothing but hatred & water surrounding in this sea
Forgiving & Forgetting is what he expects me to do --- but how can I fix us from this fall?
Everything he's given to me at that point in my life was a lie
I noticed after a while he lost the ambition to move forward with us
But why wouldn't he explain to me where he thought it was I wouldn't try?
After 3 weeks of separation (that almost turned legal) he finally realized who to trust
He came home one night & tried to reclaim his family again
I told him I wasn't interested that if he left once, he'd definitely leave twice
He cried for 3 days (estimating at best) until he determined a way for all 3 of us to win
Our tax refund for 2011 (as we filed married together) was way more suitable than 'nice'
He came up with this wacky plan where we'd take all the money, our family, and run
Somewhere to the beach (East Coast) we both agreed could possibly be the spot
So, Myrtle Beach, South Carolina is where we both agreed we could be with our sun
& still when I look back a few months I saw where we were then --- & it's changed a lot
Deciding to mend our marriage was a difficult and hard decision to make with a baby
But stepping aside from the anger, hurt, & rage, we knew we could possibly get thru it
So we stayed together for our family, ourselves, our love & thought, "..well maybe.."
Bright Myrtle Beach where neither of us know anyone, is where our 1st candle will be lit
Walks on the beaches, bright sunsets over the ocean, & raising our son together
Finding new & interesting jobs, meeting people, even when happiness is about
Tinkered with love and sparkled with ups and downs, our love forever endeavors
For now this we've decided is, as of now, our one & only best route
Copyright © Sheryl Lynn Knoles | Year Posted 2012
Out on the beach with an amazing guy. The sun's so pretty, the sun's so bright. We're walking and talking about all our good times, against the world, hand in hand. Smiling and walking on the beautiful LA sand. We sit on a bolder and watch the sun set. It's an amazing day, one I will never forget. You slip your arm around me as we as we look at the beautiful sea. "I love you," I say as we feel the cool evening breeze. "I love you too," you say and pull out a small black box. I look at you, smile, and my heart stops. You open the box to reveal a beautiful ring. "Will you marry me?" you ask as my eyes fill with tears and my heart starts to sing. My smile gets wider as I say "yes". You pull me close to your chest. I gently kiss you as a tear rolls down my cheek. You brush it away and smile at me. "I love you," I say one more time. "I love you to baby," you say as you smile, "now your deffinitly all mine."
Today's the day, the day that starts the rest of our life. The day you become my husband, the day I become your wife. The last time I saw you was last night. But I woke up to a beautiful sight. A bouque of beautiful red roses lie on your pillow with a note on top. "I love you," it says, "and I can't wait to see you." I smile and whisper "I love you too." I take a shower and walk down to the beach to see how much is done. I step onto the hot sand and I feel the hot sun. It's almost done so I start to head home. I need to here your voice so I call your phone. "Hey babe," you say, "is everything okay?" I tell you everythings fine, I just need to hear you. I tell you I love you. You tell me you love me too. You say you have to go but you'll see me soon. "Okay, I love you," I say and look at the clock, it's almost noon. "I love you too," you say and the line goes dead. I look in the mirror and put my hands on my head. I smile and start to get ready for tonight. The first night of m new life.
I take a look in the mirror one last time. Just to make sure my beautiful dress is fine. I walk down to the beach and wait by the gate. I fix my veil and look at my friend. "You look amazing," she says and puts some flowers in my hand. "Thanks," I say and smile. I can't wait to walk down the aisle.
Copyright © Kaylee Landis | Year Posted 2012
Aylan on the beach
salt's cresting near waves
new life's just outta reach
still keep try'n to be brave
with Aylan on the beach
sun beats hard on life hopes
moon too, shines thin on each
redemption asks later or sooner
and here is Aylan on the beach
sleep sweet my little man
Father's love cares to follow
but life has some other plan
an ocean of tears to swallow
let me now in breakers wallow
god! my god! i wail - beseech
existence now a pointless hollow
the rest with Aylan on the beach
© Goodguysoul 2015-09-28
Copyright © Goode Guy | Year Posted 2015
Walking down the graveled path
For a day at the little beach;
We picked up ripened persimmons
And purple muscadines along the way.
Butterflies fluttered around my wife.
Blazes of color lie under the trees.
Thousands of diamonds danced on the lake
Around several ducks with their bottoms up.
We took our shoes off on the little beach
And splashed along the shoreline.
We picked up rocks and skipped the stones
Between the passing boats and waves
That pushed and pulled us in shallow water.
Soon, I had to search for more stones
And persimmons, and I found a winged horse,
Pewter, on a black stringed necklace.
I tied it around my son's light brown neck.
He ran through the water bare back
And swam with his mom in shallow parts.
After our lunch of found-treats we walked,
And played and threw rocks in the water again.
My son drew my face in the wet sand.
We sat in the grass, soaked in the sun
And enjoyed the laughter and fun.
Copyright © Leon Stacey | Year Posted 2007
We were as feral as the ocean we played in,
wild, endless as the sand we ran through –
we were cousins, the doings of our fathers.
When you are young, that age of single numbers,
boy talk does not glisten the disparity
between the minds of the two.
The label “intellectual disability,”
a mind that developed slower
than mine had not been plastered
on his chest, it had not become
visible to my eyes – we were cousins
two boys running along the water’s edge.
The imagination of boys,
influenced yet as free as they, as we.
Always in search of Big Foot
not caring that he was not a beach goer
as we were – the bullets shouted above our heads,
our backs had yet to be pushed against the walls.
I went on to build a home, a family;
He went into a home.
The label was now visible.
I was able to read, he could not.
We no longer ran free,
our backs had been pushed against our walls.
Decades had gone by, not his doing but mine.
We were no longer single numbers
when our feet shared the same space again.
We stood, years later looking into the night
neither knowing what to say, when he said
"Shush, do you hear that? It’s Sasquatch."
The bullets shouted through my head…
Copyright © JP Armstrong | Year Posted 2016