I see you
I am no fool
Like ravens over prey
You are keeping your eye on me
With my one good eye
My heart may stop beating
My arm feeling the pain of your grip
I laugh at you
You forgot to keep the musical score
As I wrote my notes for the masses to pursue
Ah you let go once more
You will win one day, no doubt
Darkness is our brotherly connection
Death our final compromise
We all know you will fly again
Over death and ancient ways
Copyright © arthur vaso | Year Posted 2016
In the night movement there’s a wary crow
Straight up into the blue moon it flies high
Cocking its flight to avoid its cold rays
Each night in the moon brings a large crow’s sigh
Elbows of their feet bend throughout the air
As the bird sings, a gorgeous sound to me
I can sense its flight near me, overhead
He’s flapping near to me, but I can’t see
Only if the moon is shining greatly
Can I see, tonight it comes in and out
But sure when it comes out of the darkness
The moon only brings shades that are about
Circling there above me cawing with joy
Listening do I hear his great power
Appearing now within the little light
Dips down on me as I stand and cower
Conquering my fear I reach for him near
I hope that he comes onto my dark arm
He does just that, I look deep in his eyes
He swallows my heartbeats without alarm
Now I move to the nearest tree and caw
Allowing him to fly to high branches
Power envelopes me, I seem to float
I must leave him to the highest reaches
Copyright © Russell Sivey | Year Posted 2014
When I was young and life was easy
I never thought but of the next day.
For the young, things can be so breezy
It is the child's way.
I never thought but of the next day
Until that day came upon me.
It is the child's way
And I did not want to see.
Until that day came upon me
I was carefree like the bird on high.
And I did not want to see
The dark adult horizons that would make me cry.
I was carefree like the bird on high
Only to be trapped by love
The dark adult horizons that would make me cry
Crushing me down from above.
Only to be trapped by love
For the young, things can be so breezy
Crushing me down from above
When I was young and life was easy.
Dan Cwiak ... written for:
Paula Swanson's Pantoum contest
Copyright © Daniel Cwiak | Year Posted 2010
Evening slipped out of the cave
Crossed the rock wall
And buried the city in soft kisses
Sun god‘s dripping soup
Gave her child a sunset glow
She went back to her cave
To sleep, to grow
Night birds on the prowl
Growl of dark panther
Unsteady footfalls of ghosts
Cacophony of fledglings
Snakes ripe with venoms
Green eyed owl preening feathers
Deep in jungles fairies play
Near a lake moon sneaks in
Embers of childhood
Smoldering in deep.
Copyright © RAJAT KANTI CHAKRABARTY | Year Posted 2014
Ah Consuela! Invoking vast vistas for visions of green Spanish eyes,
I discern them again where she left me back then, as we kissed when she parted, my friend.
So I’m daring to tread towards the klieg lights ahead, where I’ll wait till I see her ascend.
Ah Consuela! I’m watching, she teases the mirror with green Spanish eyes;
Her serape entangles her ebony bangles like lace on the sorcerer’s looms,
And her capes of the night, she drapes tight to excite, and her fan is embellished with plumes.
Ah Consuela! I’m watching as spectators savour her green Spanish eyes;
Taming wild concertinas, the dark ballerina performs on the concert hall stage,
But she shies from the sound of ovation unbound like a timorous bird in a cage.
Ah Consuela! I’m watching, she quickens the pit with her green Spanish eyes,
As the cymbals shake, clashing, the floodlights wake, flashing, igniting the wild fireflies,
And the piccolo piper’s inviting the vipers to coil in the cold caldron skies.
Ah Consuela! I’m watching the shimmering shadows in green Spanish eyes
As I rise from my chair and converge to the stair with a hesitant sip of my wine.
Though she doesn’t deny me, she wanders right by me with neither a look nor a sign.
Ah Consuela! I’m watching, she waves to the stage with her green Spanish eyes,
(For her senses scoff, scorning the biblical warning of kisses of Judas that sting,
With her pierced ears defeating the echoes repeating) and smiles at the bluebird that sings.
Ah Consuela! I’m watching faint embers a’ stir in her green Spanish eyes,
For a soft spoken stranger enveloping danger has captured the rhyme in the room
As he slips into sight through the scent of the night and the breath of her heavy perfume.
Ah Consuela! I’m watching, she gauges his guise through her green Spanish eyes
- From his gypsy-like mane, to his diamond stud cane, to the raven engraved on his vest -
For a faraway form, a tempestuous storm, lurks and heaves neath the cleav’e of her breasts.
Ah Consuela! I’m watching the caravels cruising her green Spanish eyes;
With the castanets clacking upon the deck cracking, he whips ’round his cloak with a whiz
And without sacrificing, at mien so enticing, she floats with her face facing his.
Ah Consuela! I’m watching, the vertigo veiling her green Spanish eyes,
While the drumbeat pounds, droning, the rhythm sounds, moaning, of jungles Jamaican entwined
In the valleys concealing the vineyards revealing the vaults in the caves of her mind.
Ah Consuela! I’m watching life's carnivals call to her green Spanish eyes,
And with paused palpitations the tom-tom temptations come taunting her tremulous feet
With her toe tips a’ tingle while jute boxes jingle for jesters that jive on the street.
Ah Consuela! I’m watching, she rides summer tides in her green Spanish eyes,
And her silhouette’s travelling on ripples unravelling and shaking the shivering shores,
As she strides from the light to the taste of the night through the candlelit cabaret doors.
Ah Consuela! I’m watching, she dances till dawn flashing green Spanish eyes,
With her movements adorning a trickle of morning as sipped by the mouth of the moon,
While her tresses twirl, shaming the filaments flaming that flow from the sun’s oval spoon.
Ah Consuela! I’m watching, she masks for a moment her green Spanish eyes.
Then the bluebird that sings ceases preening her wings and descends as a lean bird of prey -
As she flutters her ’lashes and laughs in broad splashes, his narrowing eyes start to stray.
Ah Consuela! I’m watching fey carousels spin in her green Spanish eyes,
And the porcelain ponies and leprechaun cronies race, reaching for gold and such things,
Even being reminded that only the blinded are fooled by the brass in the rings.
Ah Consuela! I’m watching, she shepherds the shadows with green Spanish eyes,
But as evening sinks, ebbing, the skyline climbs, webbing, and weaves through the temples of stone,
While the nightingales sing of a kiss on the wing in the depths of the dunes all alone.
Ah Consuela! I’m watching the music and magic in green Spanish eyes,
As she dances enchanted, while firmly implanted in tugs of his turbulent arms,
Till he cuts through the strings, tames the bluebird that sings, and seduces once more with his charms.
Ah Consuela! I’m watching, the citadel steams in her green Spanish eyes,
And behind the dark curtain the savants seem certain that nothing and no one exist,
But though vapours look vacant, the vagabond vagrants remain in a mythical mist.
Copyright © Terry O'Leary | Year Posted 2012
I am trapped in a dimension
Where only repetition exists,
That reoccurs the colour theme of black.
But the windows are very visible from the doom,
Delineating bright sunlight and pavement colour of the moon.
Best of all, I can see the birds flapping their mighty wings.
I unfold my arms with barely any strength,
And reach for them,
Hoping to become one of them.
Every night and morning when the outside of the windows,
Is beautifully shaded with calming grey that mellows.
And when it is painted in soft blended colour of thick orange and light yellow,
Birds fly between South and North through the colour of fallow.
I can tell very easily without effort,
Each of them holds great stories
Because I was like them once,
Who also held great stories.
Yes, I was one of those birds,
With pride and strength,
That glided through the treasure sites,
And enjoyed when the warm breeze kissed my cheeks
Over golden sparkling oceans.
But now my wings are broken,
Memories and valuables torn apart in ashes,
In to pieces that cannot be glued back.
So I always whisper to myself,
With solemn remorse,
I sure do miss those days.
Copyright © Andrew Park | Year Posted 2014
Gazing out upon dusky barren moor,
Where gray grass grasps the air
Finding no purchase but sad allure
Straight stalks elapse their endless despair.
Teased by tales of golden reach
Tricked by gales, whose song they preach.
Redtail’s velvet wings breach the sky,
Maroon lips who kiss the grass
Stirring the song, its desperate sigh
Catching the words, her beak of crystal glass
Behind her, midnight shadow draws
Fells her beauty with unseen charcoal paws
Scarlet tears dampen the earth below
Nurture the roots held by dusty truth
Finally, the wind, gray grass’ will bestow
The hawk once, now the fountain of youth.
Litany of silence reigns in dusky glare,
Each blade bowed in mournful prayer.
Copyright © Avery Swarthout | Year Posted 2015
A gentile man of vivid dreams oft apt to walk at night
Followed where his feet would lead under the pale moon light
When chance he did into a grove of oak and alder trees
He spied a pool of nature's own fed by an ancient spring
There upon he cast his gaze beneath the moon so bright
And saw him something oddly fey revealed with second sight
At once belief that made him he who walked where others went
Faded in the mist of myth and planted there instead
A vision of a greater truth not seen, and yet perceived
From deep within the pool of being, liberation to receive
Reflections at the water's edge revealed his truest form
A life he's yet to realize, or a life he's lived before
For there upon this moon lit night, deep in that ancient wood
Where once there was an aging man an ageless raven stood
Twice born of myst beneath the sky, no longer bound by fear
Casting off his worldly flesh, he leapt into the air
He set his course by moon lit ways, a shadow taking flight
Till found he day light's brilliant rays that freed him from the night."
~Christopher Thor Britt
The Everything Halloween Poetry Contest
Copyright © Christopher Thor Britt | Year Posted 2013
Ones who wage,
Ones who rage,
Ones who take,
Ones who pay,
Ones who craze,
Ones who rave,
Ones who crave…
Ones who fear,
Ones who breathe,
Ones who give,
Ones who need,
Ones who will,
Ones who weave…
Ones who plead,
Ones who beg,
Ones who beseech,
Ones who entreat,
Ones who appeal,
Ones who volunteer,
Ones who disappear…
The ones who follow,
The ones that don’t know about tomorrow,
The ones who don’t deserve the morrow…
The ones who sleep,
The ones who cry,
The ones who live,
The ones who die…
The ones who proclaim,
Those who say they create,
The ones who ache,
The ones who don’t wait,
The ones who hesitate,
The ones who don’t concentrate,
The ones who fornicate,
The ones who procrastinate…
Those who fall in temptation,
Those who get in frustration,
Those who sometimes feel desperation,
Those who keep going without caution,
Those in motion,
Those in tension,
Those losing notion,
Those being poisoned,
Those getting in distortion,
Those following the broken diction,
Those dying like the billions,
Those without unction,
Those washed in the oceans…
I might seem cold,
But it is you who is bold.
I might not express,
But it is you who doesn’t let me progress.
I might not seem like I seek,
But it is you who doesn’t know me…
I might seem like I need,
But it is you who might always be begging on your knees.
I might seem dull,
But it is the one that is fool.
I might not be alight,
But it is you who isn’t truly alive…
I will remain neutral,
I will remain silver,
I will remain gray,
I feel darkness,
I feel light,
I will remain hallowed…,
After all, it is you who deserves no life…
I am a metal hawk,
I am a mountain goat,
I am a silver bird,
I am a gray wolf,
I am a white tiger,
I am a mystic rose…,
I am I…
And I survive,
You are here,
However, it is you who deserves no life…
Being human does not imply that you have humanity…
Copyright © Ruben A. Hernandez Diaz | Year Posted 2013
In loving memory of Silly
The ominous clouds brew, icy darkness looms,
Evil cackle flashes sparks of its menacing fangs,
Sinking them deep into my soft yellow downy,
Yanking me apart, leaving me naked and lonely.
I shiver, tremble and chatter.
Mama, mama, where have you been?
I look at my nest up in the tree,
Mama, mama, why did you leave me?
Gnarled tree branches snatched away my home,
Clawing, ripping and towering tall over me,
The fall - blurred vision of trees, terror painfully gnaws,
Now, only, cold and numbness as I cannot feel my claws.
I inch forward slowly to find a worm.
Mama would have picked some for me.
But now, I scarce can see no hope,
The bittersweet taste of the worm makes me choke.
Suddenly, I find I am nestled in a little girl's hands.
The slightest tinge of warmth delights me,
Gently, she ruffles through my scarce feathers,
Puffing up, I brace the changing weather.
The pungent smell of the rain stings my nostrils,
I chirp helplessly in disgust,
Tears from the sky pelt on me, lashing out angrily,
I retreat, sink back in, and cry along silently.
Her home smells of fresh toast,
Mine smells of juicy worms, but I settle in anyway.
The fall has crushed my feet in its cruel hands,
My feet are broken, I cannot stand.
For the next few hours, I wallow in misery.
She knows nothing about my agonising pain,
But fits me into a sock to keep me warm,
As I listen to the sighing trees mourn.
The sock begins to feel cold and icy,
I try to swallow the slimy papaya she mushed,
But in my throat, the concoction swells and becomes thicker,
Burning sensation, daylight flickers.
I shiver, tremble and chatter.
Mama, mama, where have you been?
The rain distorts my view of my tree,
Mama, mama, why did you leave me?
You guaranteed my freedom one day
You never said the price I had to pay
To never see another sun ray
If my life were a thread, it would now have frayed
What little daylight I saw had become grey
And as I cuddled up and started to pray
I became an angel today.
Copyright © Priscilla Lewis | Year Posted 2013
Burning Our Dreams Into Cold, Dark Ashes
Shall we dance to music
of misty dawns
Celebrate the beauty of newborn fawns
join in Nature's treasures
stroll the woods and never measure
The beauty of its silent sound
the depth of its holy ground
Or just remember to praise
joy it shall forever raise
Songs in our hearts that give
paradise glimpses as we live
Pause to gaze at covering sky
stir its birds to forever fly
into arcs of colorful flashes
burning our dreams into cold, dark ashes!
Robert J. Lindley 09-29-2014
Note. - Greatly shortened rewrite of a poem I wrote in 1981.
Copyright © Robert Lindley | Year Posted 2014
"'Cause when your back's against the wall
That's when you show no fear at all
And when you're running out of time
That's when you hitch your star to mine
We won't be leaving by the same road that we came by"
~Keane - My Shadow Lyrics ~
There is no celestial place for you to guide my thoughts
Can you not see that I am free from you?
I am a black bird perched high in the treetops
You will hear my crowing and you may hate it
But my dear, you cannot take away my voice!
Yet still, as fire oppresses forests of life,
You can abuse my freedom to find your glory
You may discard these words for your love of gods,
And in so doing you may simply ignore
All the cries that I so passionately utter
But my infectious species will guide your mind straight back
To that once so lonely treetop where you merely glanced
And there will be multitudinous, oppressing thoughts
That shall enslave you and bind you unwillingly
The crows will only grow louder when you turn away—
When you pretend to ignore with your remaining, strangling pride
For my voice is a production sent from above
Dispatched to judge you pitilessly for your swelling lies!
And the choirs of ferocious beaks shall open forever
Harmony and dissonance as one
Copyright © Laura Breidenthal | Year Posted 2013
In silent air on silent wing
the deadly flight to one will find
unwelcome communion in the gloom
that hails the never-ending night
The heart shaped face belies the truth
imparting spiritual grace
a beating heart then nothing more
a flash of white then empty space
Copyright © Ben Hamilton | Year Posted 2015
Again the raven whose sleek, dark wings shine
sits upon my sagging sleek power line.
His eyes so questioning, he does sure stare.
Does he know something? Do I ask?
Should I dare? 5
Never, ever saying not even one little word
so still and silent, this dark looming bird.
Visits me each and every single day, but never a
word does he say. My emotions I sense he knows
are mixed with his curious eyes affixed. 10
As the evening sunset finally domes
the dark bird returns to his home.
He leaves me with a feeling of such dread
I hope tomorrow he will stay home instead. 14
Copyright © Sharon Gulley | Year Posted 2015
The peaceful, humble beauty
of a white lily drifting on reflective night
hums a sweet melody
of contrasting light.
Trusting the darkness
to be his throne
and the moon of loneliness
to crown his soft, unheard moan.
I watch from bushes of scorn
that mock him cruelly.
His fragile crest is pierced by the thorn
of rejection and bleeds its sorrows silently.
The rejected jewels of nature are mourning
for the king of the skies to raise his wings
but he can't see beyond remembering
and can't see past the thorn's stings.
Oh, scarred heart of grace,
spread strenght and flee with wild freedom
unto priceless solace
away from this desolate kingdom.
Oh, jewel in creation's crown,
look not to stirred reflection
for it is mere perversion, a frown,
of the white rose of perfection.
Go now, leave behind only
a legacy of despised beauty.
Copyright © Robyn Thomas | Year Posted 2013
(January to December in the Southern part of the U.S.A.)
snow and more snow falls
cold wind and more cold wind blows
all branches are bare
starving and weak birds
a chill grips before sunrise
fall from bare branches
warm afternoon wind
thin morning ice melts on pond
a song bird is heard
poppies hide in grass
drink from early morning showers
bees drink from open buds
warm ruffles new weeds
clover covers budding ground
crickets find their song
hawk hunts small rabbit
green hedges give good cover
blood drips on clover
sun waves off dark soil
flowers grow only in shade
bees hive drips sweet wax
in shade cow chews cud
waits for dark to find water
sleeps on top of mound
east winds pull cool rain
quinces bright hill flowers thirst
streams roar then fall quite
squirrel hides acorn
digs hole at foot of oak tree
barks at gray wet sky
leaf fall from elm tree
vacant bird nest are exposed
geese sound over head
deer move over trail
fawns loose baby spots and jump
graze on holly leafs
Copyright © Mike Samford | Year Posted 2007
The rose unfurls its petals to drink the morning dew,
warblers sharpen their trills, granting the Son his due.
Mother bat folds her wings, hangs upside down to rest,
baby clings to mother's fur, hidden in their leafy nest.
Four-o-clocks hide their faces against the dawning light,
morning glories open wide, only to wilt and die at night.
Leaves on lavish branches with baited breath, await
lilting notes of day-wind sighing through the garden gate.
Deep within the forest glen, where fox hides and owl hoots,
the hidden world changes pace, each creature to its own pursuits.
A world without change would soon grow dull and invisible,
if all were night or all were day, diversity might be impossible.
Copyright © Cona Adams | Year Posted 2014
Man sits in shadows
Darkness consumes all of him…
Blackness of the crow
Contest: 1 senryu any subject
Sponsor: Black Eyed Susan
Copyright © Russell Sivey | Year Posted 2013
How anger steams the desert sand;
Dead bodies sprawled about the land,
Beaks tear while cacti grimly stand.
Among the dead he is alive;
Another fall - ten more arrive
October 2, 2014
Copyright © Laura Breidenthal | Year Posted 2014
It burns and it stings.
More than drowning beneath
More than remaining in a
She hits and I no longer cry.
Why mother, why?
It burned and it stung.
The markings remained,
returned, and were relived
Looking, loving, and little
known loathing were the known
ways of living.
Never was their pity for the
child that cried
Never was their relief for the
child that tried
You were that lovely bird that
understood the complications of
Nothing looked the same in
those dewy browns of yours.
My everbeating would cry tears
The others-they were yet to
Caring Mother, o' so fair
You were that beautiful bird
filled with care.
The others came and were not
alone. Their two suitors sat on
Rampage and rage why did you
I began to wither and wither
slumping along. So very soon I-
the child of fines- became a
The droops of the Lily of the
Valley became the slumping of
My lovely bird the enemy had
taken you and the person you
were is far from near.
For that divine nature left its
intricate self and you became
irretrievable my big bird.
All of your fairness died.
With that went my pride.
Mother, Mother what moved
Your intense spirt vanished only
to supplement a monster.
Mother, Monster and your tar
How did I kill that liver that was
so, so strong?
The lesson of pain was one you
came to learn.
My darling bird why did you
My lovely bird and your big
I'll tell you once, but never
Pain is only a flower for it
blooms and dies
And a mistake can be killed as
quickly as lice.
You dear bird hurt me well.
Though, haven't you heard?
Weakness is a souls greatest
You brought me up, then you
brought me down.
You haved helped, hurt, and
hindered my blazing spirit.
A hero in my heart-I left you
down in your deep black
Escaping those terrible nights
To go for the town of delights.
Copyright © Layla Elkoulily | Year Posted 2013
Tonight winter startled
It came unexpectedly
Few people walked
Below the gleam moon
Shivering beneath their fur coat
I stood trying to figure
A black contorted portrait
Drawed from the yellow dim lamp
On a cold brown dune
Which I stared
As they passed
Waving a friendly gesture
Greeting me with unknown tongue
Still I am naive
Longed for each nostalgic sweet sound of
My homestead, thus this cold
Consume my certain pause
Not far from the clustered bush
Also do heared a lone bird lark
My sigh and the whisper on that shade
Gone howling with desert breath
Copyright © Herbert Siao | Year Posted 2014
Six blue jays converge at the birch
To sing their anomalous colloquial song,
They fashion a serene scene as they perch;
My mind so inclined to blindly sing along.
As I ponder their ways, in my midmorning daze;
I recall a tale my grandmother told—
Of a desolate day through a dishwashing gaze;
A heinous sight she was doomed to behold.
Through her window; across the drive,
On the very top of some man-made pole,
A sinless and beautiful robin arrived;
Assembled a nest and called it her home.
She laid some eggs at the edge of spring,
And by summer they joined the day,
She taught her young about everything
For the time that comes when they should stray.
But then one day while mother was out
Collecting a feast for the rest of her nest,
A single blue jay swooped in for a bout—
Snipped off their heads and left.
Mother came back to the horrid mess;
The tragically pointless abhorrent wreck,
And with frantic confusion and great distress
She flew into the window and broke her neck.
So as I stare in the garden today;
And view such a seemingly innocent sight,
Behind the charm of those six blue jays
Could possibly rein six times the fright.
Copyright © Lxnnnie Rutledzh | Year Posted 2016
The dark raven’s soulful flight goes singing
Where an evening song bird blends in the skies
Making flight into the grand wilderness
Tender is the dove that goes up and flies
The two birds as one entwine together
But they are like two different beings
The raven so dark and evil attacks
While the dove, full of love, counters and sings
White brightens around the darkest raven
Suffocating the raven’s great powers
And takes the life right out of the raven
Darkness lost, dove conquers all that cowers
Flying, the dove coos in joyful triumph
Reaches the death of the raven below
Resurrects the bird as a dove, and now
They go along together as one show
Copyright © Russell Sivey | Year Posted 2013
An Echo from the Sea
This old ship rode the Atlantic swells like
a swan in a pond and her crew were dead,
perhaps not at the time, but they are now,
generations of sailors boarding her, using
her as a place of sanctuary on their way to
a destination unknown to them.
And one by one, overcome by life they died
and drifted on the sea of broken life- belts to
the Saragossa where mist of sorrow covers
the bleak shoreline of ruin and the ship
that rust on a reef; and the seamen were dead
perhaps not at the time, but they are now,
in my mind they are a sepia damaged photo
of forgotten moments.
Copyright © jan oskar hansen | Year Posted 2014
Four white walls
and a bird,
trapped in steel cage
not free, not happy.
The walls they laugh,
closing in, holding
the bird hostage.
just four white walls
on the caged bird.
I hear crying,
tears of sorrow,
so sweet, yet so sour.
It is the bird
trapped in the rusted cage-
No, just my soul
for a warm embrace.
Copyright © Chris Boskovski | Year Posted 2013
There is no reason why i shouldn’t do it, i thought
come what may and what may not.
The grass is always greener on the other side
I wanted to explore , to go against the tide.
The game was on and the score ticked on,
seemed it was just the beginning of the dawn.
never knew the boundaries,no fear,no limit,
never tried so hard, never seen the summit.
just wanted to hover around,just wanted to glide.
just to ease my mind and come down the slide,
I thought i knew it all, seen it all,
but for that something behind the dark wall.
came so close as I always do
deja vu again, nothing new.
never dared to jump across the wall
I ain't crazy, i knew i would fall
so i turned to fly back, back to base,
but before i knew,got caught in a haze,
didn't panic ,played by the rules,
kept my cool, went on with the cruise.
I flew on ,but the haze got thicker,
now i had to act, do it quicker.
I veered and swerved, tried to nose-dive
then it all happened, it trapped me naive
lightning started striking, started striking twice
venturing into forbidden territory ,I had to pay the price.
caged in fright in the steel machine
so freaked and scared,i've never been.
extreme g-force froze my brain
deep inside,i felt my blood drain.
voices ,a thousand wailing voices
screaming and whispering all the noises
disillusioned and petrified ,i tried to scream
my memory failed and i began to dream
woke up with a start in a different scene
pondering in the dark, nothing to be seen
I struggled inside my hollow self
couldn't breathe ,couldn't cry for help
but i thought i cried, someone came along
i tried to run away, but it was too long
dark forces came all around
haunted my soul ,the banshee sound
i fell into the valley of death
the dark knight there cometh
to drown me inside the quicksand of hell,
this time for me tolls the bell.
sliding inside that black hole,
i didnt want to let go of my soul.
I took a look at the black sky
the last time before i die
my memory faded and then i drowned.
stranger to the mystery around
i floated around in the maze of time
in an age of evil and endless crime
then came that flash of light
my guardian angel on my flight
i opened my eyes, got back my senses
saved myself from all the wicked trenches
"planet earth calling" that familiar voice
home sweet home,bring back all my joys.
vow unto death i took, never again to fly
the vow that would be the biggest lie.
Copyright © Lakshminarayan Rao | Year Posted 2010
Said the turkey,
Please, Please, Please pardon me.
Look at how I tilt my head in plea!
Y'all are ugly fat-head Killers?
A lot of gall,
even telling God you'll are going to killing me.
You flesh eating devils.
Y'all disgust me.
11/26/2013 © A. Juman The "said" Poet
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Copyright © A. Juman | Year Posted 2015
Who has seen the lost American
where has he been hiding?
I am the last American
there is no use in denying
who would listen to
a voice of nonsense
reason hidden in meaning
that evades even him
do not pay me any attention
what I do is not a sin
what they call sin
I call freedom
a lost angel known by many names
Lucy, Judas, or fallen angel
when you find him, careful
for he known to be insane
maybe I am not to blame
my actions are of free design
where they come from,
I can never find
that source of course
is lost forever
the lost Americans
are at last, together
Copyright © Bj Fard | Year Posted 2013
All alone inside of my magical little paradise called my mind is an peaceful and quiet, the sun is like a gentle kiss on the cheek, and the people are just so warm and friendly but watch out because if you open your eyes everything you once knew will be gone. This magical little realm has an bloody little twist to it. The sun that was once as comforting as an warm blanket was in fact the glistening moon and the empty black sky, and the people are now all blood thirsty monsters that are no longer affected by the sun light are now out for blood.
I run to escape the sickening but yet oh so enticing scent of blood and failure, I run to escape the screams of those who's lives were cut just too short, and I run to escape the sight of the undead, blood thirsty zombies who are on the hunt for others to join their group. I'm running, running to safety and security but all the time there's nothing but pit falls and traps. I'm running and success isn't that far away but just then I see prince charming I stop and become distracted by his promising words but just then he too becomes a monster. I scream and try to run but I just can't you trap me in fire and I can't escape.
My mind goes numb, I can feel the darkness further enclose around me, my mind goes blank, and I forget about everything. On the inside I'm screaming, fighting, kicking to get away but on the outside I'm a love sick puppy. I know I'm stronger than this but there's something about you that I just can't get over. Just as the darkness seems to grow closer an light appears and an blue bird fights off my nightmare monster and takes me back to my snowy paradise where I'm safe and at peace and I continue my lonely dark and cold path to my brightly lite future with the little blue bird by my side reminding me that I am and will forever be loved by both my family, people who actually care about me, and god.
Copyright © Omesha Curry | Year Posted 2013
The Hawk flys overhead
soaring everlasting in circles
around the poor field mice.
The Red Sun is now parrallel
to the treeline in the West.
The hawk dives down, like a speeding bullet
and snatches up a small mouse, who was walking
along the corroded barbwire fence,
with his sharpe and dangerous talans.
Six o'clock. Feeding time.
A lover is now gone from the world of field mice,
Just like that.
With the turn of a hand on a clock
With the rumble of a Hawk's empty stomach
now a fellow mouse is gone. Forever.
Sad, isn't it?
Copyright © Chris Boskovski | Year Posted 2013