They come to greet me each day. They let me know everything is all right. They flutter and peck at my window. They tell me I am loved. They let me know they care. Funny, how I never noticed before. Funny still, I notice now. The birds are signs from God. And, that is a good thing. They are HIS love for me and me for HIM.
Copyright © Marilyn Williams | Year Posted 2015
(Dedicated to Folake)
Your eyes, woman
are like twilight rainbow
amorously bearing aloft passions of mine
toward androcytic ecstacy.
They tell of endless lights.
Night skies clarion the warmth of you
keep me balled-up till
i am tilted to your adorned essence.
May I call up words to adore you,
agglomerate them into a panoply of worshippers
unsandalled before you
like Moses at the burning bush.
And now you seem to fall asleep
but you tell me it's the heavy night
bidding toward a sunny dawn
wherein our love is lighted.
Slowly I let you fall asleep
impatient with the long night
waiting to gaze once more
into the eyes of my lovely love.
Then a lip is placed on yours
and you rouse up wide-eyed
smiling at my romantic move.
We enjoyed the night, cruising on.
Copyright © Onis Sampson | Year Posted 2013
The silent bell rings in the night,
Calling the devils to kneel to the light,
What once was, becomes no more,
As the light breaks through the open door.
What you think and what you feel,
What you saw and thought was real,
Is now only dust on the road,
The desolate remains of your ancient abode.
The new light is rising on the hill,
The new song is singing down in the well,
The new souls are dreaming of your face,
The new hearts are beating at you pace.
The old ideas and reasons you gave,
Are buried in the tomb and in the grave,
The rotting bone and flesh are gone,
In the morning dew, in the morning sun.
The light shines through the open door,
Casts no shadow on the old dirty floor,
The ancient laws of reason and might,
Crumble to dust in the morning light.
What once was real and certain as rock,
Is now the dream the baby forgot,
The new light coming to wake you my love,
The silent lamb and the flying dove.
more of my poems at :
Copyright © ness tillson | Year Posted 2013
Upon a tree, the one tree, in the field,
Branches and leaves hang loosely from the trunk,
Providing protection to those concealed;
A soft leaf provides an egg with a bunk.
The small white shell sits in the settlement,
full of distrust, remorse and betrayal.
It has been abused by the elements,
one of mother nature's fallen angels.
Close inspection shows a crack on the side,
seemingly abandoned by any kin,
it fell far from home with the wind's high tide,
yet a small noise can be heard from within.
The white shell splits at the crack with a cry,
Now free, the little green hummingbird flies.
Written: March 21st, 2015 at 11:00 EST
Copyright © Veronica Capo | Year Posted 2015
Life is a creative
A dance with
A non-sensical Mystery
Extending through and beyond logic.
Nothing holds it at both sides
Yet here it is. (There it is)
Copyright © Graham Eakin | Year Posted 2013
I watched a hatching baby chick
struggling to break free from its shell
that was its home for many days
but now was time to say farewell
Mom had pecked into the shell
a tiny hole to start the process
She did her part dutifully
Now the chick must do the rest
I felt sorry for the struggling chick
and could almost feel the pain
I wanted to break off the shell
thinking it would ease the strain
Then I remembered someone said
The chick must struggle on its own
to start its heart and lungs working
for it to become fully grown
I stood and watched as a miracle
unfolded right in front of me
All by itself the chick broke out
and stood there so cute and furry
There is a lesson here for parents
who are raising a family
Be protective of your children
but do not do it overly
*I actually witnessed this event.
I wrote this after reading Evrod Samuel's
TOO MUCH LOVE CAN KILL
john beharry, Any poem/Any form - for new poets of soup, 12/1/2013
Copyright © john beharry | Year Posted 2013