So, as we say in Greece
That’s where I’ll End my story
For the things that happen next
Weren’t made for song of glory
So many Tails, throughout the ages
Have spoke of love and loss
Of passions and betrayals
The triumphs and the cost
But never was one told
That meant as much to me
To launch a thousand ships
And survived through history
And with every great Greek story
There’s a lesson to be learn
So, I’ll leave you with this message
Now the last page, has been turned
The moral still stands true
Throughout all time, which passes
Don’t steal a person’s love away
And beware Greeks bare-ing asses
THEE END Authored By Jerry T Curtis
The Year of The Horse
Copyright © Jerry T Curtis
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
From the Gardens of Babylon,
to the walkways of Palestina,
to the grand temples of Jerusalism,
to the sandy beaches of Syria and Cyprus.
Went my Persian Queen riding,
upon her golden, firery chariot.
Her black hair, like silk long and flowing.
Her royal robes white and purple, bare and pure.
Her sword by her side, ready to strike.
Her spear fastened, ready to stab the dreeded heart
of the Fire Dragon.
On the firery chariot, riding with her armies,
Went my Perisan Queen.
O, how my arimes fight your armies,
in the midst of night fall, under a full moon.
Let us stop this foolish fighting.
And have fellow brother, love fellow brother.
And so we can fall in love forever.
And don't act like you don't show love for me.
I see you in the dawns, standing upon the sand covered battlefields.
Standing proud behind your armies.
With your black hair flowing.
You almost making me want not to fight the battle of the Day,
for if you were killed, what victory would that be then?
You pull your armies back at the last minute, before I am slayed
by your fellow brother in arms.
You retreat your arimes back over the hills, not in fear of losing the day,
but in fear of losing me.
You and your armies had plenty of chances to kill me, yet you do not.
My Persian Queen, O come now.
Come down from your firery chariot
and into my restless arms.
I know you are tired
and wanting to sleep.
Listen to the nightingale
sing her love song.
Drinking the sweet necture,
from the gardens, in your vase Persian Empire.
Come now, and kiss me,
Hold me, let us ride,
far from the simple minds of the Old World
and fall in love in a New.
My Persian Queen
O how I love you so much.
I cannot bare to see you in a life you don't want to live.
Come let I, your Knight in shinning armour liberate you.
Take you by the hand, run through the great bazzare in Old Istanbul
running away from the Janissaries of your father's Imperial armies.
Let us leave this place of hate and sorrow.
To start our lives a new.
My Persian Queen,
Now dressed in silk lace,
with golden jewlery hanging
from your beautiful and tender neck.
Along with the silver pattened belt around your harmonial waist.
It is time for you, to come with me.
No more shall we act like we dispise one another.
As Romeo and Juliet's love failed,
shall our love take course, and we shall love
till the oceans swallow the earth, the mountains crumble,
and the Sun engulf the sweet Earth.
And on and on shall our love go on,
My adorable and lovely Persian Queen.
Copyright © Chris Boskovski
sand burns on the skin but you
find relief nearby
Copyright © Smail Poems
I simply love being me
for I am so good at everything
step into my city and they
will tell you who is King
one day when I am hungry
I will swallow everything
then and only then shall I
inherit the stuff I dream
even then I promise
not to settle for satisfaction
at any instant half a second
I could spring into full action
so go against me? please,
you do not even measure
up to half of the goodness
that I hold tight like my treasure
still spreading rumors about me
to try and destroy my life
can't believe I let myself get beat by
a stripper and my self-intended knife
try and say I'm gay
even though we both know that isn't the truth
just ask any woman I been with
if they ever needed proof
they'll say I was the cream of the crop
as they took it all night knowing
I just may never stop
I own the status of a legend
now what you got left to say
when I bring it twenty-four seven?
Copyright © Bj Fard
Whispers, whistles and whimpers graced the witless end
Far apart sprang strange smeared summer songs
Ruthless dark winter cloud oppressed the entire bend
Tang tong tongue twisted tales were narrated by the toothless
The weaning ones sat on the set sand
Not once nor twice did the melting sea ice rise
A fierce frost arose and all were driven to the land
Time telling term tales was all they could use
Every move tirelessly tempted the cloud to burst
They tumbled on tiny icy stars, just like the rice
At times voices and boasting images smiled from the east
Belly powdered powered women drank the curse
Fires from their pockets slaughtered their thighs
Anonymous panicking present embraced the past.
The piped lames and flames popped and aimed on the fading surface
A shopped chopped tray and a famished rat was what they needed
The clairvoyant forced a cry but all that appeared was a taunting face
In an automated power the sacrifice was loaded while all nodded
Peaked pears fell from the tomb and the fading surface wasn’t in place
As the wrath struck all knelt and pleaded.
Copyright © Samuel Enrique
I stood by the periphery…
gracelessly doling derivative remarks
(all that is rhetorical in rhetoric and blatant in denial)
upon my comrades, the dust shot Sandinistas of midsummer masochism,
the caliphs of ‘Baltic Bay’.
“The armistice laid flowers upon
the salt seasoned lip of the hatch-backed hawk…”
Blood fell passively between his heartbroken legs,
siphoned from each and every available pore;
the oxygenated irony of pneumatic Gnosticism:
“The desert was a beach.”
They say that war is a catalytic catharsis, a palatial reprieve,
without languid logic or porous rationality,
the emancipation of masculinity,
castrated by the wire…
I thought it was hell… I was taught to think otherwise…
The torrential shards of verbal promiscuity
stole light unto the fore,
the parochial labyrinth of incandescent egotism,
Rare, poached howitzers… laden with anxiety
bore slight from the barbed-wire battalion
of ill-fitting idiots,
shuffling their feet, settling their nerves,
sealing their fate with
slack pot meandering midst snip sniped surprise.
“The technicality of principalities, dukedoms and deceit,
tune the tuneless melody and save your soul from hate. “
Their calibre unknown, their reasons unfounded…
the calypso calling cantaloupes of entrepreneurial acumen
shot black with dusk… slid unto the night.
Corporal rationale: “Half an hour of ambiguity…”
Lieutenant liquidation: “Twenty minutes of woe…”
Collective privacy: “Ten minutes of philistine philanthropy…”
Collective piracy: “Five minutes of... … ….”
Towel clenched soviets, eager and resentful,
scape-goaded the photographic horde into meagre submission…
subverting the course of justice.
Rented Kalashnikovs rattled ravenous replies…
once, twice, three times a corpse…
“Androgyny and xenophiles, the pasteurised provocateur…
draped in Prada propped dynamics, mechanically aware…”
Desiccant faeces flew five feet into the air;
the aluminium gilded lavatories received the short end of the stick,
literally liquidated within (without) the… humdrum humidity.
Gabriel dictated the proceedings.
The abortive restraint of sycophantic silencers
and Hassidic hallucinations,
graced by a political patriarchy…
urinating upon the synthetic soil.
Copyright © William Ward
A full moon night
to my delight
what is so wrong
with doing what's right
nothing is right
after so long
no use in complaining
time to move on
The Dream Water one day
might take me away
farther from the comfort
I float on my back
then shut my eyes
my body now sinking
into ocean arms open wide
Now swallow your son
back to his nature
when he is no longer
needed to stay here
the next generation
are dooming themselves
they need my experience
to guide them through hell
Why should I bother
on my own, I strive through
I turn my back on the thought
of bothering to save you
alone in this world
my, is it spacious
I'm finally smiling,
never so gracious.
Copyright © Bj Fard
Show me who you are and i shall paint out broken columns on the valleys of her back as if such figure is un-common
i have found no beauty bending as the vines that are her hair and the frailty of man upon her back is what she bares
bleed her body for the harvest let them feast upon her soul for the nurishment of mother is leaps beyond so bold
she is like the flower growing in the deepest of dark forests,amongst the ivy and hemlock but her skin is much too porous
to concern herself with games that tantalize the men, as they marry on crusade it is her children that she tends
sheath your swords with her ambition and tip your arrows with her will, craft your armour from her strength and in the battle you will kill
come now children from the pasture and lay each upon her side, suckle gently at your mother although theirs pain she does not hide
though the water leaks from rooftops her leaves are thick and block the rain, as the water level rises cling to her branches with no shame
she is the stone upon the beach, once a mountain pound and breached
yet still her disposition clear to love her children that are near
inspired by Roots Frida Kahlo, 1907-1954
Copyright © chriss todd
I do not know?
for bruce springsteen...
it was a rain-swept monsoon day
way back then, so many moons away
when i felt the music strumming in my veins
setting me free like a runaway horse without any reins
you sang of simple truths,
your verse spoke to people just like me
in my lonely, wasted, and desolately quiet night
as you screamed out tragic human wrongs, and of everyone's plight
'bobby jean' spoke to me
of that girl down the street
glimpses of whom, we as innocents would furtively meet
and 'the river' that flowed through my ever-barren heart
led me down further roads of thunder
when slowly i finally learnt that the hardest part was fighting on
and never to surrender
to the hard-luck dreams that were born to run
while i danced in the dark
with memories vivid and stark
even as i whined like that dog who for forever lost his howling bark
and then a 'human touch' came along
and 'better days' seemed real, not just words in a song
and still you sang and swayed and spoke straight into my unseeing eyes
as gardens of secrets were opened, and as your fist punched the skies
in an anger that i too felt and in whose cauldron i too burned
as we saw murder get incorporated, while on its wobbly axis, our fragile world apathetically turned
and then suddenly i was told that i was all grown up
working on a highway of scattered ideals
and absolving myself by sprinkling some coins in a waiting cup
well, after all these years of walking along so many a thorny road
with an armour of your verse covering me, even as i hear them taunt me and even as they continue to goad
but now i can feel myself fading away, into the bleakness of this coming night
just like the ghost of that old tom joad...
Copyright © Scribbler Of Verses
I am the maker of miracles
a real spiritual man
waltzing through shadows
as they pull me back in
I know I must escape them
any way I can
I know the way out
like the back of my hand
It's just me and the maker
together, he and I
I told you God is in me
you just thought I was high
talking with the Zeta's
they tell me just why
everything has an ending
and the old me, must die
I'm Calm as a bomb
in the eyes of a storm
they stare upon me
as if I've been warned
turn me inside out
as a goodness is born
I wear my battle scars
so stars know I'm war torn
When the gift of life
is freed from inside
the fire starts fading
then the anger subsides
like the great phoenix,
I go back in time
a miracle is born
and now that I'm revived
in my new life, I shine.
Copyright © Bj Fard
My battery fully charged
the week is brand new
all the lost loved ones
are telling me thank you
for bringing them to life
in my memory yesterday
now I am ready
to win in any way
and nothing can hold me
back from my dreams
people are staring
in utter disbelief
they think the devil
has contracted my life
little do they know
I took the path to the right
and now I am reaping
the rewards in my struggle
so much so that now
I've reduced my enemies to rubble
and now I am standing
on the power of my own
alive in the jungle of my mind,
my kingdom, I'm home
to see the new dawn
and for all those now gone
I will always remember you
and your spirit will live on.
Copyright © Bj Fard
Midnight June the 5th 1944 me and my buddies departed Weymouth and put out to
To smash through Hitlers eastern wall to liberate Europe and make her once again
We knew some,most of us wouldnt be coming back
As we neared Omaha beach at 4am we started to take German flak
From high above us we could hear the bombers delevering there deadly cargo to
the enemy on the ground
The french coast was pummeled as night turned to day followed by the cargos
It looked like the 4th of July and i wondered if id ever see another one
Then our landing craft doors opened my buddies in front didnt stand a chance
bullets tore them to shreds and they were gone
All around me carnage reigned we were in a killing zone the bluffs seemed so
distant they shouldnt be that far away
I looked around me at my buddies dying or dead before me some motionless where
Something had gone terribly wrong we wernt even on the right stretch of beach
I needed to get to cover quickly i saw a sand dune took my chance and managed
just to reach
The day was breaking now i gazed around me as the dawn broke through the night
I felt sickened and appauled at what i saw ive never forgot that sight
And still the carnage continued as one by one the Rangers fell
Ive never been a religous man but that morning i saw hell
The Germans shouldnt be this strong here thats what we were told
But we had to get off this beach i didnt want to be one of the fallen lying
There were 36 men left in my unit we now numbered just 5
The other guys around me were dead or dying i was fighting to survive
But i was one of the lucky ones i managed to get through that day
Looking back to that time and such a terrible price my buddies had to pay
5 beaches were taken that day Gold Juno Sword Omaha and Utah
I was a young sargeant in the 2nd Rangers my beach was Bloody Omaha
And in my minds eye i still see the beach that day and the sea running red
I still see the tide washing up my buddies the dying and the dead
Historians looking back now see where the mistakes were made
Omaha bloody Omaha its referred to is where such a high price was paid
Nearly 5,000 young Americans and Canadians on that beach on that day
We must never forget them they and what they did and the price they had to pay
Omaha was the bloodiest but lest we not forget the other four
For they shall allways be in my prayers for today and for ever more
Copyright © stan bridge
Summer time is here, and everybody's about to have a good time. The sun is out for summer
vacation and it's time to have some fun. The summer breeze is cooling everybody off after
a long day under the sun. Everybody's out at the beach building sand castles, playing
beach volleyball, surfing in the ocean, and relaxing on the sand. I hope everyone is able
to bring some beach towels, beach umbrellas, and plenty of sunscreen. All people could go
for a glass of iced tea or lemonade after a long day. Summer vacation is like going to a
summer festival at Central Park in New York City. Sometimes, all of the summer days are a
little bit boring, but some of them are filled with a lot of fun and a lot of excitement.
There's a lot to do during the summer, like, going to summer camp, , reading books filled
with plenty of adventure, and stuff. There's 104 days of summer and everyone's not going
to blow it. Even though summer will be over and temperatures will drop down, summer will
be an unforgettable season.
Copyright © Brashard Bursey
Prone,lying side by side
Lapped by an ebbing tide,
Together upon passion's ride-
In love's embrace enlocked
This watershed,no longer shocks.
Copyright © Brian Strand