Prometheus had erred and caused great ire
when stealing in stealth secrets of fire.
But Zeus could not forgive this deed.
The chieftain of gods punished his greed.
The lightning zigzagged across the sky,
in anger he let thunderbolts fly.
Instructions he gave to mould from earth
a woman endowed to prove her worth,
all humans to touch their lives and shift
the balance with her seductive gift.
Hephaestus was told what to create;
Pandora came forth through heaven’s gate.
Athena supplied her silver gown,
her head she adorned with ornate crown.
She hastened to guile the human race
her nature refined to tempt by grace
alluring deceit that knew no shame
her mission withstood distrust or blame.
Pandora’s torment flowed wide and far.
She carried with her an earthen jar.*
Instructions were laid to be obeyed
to keep it enclosed and so it stayed
till yearning became hard to resist
temptation knew well how to insist.
Alone by herself beside a brook
she lifted the lid, a glancing look
that opened the flood to evil force
unhindered it spread and took its course.
She panicked and pushed with all her might;
the damage was done – eternal plight.
A trickle of hope was left inside
but hardly enough to turn the tide.
When laws are defied they cause much grief;
the pleasure derived is false and brief.
Temptation is what destroys the weak;
redemption is there for all to seek.
Forever in life it’s hard to cope.
Pandora we chase in search of hope.**
* Pandora’s jar is often mistakenly referred to as a ‘box’.
** Pandora is chased for the only thing left in her jar – hope.
Author: Paul Callus
Contest: Men Only #2
Sponsor: Kelly Deschler
Copyright © Paul Callus | Year Posted 2015
Set upon the new world stage within the burning fires of hell. Silently posed factions of the elite, suppress the true inherit of Mother Earth. The meek children bending over for millennium, taken spankings of bare bottoms, pelted slavery.
Upon entry to rule, the open stage of smoked mirrors began to reflect back upon the podium of lies. Taught by scholars from university books of political science. Fearful of leadership matching mirrored images, of false pretense, babbling rhetoric. The stirring masses of discontented, individualistic, thought of as dead - enders, trouble makers, and rebel rousers, rallied aimlessly.
With super hero, Captain Do Gooder, bleeding helpless on the floor of Wall Street. Weary lost hope combatants mustered courage, and accepted destiny. To this point, someone shouted against the wind of change. Felt by all who sensed the importance.
"To death do us part of the purpose to which we, the united, stand for justice".
The chant began, as Captain Do Gooder was dragged away, and cuffed, once bleeding helpless on the floor of Wall Street.
Damn the torpedoes. Damn the torpedoes.
Captain Do Gooder, fallen, bruised ego matching skinned knees, lays helpless. Who will save them now.
Second glances from high rise penthouses. Serving champagne and caviar. Brought iron clenched hands once hidden, to draw the stage curtain down.
With Captain Do Gooder nowhere to be found. The voice that came from pain of pupil. Born within broken dreams of promised lands. Realized nothing was coming cheap on this occupation.
The dusty streets found Captain Do Gooder aimlessly stepping against the winds of change, down Wall Street. The well-intentioned, arrested and broken spirited, lost hope of recycling any salvage rights taken from them by Metro.
Was this the end of the well thought out, pushed down occupation.
Was this the beginning, of the underground faction. Where was senior generation X hiding. Only Captain Do Gooder and the well-intentioned, world stage occupiers, hold the key to that Pandora's box of hope.
The peoples across the oceans were already springing far ahead in their own, more brutal campaign. For they had no cushion on which they were raised to kneel against. Tyranny ran over them. A lesson yet not felt, or learnt, or taught, in the new world. No chance of city mayors issuing eviction notices. Bullets, tanks and bombs were of the order. Brought down the line, traced back to the ones our United Nations to this day, refuse to acknowledge.
While leaders there home internet shop, and pump out the lies. Everyone dies.
In the heart of the continent of center, where unto which as mankind sprang forth, for its first and ever conquest.
The lights kept dim, to obscure the violent cleansing. A facade to disguise once moreover, the brutal tyranny for which the greed of the elite, control the dimmer switch. Diamonds and oil fuel the fire of war and oppression, on this stage of greed and guilt. Too far away, and too many distractions upon center stage for one to see or care. Thought and looked upon by most as racially motivated. The origins of all mankind, to be left, far too far, behind. The true forsaken people. Why is man unkind.
So..........will Captain Do Gooder raise the bar to which drinks for the house, and all around, will quench the thirst felt by ninety nine percent of the people............mother knows best.
Yet, still, self-inflicted roadblocks of appointed destiny, drop kicked long days past. Faint light shining far ahead, within the tunnel of hell, brought up to land. Firm above the depths to which it sprang. The truth of world order.
Wait......what do we see......do our closed eyes deceive our cries........................................
We see Captain Do Gooder catching second wind.
She breathes deep now and all can hear her war cry, no longer whimpering softly. As in past tense situations, given way to dazed and confused wall street *****es.
She builds momentum, as our brothers and sisters lay dying and bleeding. On the streets of some not so distant for telling, of what's to be, will never not be coming full steam ahead and plowing through the hidden agenda. One step beyond the line drawn in the sand of time, we thought would never be crossed. Give way thoughtless future tellers, and takers. Still holding firm with paper cuts, deep into the hands who printed and prepared such slave papers, kept by the elite bankers.
Captain Do Gooder returns renewed and refreshed. Our true Mother.
Captain Do Gooder feels strong, as bruised knees and scraped hands heal.
Brush of destiny sweepstakes, allots winnings of earth shaking, volcano erupting, tsunami tidal waves, with bonus draws of worldwide chaos. Future draws are to be held with worldwide winners. Grand prize, dead oceans rising.
The next generation have no fear digest writes the next chapter.
Hold the press down firmly wall street backbiting backbenchers. Drawn into the crossfire, on her mark, place the x on the next general who dares not fall into civil disobedience.
Captain Do Gooder has grown teeth, and she is biting down hard against the line to pipe riches, spoiled from her lands. Stolen from the first pilgrimage, fifteen thousand years old, lost empire.
How dare you steal from, and pollute the minds of her children. Yet old enough to drink and drug and die in war. How dare all of us.
Meanwhile back at the ranch. Captain Do Gooder hugs tight that tree of life, to which sprang all this elbow rubbing and diversion. Wall street huddles in her corner, painted red to match the lengths to which an end will surely bring to it.
Painted red for all to see.
The end to friendly letter writing, give peace a chance, make love not war, generation taking a bow, and snow birding it, to false sense of security land. Like the ostrich with its head in the sand.
Copyright © Scott Howard Myers The Gypsy King | Year Posted 2013
Somewhere in midnight’s nocturnal hallways
As the chill settles down with starlight
While the world stands silent in waiting
There abiding with his flock walks the shepherd
Hopeful in thought and yet weary of foot
He moves his charges through the bite of night
His hope in the coming dawn lifts his burdens
Filling his minds eye with warm musings of tomorrow
In tones they beseech the day and challenge darkness
But through this constant cycle of shine and shadow
The guardian of the flock stands steadfast and waits
The promise begins as His voice appears cherubically
Falling in fear and praying for strength of faith
The radiance in the sky softens ever slightly
Speaking of the vow and announcing the messiah
Who brings the world a love and a hope yet tasted
Tremulous breath’s as the promise is spoken
Awing the greatness with a loving and respectful fear
Silent in belief beholding the coming miracle
He stirs the somnolent flock down the slopes
To bestow upon all the gift of this divine hour
His breath brittle’s the final icy moments of dusk
He labors the trail with renewed strength of heart
Proclaiming hushed gratitude within every step
A beacon of brilliance converges in the heavens
Beckoning his faithful west toward little Bethlehem
Dropping to his knees his face wetted in thanks
Finally understanding what is gripping his soul
He sees the precarious pathway laid before him
Though he has journeyed into the unknown before
None had brought with it a promise so precious
Copyright © Charles Fuller | Year Posted 2007
There Be Dragons
In that place where the Earth meets the sky
Where magic reigns with myth
There dwell, yet still, great dragons that fly
Blue unicorn and gryph...
Fantastical creatures cloaked in time
An epic testament
Where the Zepher lifts the fae--sublime
No longer reticent--
Beware! The splenetic Nebulous
Who guards the minutes there
Her exquisite mass is ravenous--
No jot or tittle fare!
Do some planning should you gallivant...
The fae will help you see,
Lilly, Lilac, Aster,Skull--enchant
With such simplicity!
By the Willow Bliss of Yesterday
You just may want to quit...
But don't let your vigor ricochet
Cherish your kismet!
Delight the dragon and get a wish
Show some humility
But watch your heart--his favorite dish--
There be dragons in the twilight of day
Timeless and roaming free...
Seek an oasis wherever you may
And most aggressively!
Copyright © Deborah Burch | Year Posted 2012
deal with it
i will not let my emotions
this is me
if you do not like the
i am me
so why not enjoy
if it were left up to me
society would be ignored
i would fly to you in my
widows' weeds with hand-
fulls of forget me nots
i would wear a purple veil
to obscure the depth of
i would hook you
in the eyes and say
hi. why me flatly
i would move myself
into your space
and waste us both
i would use your arms
around me to grieve
if , only if, it were
left up to me
Copyright © janetta harrington | Year Posted 2007
A void of Facebook
Creativity dies here...
Copyright © Dan Keir | Year Posted 2013
" ONE MORE TIME "
Stale and innocent I close my eyes.
Unpolished bones inside.
I mock my dreams, in hope I find reality.
I swim like streamers near an undying sea.
INNOCENT against a stetson smell.
I CLOSE the door that circulates my emotions.
MY EYES, allergic to the the smallest particles of your lies.
UNPOLISHED beauty, that can't be seen with the naked eye.
BONES INSIDE shiver like no other.
I MOCK the same words, over and over. ((I LOVE YOU))
MY DREAMS keep me from fading.
IN HOPES I wake up to feel more alive.
I FIND REALITY when I close my eyes.
I SWIM LIKE the open sunrise.
LIKE, the moon you come and go.
STREAMERS NEAR and far, move real slow.
AN UNDYING SEA, I just want to fall and jump right back in.
Copyright © Poet Destroyer A | Year Posted 2012
The man stumbled on, wanting to get as far away as possible
the sights he had seen and lived through too terrible to contemplate.
How could another human deliberately inflict such awful things on another.
He could see a gentle stream of smoke arising from the distant chimney
and headed for the shelter it offered, staggering on until he reached it.
It was a pretty cottage nestled deep into the hillside and isolated.
He tumbled through the door and collapsed on the floor.
Mistily he drifted in then out of consciousness unable to focus
aware vaguely of a gentle touch that soothed and replenished.
He drank from the cup pressed to his lips and then let go.
The old lady shook her head at the follies of mankind,
and set to work bandaging his festering wounds.
She made a drawing potion to clean out the poison
that had taken a fierce hold racking him with fever.
Then she covered him and stoked up the fire.
For three days he lay in a coma muttering about the war,
not an ordinary one, oh no, this war caused carnage.
Evil stalked the land every hand turned against the other.
Sons killing fathers and brothers and to what point?
A simple disagreement about Creed had started this.
Weakened by the ravages he was slow to fully heal
yet he learned much from the old lady causing him to rethink.
To look at things with eyes a-new seeing the other point of view.
These new values he took with him when he left thanking her gratefully.
He set out on a new route, his task now to heal and bring peace.
Standing a-midst the crowd on a small hillock he taught them new values
not by preaching as such but by parables that showed the way to peace.
After all he would say; Pause and Think, For What are We without hope?
Everything gone by can be changed, all we have to do is care and act.
So lit the small flicker in your heart and fan up a healing blazing flame.
Copyright © Shadow Hamilton | Year Posted 2014
The sweetest sounds of burning trees
A gentle stroking in the breeze
The calm has lasted past the storm
Cloudy visions, Satan’s roar
Too many sights have passed my way
A time found only in the haze
The softest screams are running bare
My aching bones creak as I stare
You walk a distance towards me
The fall’s eternal, can’t you see?
I’m a memory in your heart
I whisper to you in the dark
The battle’s started at the end
No one is coming to repent
The sinners grab their wine from prey
No judgment calling here to stay
The sport is reckless to be told
The one is laughing at his souls
It falters nowhere to be sure
The power grows forevermore
Like a spirit in the wind
I have no say in where you’ve been
But cross the line to come to me
And pay the price for ecstasy
You walk a distance towards me
The fall’s eternal, can’t you see?
I’m a memory in your heart
I whisper to you in the dark.
Copyright © John Paluszek | Year Posted 2013
Denial is a can of peas
should never be indulged
beyond the expiration date.
Yet there I stood,
evidence screaming reality
at my eyes, their gaze steadfast
upon the wailing baby girl
before me in her bassinet.
My mind then confidently knew
that what lay there
could have never come
from briefest self-indulgence.
Still, my heart wouldn't listen—
And rightly so.
I turned and faced
a solitary window,
which framed a cold and gray
that froze as well
the unrecorded moment.
Though soft upon my parted lips
came unbidden words:
“I love you, dearest child”—
knowing all that was yet to be,
for here lay an open book
in which life would write about
a young girl’s timeless, playful mirth,
but also test her brazen dreams
and tireless hopes alike.
On life’s other end,
my mother wearies
of her endless days
over life prolonged well past
these ninety-seven years—
asking with familiar eyes,
undimmed by age,
the reason why,
which none can answer,
and which none tries,
and silence reigns.
Then, soon enough
both memories and questions fade,
their cycles now complete.
Mark B. Peterson, Any Poem/Any Form, December 26, 2013
Copyright © Mark Peterson | Year Posted 2013
As I sat at my computer, wondering what to do,
A whisper in my ear said, I have a job for you.
Startled I looked around but no-one was there,
I was alone in the still of the night.
I recalled my wife told me of Samuel,
A prophet back in biblical times,
I felt foolish, knowing what I had to do,
I was alone and simply said, God, is that you?
I am who I am the whisper came back,
And I have a job for you
I have looked at your life through your veil of tears,
And have decided just what to do.
Are you God? I asked, hardly daring to breathe,
If so then I've something to say.
Why has my life been so hard to live?
I've struggled right up to this day.
I've been kicked and beaten, left battered and bruised,
Laughed at, spat at, abused and accused.
Each time I have tried to better myself all these years,
It's ended in sorrow, no laughter, just tears.
God, have you seen my distress from the start?
Why didn't you help stop a breaking heart?
I love you much and have never left you alone,
Through your trials and pain I see you have grown.
I have watched and waited for many years,
I have carried you long through your veil of tears,
The strength you have now is through My love,
Protected and guided by Me up above.
Remember the times when life looked so bleak,
Times when death was all you would seek.
No signs for the future, just lay down and die,
Who helped you My son? It was I.
You have asked many times why can't we move on?
Each time we were stopped, to help out someone.
Just when we thought it was safe now to try,
Someone else came along and on us did rely.
There are many I love and will never let down,
So I trained you My son through your years of despair.
When folk needed help, I knew you were there,
Sometimes just a shoulder to show that you care.
You have done many things, the world cares not a jot,
Your faults are forgiven, I remember them not.
When you work for the Lord sometimes you may stumble,
I will not let you fall if you remain humble.
Thank you Father for letting me see,
The wonderful life you have planned for me,
The journey is long, and hard every day,
But through it all I have learned how to pray.
I'll follow You Lord, Your path I will tread,
My future secure, no longer I dread.
No fear for tomorrow, each brand new day,
To help someone else to move on their way.
© Dave Timperley 2012
Copyright © Dave Timperley | Year Posted 2012
There Are A Thousand Treasures Of Kings
Worth More, Than All The Wealth, There Could Be !
Some Say, It’s In A Kingdom Of Dreams
Others Say, It’s As Real As You & Me
The Legend Says, There’s A Kingdom Of Love
In A Kingdom, Far Away & Above
Kings-Treasures, To Be Claimed By The Best
Those Worthy Of Courage, To Quest
& So, This Is Where I’ll Start, My Friend,
Tho’, This Isn’t Where The Real Tale Begins
You See, There Was A Merry Band Of Adventurers
Who Went On A Quest, As Treasure-Gatherers
There Was Moses, The Freedom-Circle-Rider
Stayed His Course, Like An Eagle-Glider
There Was Goff, The Monk Of Sky and Trees
His Visions Of Life, Were As Open As Doors With Keys
There Was Kendricks, The Keeper Of ‘Interesting’ Tracks
& Marty, Of The Hale & Hearty & Power-Pen Pack
There Was Adell of Deep Wells … & Dio, The Devoted
& Dame Brown Of Mountain-Ground, So Sweetly-Noted
There Was An Irish Lass, O’Leary Of Laughter
& The Golden Daughter Of Grace & Audrey Of Gifted-Banter
& Devonshire, The Dove & Highlander Of Heather-Cove
Of First To Join Search: For Soup & Treasure-Trove
Of Course, We Have A Prince Of Passion Land
& Ismael, A Dream-Merchant From His Own Island
The Prince, Paints Of Pleasures; The Islander Speaks of Treasures
Both Know Of Biggest Royal Cache That We Could Ever Measure !
There Came Tim, The Archer Of The Wit-Forest
& A Determined Mother with Son, The Lady Doris
Maid Adams, Who Teaches How To Keep Cold Away
& The Lightning-Voice Of Linda Marie, Keeps Wolves At-Bay
There Is Sir Lamoureu of Sir Lancelot's Order
He Wields Words In Articulate Axes & Armor
And To Those Who Dare Say Chivalry Is Dead ...
Is Because -The Sonnets of Sir Lamoureu, They Have Not Read
& The Legendary Language That Sir Lamoureu Pledge
Then There's Lady Linda, A Chatelaine & A Poet Destroyer
But She Only Versus The Verses of The Vanity Voyeurers
Her Skill With Quill Accurately Quite Accords
As Proof of Pens Being Mightier Than Swords
We Have A Pretty Elf Known As Anne Lise Andresen
Her Piquant Topics of Poetry Makes Her Our Taliesin
And We Have Our Very Own Kind Maid Merryman
She Transports Adventures Better Than A Ferryman
Part 1 of 2
Copyright © MoonBee Canady | Year Posted 2009
for such a time as this of political upheaval and economic uncertainty
how does anyone go about determining what is their God-given destiny?
what is our purpose in the grand scheme of God's desires?
what is it from us that the Lord Our God requires?
God gave each of us life for a reason
and will call upon each of us in due season
there will be some sacrificing and moving out of comfort zones
just remember that whatever God asks of you, you won't have to do it alone
for the battle is not just yours it also belongs to the Lord
and God won't let you write a check that you cannot afford
God will move you to a place and then give you an obstacle to overcome
but through Jesus you have the victory so consider the battle won
just trust in God to give you all that you will need
so that His set purpose for your life will come to seed
like Queen Esther, Harriet Tubman, Margaret Sanger and Rosa Parks
women destined for greatness who were beacons in society's dark
they did what was necessary for the greater good
to put the needs of others before their own as we all should
they stood up and confronted the so-called powers that be
in righteous indignation in order to save humanity
so let God position you where you'll prosper and be strong
and then use you as a vessel to make right a wrong
it might not make much sense to you and you might even disagree
but God knows what's best when it comes to determining your destiny
so just say yes to any and all that of you God does ask
and believe unconditionally that He'll equip you for the task
and as long as you remain resilient in your resolve
between you and God the situation will get solved
destined for greatness as mothers, mentors, lawyers or teachers
destined for greatness as activists, doctors, scientists or preachers
it matters not the capacity nor the career for you that God did choose
we're women destined for greatness and as children of God we cannot lose
Copyright © louise nelson | Year Posted 2009
Bravery is the father of fears
Dreams are distant cousins of nightmares
Hope is the sister of prayers
Every night shame lays down and gets screwed by despair
Pollution abuses Mrs. atmosphere
It's a battle between personality and reality
But obviously nobody cares
Maybe it's because big tough is the uncle of little scared
Planning is deeply in love with prepared
Procrastination is the biggest enemy of determination
Ignorance is jealous of realization
Sometimes strength can get sneak attacked by temptation
Silence can never defeat a great proclamation
When the brain disagrees with the heart
The body dies of complications
Love your self...
Copyright © Andre Sanders | Year Posted 2012
I do not know?
Beholding this heuristic flower which grows....
Astonishment amid the midst of the deserts dust
Isolations guise so shunned, this beauty it seems
Emitting an emollient fragrance as such
A nardostachys jatamansi ~
This healing and soothing ointment as rains
Loving cup, of sanctities moments such placid waters
Now rising from the parched soils of once barrenness
As a mastic mist of laudatories measures
Blanket it, with flourishings of precious dew
An inflorescent jasmine
Metamorphing into a prismatic rose
Before these melodious stones which smile....
As they gaze upon this magnificent splendour
Within a world wherein some still question as to how
Could this ever be?
This renewing of such trodden petals; rousing
And once crushed by the very hands
Which now stand within bewildered wonderment
As they blink their sting rayed eyes....How?
These second chances of a new born life
The Resurrection, of a once lost soul....
Heavens Rose ~
Note: Smile ~ This is not an attack upon anyone but
"A Song of Hope & Faith!?" ~ "'Love,' Always," John!:) ~
Copyright © John Rhinem | Year Posted 2010
Exquisite the ravel of his comforting quilt
a pondering notion of wisdom is felt
I take a sip of his lovely red wine,
Dr. Rams words are better than gold..........simply divine
susurrus hymns of love at times
or perhaps lissome words in flowing lines
silently I sit as his words come to life,
Dr. Rams words are better than gold...........simply divine
o' the words that linger, perhaps burn inside
his heritage, his love, his grand design
I fall in dream into his domain of time,
Dr. Rams words are better than gold..........simply divine
a song of one soul
a dance for all, profound
a story unraveling with pages alive
Dr. Rams words are better than gold.......... simply divine
Copyright © Rick Parise | Year Posted 2011
The greatest holiday gift I ever received
Goes back so many, many years
Before my life became turmoiled
And before my tears for fears
I was a child like many out there
Torn, strewn and split of kin
Mother and father in differences
Confused at seven, wearing their same skin
For I was one of the lucky ones
To a Highland Estate I would go
It's on the west coast of Scotland
Where my holidays desired me so
Secretly I internally smiled
For a whisper of where I was heading
To live with a movie star hero
No longer my life was in dreading
We were picked up by a man so fine
His manners were an absolute joy
Regimental he was in his approach
To me, just a seven year old boy
We travelled through the village of Plockton
Crystal clear waters edged to it's shore
I knew from this very moment
Being here ebbed previous family sores
On entering his house I was in awe
Movie pictures came to my view
They were images of James Bond
At seven I was totally through
A voice called to me
Hey James! sit down and I'll tell you me
Still in circles in walking awe
This is what he told thee
My name is Patrick Dalzel Job
In the Second World War I served
But this recognition I bestow
Humbles me to it's deserve
This honour that's been given
Was blessed by a colleague in war
What desired Ian Fleming to be so striven
Possibly, what we were fighting for
We served on the same destroyer
Fighting to make the future free
His tribute, in his novels I became
James Bond, it's incredibly me
Not many seven year olds have stayed with James Bond.
This seven year old Scot's boy has, maybe I learnt?
Copyright © James Fraser | Year Posted 2012
When I was just a little girl, I dreamed I’d meet a knight.
He’d proudly wear his shining armor, and guard me day and night.
I kept on dreaming half my life and searched as I grew.
Until I found my knight one day, I found my knight in you!
Before our paths crossed that day, my struggles had been great.
But when I laid my eyes upon you, I thought it must be fate.
You gently got to know me and embraced me as a friend.
And as our friendship grew in time, we knew it wouldn’t end.
As our lives were set in motion, we climbed mountains and sailed seas.
And as we’ve shared our lives together, we’ve blended with such ease.
Our friendship grew as years passed by into such an enduring love.
This thing we have together now was blessed from God above!
I know we both have said it. We feel it in our souls.
We’ve devoted our lives to each other, and together we’ll grow old.
The love we share is very rare, and should be held with high esteem.
For some may only find this kind, only in their dreams.
This is what God planned for us, to live here on this land.
To be the best we both can be, walking through it hand in hand.
Even when our roads seem rough, we must have a faith that lasts.
We’ll smile as we share many today’s, and reflect gladly on our past.
I hope I’ve touched your life my love, as much as you’ve touched mine.
For this is the love I’ve always dreamed of, a love both gentle and kind.
I believe we meet our “soul mate” only once in our lives.
This blessing from God has come to us, I’m proud to be your wife.
With all this said my poem will end.
A poem for my love, who is also my friend!
I want to thank you with all that I am,
For showing me Darling, the true love of a man!
With all my love, Michelle
Merry Christmas – December 2006©
Copyright © Michelle DeGironemo | Year Posted 2010
I muse a song that songs have known,
and often of it sing
what of waste? what of want?
and of desired things,
I tell a tale no man has known,
and every man same
in the blood of human life
all hearts, they beat the same
speak of drear and weary thought
and rise thee from thy grave
oh the things we poets lost--
so often short of change
ah, the signs that hold us so
bound, we are, to fate
myth we cannot seem to grasp
held to that we state
legend--how it holds us so
even as the moon
we, the sea of hope and dream
pulled away too soon...
and the shore, so very close
each time, we stake our lot
we fall as once upon a dream
so short of this we sought
but once again, our eyes, so still
bereft of light, remain
and seeing there the cliffs again
a seabound soul, we gain
to toss and turn a-thousand nights
to lie awake in doubt
to hope beyond a weathered shade
of days, we drift about
Copyright © Christopher Steven Coan | Year Posted 2013
The steady pull
a tease on
When I can sleep,
I take what dreams
In these dreams,
my 'noxide comes
to ward me.
Her smoke is an invitation.
the con science
of my imagination.
I give in
and reality spins.
Between the sleeps,
I lie in sanity.
Did I give into
did I'd err?
smoke in the air?
Copyright © Hyle Chu | Year Posted 2009
Chain smoke until
I'm in care of the CO.
There's one left, still.
I smoke it really slow.
"It's the end," I anticipate
As the last inch evaporates.
I can't get
It's over before
I know it.
Butt, I can't quit.
I'm possessed with this
Obsession; I'm addicted.
My lungs have oxygen,
Yet I'm suffocating inside.
I can't breathe again
Without my 'noxide.
Copyright © Hyle Chu | Year Posted 2009
Gazing, at its own reflection is the Magpie.
A magic bird, a mystical creature, with a soul
and the power to see things, the power of scrying.
It sees a tomb in ancient Egypt. It sees death.
A soul locked within a glorious bronze mirror,
Cleopatra and her Maid in a bond unbroken.
Time passes in silence as deep as the unbroken
promise of endless wisdom, gifted by the Magpie.
whose caws the Maid hears, within the depths of the mirror,
calls to the Queen, her Cleopatra, to her soul.
Magpie speaks to She on the Eastern Barge in the afterlife of death,
and to her Maid entombed. The sacred bird so near scrys.
The Magpie sits within oasis staring into the pool. It scrys
for all this time, its vigil, its protection, never broken.
Even when the sarcophagus is carried to the necropolis of the dead,
without, unknown, the bird speaks wisely through reflection, her Magpie.
Entombed, his Queen and her Maid, their bodies but not their souls,
Queen, Maid and Magpie, each cast a last gaze, alive within the mirror.
The Vows of Innocence, the Maid bespeaks the mirror.
Pleas to the Swallower of Shades, both Queen and Maid have scried
to The Burning One, and claim no lie, upon their soul.
As the light dims within the Maids eyes, in tomb unbroken,
she sees the life of her Queen and their Magpie
pass fast upon the brass, last breath of life and dying.
Oh, too soon the end, moans the Maid, I am dying.
Her life's reflection moves bronzed upon the mirror.
She screams, "My Queen," but hears only the caw of Magpie.
All around her other servants succumb and cry, whilst she sits scrying,
and the Magpie flies above in life entombed, eternity, unbroken.
As she beseeches all the Gods to save her soul.
The Magpie's spirit self moves within the mirror's soul.
He swoops gathering Cleopatra's essence, past the dying,
and brings her to the Maids side unbroken.
In afterlife upon the Eastern Barge they join the mirrored
whole, for he, the bird of magic, Magpie, has called and scried
it so. Part light of life, part dark of death, the Magpie.
The essence of each entwine united within this eternal mirror
for the Magpie cannot bear their deaths. He will protect and forever scry
in life the mirror sits unbroken a stolen bauble, and in it they dwell with the Magpie.
Copyright © Debbie Guzzi | Year Posted 2010
All we need a leader
Guide us become one of us
Make us sincere against any killing
Protects our family to live our destiny
All we need a world leader one of us making in one piece
Making it boiling it
Be part of it
In taming is music to our ears
Every morning sliding our badges
Making our leaving gone in sinful slips
Only hope rests pray our best
Every morning sinking reality
Surge become more innovative
Making us in a pot all sincere
All we need a commitment in changing rules
Where money plays reigns in market
To adapt them after turns our sake
It may be time to think learn to leave as one piece
Copyright © reyhan yucebay | Year Posted 2009
A clement breeze brushing over skin,
A salty scent breathed deep.
Eyes closed, waves heard below,
A muffled crashing,
A cool, gentle spray.
Eyes open, ebony ocean,
Stippled with touches of moonlight.
Rushing air caressing fingers,
Higher above the water.
A million grains of sand shifting under foot.
Copyright © Benjamin Nicol | Year Posted 2007
Look at me
I am the life in a wasteland
Look at me
I am the slavery through the ages
Look at me
I am the mirror of the world
Look at me
I am the illusion I’ve fought for
Look at me
I’m still loving you
and I keep being here
for you, for me,
and for what’s worth breathing
Copyright © Rixa White | Year Posted 2012
Silent In a cage,
No blanket for a bed
The little kitten
Laid by its food
The lights in the building
Lit up above the cage
The sweet little Cat
Asleep and alone
A man quietly came in
The poor little kitty woke
The man approached and
The kitten spoke
The man held the kitten
And the kitten was happy
The man said, I want this
One and he waited
The people behind the counter
After a delay said no
The man left broken hearted
And the little cat sadly stayed
Will that little critter ever
Have a happy home
Or will it have to
Copyright © John Long | Year Posted 2008
I do not know?
Lord, I believe in You and myself,
With You I can do almost anything.
Even if I'm overweight...
I believe You'll keep me alive until the day
You want me back home with you.
I'm sorry for my sins
And all of us are imperfect humans:
Debating about beliefs, greedy thieves,
And everything else you hate.
So please forgive all of us and open the gate
To Your Heavenly Kingdom.
Have Your Son save us all.
Sometimes I believe I don't deserve You
And Your Promise for Eternity,
But Your Son's words reassure me.
I feel scared of the destruction in Your Revelation,
But remember You'll keep me safe
If I just forever keep my faith.
Copyright © Marissa Faries | Year Posted 2010
The broken promises and shattered dreams take'em away.The pent up
memories the restless nights take'em away.This broken heart and uneven
thoughts take'em away. Each hectic day and every bit of anger and dismay
take'em away. The worries and indecision the uncertainties that haunt me
take'em away. The torment and shame the hard times in vain take'em away.
The disdain and fear the fake smiles and constant screams take'em away.
Comfort and peace are the only feelings I want to stay.
Copyright © Cole Beck | Year Posted 2007
I can only hear what you tell me...
That is all I can believe...
I'm sorry I have portrayed these thoughts in your head...
I didn't mean to...
But understand me...
I went out on tree limb...
I was falling...
And I hit the ground on the Westside.,,
The way I felt...
The rocks cut me deep...
I swore to myself I would never try to climb another tree...
But you made me feel different...
And when the wind blew I fell...
As I fell I heard your voice...
Not Red's voice....
Come to think about it I still hear it...
But we good.
I said I was hear for you and I meant it...
Don't give up on me yet....
Cause I Hear You....
Copyright © Lamar Johnson | Year Posted 2007
Hello Friends... I suffer from Severe Bi-Polar Disorder and this submission was inspired by
actual events that occured during one of my especially critical manic episodes. Be sure and
read Part 2 to complete the poem and leave your comments on the Part 2 submission. Thank
you for allowing me to share my pain for pain shared is pain diminished
Me, Myself, and I...
“There are things that concern us,”
Consensed my “Selves” in earnest
““We” fear that “I” have succumbed to delusion”
“And after careful deliberation
It is with much hesitation
That we choose to delineate upon this confusion”
“Fact is your intuition
Is riddled with superstition
And your judgment leaves much to be desired”
“So you leave us no recourse
Don’t push us to use force”
It is then that the “I” was summarily fired
I exclaimed “By whose authority?” Response, “Rule of majority”
“The “Myself” and the “Me,” (forthwith the “We”), are experts in our field”
“And with much technique and time
And some forays into the sublime
The nature of your malady will be revealed”
“So to keep yourself from having a fit
Step back and just calm down a bit”
“We,” they said, “certainly have this under control”
“We swear this won’t hurt at all”
Then I felt my inhibitions fall
Still I said a prayer to God that He keep my soul
You know, fact is I do feel off axis
As evidenced by such parapraxis
As this prose that I, (or is it “Us”), seek to pen
And with my mind feeling numb
I finally chose to succumb
And allow the “Me” and the “Myself” to begin
And then came questions in a flurry
Answer, answer and please do hurry
Not one moment of respite did they give
They pushed and they prodded
With every “T” crossed and “I” dotted
My mind felt like it had gone through a sieve
And all this psycho-analysis
Is causing my mind paralysis
The questions, can you stop with the questions please
“Yes, oh yes indeed
I do believe we have what we need
To make an attempt to identify your unknown neuroses”
Copyright © James Burns | Year Posted 2010