Our first awareness
falling through time
through blood-rain, pure white snow, green vegetation
down into deep earth
Energy flowing-up through our pod
each day we grew bigger
snug together with brothers and sisters
bursting our little cozy shell
then one day
a father and daughter
plucked us from the vine
stripped – we lay bare upon a tray
disorientated and tender but alive
a life force deep inside us
our skin soft but hardening
then sleep . . . waiting for the one
Daddy!! Come see the beans
They changed colors
I see brown ones with white specks
Yellow with black dots
Orange with blue stripes
But wait . . . there are three larger beans that seem to glow and vibrate
one is blood-red
another . . . brilliant white
the last . . . forest green
What does this mean daddy?
Is it evil?
No my sweet darling
These are special beans
Descended from an ancient garden long ago . . .
no longer of this world
It was a place of love and light
No death but a deep communion between mother earth and us
The three beans are: Peace, Purity, Prosperity
These beans will feed a starving world
Bring healing to the hurting
Laughter to the downtrodden
Hope to the desolate
Love to the unloved
Life to the dead
These beans hold deep magic
How do they work Daddy?
a worthy woman is chosen
who is humble of heart
strong in spirit
wise in love
Who is this lady?
the magic beans choose
they only appear to the one female
you, my darling . . . you are the one
Me? I am only a girl
I have none of these things . . .
the beans see deep within a soul
they never lie
they have chosen you
together you will change the world!
Daddy, I am scared . . .
I am shaking
I am not worthy
breathe deeply, close your eyes
put the beans in your mouth
Daddy, I taste sweetness
Molasses, ginger, caramel . . . now chocolate
I see visions upon the wind
Blood, wars, rage, yelling . . . unbearable things
yes, darling the evil is strong here
let the blood from the red bean flow
let it mingle with your love
it will defeat this evil and bring
healing and forgiveness . . . peace
The white bean is singing with my voice – Daddy!
Sweet is her song
I see merriment, laugher, dancing . . .
People hugging and holding hands
My tears are falling
Filling rivers with waters of light, love and purity
Joy reverberates from mountains peaks
From my open lips runs rich green sap
Deep does the earth drink
Big drafts of life and love
I see fields flowing with
Cream, honey, and wine
Trees waving to the sun
The earth is rejoicing
I see beans being planted
In a garden
A man and a little girl
yes, my Little One, soar now
fill the world with your love
fill the wind with your song
Such is the magic of these colored beans
and the porch light hums
the sound of another
Burnt up – crisp
aching new reaches
of the imagination turn
to the pungent shade
of dried blood on hands –
kissing corners of a mouth
Sweeping ‘cross in whispers
two thousand years
and more, come
words on the flat-line horizon,
like a red cat's eye marble
on a circular seesaw
that knows no bounds;
rolling infinitely back
and forth -
ringing through ears that were once
in that ago (can you hear it?)
hearing the coming of a storm
by another set of ears,
in some other when –
some other marble.
When, speaks the unspoken.
When, treads where none may tread.
When, grips the barren outcroppings of space –
playing the unending moments –
where no other question hence forth
Night sounds come in floods
and quiet apricot;
slicing through oceans,
where no ears hear.
The farm: echoing, lowing and fawning –
Trying to stay true
bleeds into the fibers of a dream
once lived –
recognizing its existence
through the act of a moment,
The girl turns to face
of all she has yet to hear upon
the brazen, blazing horizon;
she strips down to goose bumps
on the skin
that God gave her;
opening her mouth to hear all
that she is –
breathing in the dawn
as it breaks.
The farm notes this coming.
The sky knows;
The wind knows.
The earth knows - relaxing
at her feet
through her soles,
resounding through the mouth
of the un-kissed,
breathing through this land;
humming through porch lights,
spinning through atoms,
sifting though heavens,
recorded through lifetimes,
and through into another’s
© Kristin Reynolds 1/9/09
When the Flowers of Youth Fell
Winter stayed late that year
courting Spring with a fury.
Beautiful gifts of snow
and dazzling ice, he gave her.
It was during such courtship
I found myself lost -- adrift
in a place that once was ....
decades from this century.
Where mud and blood held hands
beneath duty and honour
and kindred flowers fell
to sounds of bugle and drum.
Smoke arose through Spring's tears.
Images of Blue and Grey
pilfered my breath as cannons
rained thunder upon the brave.
How was this happening?
This was not where I belonged!
My time was not this place
and I wanted to go home.
Where Winter courted Spring
and snowmen fell -- not flowers --
upon the muddy ground
as snow reigned upon the brave.
The smell of gun powder
danced about my head and nose
like spirits for the faint --
arousing life ... far from home.
"Get down! Get down! Get down!"
The half-crazed voice plunged me
into the mud and blood
and I lay frozen in fear
beneath his weight ... and the cold.
So cold, no hearts were beating,
no breaths were being drawn,
just the smell of sweat and blood.
The smell of rain and death.
Clutched tightly in his pale fist
a tattered blood-stained note
bore the words, "Please ... for
I tried but could not scream.
And, I felt daylight passing ....
As shadows took the brave,
Winter's folly tamed sweet Spring
with final coats of snow ....
and snowmen fell -- not flowers.
Before the abyss, I had it all
Letting go of all I see
My friend, I hope our time won't end
It took a short time for you to notice
Without knowing who I am
We talked, we became friends
Connecting the dots, missing every line
Connect them and figure me out
Randomly it comes your way
Underneath a never known chemistry
Ask me to stay and I may
Grinding your teeth into my way
Cut out my eyes, and store them up
A tongueless mouth, nothing to say
Maybe by tomorrow you will forget
Losing myself in my own conversation
Hiding behind my one big regret
Don't know, Don't care
You had me open up
A book I closed, knowledge lost
No need to see
A mystery called deception
What I am cannot be seen with the naked eye
Along came you using your *ucked* up perception
The ability you miss use
making sense of this connection
A process you carry with your own patterns
You asked, you listened, without making assumptions
A taste to take off my shoulders,
To release an error locked in my Asylum
I myself am enjoying the insights about him
He's got me convince, using his perception
'Rise like Lions after slumber
In unvanquishable number -
Shake your chains to earth like dew
Which in sleep had fallen on you -
Ye are many - they are few.'
From the poem: "The Mask of Anarchy" written by Percy Bysshe Shelley
how frail you seem in certain angles of light and shadow,
with your cavities,
fractured attention deficiency,
and thickening skin of apathy.
You are a victim to the plague,
playing amongst flowers filled with poison,
staring at screens to fill in the boredom
of having your young mind brimming
with over-stimulation -
information seeps in without warning,
beamed into your skull
by 360 degrees
of high-def, infra-red, wireless mobility.
24/7 programming of insidious adverts
breaches your skull in a mind-rape,
proving how the Death of a Salesman
was only a sideshow distraction
for the Kleptocracy to successfully purchase
the dark side of the moon -
control the tides,
control the mind,
buying our hearts and souls
in order to auction off our future
to the highest bids of people already dead.
yet I believe in you,
there is still hope left upon your shoulders.
You are strong,
your mind cuts like a blade.
And if you care,
if you dare,
what a significant burden for you to bare.
The time has come,
the time is ripe,
this is it,
there are no more second chances.
I pray for your success,
for you are our very last hope.
Please learn from my mistakes and failures,
absorb the goodness I have left to offer.
I tried, I truly did,
but the Hydra spat me out as a broken man.
we left seeds inside the belly of the beast
for you to survive on within.
God speed, take heed,
do not attack the Kleptocracy from the outside,
its Dragon's heads will cut you down -
will cut you down without mercy.
You must advance peacefully
with a rogue's armour of false calm,
let the machine devour you whole.
Bide your time,
survive on the leftover seeds,
dismantle the Hydra from the inside,
rewrite the program from within.
shed the tired cloak of apathy,
don the mask of alternate endings,
de-rail this present destiny.
Everything rides on you now,
everything rides on you.
The Kleptocracy broke my back,
but my mind is still intact,
and I know you can do better than I did,
believe that you can do better than we did.
I pray for your success,
pray for your safety and protection,
everything rides on you,
everything rides on you now.
December 8th, 2011
This battle brews inside me
The pain I feel in my heart ripping it apart
And my soul who wants to be redeemed
The movement of my pen beats in my chest
In my veins my words flow like the rage of rivers in storm
I’m caught in these lyrics that Awaken my soul
That cry out for eternity
Yet my heart is trodden
at times I swear it is not beating
Our hearts rose up like kindred knights ready to defend our land
but the soul was fulfilling its destiny
it would not be beaten, no matter…
it had awakened to truth
but our hearts knew only torment
and could not understand
all that was happening,
that God had a plan
so my pain exposes itself
in my thoughts manifesting to script
as it beats in my chest with a rhythmic pulse
that brings me to my knees
We had no time to prepare
Only to fight
Flailing around Hope
With all of our might
as if it were the weapon that would save us from our enemy
for that’s all we had was our sword of Hope
This battle we were not prepared for.
Like a sneak attack, it caught us in slumber
when the army of death ascended upon our world
my heart said I love you
you are my universe and life has no meaning without you
I will fight till my shallow breath abates
Till your soul takes the last blow...
And I did!
We did not surrender
We had no chance
Our hearts fought a losing battle
My awakened soul shouts out with acceptance…
“you will one day know the reason, but not now”
For this is your time to experience
what was lovingly bestowed upon you from our God,
who knows what we need
So now I write from my pain… It helps me to cope…
It is the sword I carry…
My only Hope
Soothing music playing
Gently applied to my skin
Total escape from reality
7th January 2015
Contest: Somewhere- Nette Onclaud
Checked Using How Many Syllables 6,4,7,4,9 – total 30
The hardest thing I’ve ever had to do,
Was to say I’m through with you.
Well, of course,
It was pretty hard when you refused to go to the funeral after my Father died,
And I’d hate for this relationship to end in a lie, so…
The second hardest thing I’ve ever had to do,
Was to say I’m through with you.
But, to come to think of it,
It was probably harder when I had to give Skippy away.
You know, when you made us move to Florida because you hated the cold,
I’ll never forget that day.
The third hardest thing I’ve ever had to do,
Was to say I’m through with you.
Well, not quite as hard as it was when I had that little operation,
And you decided still to take your vacation,
And left me alone in the hospital with no visitation.
That was hard.
The fourth hardest thing I’ve ever had to do,
Was to say I’m through with you.
You know, I did take it pretty hard when I proposed to you
And you said if I couldn’t buy you a bigger ring we’d be through
And I had to sell my car and hock my guitar
To get you a ring as big as a star.
That was pretty hard.
The fifth hardest thing I’ve ever had to do,
Was to say I’m through with you.
Well darn it, no!
It was hard going to school at nights and working all day
Because you didn’t want to get a job and wanted me to earn more pay.
What exactly did you do with yourself all day!?
The sixth hardest thing I’ve ever had to do,
Was to say I’m through with you.
No, its time to admit it,
I saw you with Tom that night,
And Bob the time before that,
And Tim and George, Harry and Frank.
That was hard on me and I’ve got you to thank.
The seventh hardest thing I’ve ever had to do,
Was to say I’m through with you.
Now just wait a minute!
This is not hard.
In fact this is rather easy.
The hard part was living with you,
Pretending to love you,
Pretending that you loved me,
Heck, this is easy!
The easiest thing I’ve ever had to do,
Was to say I’m through with you!
Boy that was easy!
Now I feel much better.
The hideous and the humble
Blood peppers falling snow
As world hurtles to the tipping point
Life chokes on ignited air
Wrenching love from hungry mouths
Stars fall without sound
Some weep helpless, day through night
Ever wondering how
Never knowing why ...
When I'm alone I wonder why you didn't fight for me
You get more credit for being a dad that you deserve to be
All the times you gave your word and left me standing in the rain
All the promises you broke and left my heart with pain
Even as a little child I never could understand
How you could ignore me all the time and still call yourself a man
All the times you said I love you and never backed it up
All the love you never showed and all your lack there of
I only wanted you to care, I longed for your attention
All the mistakes and problems you caused, I won't waste time to mention
I wanted you to be there for me, though you never were
So how can you still say you miss me, you've really got some nerve
Others made of for the loss of you, but it's never been the same
I now have the only man I need, I hate to even speak your name
I have someone else who makes me feel good, it will never be my dad
I just wish you would have been the father I never had
Because love is of time,
woven into the fabric where lovers dwell.
It measures caresses like floating wings from butterflies
and turns its clock hands with every melding kiss.
To be bound by a slow movement of a vanishing night,
when the moon is full and mouths dance across skin.
Time chains lovers to its moors,
anchored until the coming storm.
When flesh merges with flesh,
moved by passion,
driven by hunger, searching for a sanctuary.
As each chain is torn, a veil drops,
revealing captured fires that burn within.
Exposing a vulnerable heart, with all its scars,
Leaving a flickering shadow, where lovers once lay,
to explore their dreams.
Before being washed away by time's moving sand,
that forever dwindles.
Because love is of time.
contest Hotsy Totsy
There is a way, in time
When from Perception’s peak the world is too wide
do the Vertigos shut their eyes
where idle men are bad men and all
their thoughts combine into machines
And out of means ends produce new worlds
with narrow eyes
Come, narrow views
Where the vistas are ripe,
there is food for all
the Dramatis Personae
It is a great opera
And many are the houses
The houses are full of people
Give them a part – a place –
where the voices echo – echo – echo –
and happy are the players
who gather the echoes
Resplendent Conductors, rise
in all their finery, eye
When the batons fall, best start
The run, major
The play is
It is beginning
The spilling! The spilling!
And nowhere to run but the funnel
A tunnel of blood
And the blood is the play, the lot and the thing,
and the thing is the matter
- A. H. Sewell 02.23.2015
Forgive me my love for the hurtful words
I hurled from my mouth time and time again
Forgive me for letting you down
for in your time of need I was never around
Forgive me for the long nights
for all the constant fights
Forgive me for the innoncence I took away
for all the help I kept at bay
And lastly forgive me for being anything other than
a loving and caring husband
Thank you for being patient,
Thank you for understanding I'm human, after all.
Forgive me for all the mischievous prank calls.
Much of what I said and done, was out of fun.
Now, I sit on this rocking chair getting old.
Reminiscing over the beauty and honor it has been
Passing this land we call "EARTH."
Reminiscing over the beauty and honor, yes-------------- REMINISCING!
Sorry if I repeat the same beat a thousand times....
You see, I sit here every day thinking this world is mine....
Trying not to forget, who I truly AM.
Every moment there has ever been or ever will be,
Finally is taking a toll on every single feeling and memory.
Time, Yes------------------ TIME!
The wrinkles on my face will never describe how many birthdays I celebrate.
The wrinkles on my face are stories reminding my readers,
Where I've been and come from.
How consistent, and fortunate I've been,
Babbling about my past, present, and future;
The only advantage of the word "TIME."
-- It helps fade hurting moments away--
You see, time is the essence of memories.
"Growing from young into old, was not as easy as it sounds."
Please be patient with, Wait! I said that already....
Thank you for understanding what I’m going through.
Please just listen, please, be patient with what's burning deep down inside.
It's almost dinner time --once again, I mention the word "TIME!"
I'm not hungry right now, the food just isn't the same when fed through a straw.
Besides, have you seen the garments ''they'' have me wearing.
Never thought I'd live to see myself in old-fashioned nightgowns.
Time keeps adding silver to what used to be pretty reddish brown hair.
Time what have you done to me?
Please excuse if I can't work a remote or function the TV properly.
What has happened to simple technology,
When everything came with only "ON and OFF" buttons.
Try to understand what I’m going through, my legs never felt this tired before.
I can't seem to keep myself on the same path,
I lose track of time when navigation issues on my own.
Take my hand, lead the way and understand I can't see as before.
Time, please allow the joy to take its time when my end is near.
Thank you, Time, for all the loving moments we shared
Thank you, Time and please be kind and end my life with love.
End my life with love-----
End my life with love-----
Wait..... I said that already....
Thanks for having patience.
The Little Old Lady Across the Street
It was a long time ago, in another age
Where the shifting of the wind
Knew where I began
A place so far away,
Somewhere distant, in childhood country
Before the fog had set in,
Before time lost all trace of me
Where have they gone?
Those merry dancers with whom I played?
When we were queens of the carnival, kings of the parade?
Before being dethroned to mid-life corners
Hearing the music, without playing the drums
They tell me to take this age with grace
Yet everywhere I turn, is young
I'm still the same, I have not changed
I lived a time where love was wild and thoughts were too
With high regard, when eyes were glued
Now inside I'm torn in two...the old and the new
Trapped between this nowhere place
Myself and someone else
Until each barrier becomes a bridge...
Have I been shaped too square by passing years, to fit in circle's place?
My memory recalls those beautiful tomorrows
Now long buried in yesterday's ground
There are other ways to measure time
Besides growing older and graying hair
Recorded music fills the room
Left playing from an earlier time
When October skies showed fading traces
Of empty days and sad old faces
The "others" of whom I had no fear
Now those shadowed remnants from my past
Are stalking at my heels
Will somebody care to ask? Will anyone need my mind?
Will they patronize, or just be kind?
Care enough, make me useful, give me value, call me beautiful?....
Not yet the age I'll someday be
Still, I feel the sting of losing me
How I ache for all those love songs
How I ache for someone needing, someone pleading...
For advice....for my worth, for an answer, will they want me?
How it haunts me.....Will they see me?
Touching me....reminding me of who I am................not just who I was...
Because I am the only one!
I can never be no one, because I am the only one!
Who is that unique me that's replaceable by none!
You say you could easily replicate me as my clone!
But it wouldn't be a real me, only one mere drone!
I am bonded into relationships with my kith and kin!
That wouldn't be just the same even if I had a twin!
I think and feel like no other does, you like it or not!
I have left my mark on the world, a soft sweet spot!
If I weren't there, a difference it would surely make!
What I have said and done, no one could ever fake!
When I am no more there, I might be soon forgotten!
I'd be woven in the thread of time, as a wisp of cotton!
The seeking eyes would always find me in my imprints!
Connect and my eternal presence will give you my hints!
I was there when we were created, I will be there forever!
Times and places would change, my identity would never!
So let us treasure each other as one of a kind, just as we are!
We all shine in the galaxy of creation, each one of us is a star!
Why should then we think of becoming adversaries not friends?
When we're paintings of the same colors in our distinct blends!
Let us live in eternal peace, whoever and wherever we may be!
Because we know we are are the only ones, whether you or me!
Poetry by Dr. Asghar Nazeer (LinkedIn profile http://sa.linkedin.com/in/drasgharnazeerlinkedinprofile)
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sometimes i talk to myself,
my mind is racing,
i dont know what to do...
so hard to explain.
depression isn't a stage
or a faze some kids go through
it shatters you...
i saw it all.
she cried silent in her bed,
blood stains covered her favorite jeans,
her every shirt,
long sleeve ofcourse...
she suffered through it all with few people to call friend
and more to call enemy
even more to say where quite dissappointed....
her first name in school,
not started by a bully
or a mean rival,
but by her sister,
and it echoed through her soul,
repeating in her mind... over and over again,
like the ripples of still water
when a pebble is dropped
flash frozen in time
over and over again...
It was the first name they gave her,
millions where created over the years,
some repeating again, just as the first had..
gothic they called her,
emo, fat, ugly....worse things.
but in her mind, things where worse.
everything was repeating,
over and over again,
finally she believed it.
she asked for help, from everyone
tried to explain to parents she wasnt well,
got called a psycho for asking to see a theripist,
not from a teacher,
not from a class mate,
but from her own father, who wouldn't, couldn't,
believe there could possibly be a thing wrong....
finally, crying, she confessed her bloody secret to a teacher.
rather then giving her time,
she is sent back to class crying her eyes out, as if she wherent going through enough...
she is sent to the principals office a few minutes later, after breaking down in class...
the princlipal says she needs help,
sends her and her dad for a risk evaluation,
her dads crying as she shows him her cuts...
they walk into a hospital room,
it smells of chemicals and hand sanitizer,
the lady at the desk gives her a smile.
then she goes into a room with a lady,
her cheeks are sunken in and shes wearing way too much makeup,
the girl is gaging on her perfume,
and she looks really intimidating....
her dark brown hair looks dead and flat
even though its a bit wavy,
and she wears somewhat of a mocking frown.
asks her all these questions,
is mommy beating her?
is daddy raping her?
is she doing drugs?
is anyone beating her?
did anyone molest her?
oxcarbezapine, trazadone, citalipran, clinazapam, colonipan,
valium, lithium, more.......
and thats what they gave her,
some numbed the pain
some brought it out
tearing through her organs,
she became an addict by the time she was fourteen....
over dose after over dose
some for pleasure
some for pain,
gashes on her legs getting deeper,
this time she didnt tell a soul,
not even those she had come to call friends....
wakeup she screamed in her head over and over again
as she dropped weight like it was nothing....
you cant controll it she argued as things became worse.
at age fourteen she attempted suicide,
she didnt quite succeed.
the medication took away her aappitite....
she liked it
she hated her body
felt out of controll
found a new way to cope
as she shoved tooth brush after toothbrush down her throat
to keep her body from nuitrients...
as she whent weeks and weeks spitting food into napkins and making excuses
I ate at my friends house....
spoken as a whisper
heard like a sentance
echoing in her mind over and over again,
along with that word, all the words,
ugy, anoying, stupid, fake, worthless, nothing...
one bite she would say
rocking back and forth
craving nothing but food
her body racked with hunger pain
one bite and there she was again
over and over and over again
back to a toothbrush
this time she sees blood
she saw her ribs
she saw her bones,
it wasnt good enough,
she almost died, again....
choking on this deep dissappointment in herself,
gaging on everything they where pushing down her throat,
their words, and their insults, their criticism.... their drugs
all shoved down her throat like candy
and just as she was was trained to do she swallowed despite the bad taste
or the hurt
or the fact that at the rate she was going she would be dead soon...
and you know why?
because daddy yelled
and couldnt accept what was happening
not because he wanted to hurt her
but because it hurt him,
and she let him believe,
because she could take the hurt if it meant he didnt have too.
because mommy didnt want to sit in her room all day
practically having us raise ourselves,
she didnt mean to take anger, or frustration or hurt out on her daughter
she suffered everyday in her solitary confinement,
and from a young age she accepted her bedroom was the cage
her mother had created for herself.
because sister didnt want to effect her the way she did
she was just frustrated
fed up with the way things where
scared, she needed someone to take her cruelty
and to help heal her pain...
because people in school
who where so cruel
had to have learned from somewhere
and she wasnt going to play into their games,
and they knew she was an easy target
because she would never attack someone so weak
and she accepted her suffering was a sacrafice
to help all these people....
to help her dad,
every person who was beaten abused or hurt
and felt so weak at home they wanted to feel strong in the one safe place they had.
because depite the fact she had died inside,
and almost passed away on the out,
it was a saccrafice she was willing to make
so that no one else would have to feel that kind of pain,
and they all inflicted it and broke her down'untill there was nothing left but a shell
of somthing that could have been
and never had the chance
because she would take it and wouldnt strike back,
because sometimes "just taking it"
isnt so much about the weakness not to do anything
but about the strangth not to hurt others the way they hurt you...
Sometimes I am happy, sometimes I am sad.
Sometime I sing, sometimes I stammer
Sometimes I dance on the music of my soul, Sometimes I dance on the fingers of
one single person
Sometimes I expect so much from others; sometime I myself can’t meet my own
Sometime I make fun of others and feel bad later, sometimes life makes fun of me
and I smile
Sometime I win and sometimes I lose, sometimes I don’t even understand whether I
won or lost.
Sometimes I laugh as if whole world is with me,
Sometimes I cry as if I am alone wandering in a strange land
Sometimes I give up so easily
Sometimes I work so hard that no one can stop me to achieve what I want
Sometimes I am dynamic person, who wants to change the world,
And sometimes I am a kid who expects anyone to embrace him tightly.
Sometimes I feel happy about the achievement of my enemy
Sometime I feel dejected with my own success.
Sometimes I help others and show them the right path
Sometimes I feel totally helpless and don’t know where to go
Sometimes I ask god to please give my past back
Sometimes I pray to show me the way forward
Life is composed of SOMETIMES and I just flow with that.
U admit or not but you are also sailing on the same boat.
So join me and enjoy it EVERYTIME as SOMETIMES life is very short!
(A sad point of view)
I can't believe he has to be a poet
To tell you how he feels
Maybe he does not know it
Words written on paper don't really heal
Do not tell her you are sorry
When your apology is not real
To be or not to be?
That is the question you should really ask.
The man should never call himself a poet
Unless he has lived, learn, lost, and gained it all back
The man who writes good poetry
In my eyes is a man of art
He can paint you anything without a paintbrush
This is the man I call no poet, with a colorful heart
Using all his manly skills
He is way ahead of the ordinary man
Leaving the imagination, filling the soul with chills
He is like the woman who leaves you all aroused
(A sad point of view.)
While the woman swims in her own drown.
She finds herself helpless to suffering worlds.
Without a man she thinks she is lost, nowhere to be found.
The secret of the female is
When she is heart broken
She thinks life is over
Little at the time she knows
Once a woman feels
She gets right back up to be a lady
When the time calls
The lady is stronger than ever
One thing I learned about a lady
You better respect her
Don't destroy her better days
She will crumble you up for sure
If the lady says she is a poet
Than a poet in her
I will never insult a lady
She will crush you where it hurts
A real lady knows how to control her man
A lady knows how to keep her emotional words real
But the woman needs to grow
Stop trying to be something she's not
In time she will know
To give it her best shot
I will praise myself and say
"Woman always come and go."
A poet, she can act and play
With fake words that have no flow
This is my demo to all poetry freaks
Keep it real!!
A thousand steps in between
who I was and who I am now
do I wonder about the detours?
do I wish I took the dirt road instead?
Would my path have been smoother if I said no instead of yes?
Would the worries have been less then what they are today?
I guess I’ll never know,
unless I go back in time
choose a different path
choose the least attractive offer and run with it
pipe dreams that is all my journey back in time would be
‘cause I would not have met you
and you would not be reading these words....
Everything in life boils down to an immaculate plan,
it may not be my ideal plan or yours
but in the end the voyage continues
whether we want to or not…
‘Cause it is all part of the bigger picture
in that image is your life and mine...
We just got to embrace the journey
no matter how uncertain it might be...
Contest: Anything Goes
"to hold, as 'twere, the mirror up to nature" William Shakespeare, Hamlet, 1601
forest dwellers born before Christ’s time on Earth
spreading arms to lofty heights
dwellings provided in hollow, cave-like trunks
wrap your spirit in the redwood cocoon
feel the cool, dark air
refreshing body and spirit
refuge from summer’s heat
speak to me, redwood tree,
tell me of times past
when Native Americans cherished the land
and Jesus preached in Galilee
out of body, one with the redwood
journeying through history
living in a time tunnel
where past meets present
trees that know what man has forgotten
ancient tribes with sacred values
surviving earth-changing cataclysms
surrounding us with secrets to share
if we dare
this broad, mystical expanse
by Carolyn Devonshire
for Constance’s “The Tree” Contest
April 21, 2011
I was told by wisdom that to know loneliness is to know oneself.
She said to be alone is essence.
In that, you do not misuse this time with heartache but seek a greater way.
I have experience this kind of direst.
Through the lack of unity, I became distressed.
Being alone became a form of harmony with the world.
My knowledge grew via my worldview becoming skewed.
I was given knowledge via the face of loneliness.
He told me to hold my head-up because anyone can make a mistake.
It is not to be unaccompanied from the world’s marketplace.
However, this is a time to gain insight unaided.
I was told by my own wisdom that sometimes anyone needs space.
Through this knowledge, I am alone but I am not lonely today.
Penned On November 16, 2014!
The soul whom the Son sets free
is free indeed,
Unlocking the rusting shackles
Allowing life’s amazing grace
to shine with His embrace,
Transformation of soul’s darkness
to light’s brightness,
The uplifting revelation of God’s
truth of freedom,
His extraordinary and infinite power
shining love every hour,
Preservation and hope for life
His love abound, no strife
How sweet the sound—
Wrapped in His embrace
Singing Amazing Grace!
17th Place Honorable Mention/Certificate
Poetry Soup's International Poetry Contest
July 1, 2007
This dance feels resurrected
Right down to the cherry stains on your sleeve
And the tapestries that look like iron will
But are really shadows cleverly woven to imply it.
I can not see here
The lights are too low
But sometimes things are better seen
When lit by the lanterns of the mind instead.
They look brighter
Closer to real
Than real could ever be.
We were here once before
A thousand years ago give or take a century.
I spoke with a carnelian tongue
You tasted like pomegranate seeds.
Going back there again
Carrying that same tune
I lost my breath
You gave me yours
You held me
"The clock is a useless tool, measuring mortality,
narrowing vitality. Don't let it tick-tock away the waning moments
and fine components of your final days." (last stanza of Heather Ober's "Clocks")
A brand new day
Tick tock tick tock
You grow, you learn
You take that walk
To get your fine diploma
Fond friends get left behind
Blink one eye
To keep a tear at bay
Tick tock tick tock
You get a job
Or first you go to college
Find a mate and settle down
Tick tock tick tock
So soon your first child’s prom!
Blink both your eyes
Try not to cry
Tick tock tick tock
A grandchild’s birth
And then a whole lot more
Folks you used to know
Have passed away
Tick tock tick tock
Blink back those tears
Of joy and pride
And also tears of pain
Tick tock tick tock
For the good and for the bad
You must adapt
Or fade. . . . . .
Tick tock tick tock
Sit back in your recliner
And simply close your weary eyes
There will be no more tears
To blink away
For Tracie Edwards' Homage Poetry Contest
I seen you there
As I was walking through
And I really must say
You are the form of true beauty
As I whisper my prayers to God
I whispered for someone like you
I see Him there in your eyes
If you take that chance on me
I would fall to my knees for you
We could truly become something
As the angels whisper in God's ear
I can see my future in your eyes
We could be the start of something
To last us a life time or two
No doubt there are many who
Want to get next to you
I'm also sure you can pick
And choose whomever you want
You are classic beauty personified
Angels were singing as God molded you
God colored outside the lines this time
Some would say you are the spark
That lights up the fires within
For God must have sent you to bring
The light with you for all the world to see
I hear the angels sing as I look into your eyes
I could hold you in my heart for a lifetime or two
You are a dream coming into my life just for me
A tall glass of water on a parched throat you are
Can you tell me do you feel as I do ~ can you love me too !
Through drowsy quivers of wired thoughts
I lose an hour in the morning
to parry every second of vengeance,
as if to hasten my night rituals
from the unrelenting pace of dawn-break…
and as tunnels honk, my eyes forget
to relish the yellow buds-in- waiting.
Again, Mr. Time… you steal my fresh hours
while my soul wanders far beyond
a metered compass for a rendezvous
with my day’s free- flowing motion.
Now, my hands crave to make love
with the softness of earth’s clay
or bathe in a camphor sun, lapping a wind.
Oh Thief, my being dwells not in impatient
rattling… but as minutes pass like a wire
stealing my leisure, your rigid ticks
are not mine to rent or borrow.
I obey such demand,
just this one time.
Rob Carmack's Screwed ll Challenge
`` This was entered in a contest
posted 2/19/2015 for saving time.
It received an N/A despite a good number
of members' favorite count
A time for many a part-time passion, like
the discarded skin of Esprit jeans and low-hip waistline
baring pierced navel with flavor of a chase on the run…
would he dare confess real love as the world tolled
for Lady Diana and Charles?
You with me… moon to sun, fire to burn our eyes…
I swing on an illusion and steal the time away,
a drooling tease enticing a game of chase
that rustles along a Mustang’s back seat, while
some 8-CD tract pleads, "Do you think I’m sexy,’’
dipping in steams of instant affection.
How deep-cheeked your thrills, laying
on weeds with a killer smile
like Indiana Jones , knocking me
off-balance: and I, a fool ignoring the pain
that you may never Stand By Me,
never in blinks of thousand stars,
a recycled tune melting in the sand…
but life changes ; now you’re just ozone’s hole.
I wrap the scenes along the Route 25,
as bittersweet time passes by. Alone.
Kelly Deschler's Decades Contest
``Do You Think I'm Sexy
and Stand By Me-- top 80s songs
The tears continued to bottle,
all the time I was with you.
the heart wrenching broken chains,
you kept putting me through.
The bottle continually grew,
salt infused tears dripping to the top.
As time went on
the bottle never went away.
It continued to sit there,
slowly dripping on the scars left
from the pain.
The salt burned my soul,
letting it hard to let go,
continuing to make the scars
never grow old.
As the bottle began to overflow
into my darkened soul,
I couldn't keep the tears in,
it shattered deep in my heart.
The tears poured across my skin,
causing the pain to grow and grow,
all I could do to get rid of it
was to embrace the pain I felt.
Let this fester to a new world in my mind;
let the anger from the disappointment grow.
As the moment snapped,
the time stood still for one moment's release.
Freedom now I feel!
The moment's consequences were worth it,
the bottle will never refill,
and forever cracked it will be.
My tears will never drop,
because you will never contact me!
Thank God that I have been set free!
I remember you
cartoon smile and egg-shaped head.
Do you remember
how the rainbow formed on the water,
how the neon lights flickered,
or the scent of nectarines on your forehead?
They were happy to see for the first time
behind glass window,
between speaker box voices --
untouched collector’s item,
you shiny new contraption,
star of the play,
hero of the hour,
flavor of the season.
Seed of your father,
soil of your mother.
Fruit of love,
fruit of conflict.
Are you accident,
Bough in the river,
wrenched in the current.
Hand reaching for hand,
hand holding your own.
Bedlam baby with the guilty smile
do you remember
how you would not fracture the mullioned frame,
how you could not shatter porcelain,
or how you hid in changing alleys?
I will save you
you will save me.
My hand in yours.
I am the boat
you are the journey.