I called upon yonder window
That was up to high for me to be
For my maiden gracefully sleeps there
In her bed,beside the sea
I asked her to come hither
For her beautiful face I yearned to see
Twas yawning in the morning dew
As she slowly came to the window for me
To my amazement came forth a ragged wench
Whos hair was as raged as the sea
With eyes that were burnt as nightposts
To bloodshot and squinty to even see
For this was not my fair maiden?
Whos beauty would forever be
But a drunken harlot who came hither
That she spent the night with instead of me
My heart now broken to pieces
Wondering how could this tragedy be?
For my maiden now sleeps with a harlot?
Without the love that she once gave to me?
My mind was now enraged
So I dashed for the wrestling sea
With thoughts of drowning this useless body
That's no longer good enough for my maiden to see
With water just over waist height
And a large wave about to crash over me
I heard a calling from yonder window
Twas my beautiful maiden as I turned to see
Her beautiful eyes in such distress
Her beautiful hair flowing so care free
Twas the beauty of my fair maiden
That I had called upon yonder window to see
For the thoughts that raced through my mind
Evidently,weren't truely what happend to be
For it was her promiscuous sister
Who had come from the other side of the sea
My heart now rebuilt with a sigh of love
A large wave suddenly crashes over me
The last thing I saw was my fair maiden
As my lifeless body is carried out by the sea
Copyright © Dan Kearley
You are one of the reasons
Why they inflate their quote
If you had seized the seasons
Good men could have had your vote
You are one of the reasons
Why our sweet land has gone sour in waste
Here is one of your multiple treasons
You aid corruption just to suit your taste
You are one of the reasons we wedge weighty wrath
Bombs daily detonate like fickle fireworks far north
You decided to do nothing but shut your mouth
So they took our weary sail south
You are one of the reasons the land is inflicted with rape
Overflowing in abundance yet you mong like a greedy ape
Alas our land is grey and old but not due
And it hurts me to know that I am also you.
Copyright © Chukwuemeka Mbah
im livin in a world, where all eyes on me.
trying to curve my own route.
but route 66 keeps finding its way to me.
ive been plenty sick, in all the events layed before me.
even when i reflect to my lowest points
i dont regret any of the choices
That I’ve deployed in my era
A lot of it by error, but hey
We live in hell conditions and there ain’t no air condition
Or any guidelines when life throws you in the sidelines
But when hindsight twenty twenty hits
You’ll begin to understand life’s a bunch of equations and you in the mix of it
An you’ll have to think twice, before running into a situation and becoming the best of it
it’s what got me here, it’s what got us here
Ran with my thoughts blazing up to her place and
Guess what happened next
She opened up heaven’s gate
And just before late I slipped out
I’m a Grown ass man
Doin his thing, waitin to blow up like an old land mine
In doin what he drools over
But time after time
Something decides to creep up and cover the light
Lost my way
Then I revoked to ever know, I ever thought that way
But in the in between time, that in the mean time
Spent a lot of time
Gettin pissed off just to medicate and lift off
Don’t need Don Perion to sip off
Already had my way with the bottle
Even thought to get back with the trouble and rejoin the hustle
That’s just what happens to a man who really knows his old ways
Whos tired of making ends meet and ponders getting back to the streets.
Memory sets in and he remembers an O.G. saying
No matter how tall your pockets stand when you ball
Eventually times gonna make you fall
And I as I pull myself together
I don’t wanna end up like the twin towers rubble
I mean no offence to nine eleven but at that time I probably could have used a reverend
But all that’s irrelevant now
because i live with a different perspective now
there you go you made it to the end :-) comment if you like, constructive criticism wanted as well.
Copyright © pat roswell
“Coffins. Who’d of thought it? Catalogues for coffins. And the speed and efficient nature of funerals in general. I mean I know we’ve been doing them for years, but we’re very good at it aren’t we?”
“No, but really the whole thing has just been one task after the other, call the funeral home, call the hospital, call the crematorium, call the family, call the papers, call the lawyers.” She paused, “I’d half-forgotten someone had died!”
“And the things that always seemed like jokes – he always said he thought he should hedge his bets with the man upstairs just in case the religious folks got it right, but was that serious?”
“And the funeral director, oh the funeral director trying to tactfully ask if he was a fat man, by asking if we needed one urn or two.”
“I mean the whole thing is just too funny.”
At the funeral everyone cried.
Copyright © lex treenie
Oh lonely Inevitable Bear,
Padding claws, death in white
Sorrow in recurring nightmare
Instinct’s test; fight or flight?
Camouflage against the fence,
A challenge; my subconscious fear
Ominous slowly moving silence,
“Let me in, there’s a bear out here!”
Copyright © Dan Keir
If its money I got its money ill keep.
If its money I have its money ill weep.
If its love that I give its love ill receive.
For I am but no one who just see's beneath.
Some say your only as strong as you feel, but how could we change..in a place that's so unreal. People are hearing but..not really hearing. Why is the world so blind. I keep on screaming and screaming and screaming for things to be revolutionized. I am just a small song in a world full of cries, laughter, tears and french-fries.
Copyright © Sam Ruby
Prolific, I guess that’s me
I read a poem by ilene Baur
Prolific, she called it
I saw myself right in those words
And it made me smile a bit
Then I asked myself this question
Why do I write so much?
Each time a subject comes along
My busy mind to touch….
Then I just grab a pencil
And a poem is written down
I guess it’s my addiction
I just hope that folk don’t frown
And say ‘Oh no! Not him again
Each time they see my stuff
I guess if I was in their shoes
I’d say “hey that’s enough!!!”
So bear with me good people
And If I cause you grief
By writing all these empty words
Then you may gain relief
By passing everything I write
Not reading it at all
And yet I hope this is not so
When you comment, it’s real cool.
8 August 2013 @ 0940hrs.
Copyright © Peter Duggan
Behin' bared doors, beneath yer floors,
in cozy dens and caverns deep
y'll find me der down under de stair
where gutter rats scamper and silverfish sleep.
"Who can I be, hmmmm let me see.
I be a thief Good Grief!"
On to Ol' Town's docks walks Goldylocks
decked in de heights a fashion
in 'er purse I peeks, I rummage, I sneaks
discoverin' coin for me passion!
Den off to de park fer another mark,
I grimace and frown appearin de clown
Whilst signin' for de gang we makes a plan
ta break all de rules in de 'ole damn town.
Soon der's a tussel wid all of dis muscle
den me fingers kin creep in 'is pockets deep
grabbin' the loot I's trained ye see
yet, what I find i donna na keep.
Who can I be, hmmmm let see,
I be a thief Good Grief!
At Marchant's Oak near Fayrin's rest
Down forest paths,through high grass
I stalk de traders, cause I loves dem best
Why let me see who can I be so crass?
Who can I be, hmmmm let see,
I be a thief Good Grief!
But surin what I find I will na keep
Dough stealing be me duty,
I'll give ye back whats in yer pack
Fer I be an Honorable beauty.
And if per chance ye needs a hand
Wid opening treasure boxes cutie..
Donna get smart wid some other tart
who'll walk off wid yer booty!
Just 'ave a cheer fer I be 'ere
~Honoravillana at yer duty!
Dis 'err piece a work be dedicated to de Raven ‘aired beauty
name of Constance La France
Copyright © Debbie Guzzi
I woke up this morning with hair spiking
With a comb I tried to comb it down
It was so frustrating and not very striking
With odd looking expressions I felt like a clown
So today I sat down on my chair
This will be the time of day
With gel in my hand I declare
I will put my hair down if it will stay
I was joking to myself so fluster I was
My hair did not stay down instead
The gel so sticky I stop because
I was in a panic I almost had tear shed
This morning I felt so confused
Even my cloths did not match
I almost blew my fuse
Because today I hit a patch
I finally got my hair to stay down in a way
With a smile I put a hat this will be O.K.
Fluster with Humor (3-29-13)
By: Reynaldo L. Mast
Copyright © Reynaldo Mast
I looked out side to find a nice day in the month of May
And was walking in the evening just to say
I almost cried and my hands got cold
And winter month got so bold
It was so frustrating and out of the norm
And each person in their heart had a storm
It's the month of May what the! happen to spring
And my headache began to ring
Most people on the first day of May was so happy
And now they look out on the second day sappy
I just want everyone to know it is May 2, 2013
And nothing should be in between
So pullout your snow shovels in dismay
And things you should know will be okay
So good morning to all and to all a good morning
And I just want you to be out their in a warning
The snow is at six inches and beyond
And you will not see green grass in dawn
I help myself by writing this poem
And I will be staying at home
Crazy the weather became bad in May and nasty
I brought out some of my snack and that was tasty
I just looked outside while I was eating
As the snow kept on beating
Copyright © Reynaldo Mast
I do not know?
Sheba sat upon a leaf.
There began my morning grief.
For when I checked on him today
he hadn't moved since yesterday.
I shook the plant.
His body bobbed.
Panic set in as my heart sobbed.
I bit my lip.
I hid my pain.
Now, I must flush him down the drain.
Not wanting to react too soon,
I poked him with a metal spoon.
Not a fin twitched;
a second poke.
Alas! Sheba abruptly woke.
He darted off in a hurried swim.
Then glared at me for poking him.
I screamed in shock,
"I thought you were dead!
You stupid fish! Go back to bed!"
And as I sighed with great relief,
Sheba returned to his favorite leaf.
Copyright © Danielle Kathleen Thompson
Here lies my old pal Michael,
His spirit set free by wind,
because the storm which kicked his bucket,
trapped the poor old git within,
A Scotsman by his name,
and a carpenter by trade,
should of built yourself s door mate,
to stop the barn which caved you in.
I love you Bic.
Copyright © lew Jay