There she stands
Centre stage for all to see
Tall and slender
Precariously she balances.
I reach out for her
Draw her to me
My hand skims her body
Slowly reaching her skirt.
Playful fingers find hidden areas
Delighted her legs spring forth
Displaying the very beauty
Of her delicately adorned skirt.
Gaily she dances around
Dizzily twisting and turning
In the brightness of day shading
She gently tends to my needs.
Personal ballerina takes to toes leaping
Merrily bobbing up and down
As emotional to her performance
Clouds cry a thousand tears for her.
Reaching our destination
Slightly shaken, she leans
Watches me quietly drips
Against the wall.
Reminiscent of the day's fulfillment
We acknowledge one another silently
Restful knowing we shall be
One once more.
Not many see,
What it is to be free.
What it is to amount,
To make every day count.
Everything has a story,
Though the place your at you say is boring.
There's more behind this rundown town.
From the highest mountian,
To the streets unfound.
Where children once played,
And by their side their parents stayed.
Where the sky may not shine as bright,
But to every darkness there's light.
Where the creature's of the world find home,
While your complaining that the air's too cold.
When you're strong, it shows,
Planing each day as it goes.
Smiling and helping whoever you can,
Instead of moping about how much you hate this land.
You can't change the way the trees sway,
You can't change what's already gone away.
But the beauty of the world can take you in,
Make you see beauty like you should have when your life began.
When you start to appreciate the little things,
Like the crickets chirping,
And the songs birds sing.
You'll find all you needed has been there all along,
Only then you'll see where happiness comes from.
If to see is to believe,
Then there's belief all around.
From the starry night sky,
To the flowers on the ground.
So many find pleasure in all the wrong things,
Humanity has overcome,
Yet still falls apart at the seams.
We're so focused in on money and gold,
Before we know it our life has no meaning,
Our skin becomes cold.
It's never too late,
And you're never too near or far.
To make the best of things,
And be happy where you are.
I am the spirit of satin stardust
and the antiquities of golden memories alive
I call to you from the rising warmth of the sun
and greet you in the misty morning light
I am the steady and rolling drum beat
echoing from the jagged heights above
I am the mysterious curves of the raging waters'
and the freedom birds of love
I rise above the white summer clouds
in lilting songs of grace
and roam with the western tail-winds
to take you home again
I am a Spirit of our gracious Lord God Almighty
of love hope and faith
I have come to tell
Dedicated To P.D.
John Weaver 2000 (Emily has cerebral palsy)
Her room is not the sort of room you’d quite expect to find
For a little girl whose love of life is clear
No toys or games or bats or balls, or fun things of that kind
No bicycle or skateboard will appear
But the little piece of crumpled silver paper
It's very cheerful and bright with pictures everywhere
A pump to feed her through the night and a big adapted chair
Though pretty dolls sit on the shelf and teddies on her bed
She cannot play with them herself so she holds them tight instead
And the little piece of crumpled silver paper
It was Christmas day some years ago with excitement in the air
When we opened her presents and then found
That she couldn’t play with them and it didn’t seem quite fair
That she would always be so cruelly bound
To a life without the toys that all children adore
And then we heard a new sound that meant so much more
A crackle from the little piece of crumpled silver paper
The expensive gifts didn’t matter to this special little girl
Her joy came from quite another caper
As the parcels and the packaging slowly started to unfurl
All she wanted was the silver wrapping paper
You see, she could grasp it tight to make a funny noise instead
And so it fast became a dear friend
And she holds it close beside her even when she goes to bed
And the lesson to be learned is, in the end…
Happiness is not always found in gifts so big and costly
And often simple things can bring the joy you need
Contentment is a state of mind and the choice is yours mostly
To be content with what you’ve got and with every little deed
Or, to always be in want and never satisfied
And so for me the real belief will never taper
That the truth of life is clear and very closely tied
To the little piece of crumpled silver paper.
A flock of Christmas doves
carried a turquoise veil
through a white winter sky
and found a willow tree
weeping and alone
in the cold of a December day
The veil was pinned in the sky
and twenty five doves
alit in the bare branches
so the tree was no longer alone
as it listened to the song
of the doves in the chilled morning air..
Lately I've been thinking of the past I don't know why.
Past memories only make me cry.
Sometimes I hold so much inside.
Carefully in my heart they will be forgotten and a place to hide.
So many wounds and unhealed scars.
Damaged and wrecked like a compact car.
I read the bible as a escape from my nightmares.
In my sleep I grit my teeth and pull my hair.
Sometimes I wish these memories would go away.
To the Lord Jesus I pray that they will disappear.
It's been four years of not living in fear.
Sometimes we have to let go the past to move forward.
That's not being weak or a coward.
That is life we either keep living or give up.
So keep your head up.
By John Weaver
Whenever I dream of my little girl she runs and shouts and plays
Like all the other children in all their boisterous ways
I see her skip, I see her trip; I hear her laugh and cry
Then when she’s had her fun, home she’ll run and into my arms she’ll fly
With a great big hug and a teasing tug, she’ll cuddle me close and say
‘Daddy I love you heaps and heaps’ in her cheeky little way.
Whenever I dream of my little girl, she’s healthy, fit and well
With eyes alight and a smile so bright it’s really hard to tell
That my dream is a wish and a longing, a hope for something new
For her life to be one that is normal and able-bodied too.
But then I awake and I have to forsake my dream for what is true
That she cannot walk and she cannot talk like the other children do
That she cannot shout and skip about and cuddle me close and say
The things she desperately wants to, yet in her own special way…
Instead she talks to me with her eyes and reassures me with her smile
That all is well and I can tell that she’s happy all the while
Knowing that one day in some magical way, we’ll play together and scheme
And sing and shout and skip about…in an everlasting dream.
UNDER THIS RED UMBRELLA
The rain did not stop us romantically.
Our love was to be enjoyed.
Life span was our imagery.
We are young adults in love.
We walked in an embrace.
We talked about family and friends.
We were unity of togetherness in this scene.
I looked away shortly and saw others doing the same.
That momentary endeavor drew his attention as well.
He leaned forward with protection so that I would not get wet.
This red umbrella glisten from the night lights as we stroll through the park.
The tree leaves were wet; this was autumn.
Good spirits were in optimistic to longevity.
The red umbrella reflects the leaves of the trees as it does my man’s adoration of me.
Under this red umbrella are images of love!
User Name: Verlena S. Walker –
Nom De Plume: Oblivion Dark Sunshine
Sponsor: Leonora Galinta
Personification of Lovers done for Poem with a theme of "Umbrella" Free Poetry Contest
Entry Date: March 22, 2014
If you should ever see me cry, it is not because I am
Weak...it is because my eyelids are heavy from holding in all
The pain in me...I have eyes to see the things I am supposed to
see...Jesus died on a cross...the tears he weep was for
me...I have the strength of all the king men!...and that
alone makes me a STRONG WOMAN! I have a gift that was given to me, and that is my passion for writing. My inspiration that burns inside of me...I write from my heart and from the things I have seen, therefore my wisdom made me the woman I am now, and many before me...my life path has been written out for me...and that's my motivation that guides me.
Sweet silence of a Sunday morn,
The world of weekday chaos shorn,
Not even the honking of a horn
As traffic idled,
Held back by the arms of the Law,
Impelled to wait, with tempers raw,
Stewing in the sun's hot maw,
And as I stood outside a shop,
Wondering why the world had stopped,
Out of the stillness came a "flop",
A sound so faint.
Repeated with a steady beat,
Approaching from the small side street,
Till into view, with flapping feet -
A sight so quaint -
Emerged a plodding mother duck,
Welded to her scrambling pack,
Never once e'en glancing back
To take a tally!
(Which baby duck would ever fail
To follow close on mother's tail
When upon the pilgrim trail,
Or dare to dally?)
A Moses on full purpose bent,
No glance to right or left she lent
As straight across the road she went,
To lead her brood
Down into the flowing stream,
Where ducks may swim and ducks may dream,
Safe from the ire and hissing steam
Of traffic queued.
And did she realize her luck
On reaching the promised land, Ma Duck?
That out of danger she'd been plucked,
By humans saved?
For some observant soul in sight
Had soon foreseen approaching plight
And brought the police upon the site
To part the waves!
Beautiful ones are dying/
Directors on silent the film is sponsored by reality/
Voiceovers turn into scandals not propensity /
Actors with no clue they get glued in life's show their future is screwed/
Born raged their actions are so real/
Kill or be killed quest between scenes/
Poverty is more than the defining moment screams/
Hunger bleeding dreams with no makeup pencils/
A wakeup call before the final cut/
A turning point of a lifetime plot/
It’s a warm-up elevating hopes before credits/
Death too expensive/
No rehearsals nor sequels/
Dark clouded cameras carry life insurances/
Raining scenes on corruption’s free way and streets/
The cancer eating stunning extras/
Avalon cemetery the only Stadium Lavatory flushing off written off characters/
Beautiful ones are dying/
Her voice reminds me of laughter barely suppressed
An energetic spirit tugging constantly at the rope
A caterpillar turning to butterfly at any moment
Her voice sounds like lifegiving fruit
Not serious, self-important fruit like geometrically precise pineapples
Or pompous, overfed watermelons
Too heavy to lift
Not business fruit like apples, on duty keeping doctors away
Or bananas waiting to do their slippery work under feet
Or blackberries, whose careers lie in jam
But mischievous fruit like grapes or cherries
Which roll away like playful children when you’re not looking
Or fallen raisins on the carpet pretending to be part of the pattern
Fun-loving fruit like mandarin oranges around the Christmas tree
Basking under the Christmas lights, enjoying the glitter
Of tinsel and the smell of pine needles
Small fruits which enjoy life,
Laughing as they jostle each other in their bag,
And which could easily become bubbly wine if tempted.
Her ripened voice -
The spontaneous fruit of a lifetime
Of growth and maturing, and regeneration :
Aliment for my soul’s ailment.
Terry keep it real, while meditating tonight,
I was wondering,
If the night steals my soul, What will I do?
Will I regroup and feel more alive, to embrace
that nothingness with a smile, in a gracious style?
Terry is thinking, what if the night steals my soul?
Will I pull my life together,
learn to cope, dissolve my fears and not
feel the need to look at my scars?
Will I bury who gave me those bruises,
the rape during a war, abusive husband for years,
can I end my pain, by destroying my abusers?
Terry is questioning, if the night steals my soul?
will I allow my faith in,
when thoughts of uncertainties start bleeding?
Will I give birth to words to identify those daring
challenges? Will I leave room to ignore the beating
of my heart?
Terry is afraid, what if the night steals my soul?
Will I forget, when my feelings will overflow,
and the darkness is complete, make sure my
sorrows should fade away,
being the cause of my going astray?
Terry is imagining, if the night renders my soul voluntarily,
will I reveal my true emotions, awake in ecstasy,
to end that broken smile, while driving
through the tunnel of light?
Will I wrap my journey, fighting any injustice
done against me?
Terry is happy, yes, during that night,
I will find my soul, embrace,
while drifting with the shadows of silhouettes,
dancing to the musical notes of my heart beat.
I will end my journey, burying my saddening emotions,
on this very same night, my life will feel real.
7 September 2014 Contest of Skat A.
I am going on a trip because I need to spend a week away from these aspects.
Don’t burn that money.
Don’t waste it either.
I’ll spend it on something that I dislike.
It may be a venture but since I have spent my money, I can get high.
Clip art are my drawings and they are of beautiful megabits.
I think I am superfly so I play Rock & Roll all night.
Escape to the highest heights of my imagination is when I know who I am and where I have been
Little am I and my jeans are tight.
With my big tits, I walk as if I am filled with sexual desire.
I see myself and smile.
I’m feeling something that is so real.
I knew, if I lost focus, I lose my inner being.
So I give self a darn bulge, know that this is my world; therefore, I don’t lose the sensation.
The impression I give is that of confidence.
Self-asserted and assured, I moving up to finer things.
Handsome is the day and the night falls so lovely.
But I need to see what’s mine.
I need to see what belongs to me.
Strikingly, I find that I own so many priceless images.
A landscape I may pick to be serenity.
Or, a portrait is nice for the stillness.
I’ll plant a flower field to enjoy the contentment.
Equanimity is a silent panic.
I am just a being of the higher intelligence.
The noise is a clamor that does not last.
I will be the uproar of happiness.
Such a pleasure to have told you this.
If you want a replica, you may do the same.
That is joy in a virtual domain.
No more is the chance than any other government.
I have ruled this empire as long as I can remember.
Directions are easily to follow.
If you fail, I will not fail mines because all are downloadable.
I do not share my empirical secrets.
I am a régime of systems.
Simulated by thoughts that is pure.
Only I can be the downloader.
I walked along the prairie road
and gazed upon the skies
and saw the face of early Spring
a lady in disguise
and from her lips came tiny birds
who flew into the air
while crocus, tulip, daffodil
came tumbling from her hair
she bid the sleeping sun to rise
in shades of pink and blue
then stole away through the emerald grass
thick with morning dew
white on blue
tears wave to
pain on cue"
~JSLambert © 2012 Poet TreeZ Publishing
Was it enough or was it too much?
Sometimes too fast but always too slow!
God knows that I come with these seeds that grow.
Inside and out I absorb every single touch,
But why should I?
Why should I be the only one that knows?
Stepping through time and sliding back so smooth so I go!
I say I can qualify!
Where was I and why was I there?
Sometimes too obvious but always with doubt!
God knows that I come riding in on a prayer.
I absorb every single touch inside and out,
But why should I?
Why should I be the only one that cares?
Climbing the highest mountains and sliding down so steep but on a dare!
I say I can magnify!
What did I say and what did I do?
Sometimes too quite but always too loud!
God knows that I come with a gleam that shines so proud.
Inside and out I absorb every single touch by you.
But why should I?
Why should I be the only one in the crowd?
Walking on water and walking backwards but at least I know how.
I say I can intensify!
Do I want to or do you need me to?
Sometimes I wonder and sometimes I simply don’t care.
God knows that I come standing on a higher sky of blue.
I absorb every single touch by you inside and out with this glare.
But why should I?
Why should I be the only one with this view?
Up in the clouds and aimless but always led by you!
I say, “I SANCTIFY”!
®Registered: 1997 Ann Rich
Songs and dances of June
roses, pink and heavenly yellow
sun splashed water, floating cloud boats
that drift through summer skies, blown
by jasmine breezes...
fields of waving grasses, and scented sage
evening orchid sunsets, that lie their heads
down on pillows of billowed white
and bid adieu to passing day...
oh, mr. sunshine, how you do glow
on sunny days which your rays do sew
and oh, mr. sunshine, how i miss you so
on those gloomy days when you decide to go.
oh, mr. cloud, how you do impede
that mr. sunshine who is kind indeed
and block those shining rays we all need,
big, wet teardrops fall from your own guilty greed.
so cry, mr. cloud, cry your eyes out
cry me a river and wipe out this drought
for once you are done with this maddened bout
mr. sunshine, with golden rays, can again walk about.
oh, mr. sunshine, keep your head high
happiness is abundant when you are nigh
for even mr. cloud, who heaves a sorrow sigh
warms his fluffed limbs in your blue-crystalline sky.
In this life You have choices
Some good and some bad
but the game isn't over just
becuase of the bad choices you made
You can stand up and raise above
the demons that are holding you down.
showing everyone you have the power to
face whatever the world tries to throw at you
Laughing at the world when all they have is
the past to throw at you
Knowing your stronger and can stand on your own
It's time to let all the skeletons out of your closet
Showing everyone your not affraid of the past mistakes
and you have nothing left to hide and you were down but
never out of the game .
The roses lie upon the ground
Their petals shriveled and dead
Where once they bloomed so tall and proud
They’re now decayed instead
Once they gave such pleasure
Their scent wafting in the air
Unparalleled they stood
In beauty beyond compare
Their haunting scent is gone now
The petals have faded away
Dropping softly to the ground
Unnoticed at the end of day
Beauty is in the eye of the beholder
And that is really true
But too often the eye is unseeing
And vanity clouds our view
The flower that gave such beauty
That we loved to gaze upon
Is still to be revered
Although now faded and gone
Just as the face of a beautiful woman
Who’s weathered the ravages of time
Is remembered still for the pleasure she gave
When she was in her prime.
Copyright©2007 Beatrice Boyle
(All rights reseerved)
THE SUN IS SHINING IN MY HORIZON AND MY HEART IS GLOWING.
THE LOVE FROM GOD ALMIGHTY IS OVERFLOWING.
FOR HE HAS BEEN HERE SINCE THE BEGINNING HIS LIGHT SHINES ON ME.
WHEN I WAS IMPRISONED BY SIN HE SET ME FREE.
I AM ON A CLOUD TO SALVATION AND GROWING IN PROSPERITY.
MY HARVEST IS GROWING IN THE RIGHT DIRECTION.
I AM SITTING IN HEAVEN'S REFLECTION HOW BEAUTIFUL IT IS TO ME SO PEACEFUL.
A DELIGHT TO MY EYES SO FULL OF BEAUTY AND SUPRISE.
THE ANGELS ARE LIFTING UP TO THE MASTER FEET.
WHERE JOY AND LOVE DO MEET.
THERE ARE SINGING A MELODY THAT IS SO SWEET AND COMFORTING TO THE SOUL.
NO ONE CAN MATCH WHAT THEY DO.
FOR I KNOW THAT I AM A CHILD OF GOD AND HE IS MY FATHER.
FOR HE IS LIKE NO OTHER HE IS ONE OF A KIND.
FOR I AM HIS AND HE IS MINE.
HE IS THE GLUE THAT KEEPS ME TOGETHER HE IS THE ROCK THE MAKES ME STRONG.
HIS AROMA IS SWEET TO MY NOSE HIS PRESENCE IS KNOWN TO ME.
FOR HE IS MY ALL IN ALL HE IS THE ONE WHO MAKES ME WHOLE.
HE IS THE ONE WHO COMFORTS MY SOUL
HE LOVES ME AND I LOVE HIM FOR THAT WILL NEVER CHANGE.
I am way up,
I am way down,
I am all of the way around.
I am your Lady Luck!
I am right here,
I am right there,
I completely care,
I hold zero fear.
I am always in,
I am always out,
I am here again,
I am Heaven’s great big shout.
I am mother struck,
With Lady Luck!
© Copyright: Ann Rich 2006
Giant Mesa’s have gray,
Elephant- footed talus slopes.
That seem to be padding toward
Tumbleweeds play along their toes
And one, bullied by the wind,
Flies like a hawk to land
Where tumbleweeds never see!
This one lands akimbo on the
Never-ending electrical wires,
It’s belly blazing in the sun
Noticing a view from above
Seeing anew the world that it loves!
This tumbleweed waits in wonder
For another blast to set it free
All the while, the others
are keeping watch beneath.
The winds of change blow
and the tumbleweed
risks the jump, files through the air
and lands with a skip and a bump.
Her fellow plantlets give her a wild name
Happily she rolls along showing them a game.
New paths, seen from above
New paths to new places
New paths for races
The game of life goes on
By Lydia Grace Brescia March 29, 2011
Yiddy awdy those ticks are here to stay.
Here and there but everywhere astray.
Tick tack I am going to laugh at that.
On the Moon or on the Sun I have sat.
Jump started or kick started my day has begun.
I’m holding a life of lifetimes on the go or run.
Yicky yacky just what is it that I am to do?
Run all over the galaxies in search of you?
Shucks you mucks, I’d do it all over again.
But from time to time you stop when I begin.
It’s a life of life’s bundling into one row.
Yet it is step by step in which it can grow.
© Copyright: Ann Rich 2007
I have been to many, yours and mine!
So much seen with these eyes!
I’ve walked the lonely highways night and day,
Powered with great energy to just run away,
I have crawled so deep within myself just to find you.
Running with a bleeding mind with so many views!
I have a special place that I come to.
It‘s extra silent!
My time to be quite!
It’s completely in sync!
My time to think!
It’s so beautiful!
My time to feel wonderful!
It’s a special place that I find plentiful!
So many I’ve already been!
But many I have still never seen!
I have thought many times of my broken dreams, time and time again,
Powered with great energy to just run free with the wind,
Sunsets and sunrises capturing my view,
So many to come with a gleam that shines through you!
I have a special place that I come to.
I have many visions that I see.
A world untouched and unscathed by its common ground,
Touching a very special place inside of me!
Such a blessing I have found.
It’s extra special!
My only pedestal!
It‘s without pain!
My only gain!
It‘s so exceptional!
My only interval,
And it’s completely unconditional!
I have chose, to pick up my
and the particles which trooped off from my brain while sleeping,
and stand by my inspiration
For I have sheepishly
and crawled enough
The days of my sleep,
has come to ‘Rest in Pieces’
I shall never lay still,
for I have found the missing effervescent tools.
which I have been searching for in my long-term, day and ray dreams
It’s a great day,
When I can say,
I am the best me,
And you will see.
I will come to you in a dream,
I will be a shout with a scream.
I will be an unmistaken seed.
Balancing every want or need!
I am on a mission you see,
To be the very best of me,
There will be nothing to say.
The Moon will set my day.
I am the need,
The deep seed,
You will hear my scream,
Planting myself in a dream!
© Copyright: Ann Rich 2007
He is I
and I am Him
we sing one song
even in our sleep
my breath completes His
and He exhales life
into my deprived lungs
and when we look into
its explosions of feelings
that even I cannot understand
we fell in love
me and Him
Him and I
when i was concieved...
He is my now and then
and every single strand
of our communication satisfies
He and I
Me and Him
and he dripped his blood
to spare mine
He felt the pain of that knife
'til the dead and deep end
so I can live
and i live for Him...
He is my redeemer
the Messiah...Jesus Christ...
Just as clear as a whistle
Hear Her words of wisdom
Though it is but a whisper.
Just as clear as the Caribbean Sea
See the depth of Her charisma
Though it is but an ethereal plea.
Just as clear as the sturdiness of trees
Feel the strength of Her purpose
Though it is but a stir in the breeze.
Just as clear as a bolt of lightening
Feel the charge of Her bold energy
Though it is but a jolt of reckoning.
Just as clear as the azure sky
With her, be on the path of a sure future
Though it is but a luring light.
Copyright © 07.09.10