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Best Narrative Poems

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New Narrative Poems

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DELUSION by Freeman , Larry
SATANICA by Freeman , Larry
The New Couple by TABI, RICHARD
On Stage by Smith, David
A Life time Of secrets by Ainsley, Michael
REFLECTION by Freeman , Larry
Peter Pan N' Alice In Wonderland -Short Story Style by Petersen Potter, Dorian
You Will by Breidenthal, Laura
A Labyrinth Of Lies by Wings, Broken
Introspective Sea Change by Griffiths, Lemuel

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The Best Narrative Poems

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Where The Sycamore Grew

The sun-yellow house seems smaller, somehow
seeing it now,  with much older eyes...

The street seems narrower, the trees are taller..
Where once open fields spanned both sides of the road
they are building new structures, and fences have bloomed
The neighboring orchards have all but disappeared

But somehow we knew the house would still be there....
Strangely distant, ...yet, still much is the same

There is a newer red tricycle
on the smooth flagstone path
one that we laid on a hot summer day...
in front of this house that lies at the bend
at the end of the road, where the sycamore grew...

As sudden as wind, thirty years fades away, lost in the moment of this crisp autumn day
And quickly alive, memories rise, becoming again the springtime of lives..... 

...our first Christmas trees,..and first anniversaries...
 ...a place where I cried long into the night, the child in me grieving when mother had died...
      ..then long, starry nights, lost in the moonlight, 
           counting my blessings, and holding my babies

Yes....it is all captured there, in the small yellow house

It's funny, I know, but I'm glad they have kept the yellow...
And it still wears the trace of sun, and crisp-white shutters...

The little yellow house, with a flagstone pathway that we laid
that sits beyond the bend, where the old sycamore grew...


                                       _________



Copyright © Carrie Richards | Year Posted 2009

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Love in the Silence of the Soul




As a young boy
Sitting in a pew
The winter darkness pressing down
Candlelight waves from hidden drafts
Shadows danced on the walls

I heard the words destined to me
“Be still . . . know that I am God”
So I listen  . . . eyes open
“The Passion of Christ”
I was gone . . . 

I saw eyes . . . 
Judas under the olive trees - Gethsemane
His eyes  . . . cold, darting  . . . filled with manic evil
Torchlights hissing  . . . turning eyes yellow
Then a kiss and chaos erupts
I closed my eyes  . . . suddenly afraid

Now I see a set of eyes  . . . filled with burning hate
A High Priest screaming . . .    B-L-A-S-S-P-H-E-M-Y ! ! ! ! !
All around ugly eyes staring with dripping contempt
Old men spitting with bared rotting teeth
Then I noticed . . . and . . . 
And my heart ached . . . 
Jesus . . . standing quietly with closed eyes

Then we were off to Roman authority -- Pontius Pilate
I saw his slanted eyes . . . squinting as if too much sunlight
Loud voices yelling outside . . .  “Crucify him!”
In my heart, I cursed these people – but his eyes
His eyes were dark, soft – forgiving
A hand washing and we are walking . . . 

To a hillside, a place called Golgotha – the skull
Empty eye sockets . . . a place of death
The eyes of soldiers hard, focused  . . . 
Spikes, woods – his sad eyes burning my heart
Closing my eyes, I heard a sharp gasp . . . soldiers yelling
“Lift”

As I opened my eyes – I was looking out with his eyes
We were seeing the same things
Angry faces with eyes of burning ashes
Taunting and jeering – a wave of hysteria hitting us
I heard and felt a deep groan 
Fear gripping me – I knew instantly we needed to go
Now!

Men, women, soldiers, slaves, leaders, teachers 
Eyes filled with blood lust
Evil, hatred . . . . I can’t breath
Death coming with the darkness
Jesus!        Can’t you see . . . 
Then I heard him whisper
 “Father, forgive them, they know not what they do.”

My heart sank realizing with horror
Jesus is staying . . . dying
I felt his purposeful breathing
Muscles, bones, joints aching with a searing pain
My eyes filled with tears

I saw another set of bloodshot eyes
A voice next to me yelling
“If you’re the Christ, get down from the cross
And take me too!  Let’s go!”
NO, NO!!!  . . . What is he saying
Those are my words – I am sick
My stomach seizes  . . . guilt fills me
I close my eyes

Another voice – on our right speaks
“Lord, remember me . . . “
Jesus painfully turns, twisting his body . . . looking . . . 
He sees blue eyes – my eyes
I am hanging next to Jesus
“Today you will be with me in Paradise”

We were one – together . . . one body
Now separate crosses . . . I feel crushed by loneliness
But his words . . . “Paradise” . . . “today”
He loves me – I see him looking at me
His eyes illuminating my soul . . . it hurts
I tried crying out – I love you . . . 
But only a sob squeaks out

Gravity pulling down pulling down
Eyes straining against the pain
Joints and ribs stretching . . .  popping
Chest heaving for each breath
Body convulsing against wood
Head back . . . eyes wide open . . . he screams
“My God! My God! Why have you forsaken me?”

No one answers . . . surprised eyes
In my tears I felt the agony of the cross
The bleakness . . .  hell
Dead eyes

Back in the pew
I heard the preacher 
“He died for you”
What . . . why . . . no . . . 
No, I don’t want you dead
Jesus?

                       .
                       .
                       .

Hey, wait for me – slow down
Running hard, breathing deeply
I stuck my head in empty tomb – hum??? . . . . 
I sat quietly next to Mary Magdalene . . . wondering
The gardener spoke – “Mary”
But he was looking at me – bright eyes
He said . . . “David”
“David, I love you”

Yes!!  Woo Hoo . . . 
Look at me . . . I am dancing
With shinning eyes 
“I love you too”
“I love you”
“Lord Jesus”
“I do”









David Meade
02/22/2015

Love Generously


Copyright © David Meade | Year Posted 2015

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John Lennon


On the day  that John Lennon died,  people were just going  about their business  as they did every day.  Mark David Chapman  was reading  Catcher In The Rye  void of his holy self.  He would have had to  Imagine there’s no heaven.  John took the elevator  down from his room  at peace with his belief  that there was  no hell below us.  He stepped out  on that fateful day  over him,  over everyone,  above us only sky. On the day that  John Lennon died,  people where just going  about their business  as they did every day.  Imagine, all the people  living for today.  Chapman talked to Lennon. Just before he killed him. He was singing "imagine  there’s no countries  because it isn’t hard to do." Chapman shot his  hollow point bullets,  without cause,  there was nothing  to kill or die for  and no religion too.  What a senseless killing,  how senseless killing is.  I imagine all the people  living life in peace. John fell to the ground,  a pool of blood beneath him.  A preacher on a soap box  unaware of the horrific act  that had taken place  was spewing words   that never belonged  to his soul but filled  the tin cup he was holding.  He yelled loudly,  ‘you may say that I'm a dreamer  but I'm not the only one’   a woman in the crowd hummed  ‘I hope someday you'll join us.’  A teenage couple under  their breath followed with  ‘and the world will be as one.’  Amen! They say when the police arrived  Chapman was reading his book.  Imagine no possessions,  I wonder if you can. The Detectives did not wait  for an ambulance. They rushed John Lennon  to the hospital. They weren't looking for credit;  they had no need for greed.  The preacher had left  with his tin cup full,  no need for more or hunger. At the hospital the air was  like most emergency departments,  people comforting people  who themselves needed comforting.  A brotherhood of man. In a hospital with its tragedies  life is more than real  you don’t need to imagine  all the people sharing all the world.  It just is. You can hear  their hearts  beating in tune,  singing  ‘You may say that I'm a dreamer  But I'm not the only one  I hope someday you'll join us  And the world will live as one.’ 07~11~2014 Maurice Yvonne Sponsor: Kelly Deschler Contest Name: I Love Rock n Roll


Copyright © Maurice Yvonne | Year Posted 2014

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Past-Life Nightmare

A child of four suffers recurring dreams,
disturbing parents and siblings with screams.
When she awoke, always sore in one knee;
next to a birthmark, it throbbed painfully.

Night after night she feared going to bed.
What caused these nightmares that raged in her head?
Even when grown, the torment persisted,
so a therapist’s aid she enlisted.

“Hypnosis,” said he, “might offer some clues.
Why not try it?  You’ve just bad dreams to lose.”
Once under, he guided her to a room --
here people’s lifetimes in books were entombed.

“Find one that is yours,” her counselor said.
Quickly she did, but before it was read,
she felt an ache, saw just a faint title.
The words, she thought, said “Alister Bridle.”

The hypnotic trance now suddenly broke;  
puzzling questions “Mr. Bridle” evoked.
For many years she thought that was her name;
perhaps a past life had been filled with pain.

Who was this man?  She simply had to know!
Seasons passed, summer suns made way for snow.
In Florida now, 1998,
she thought all the nightmares she had escaped.

But strange dreams always catch us by surprise --
when the lights grow dim, our minds fantasize.
Cloaked in velvet, she left her parents’ farm,
stealing away on a late autumn morn’.

To meet her love, she climbed on the carriage,
knowing her folks would forbid their marriage.
Warm-hued leaves carpeted the hillside road,
and her pulse beat fast; she’d soon join her beau.

She thought only of him; joy cast its smile,
but that’s when he called, “Alice, the bridle!”
The leather band broke and wrapped ‘round her knee.
To the ground she was pulled; her horse ran free.

She met death, but past-life dreams recycle,
and she’d never been “Alister Bridle.”



*Based on real events I experienced.


Copyright © Carolyn Devonshire | Year Posted 2009

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The Clouds

"THERE HE WAS HOLDING HIS HAND OUT"

=voice=
God, can I hold your hand and follow you?

"Gods voice"
My child, it is I who will walk with you! You walked down my path with and without faith. You took my protection to ease your pain. My shielded wings comfort you during your moments of suffering while your life staggered across earth. Your love and devotion are what made you strong. Every time your dreams were broken. You managed to build more dreams in their place. You called my name during your happiest and saddest moments. You ran to me when you fell behind. Your secrets became our private talks. The key to your heart was always unlocked. I was there during your trials and troubles and tribulations. We could not speak, it was my light that kept you from going weak.

=voice=
God, are you a dream of beauty? The holy book.
My preacher spoke of the afterlife, calling it paradise. 
I remember now, I felt this company once before, this light.
Many times, I forsake the light and still you never left my door.
I felt it on the day I was born, 
the day I became baptized in your holy name. 
I felt this light before, can you explain it once more? 
Lord pleases clarify the day I fell down to my knees, accepted Jesus as my savior? 
On that day, I felt as if you stood away and walked on by, allowing me to face my  failures’.  
Was my life a waste in this impossible world?"

"Gods voice" 
My child, this is the everlasting light you will feel every time your body is re-born onto a new road.  This light never left you. 
My sweet child did you not listen, 
Matthew *19:26* MY SON looked at them and said, "With man this is impossible, but with ME all things are possible. 
My child, you were not searching for the right answers.

=voice= 
My Lord everyone told me if I prayed you would come. Did I not pray enough?

"Gods voice"
My child sometimes your heart asked for more than life itself,  
I always answered even when you shunned heaven away from your eyes?
The obvious question is whether this is the final immersing of your soul's disguises.

=voice= 
Lord, I have other questions to ask. 
What should I expect out of my personal sins? 
My testimonial sits in the palm of your hand
My mind and my heart's inner core have been wicked since my adolescence-- 
How is it that I am in your promise land?

"Gods voice"
Getting right with me has brought you here!

=voice= 
One more question My Heavenly Father
Can I see My Daughter, Mothers, Sisters, family, and friends?

<3


Copyright © Poet Destroyer A | Year Posted 2012

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The Enchanted Forest

The woods were silent except for the shifting 
soft sounds of his hooves as they fell upon 
the forest floor. There he stood amid the mist in 
his white majestic coat calling to me to come 
to him and ride upon his back, vanish with him,
(as the sun lay dying into quiet shades of twilight)
into an unknown sacred realm where no 
one's footsteps could follow.

I stroked his soft warm velvet nose and felt the 
subtle flair of his nostrils breath on my hand.
When I climbed upon his back we rode 
as one as our love and trust in each other 
had slowly grown into a synergy unsurpassed.
Moonlight filtered through the verdant trees
as darkness enveloped the starry sky.
Suddenly we found ourselves in a glade
where we were surrounded by the soft glow
of tiny faeries as numerous as fireflies.

We were warmly welcomed into their sacred 
sanctuary and I felt enchanted by their sylvan 
beauty as two tiny faeries braided long strands 
of my golden hair, intertwining fragrant flowers.
I was asked if I would help to keep the forest
safe from clear cutting, and I promised I would.
I awoke to the faint sound of hoofbeats as dawn
was rising and there were pretty flowers in my hair.

© Connie Marcum Wong
Poem of the Day April 4, 2016



Copyright © Connie Marcum Wong | Year Posted 2016

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I'm just a man

You sat there crying with tears rolling down you face
Asked me why I didn't show you any compassion
All I could say was that 'I'm just a man'
I should have wiped away your tears and held you tight
Told you I loved you and everything will be all right
Yet, I showed no emotion, because 'I'm just a man'
All the answers to your questions, I couldn't find
I was impatient, because 'I'm just a man'
All those times you would scream and shout went unnoticed
I thought you would calm down after the silence
I never meant to hurt you, but 'I'm just a man'
I can still remember the day you said goodbye
I was so confident you would come running back
I wish I wasn't so arrogant, but 'I'm just a man'
I saw you walking the other day with another guy
I can't help but be jealous, because 'I'm just a man'
I saw you smile and you seemed so happy
Finally, you met someone who understood you
Who will show you compassion and hold you tight
You deserve a real man, not someone still a boy
But how could I understand, when I don't understand myself
I was an unloved child who lost his childhood
Nobody taught me how to become a man
Nobody told me the difference between right and wrong
Nobody taught me how to love and care for another
School didn't teach me anything about life
Now here I am again all alone dealing with the ghost of the past
Even though you don't think so, I did love you deeply
Guess I didn't say it enough, because 'I'm just a boy
I hope you have forgiven me for the times I hurt you
Because 'I'm not a man', 'I'm just a boy' Fictional The Silent One 9 September 2015


Copyright © Silent One | Year Posted 2015

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C'est La Vie


They had fought. He left without a word... ...while she was sleeping. She threw on the gown she had worn for him the night before, pushed off the china vase and blooms he had given her. She watched them fall in...s l o w...m o t i o n, listened to them crash to the floor... ...sat on the window sill, where the bouquet and container had been. She proclaimed to the world "c'est la vie!". She was alone but at least... ...she was the only flower.
22~10~2014 Sponsor: Judy Konos Contest Name: c'est la vie


Copyright © Maurice Yvonne | Year Posted 2014

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The L In Da Name Linda Stands For Love


"Shhh,  look there they are. 
No one believed me. 
Now you see them too.
 A blessing of Unicorns. 

 If anyone knew where they were
it would be the end of the Unicorns.

 The one with the wings is the Queen. 
See how sad she looks. 

She has separated herself from the blessing. 

She loves the other Unicorns 
but she is dealing with her own issues.
They love her, she knows that.

This is different.

She has to deal with this herself. 

She knows she is loved.
She knows they all care for her.

Deeply!

She is their Queen after all. 

What? 
A song? 
Maybe!
I don't know. 

I brought poetry.
I brought soup. 
I have to try. 

I hope she believes me. 
She is going to be fine. 

I dreamt about her. 
In the dream her wings were spread.
You should of seen them spread 
they must of spanned farther than the horizon 
higher than the milky way. 

In my dream her magic horn was a beacon,
 it was leading her through the dark
but she was also a beacon for everyone else. 
Everyone who was trapped in the  darkness. 
She led them too! 
She always has. 
She is our Queen after all.

 I stood there amazed 
she was magnificent.

 She waited patiently and the light filled her. 
She knew it would happen and she was right.

That hand from up above 
the one she always trusted
filled her with light. 
She is the Queen and in my dream 
she had returned in her full glory."

Linda was back. 
It starts with an L 
L stands for love.

Maybe It's not a dream.

 'Fairy tales can come true - 
It can happen to you...
life gets more exciting with each 
passing day...!' 

I believe dreams are 
just a window to reality. 

I believe in Fairies.
 I believe in Unicorns. 
And I believe in Linda!



08~12~2014
Sponsor: Shadow Hamilton
Contest Name: Fighting Depression(poems for PD) 
 





Copyright © Maurice Yvonne | Year Posted 2014

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Love Has Its Costs


THIS IS A FICTIONAL WRITE THAT EXPLORES THE QUESTION OF WHAT LOVE IS. IT DOES SO IN A DRAMATIC WAY, AFTER ALL THAT IS MY DNA. IT ALSO TAKES A UNIQUE AND CONTROVERSIAL APPROACH TO THE TOPIC. IT IS MEANT TO STIR THOUGHT NOTHING ELSE. IT POSES QUESTIONS AND SUGGESTS ANSWERS BUT MAKES NO CONCLUSIONS. SOMETIMES AS WRITERS WE HAVE TO MAKE WAVES. SOME WILL RIDE THOSE WAVES ON THEIR SURFBOARDS AND CONSIDER THEM INVITING. OTHERS WILL FEEL THE WAVES CRASHING AGAINST THEIR FLESH AND IT WILL BE PAINFUL.

Love is a streetwalker at the corner of Hooker Lane and Prostitute Crescent.

You wanted to pay. Do it and leave. That's the way it's suppose to happen. But it doesn't quite go like that. She is looking at your eyes and she sees something and it feels like love to her. She cries and her tears are real. She touches your face with her pretty little hand and goosebumps run up your spine and you lose your breath.

You kiss her and stroke her hair and you are staring into her eyes as her pain grabs you by the biceps and touches your heart. So you just hold her you hold her and you love her as if she is a beam sent for you to project sent for you to protect.

She opens up and says words you heard in her tears. You listen you hold her and you just listen as she peers into your subconscious to sit with the frightened child inside of you. You take each others hands and you roll in the softness of the innocence of your childhood. Your silly hopes and dreams. Hopes and dreams that back then were anything but silly. 

She is beautiful. She is barely twenty. And you? Well you are going on thirty or is it forty.

You pray God will save her. Not pray you mumble it. Her smile tells you she knows. She feels like your responsibility and you don’t want her to die on the street working her corner. You don’t want to feel but you do. You are a weaved outer core of veins and you do. You feel everything. You are her. 

She looks in the White Knight eyes she pinned on your face and you know the pins are there and you see her with your Gladiator brights.

You make love to her and she loves you back and holds you in her dream of what might have been. She is your Queen and you have stripped your armor, stripped your flesh and your organs. You are naked in her shine. You are raw in her light.

Sex? Sex costs one hundred and fifty bucks! Sex? Sex is two dogs humping in the park. Sex is not love, it is empty. Empty because the person is a stranger and there is no emotional connection. 

At least that is what you thought.

But one day you are 53 years old and you think of your one hour bought woman. Did I say woman? She was a girl a vulnerable lost girl.

It is more than ten years later and you still remember her. That single hour in your life and it is engraved on your skull. Tattooed to your mind. Just one word. FOREVER. You can barely remember six year long relationships but you can still remember the touch of a woman, yes a woman you were with for just one hour in your life. You can still feel her skin. Her tears still burn like molten lava. 

She is still on your palette; you still feel every word that penetrated your hide and struck the part of you that was her. You remember it. Not as a single moment but as every tick of the clock, and the multitudes of emotions, of thoughts, of realizations, of questions that existed in each and every second and you wonder...

Maybe you can buy love. Or at least find it on the other end of a financial transaction, maybe once you did..

Maybe love doesn't last three hundred and sixty five pages like in a novel. Maybe love isn't roses from the first frame to the closing credits, with a beginning a middle and an end 

Maybe love is the memory of a 60 minute love affair with a working girl you met all those years ago. A memory safe and sound, written and produced, neatly tucked in the black vinyl grooves on the highway between your heart and your brain.

07~12~2014
Maurice Yvonne




Copyright © Maurice Yvonne | Year Posted 2014

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When Yesterday Was Today

On cold evenings
Surrounded by friends
Warm and
Safe
I could stay up forever
Taking strength
From the blackness 
Talking
Dreaming
Feeling that I could float upward
And walk with the stars
On their lonely journey 
Through heaven.

There was a girl 
I was with then
Tall
Graceful
And beautiful
When I first saw her
I wanted to feel her softness
Her breathe on my cheek
Her hand  
Brushing against my thigh
When I held her close
And even closer
I wanted her 
To say she loved me.

Together
Our love
Had a perfect balance
Of
Teasing and challenge
Spontaneity
Courtship
And seduction.

A subtle change
That I never understood
Came about
The closer we became
The more anger
And resentment followed
When she smiled I was envious
When I laughed she was angry
We broke up
We were young
It was my fault
Her fault
Our fault
Or blame it on the times we lived in.

Outside my room
Footsteps echo
In a long and empty hallway
And like an undeliverable letter 
A message scrawled 
To no one in particular
Haunting visions are 
Returned to me
The slenderness of her waist
The way she arched her back
The touch of her hand
The way she kissed
I feel her presence
Yes, I relive all that.


Copyright © Edmund Siejka | Year Posted 2009

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Mother

A mother was born and dreamed of a beautiful life
A new journey had begun - but a hard path lay ahead
Demons seduced her beloved - leaving her alone
The land was foreign and dark clouds appeared above
Child in hand the mother reached an ambiguous cross road
Before setting foot upon the long way - her conscience enquired
"Are you sure this is the right path? It will be difficult, full of pain"
The mother smiled as she saw hope in her infant's eyes
A real mother would sacrifice her own happiness for a child
Storms came on dark days with thunder and lightning
but, she kept her child dry and secure
Winters came with cold days and masonic winds
but, she kept her child warm and protected
Sometimes she would not eat - but kept her child nourished
In secrecy, tears would fall - her son would only see a happy mask
There were days when life was burdensome and full of worry
and she shook in fear - defeating hazards and obstacles,
as she guided her son along the terrain of the highest mountain
When they reached the top her son reassured his mother
"Thank you mother - I would not have got here without you,
you can let go now. I think I will be OK from here"
His mother smiled with pride - her boy was now a man
When her son was at a loss - his mother would remind him
"Son you only learn from losing"
When her son lay dying - his mother gave him hope and taught him faith
"Son, you can't control what happens to you in life,
but you can control how you react to it"
With the love and prayers of his mother and the grace of God
he defeated the most evil disease and is even stronger
Life is full of trials and tests - being optimistic will help defeat hardship
Loving others will give them belief and a reason to live. 

Never underestimate the love of a mother who sacrifices so much,
but sometimes we do not realise how much.  My mother has taught me so much and is my hero.  I am thankful to my mother for always being there even on the darkest days.  For helping me through my battle with cancer and always inspiring me to be the best that I can be.  It is a true honour to be her son.

15 October 2015







Copyright © Silent One | Year Posted 2015

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Father

 
On your last breath.. I told you there was nothing to forgive Stubbornness and bitterness - sure are a hard pill to swallow Four years and not a word from you How sad - your last words were full of rage No chance to rectify them - you left without saying a word In reality, you walked out a long time ago Tell me father - who was to teach me how to be a man? Tell me father - who was to teach me how to be a dad? Guess you didn't know yourself - for a father you never proved to be Lost with your demons - intoxicated by the evils of society The fear you caused to so many - did you ever ask yourself why? Leaving those who loved you behind - to chase decadence Seduced by sinful deeds - your forgot you had a son Isn't a father supposed to be a child's hero? Even from a distance - I still loved you for being my dad You made me strong - told me never to cry Forgive me father - the tears didn't stop when I saw you dying It was too much to hold them for so long - guess I'm only human But, I promise you - I have not shed another tear since that day You told me - son live to be feared - no need to be loved But, I don't want to be like you - I have too much love to give I guess you were right - after all I am my mother's son You had your favourites and I guess I wasn't one of them In reality - it is because of you I am so strong because, I never wanted to be anything like what you had become I know that you're looking down at me from up above Tell me father - are you proud? Of all that I have become? For at the end of the day it's your name I have Cancer took you away - does it make you happy I survived? You can't really miss something that you never had Guess, I will always wonder what it is like to have a dad You took away my childhood - but I hold nothing against you Life was dysfunctional, but I didn't succumb to your manipulation All is forgiven - I hold no grudges - life is full of challenges Sometimes your thoughts cross mind - but then they just go away I know you were misunderstood But I hope you found your peace today.. 13 October 2015


Copyright © Silent One | Year Posted 2015

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Thirsty Love





As a young boy
    I watch with interest the small man
   Wolf Hunter - a wise father of the hunt


He begins an old ritual
   coating his knife blade 
   rich animal blood and tallow fat
   freeze

Wolf Hunter adds another blood-tallow layer
   freeze 
   and another – freeze

A frozen tallow-blood knife

Wolf Hunter knowing the wolf
    fixes his knife in ground
    blade up  
    prays and leaves . . .



Grey wolf sniffs air and begins to run
    blood is on the wind  
    he licks, tasting the delicious blood-tallow

He howls into the night and licks faster
   a blood lust building 
   lapping the blade until the sharp edge bites 

Feverishly now, faster and harder 
   Grey wolf licks the blade in the arctic night
   great is his craving for blood

The insatiable blood-thirst 
    now being satisfied by his own warm blood 
    the naked blade biting his tongue
    his carnivorous appetite devouring 




In the pale morning light
    Wolf Hunter finds Grey Wolf
    dead in the snow
    stooping down he picks up his knife

 I stand . . . frozen  – sicken by the sight
    Wolf Hunter looking at me says
    . . .  to be consumed by your own desire
                    is a dangerous and deadly foe 




Years later
    staring at the bottle
    hands shaking -- eyes filled with lust
    a vison: a grey wolf consumed . . . dead
    the howl of the wolf-wind beseeching 

To be consumed by your own desire is a dangerous and deadly foe


                          \_____/>
                          /\      /\









David Meade
12-12-2014

Live Generously


Copyright © David Meade | Year Posted 2014

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''and that comes from within''


if I had all the money that I ever wanted,
                  I suppose that I could travel the world;

       live in a better home, buy designer clothes and stuff,

  if money was no object in my life . . . 

                     but you see money cannot help me,
each day my health is more delicate, slipping further away;

       and all the money in the universe will not change a thing,
                               this is my struggle and my daily reality . . . 

                                         the things I give myself are simple,

relaxing music to soothe this weary soul;
peace, tranquility and love to ease my pain,
and I ask the Lord for acceptance . . . 

             in meditation I try to fathom the why,
                                           
                      of course, with money I could go to a fancy retreat;
but a corner in my bedroom is set aside for meditation and relaxing,
and it is there I have placed peaceful things that cost very little . . . .

     perhaps with money I could get better drugs,
                but no drug is going to change this girl's destiny;

                                                this I know deep in my heart and soul, 
                       I have for a long, long time . . . 

I think a lot about my past and life so far,

                              the paths I took or did not take;
                              the things I said or did not say,
        could money have changed my journey in any way . . . 

                                     a warm bath, a cozy bed, a sweet purring cat,
                                                    paper and pen so I can write;
               my laptop within reach, a walk in nature listening to the birds,
      a loved one to hold my hand  . . . .

      these are my indulgences and they may not seem like much to you,

                              but I feel like the wealthiest person in this world;
              for money cannot buy happiness nor can it buy life,
                                      all I need is the indulgence of tranquility . . . 

                            ''and that comes from within''



______________________________
January 28 , 2015

Narrative


For the contest, Poems That Are Soup Favorites,
sponsor, Shadow Hamilton

Tenth Place 


Copyright © Broken Wings | Year Posted 2015

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Will You Tie My Shoes When I Grow Old

You were beautiful, 
my tiny child, 
wrapped tightly in my arms, 
close to my heart.
I listened to you breathing.
I counted your fingers
and your toes.
Helpless, 
you cried out to me
and I loved you
with every ounce of my soul.

Will you hear me
when I cry out? 
Will you hold me close
as I held you then? 

I remember the day
You took your first step.
There was no stopping you.
Your feet gave you freedom
to explore the world
like never before
but danger lurked.
I opened those doors anyway, 
cautiously, 
and introduced
you to the world.
Where will you be
when my legs
no longer run? 
no longer work? 
Will you realize
that I love
freedom too? 

I laugh
about that day
you first tied your shoe.
We tried and tried
to get that rabbit
in that hole
and you finally did it.
You pointed your toes
for everyone to see
how proud you were.

I am proud too, 
of my writing
and my drawing, 
of my needlework
and my cooking.
But my hands are beginning to ache
and my fingers will not bend.
I will lose the things
that make me proud
except for you.
Hopefully not you.
Will you let me
brag on you? 
Even tell wild stories
that are a bit beyond the truth? 
Will you be proud of me too? 

I waved good-bye
that morning when you left
on that large, yellow bus.
I was so scared.
I know you were too.
You waved at me bravely
through the dusty window
but I saw the water
forming in your eyes.
You came home, however, 
full of pride and joy.
You sang the alphabet song
and got most of it right.
You practiced for hours
until you could sing it
even in your sleep.

But 
I'm afraid.
I forgot
whether I took
my pills today or not.
I forgot
if I told this story before.
I even forgot once
who you were
and it terrified me.
My mind
is my treasure
the only thing I have left, 
and I heard you make
fun of me
for not remembering
that I gave you the
same gift as last year.
Will you love me
when I no longer
know who I am? 

You came home blushing
from the glow of
your first kiss.
Your first love, 
the one you thought was real.
You talked about him non-stop.
You changed for him. You gave.
But he left you anyway
for a blue-eyed girl
and I held you
while you cried for him.

I too have a
broken heart.
The love of my life
left me after
fifty-six years.
He left me here
to live life on my own
while he moved on
to another realm
And I cry for him too.
I long for his shoulder
and strong embrace.
I feel betrayed
because he and I
made a deal
that we would never
leave the other alone.
Yet I am alone
sitting in an echoing house
with no hands to hold.

You welcomed her home today- 
your tiny baby girl.
She has your eyes
and possibly your toes.
I see you counting them
as they roll me
into the room.
You finally came
to visit.
It has been a while.

You look up at me
with tears in your eyes
and ask
almost desperately, 

"Will she tie my
shoes
when I get old? "


Copyright © Rachel Kovacs | Year Posted 2013

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Obsession (by Calvin Klein)

undeniable as dawn and dusk upon the still horizon
as tulips reincarnate in bright hues on blue grass gardens
so is the scent that lingered in the folds of your leather coat
as it catches wind on someone else’s skin….so wrong….

familiar…just  like my breathing….obsession in the air
aching like a thorn in my heart it bleeds a refrain of pain
remembrance should be buried in the earth where you lay
yet it haunts me still and taunts my soul in turmoil (indelible)

like midnight slaw mangled in a bowl of noose and weeping
somewhere you slumber (buried asleep) as my throat chokes
I still miss your laughter when that cologne hit’s a June breeze
if I close my eyes I still see your crooked grin in mid day sun

as tangible as wisps of smoke my fingers reach your smile
I toss the solemn words “I miss you” on the lakeside silence
I will see you again….this I know….and the scent assails
always like footprints dried in concrete….forever with me

*R.I.P my friend…..

Inspired by Sir Brian’s contest “Indelible Impressions”


Copyright © Christie Moses | Year Posted 2009

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Wild Love

The blackberry's love for the garden rose
Brought down the gardener's wrath.
The blackberry sensed the danger
As he wended the garden path.

" A love so true as mine", he sighed,
"Must dare to brave the hoe.
Just a few more feet to reach her,
My true love she must know."

He crept along so quietly,
Sometimes quite out of sight
Until he nudged his darling's feet.
Did he dare to trust the light?

He heard the gardener's heavy boot
And hid in craven shame.
He knew he'd soon be weeded out,
A seedling with no name.

"Have I no worth since I don't rate
Some Latin nomenclature?
Without a well known parentage
Am I a freak of nature?

His darling's line was long and pure,
No skeletons in her past.
He had to make his feelings known.
Those boots were treading fast.

Gently then he wrapped his vine
Around his loved one's spine.
In great amazement he opined,
"Her thorns are sharp as mine".

The sweet rose felt his tender touch
And realized his fear
And wondered at his bravery
In coming to her here.

She heard the swishing of the hoe,
She heard those nearing feet.
Quietly letting down her leaves 
In a manner so discreet

She covered her wild lover.
The gardener unaware,
Stopped but to view her beauty.
He saw naught hiding there.

She whispered, "You are safe now".
The blackberry's heart was light,
Thankful that his dear sweet rose
Had not exposed his plight.

"A rose is still a rose." she said,
"By any other name
And in our distant ancestry,
We share some of the same".

"I'd rather know your wild love,
Than a love that's dull and tame,"
Cuddling close, returned his kiss
Without a bit of shame.

Next season there were seedlings
Of a very different kind.
The gardener delighted, cried
"A horticultural find."

The moral of this story?
Things aren't always what they seem.
The love you look down on today,
Could be tomorrow's dream.





Copyright © Joyce Johnson | Year Posted 2009

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Lottery Winner helps Homeless

 
 As I walked into the banquet hall of the 
 Goodman’s Inn, the first thing that stood
 out to me were the eyes of the people. I
 felt as though I could actually see hope. Eyes 
 seemed to sparkle and everyone in the hall
 sat talking to the others sitting around them
 as they waited for the main course of the evening. 
 To understand this report we need to go back just 
 over a year ago when Lindsey Long won the 50 
 million dollar lottery. Apparently the multimillionaire 
 booked the Goodman’s Inn for December 24th through 
 to January 2nd of this year solely to house the homeless 
 over the Christmas holidays. Miss Long walked through 
 the streets herself over the last week inviting the 
 unfortunate homeless to come to the motel for these      
 festivities. Lindsey Long has not only provided the rooms 
 for this week, she also has clothed them with new 
 wardrobes and warm winter clothing and accessories.
 Now as the people sat around the table they were
 told Miss Long had an announcement. We all waited 
 to hear what this amazing lady had to say
 and excitement filled the room. When this 
 beautiful young woman began to talk there
 wasn’t one dry eye in the building. She told them 
 how she was not going to just send them back
 on the street next week but how she had
 built a new centre that would have sleeping
 facilities and showers to accommodate all
 of them. This new facility will be serving 
 three meals a day which will be prepared solely 
 from themselves on a voluntary bases. 
 The feeling in the Inn that night was pure joy
 and as the people realized the impact of this
 wonderful news, they all broke out singing
 It Came Upon a Midnight Clear. This is 
 Rhonda Reeds reporting for 
 The Good Newspaper.
 Merry Christmas everyone.

Written by Brenda Meier-Hans 
11.12.2014
Sponsor Mystic Rose
The Good Newspaper 
1st


Copyright © Brenda Meier-Hans | Year Posted 2014

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Depression (True Story)

My depression grows everyday, It started as a come and go, It decided to stay and create a black cloud, All I can do, Is sit and hope, Wish and dream, Cry and smile, I fake these looks for my family, They feel responsible, Like they caused my pain, Truth is, No one caused it, It just came, because a boy, I loved, Died, All alone, All my fault, Not being there, I was so stupid, So young, I yelled at him, Told him i hated him, Told him to leave me and never come back, His friends came and got him, They drove him home, He decided to come back to see me, My fault, My fight caused, His death, He tried to get to me, A car smashed his, Head trama, Lungs smashed, Face scared, Last words said, I hate you, I rushed to his side, Last thing i hear, I love you, Never forget me, He passed away, In my arms, Me in tears, Unable to tell him, I love you too, Never could I forget you, Your my heart, My soul, You'll always be with me<3


Copyright © Emily Rakis | Year Posted 2010

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Exhuming The Essence

excavate my fervent soul
with your familiar hands
(determination gets you everywhere)
stripped down to just my skin
in this sultry summer night
moon shining provocative…..bright

entwined limbs in midnights swelter
architecture of  this flaming hanker
you must stoke this slow red simmer
I assure you that I blaze
with just the right erotic touch
                        I become a vixen 

trace those fingers down my spine
those lips a naked search
beyond the present sunset
to this hearts clandestine perch
(buried profound but beating)
inside a cave of safety
if you will only reach it
                   patience is a virtue

I am only just a slave
held captive by your binding
to  your Adonis body
I am helpless as a hostage….
my master….I await….trembling
                                   (vulnerable)
for that final surrender

you can render me helpless my love….
and leave me barely breathing…


Copyright © Christie Moses | Year Posted 2009

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Chopped III - Humor

i narrate me own story in a fake english accent. the bloody typewriter is 
broken, it can't capitalize. i'm out of coins for the heater. i can see me own 
breath. it must be really bad . it's summer here in london. i'm a tough guy who 
carries a gun. don't mean i don't want to look good. i freshen up my lipstick,
light up a cigarette and offer one to my secretary. she is hot really hot.
like i said it's summer. she don't wear lipstick it wouldn't help. in the 
encyclopedia under the word butch is her picture. 

i put out my cig in an ashtray overflowin. i'd tell her to empty it but she scares me. 
she only wears one gold earring. who does that? i'm workin on a case, already 
drank half the beers. by the way i'm a dick a private dick. the name is rock,
rock hard. there's a knock at the door. this could be bad she has two fourty fives, 
she's also got a gun. 

she's holding an airline ticket. no reason. she says she just likes it. 
whatever! maybe it has to do with some kind of contest. 
she says we're going for a ride. we are driving when she gets a flat.

i pump she pumps then we get out  of the car and fix the flat. never liked 
cars, horses are more convenient. less breakdowns. she takes us to a 
party everyone is jumpin for joy, so joy gets up and leaves. bet you wish 
this was going somewhere. it's not. like i said i'm a dick.


11~28~2014
Contest: Chopped III
Sponsor: craig cornish


Copyright © Maurice Yvonne | Year Posted 2014

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Inner Eye

In-between sleep and wakefulness,
when my dream still lingers,
entwining free-flown fingers
with the morning rays, dancing across my eyelids.

It is in this state of in-between layers
that my inner-eye blinks its prayers,
and I can move backwards
through all of my many memories
until about the age of three -
the time when my imagination was truly free.

When I was three,
there wasn't one God for me to believe in.
There were thousands of Gods and Goddesses
hiding inside of each and every living thing:
Deities in the woods and wind.
Deities hiding beneath the surface 
of our goldfish pond,
water nymphs kissing the feet
of the Lady in the lake.

One of my most vivid memories as a toddler,
was the day I caught a huge, black cricket.
My Father seemed shocked at the size of my catch,
punched holes into the lid of a mason jar
for me to keep the cricket inside of.
He had never seen such an enormous cricket before.
I was so proud.
I remember looking into its mysterious eyes,
believing for some strange reason,
that a loved one, was now inside of this creature.

Such strange thoughts for a three year-old to have.
But at the time, I truly believed in this.
This was sort of my first inner awakening.
My inner-eye was beginning to speye.
The first night with my cricket,
I listened to its hypnotic song,
and realized it sounded similar to the music
that the old Chinese lady listened to, down the street.
This was sort of my second inner awakening.

I didn't know about the Dao back then;
or maybe I just didn't know the labels?
But I did know how I was altering the destiny
of this creature....altering my own being.

The next day, my Father made me release the cricket.
He did not want it to die,
for it was the biggest cricket he had ever seen.
That was still the most proud I had ever been.
Reluctantly, I opened the jar,
waited an eternity for the escape.
That night I swore that I could hear
a distinct "Chiiiiiiirrrrrup" much louder than the rest.
This was sort of my third inner awakening -
my inner-eye, beginning to speye....


....just as I am awakening now,
the morning rays dancing across my eyelids.


Copyright © Chris D. Aechtner | Year Posted 2010

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Devil's messiah

Drug addict hooker - raped violently and left for dead
Lying in a coma unaware of the seed that breeds inside
Months later a boy is born, but mother does not survive 
Unfortunate angel lets infant fall from her fragile grasp
Demons pounce to infiltrate child and slit angel's neck
What a shame he did not die inside his mother's womb
Doomed childhood lies ahead passed from home to home
Abused, raped and humiliated, voices plague demonic mind
As his foster parents molest him - virginal innocence is lost
Manic voices seduce him to murder them with brutal vengeance
No prison sentence - judge rules self defence - hellion is free
Bullied and mocked in school, voices return to haunt him
Hundreds of students die when food is poisoned with arsenic
He walks away with satisfaction - school never found the killer
An appetite to kill hungers inside him as he plots further victims
Randomly killing animals - manipulating and violating children
Thinks he is invincible perverting the streets as a free man
By chance he meets his demonic queen - to share their malady
Within the ecstasy of masochistic desires, he begs for more
He develops an acute messiah complex ready to rule the world
Demonic duo plan a barbaric killing orgy on an Halloween night
The predators ambush innocent children luring them with treats
Throw them into the basement to feast on them one by one
Hands tied and mouths taped no one can hear their cries of horror
Excited by their successful hunt - they engage in perverted gratification
Caught in a moment of passion the queen slips and breaks her neck
In disbelief and utter shock - angered he decides to set the house alight
As the house blazes - a moment of regret sets in and he tries to escape
but the smoke is too strong and overcomes him - he perishes in flames
When the fire brigade arrive they only find two charred bodies
No one checked the basement - the fire had destroyed the infrastructure
A new home was built over the damaged site - its owners unaware
The mystery of the missing children was never solved - nor their crimes
But the new house is always changing occupants - as screams echo in its corridors

The Silent One
21 October 2015






Copyright © Silent One | Year Posted 2015

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- Dear Dad -


I have learned to say thanks
... It's free
I can not remember that I sat on your lap when I was little
How delightful it is to have a child on my lap
I can not remember no one hugs
Today I hug you often
You feel discomfort
I have learned to be helpful
... It's free
I learned to tie my shoelaces
.... Where were you
I have learned to be kind
.... It's free
I learned to ride a bike
... Where were you
A sister and a brother
moved many miles from their childhood home
I went to school - I became an adult
.... Where were you
I got my own family
A home created along with my dear husband
... A beautiful child and grandchildren
... Where were you
I taught them to say thank you and share many warm hugs .... love
You need me now, to master your life
.... It's free
I am here for you
I say: "I love you, dear dad"
You say: "Its only fair .... it is your duty"
I give you a hug
... You give me no one back







05.01.2015
A-L Andresen :)
Copyright © All Rights Reserved 






Copyright © Sunshine Smile | Year Posted 2015