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Best Visionary Poems

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New Visionary Poems

Don't stop! The most popular and best Visionary poems are below this new poems list.

Shelley-Romantic Visionary by Bateman, Gary
Bypass for visionary by Cokolic, Sanja
Visionary Day by Anish, Matthew
Visionary Angels by Anish, Matthew
VISIONARY EMISSION by Jaja, Great
The Visionary by Treetop, Lizzie
Visionary Clouds by kysely, christine a
Visionary Angels by Anish, Matthew
A VICTORY FOR A VISIONARY by nelson, louise
THE VISIONARY ARTIST by Crisci, Andrew

View all new Visionary Poems

The Best Visionary Poems

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Laminated Love

LAMINATED LOVE

Frozen flames pressed 
between each page; 
suddenly, I felt each passing note.
The painting on the wall began to breathe	
gently the same colors repeated life. 
I was so close; I felt every vibration 
and there underneath the gloom, 
the roof let in the luminance of the moon.	
A memory unfolded while I held your hand,	
repainting our years, a devoted love
at the heart of everything. Steam is drawn 
from our hands. The canvas, 
the beautiful canvas, tied by solid green-gold.
Flames-brushed each wall as ageing you and I.	
In perfect harmony. TOGETHER 

By: PD


Copyright © Poet Destroyer A | Year Posted 2016

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The Age of Poet Destroyer

A diamond in the Frost ... I am Emily, gazing through the years, 
Like Poe from rancid taste and dark smoke shadows
Florescent waste escaping a decrepit yet dulcet wilderness
Backward capabilities frontal verse, I am her the almighty universe 

Ascending from yesterday's fall, literally and visibly
Swore to be everything you loathe most - a felicity of illusions
You will dream of me, a parasite you can't get rid of
Ripped open by paper and pen, rising to a new destination
A Destroyer begging to be free in search of a tender rhapsody
Blind by mediocre poets who tend a false nebulous star
No longer, will I impart into defeat - give in to trophy trust
The time of age, my allies whom I call my friends 
You are more than words on any God-Given-Day

To those unworthy of me, can march away from my parade 
Crying wolves, backstabbing clones, long gone stones
Each file is forgiven & forgotten, however, still trespassing 
Under a microscope, some remain to be a decade of lost words 
Grazing a forest grown for old news dripping water on my belly

No matter, after starvation, I found my way back to the same horizon
Finding time and space among a new docile nation
A buried treasure finding face among a fresh myriad generation
With anchors up, I'm headed full force, against every secret endorsed

I am the one you should not fear, I relish this wonderful community
I am she mounted above all years worn rising like a newborn sword 
Forged by the earth summon by the pirate's moon political creed
Ascending to a sweet ascension with the best kind of immunity
With paper and pen, I sit to please and prosper my poetry need
To you I leave --- Echoes of snow, numbing you with a poetic soul 

Love The Poet Destroyer


Copyright © Poet Destroyer A | Year Posted 2015

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FORGOTTEN TREASURE- The Rebirth

FORGOTTEN TREASURE

I found the fountain of youth
When I stumbled across the forbidden garden
Right smack in the middle,
Was what I thought to be a wishing well
I tossed in a quarter!
Looking down with a puzzled face
I peeked to see where it fell
I leaned over and that's when I saw my vanity
It was always there waiting for me
The reflection in the water was my face
In wonder, I asked what this vision could be?
With one drop on my taste buds
I knew I found the one true key
The most beautiful thing that can set one free
I reached in to touch the poetry inside me

      ~SKAT~

repost- My first poem on the soup


Copyright © SKAT A | Year Posted 2011

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Recording/Re-playing/Recording/Re-playing

The farm
     and the porch light hums 
the sound of another 
orange dawn.

Burnt up – crisp
      aching new reaches 
of the imagination turn 
from corn
      to wheat
to the pungent shade
of dried blood on hands –
kissing corners of a mouth
never kissed.

Sweeping ‘cross in whispers 
two thousand years
      and more, come
words on the flat-line horizon,
dripping sideways,
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 
     being heard 
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

can grip.

Night sounds come in floods
of mauve,
      and quiet apricot;
slicing through oceans,
unsung,
      where no ears hear.

The farm: echoing, lowing and fawning –
Trying to stay true 
      to form,
bleeds into the fibers of a dream
once lived –
recognizing its existence
through the act of a moment, 
      lived.

The girl turns to face 
the enormity
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
      exhaling
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
open mouth.




© Kristin Reynolds 1/9/09


Copyright © Kristin Reynolds | Year Posted 2009

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Pass the Light House

~ CALYPSO ~

Odyssey of the open ocean 
Eclipsing the performance of Heaven's delight 
A beautiful name whispered along the night 
Calypso enhanced with enchanted lullabies 
Sweet silver streams, dreamy epic diamond dreams
Serendipity falls in like mist, under the majestic marble moonlight
Calypso, you belong to--
--Sunsets of the secret sea. 
Mysterious-- many precious places to go, 
Calypso --free flowing, floating legend! 
Ride the beastliness breeze above the sea 
Whisper, Calypso come for me! 
Beautiful Comforting, Calypso Carry me! 

Reflections easily deliquesce into thin air
Sedating the open waters -Voyage- view 
Visionary Vessel above liquid level, 
as divine in spirits she sails. 
CA-LYP-SOO-- Nymph Nature Name 
Aquatic belief-----------------------
CALYPSO, the journey of all journey's 
For all eternity----------------------

:)


Copyright © Poet Destroyer A | Year Posted 2013

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Escape

Escape
Introducing: Carl Fraser & Poet Destroyer

Oh Paint me a far away horizon
Across a tranquil azure sea,
Where sits a peaceful deserted island
Where no one lives but me
Free from prying eyes and greedy lies
Free from scars that never heal
Let me be free to just be me
Instead of someone who isn't real
To live out my days giving thanks and praise
To my creator in heaven above
And leave behind the noise of worldly toys
And just bask daily in his love
To be stripped of pain by the spirits rain
And washed until my robes are clean
For I've had enough of my fellowman's company
And I'm disgusted by what I've seen
So I will step into my painted horizon
Framed in a forever state of bliss
And I turn back only for a fading glimpse
As I blow the world a farewell kiss.

       Laced by the seas we see, you beg for a life so far
       Far from all I've dreamed of, tranquil and spirit rain
       A once false painted paradise,
       Bliss, a farewell kiss, drowned by old heartache
       Not knowing where it's coming from
       Yesterday, I woke up to a new skyline,
       The horizon, formed by your eyes,
       Across a tranquil azure sea
       Far from all existing companies, you stood
       In front of the ocean - your ocean!
       Sailing on the calm side of the turquoise sea
       Stripping back into the innocence you once were
       A gentleman, caressing the oats in a peaceful state
       The moon breaking your once trusted mind
       The silence of heaven heals every scar inside
       Redemption is a secret we beg for
       It was always you, someone lost, misguided by love
       Somebody, I once dreamt of, A dream lost out at sea
       Calling out for me --- you chose to pray alone
       Repelled by the world so cold, yet here I stand
       Alone, on the other side of the farewell kiss
       For you, I paint a faraway horizon of bliss, my friend
       Waiting -Dreaming -Escaping --- In another lifetime

       ~A Poet Destroyer Collaboration~


Copyright © Poet Destroyer A | Year Posted 2015

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Each Day Takes its Turn

Standing firm 
we live 
we give 
we take 
we learn 
we strive to make sure 
each day enlightens us 
and brightens us
even as light fades to gray 
may we keep fighting 
with two swollen feet
beneath the body and soul 
experiencing trials 
and intense life lessons 
meshed with stresses 
may we persevere 
turn off  fear's song 
may we stand firm 
as we glide along 
through shifty winds of change 
that may cause things to sway
rearrange
but we hold true
inside the values and morality
we stand for 
we
fall for nothing 
we
may stumble along the trip 
we 
may swerve at the wheel yet 
we 
do not lose our grip
because no one 
can eclipse the sun 
yet
everyone heals 
before they're done

Just when situations arise 
flooding us with pain we despise
and just when it seems like
our tear ducts are dry 
from ongoing cries
we may think 
things are on the brink of ending
then God shows us the ways of faith
by way of love that he's sending

Standing firm 
we live 
we give 
we take 
we learn 
we make sure 
every day enlightens us 
and brightens us 
as each day takes its turn. 

~JSLambert




Copyright © JSLambert Mister ROBOTO | Year Posted 2012

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REFRAIN ON THE 6th

Ethereal poetic musings create celestial visions,
like a gymnastic athlete with lively colored ribbons,
renewing life as circles of light swirl into exotic symbols.
Lights flicker as cameras flash to perpetuate the scene,
holding spectators captive with imagery astounding.
Celestial visions overwhelm sensations ne’er forgotten.


5 June 2016
Free verse

Inspiration: Visual #1


For the contest, The Best Of 6
sponsor: Nette Onclaud

Placed 6


Copyright © Victor Buhagiar | Year Posted 2016

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Tea Leaves On The Bosphorus

Tea Leaves On The Bosphorus

Seated at a table by the stirring water,
My eyes absorb the shore of Asia.
Minerets and aged worn stone
Stand haphazardly along the banks.
Istanbul is a lady with secrets
She'll lure you with her unrevealed virgin beauty,
Then seduce you with her ancient lovers.

Grilled sardines filled my charger
Fish pulled from the strait just minutes before,
Lay garnished with parsley and mint .
Red pickled turnips and warm flat bread
Are the implements that help feed me 
And scoop up the humus,
Turkish nourishment for my soul.

The empty plates are cleared by a handsome waiter
With dubious intentions I feared,
But I was flattered none the less.
A bowl of yogurt was placed before me,
And my admirer arrived with a comb of honey.
He held it high above the creamy cloud and let the heavy ochre
languidly pour atop the milky whiteness of delight.
After his seduction,he left me alone to my pleasure
As I lapped at the sweet and sour heavenly temptation,
that parted my lips and elevated my being.

As I recovered from my rapture, two eyes caught mine.
The heathen that destroyed my diet approached the table uninvited.
He pulled up a chair and sat down across from me.
In his hands, a cup.
He offered to tell me my future.
White, small, as fragile as an eggshell with the top lopped off.
Within was a dark tea with floating leaves.
In a chivalrous attempt at English conversation,
He handed me the libation and the offer to read the remains.

I, alone in a man's world, unmarried, and of a certain age,
Did not need encouragement and I accepted his offer.
I drained the tea in one gulp and returned it to his hands.
He placed the cup in one palm , then turned it upside down,
Allowing the remaining fluid to drip out around the cup and onto the table.
Once the cup was upright again he studied the leaves, then he spoke.

His voice was soft, at times , unintelligible
His reading was honest, and truthful, and painful.
His prophecy, amusing, and entertaining
His vision and it's accuracy were astounding.

Fifteen years later, the leaves delivered on their promise.
Long fluid lines inside the cup foretold of a marriage,
To a man who  would cross a sea to find me.
Two shorter drippings were the children that now delight me.
The  tea ring that he was able to complete around the cup ,
Was the warmth of a love that would soon envelop me.


Tea, anyone?






Copyright © Brenda Atry | Year Posted 2011

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Mirror Ball

I'm sure this hill is where it stood.
Amazing shapes of stuccoed wood.
A glass-brick, neon stream-lined place.
As if it flew from outer space,

A swing band auditorium,
An Art Deco emporium,
When romance, innocent in pace,
From dancing to a teasing chase.

The town grew west in modern haste
And down it came, without a trace.
The war and culture's change in taste,
Predestined doom, the past erased.

The future sighs, with solemn face
The wrecking ball, the glittered waste
No plaque to read "Historic Sight".
The swirling dust, a dance goodnight.


Gene Bourne
08-01-14
.


Copyright © Gene Bourne | Year Posted 2014

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The Promise's Beginning

Somewhere in midnight’s nocturnal hallways
As the chill settles down with starlight
While the world stands silent in waiting
There abiding with his flock walks the shepherd
Hopeful in thought and yet weary of foot
He moves his charges through the bite of night

His hope in the coming dawn lifts his burdens
Filling his minds eye with warm musings of tomorrow
In tones they beseech the day and challenge darkness
But through this constant cycle of shine and shadow
The guardian of the flock stands steadfast and waits

The promise begins as His voice appears cherubically 
Falling in fear and praying for strength of faith
The radiance in the sky softens ever slightly
Speaking of the vow and announcing the messiah
Who brings the world a love and a hope yet tasted

Tremulous breath’s as the promise is spoken
Awing the greatness with a loving and respectful fear
Silent in belief beholding the coming miracle
He stirs the somnolent flock down the slopes
To bestow upon all the gift of this divine hour

His breath brittle’s the final icy moments of dusk
He labors the trail with renewed strength of heart
Proclaiming hushed gratitude within every step
A beacon of brilliance converges in the heavens
Beckoning his faithful west toward little Bethlehem

Dropping to his knees his face wetted in thanks
Finally understanding what is gripping his soul
He sees the precarious pathway laid before him
Though he has journeyed into the unknown before
None had brought with it a promise so precious





Copyright © Charles Fuller | Year Posted 2007

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Soulmate

If you were to come to me Wow
In sight unseen before now
No longer just a vision of your smile

I would want to walk right up and
 wrap my arms around you

Sigh and say ....
"Finally my life is complete"
I prayed that before heaven 
      we would meet

" I've Always Loved You 
    my precious soulmate"
You are my fate...

Oh your lips look so sweet
then you would sweep me off of my feet.

Solita R. Edge-Reed


 



Copyright © Solita Reed | Year Posted 2010

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My good name

if my good name means keeping face with those who are not so good 
strip my flesh of my good name and let me be not misunderstood 

if my good name means putting on a facade to indulge the higher ups 
then lower me below the lowest and empty my deceitful cup 

if my good name means being nice to appease your sensibilities 
then strip me of my good name and arm me with accountability 

if my good name means betrayal to soul, self and spirit 
then silence my good name because i don't want to hear it 

if my good name means i have to tell myself a lie 
then to hell with my good name i'd rather tell the truth and die!!!!!!


Copyright © John Castro | Year Posted 2011

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Wistful Aging

Age gracefully…that’s what I’ll do
Going to ignore the lines, how about you?
Inner beauty is what really counts
I happen to love my drooping mounts

Absolutely no Botox or fillers for me
Another varicose vein, Yipee
I’ll learn to love myself, no matter what
I will forever have my untucked gut

Graceful and elegant, that’s what I am
I will tell those cosmetic companies to scram
Lip plumping or lipo…no darn way!
And as for my hair…I will let it go gray

Facelifts are for the weak, you know
I happen to adore the feet of the crow
I’ll snub my reflection, chuckling a little at me…
For shunning pricey moisturizers provides me with glee 

I don’t need any convertible or flashy car
My beauty shines really brightly, from afar 
Who cares about the rolls, seeming to multiply each day?
No staples for me, I don’t care what I weigh

Dark circles make my eyes look cute
And those saddlebags are really a hoot
Juvederm and Radiance ….what a waste
On this mug, parentheses DO have a place

Lasik-I sincerely think not
That bifocal look is certainly hot
A new boytoy-There will be none of that
Though I’m sure he’d dig my charming back fat

The bell, oh no, I don’t mean to be crass
I guess I dozed off in Algebra Class
I must have been close to 40 in that frightful dream
And I was just about to let off a really loud scream

Nevertheless, my dear friends, I do so solemnly vow
To go off and age gracefully…at least for now
That's right...no need for the third degree
I promise to not get my first brow lift…until I’m at least 23


Copyright © Natalie The Rogue Rhymer | Year Posted 2011

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EDGER ALL POE

Our dark founding father, of American literature,
A sinister beacon of darkness, lighting the way
Into the darkened abyss of mankind’s soul.
Within the galleria of madness, he is the
Grandmaster of the black ink, and it's
 Written words of terror.
In thus the shadow realm, does his spirit
Still roam, on the cutting edge of fear,
A fine thin line, is drawn between reality,
And fictions illusionary world.
Life's a shunned, abandonment’s creation,
The lord's misbegotten son, embraced
The night's cloak, in it's power
His only salvation unto history's
 Remembrance, is found a truth's
Justice and notability's respect.
Loves passionate compliant servant,
Dashed against the rocks of life itself,
Broken and damaged, he rose above
The waves of poverty, and the under
 Current of tragedies broken
Heart.
Some may say he wrote from the after
Effects that laid, at the bottom
 Of the bottle.
Or afterfeeds drug endued comma, dulling
The emotional nerves concept between
Right and wrong, the social exceptionable
Norm.
But we care not what others wish to believe,
For we honor him, those of us the dark poets,
As the father whom lead the way, between
Light and dark.
Dearest Edger Allen Poe, the legend, the man,
A spiritual dark representative, with pens quailed
Ink at his command.

BY: CHERYL ANNA DUNN





















Copyright © cherl dunn | Year Posted 2013

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A Practiced Sorrow

You’re dressed in gray, and
tattered like the clouds
that hover above you.

Frozen
with the look of a person
who knows of his own
approaching death.

Like the willow that cradles 
dawn's mist of unwept tears—
a practiced sorrow,
earned from decades of watching 
the slow meandering river,
as it draws closer, 
and the banks weather and fall.


Copyright © Rickie Elpusan | Year Posted 2005

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When The Sun Sets

When the sun sets, The stars shine with no regrets. Darkness fills the air, The moon gives light with every care. The darkness is easier to walk through, Every light shining is so pure and true. Guidence forever are the stars in the sky, With them we find our places lifted so high. Forever is the moon to cast light upon us all, We become encouraged to stand firm and tall. The stars shine with no regrets, When the sun sets.

When the sun sets, Shining its powerful light it never forgets. Though light fades to darkness, It comes about with alertness. Shadows before the eye can see, The little shining light is enough to set us free. Sometimes we are afraid to walk alone in the dark, From which we were given a caustic remark. Guidance Forever is the changing of dark and light, It helps us to be strong and make one last fight. Forever are the shadows lurking at every turning point, If we give in it is ourselves we disappoint. Shining its powerful light it never forgets, When the sun sets.

When the sun sets, The sky is filled with wonderful colors that the ocean reflects. All the animals of the sea, Come forth creating a musical harmony. The waves crash upon the shore, Washing up new sand to the ocean floor. Its a beautiful site to see, The ocean sounds are calmingly free. Who's to say the ocean isn't peaceful get away, Its a calming place to relax and stay. The sky is filled with wonderful colors that the ocean reflects, When the sun sets.


Copyright © Tyler Knapp | Year Posted 2012

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Time

What is this unseen power
It changes all that exists into dust
It shapes our lives and our landscapes
It sculpts and changes us.

What is this unseen power
That rules the world of men
That heals and teaches and equalizes
That triumphs again and again?

Time is that great master
Of power and wisdom and grace
Which by doing nothing but passing
Leaves its mark on every place.

Time...yes you can waste it,
But be aware when you do
Time will return the favor my friend
And eventually start wasting you.


Copyright © Melanie McLaughlin Reed | Year Posted 2007

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The Winds of Time

One day I was passing time
And wrote these words upon the lines,
I know not where they came you see
The Winds of Time were there for me.

If I could open a door to the past
And there before me were the paths
I'm not quite sure which I would choose
But The Winds of Time would see me through.

The vastness there before God's Hand
Then came the heavens, the seas, the land
Eden, Noah and the Christ Child's birth
Is the path that I see first.

I'm not into Knights or dragon days,
Nor Robin Hood and his saving ways,
But give me a Viking as he crosses the seas
And I'll dream of the lands so wild and free.

The music of Irland calls to me,
Where Kathleen's heart has ever been,
And for Danny Boy the fifes do call
I'll shed my tears lest he should fall.

As Immigrants touched upon our shores
The Indians prepared to fight once more,
But fate stepped in and eased the sore
They'd live in peace forever more.

The  battles fought upon this land
To protect us from Tierney's hand,
The Civil War for Freedom's right
The Alamo where comrades died.

At Little Big Horn where our soldiers died,
As Indians defend their homes with pride,
The government later took a hand
And put them on Reservation land. 

I remember well, when I was quite young
The days of World War II
And how my father's life did change
When the family business he assumed.

Twenty-four seven was unheard of then,
But that was their working day,
They helped keep our nations trucks on the road
Their battlefield was here in the USA.

I'll choose the path with pastures green,
Horses, cattle and the cowboy scene,
This is the land of my mother's birth
The most precious land to me on earth.

I chose this land and took a stand,
Married a cowboy and we ranched the land.
Though now retired and family gone
This land will always be our home.

The Winds of Time, know well my soul
I'll rest at night with days of yore.
And as I wake a prayer I'll say
Please God, may we have Peace today?

                       Cile Beer


Copyright © Marycile Beer | Year Posted 2005

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He is the Night



He winks as the moon winks. His eyes twinkle as the stars sink low just for him. They are drawn in fascination to his unique charms (as in a magical sky, am I ). He is one with night, he is. He is the thrill of new beginnings and the trusted intimacy of time. Masks worn in hours of day, at dusk, slip away. Our connection grows in starry night glow. Like the brightest constellations, we fly, oh, how we fly! Complete am I in his eyes. We are one, one in our dreams. We are weightless and free. The Big Dipper scoops us up into an infinite sky of brilliance. On our quest to reach Polaris, he is my guiding light. I am complete, I am greater than my past and its disguise. I am greater in his tender sight. We are greater as one in our flight. All the rows of houses below us, silent in their sleep, awaken to our ecstatic cries of passion. We are shooting stars. In the wink of the moon, who knows its dependence on the light of a distant sun, I know my flame will die, without his inner light. We are one, one love tonight.


Copyright © Rhonda Johnson-Saunders | Year Posted 2015

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Sunrise, Heaven And Nature Conspire

Sunrise, Heaven And Nature Conspire!


At sunrise, when morn breaks into sweet day
Darkness,eases into another far lost realm
Light returns to splendor in its bright way
Sun-ship glowing,celestial giant at the helm!

We that rise up to see this wondrous event
soak in its beauty, holding its glory fast
Our future embraced and our past thus spent
each day's memories and hopes sail at last!

Heaven and Nature conspire to give that gift
hours await to explore life's great dreams
Darkness fled,giving again blessed day shift
full of promises riding magnificent streams!

At sunrise, when morn breaks into its sweet day
Earth gives man more time to love, dance and play!

Robert J. Lindley, mid-70's

Old sonnet, perhaps mid/late 70's.
Had no date on it.. Certainly was at an 
optimistic time in my young life.


Copyright © Robert Lindley | Year Posted 2015

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The POW's Escape

POW confined in a cage
Through Viet Cong jungles bullets raged

No sweat from his pores in unrelenting sun
Dehydration, famine, yet his needs were none

A tepid river so foul with blood’s scent
But the outcome of torture was not as meant

He tasted cool ice as his spirit soared
Freedom came fast once the war was ignored

Hovering o’er killing fields his soul’s eyes
Saw not the wounded, heard not their cries

Though his weak body lay crumpled below
Pain free he reveled on clouds, heaven’s snow

Through astral projection he’d been set free
Each day he survived, taking this journey

When rescued at last many months gone by
The US militia did not know why

GI Joe felt no hate, seemed so serene
And not one of his rescuers could glean

Why this soldier survived, what kept him sane
For they’d not escaped inside this man’s brain

The awareness he’d achieved spared his life
So he could return to his son and wife

Who’d prayed everyday that he would come home
Only to say they’d never been alone

Their spirits communed on another plane
And life as they’d known it would never be the same


*Entry for Caties Out-of-Body Experience Contest.


Copyright © Carolyn Devonshire | Year Posted 2009

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Prognosticator

Wandering through the crystalline mists, is truly a revelation. Dreamers merely dream, but seers roam misty, dark realms, to find the truths, which others would hide. The swirling fog forms; takes its sweet time. I seek clarification; Fog only hints, at life’s coming storms. Some have died, for their gift; slaughtered by those who can’t or won’t try to understand; insisting that, they must be of service to others. It’s no comfort to know events, Before they occur, but God gives gifts. Prognostication is one of the Best and worst gifts. The god within, will not be silent; inner knowledge is the wheel, that steers us to safety. A prognosticator channels the map, for those who cannot see.


Copyright © M. L. Kiser | Year Posted 2015

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Imagine That

If there was no crime
No hurry for time
No genocide
No homicide
If there was no mothers burying their sons
If mankind didn't invent guns
If schools still had prayer
If everybody recognize Jesus Christ as our savior
If there was love and respect
No hate between white and black
No homeless
No loneliness
No wars
No rich or poor
No accidents or disasters
If man only served one master (God)
Imagining is good for all it's worth
Heaven is definitely not planet earth


Copyright © Jeffrey Lee | Year Posted 2006

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Dear Me

Dear Me,

I need you to be stronger
I need you to never be afraid

swallow your pride,and your flight will be softer
tell her you love her,even if it hurts

Grab onto your dream and live it
Do not be afraid of the sun's divinity

Be better,love more, hold on.

Dear Me,

Enjoy every stop of the ride.
For when the train finally stops...we die

Until we witness the angels dance after final day...
Dear Me, hide your fears away



Copyright © Winter Wallace | Year Posted 2009