Long poem by
Tatyana Carney | Details |
We swallow boulders:
(lead words, molasses covered prejudice, glass shards of promises long broken)
Mouths open wide and heads tipped back
like Hawaiian fire eaters.
Chipped teeth are bits of porcelain history,
sliding down our throats in rivers of neglect
The stones settle,
Our stomachs are filled up, anvil weight
'till we can hardly sit, hardly stand, or walk.
We drag our feet in pain, as the quiet indicator that
we've had rocks for breakfast,
lunch, dinner, for years,
in the hopes that someone will recognize
the broken concrete footprints behind us
and touch us gently on the forearm:
"Honey, are you alright?"
(and isn't it the first sweet trickle of kind words that crumble
the already cracking facade?)
There's no stopping the torrent then,
tsunami tears and a heaving, convulsing
to the point of cathartic vomit-
boulders of every shape and size
tumbling out of our mouths and filling the room;
broken teeth and granite eyes
until we no longer see the floor, the walls...
And then serenity.
The hand has moved to the shoulder,
forming a universal hug.
"I'm here now... and you're ok."
We stand up, together, and leave that room,
a soundless void of yesterday,
to absorb the impermeability of stones,
carrying our gait buoyant, without gravity.
No weight at all now, and barely a second glance,
but to turn out the light - and lock the door behind us...
Copyright © Tatyana Carney | Year Posted 2006
Long poem by
Dane Ann Smith-Johnsen | Details |
An Ode to Turkeys
By Dane Smith-Johnsen
There was a time, year one thousand A.D
U.S. turkeys faced a brand new plight.
Native American's hunting delight.
The white meat of a turkey is quite lean.
So much healthier than man knew before,
Nothing one ever could say,
In any way,
Would make Americans free turkeys anymore.
Thanksgiving comes and goes.
Wild turkey gobbling slows.
Ben Franklin watched their plight.
Nominated, though laughter did flare.
Turkeys beneath the moonlight
Were beautiful out there.
Ben suggested, turks as the nation's bird.
But eagles know, it was not so.
And turks in history endured this nations birth.
Although wild turkeys can run fast and fly,
Toms might in spring be found.
Fluffing, dancing around.
Caruncle and waddle shiny, bright red
Courting the hens, showing off, prancing, not dead.
Although turkeys fly strong,
The hunters by day kept watch in the fields.
Until, Old Tom, no more sang passion's song
And hens under bushes sat on eggs long.
When chicks hatched out and played their mother shields.
But on Thanksgiving Day...
Note: Carolyn, thanks for the video suggestion. It is very funny. I decided to post the link
here. The HISTORICAL one is found at http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=w1213z9KHNs
(TIME HEALS ALL: We do LOVE you, MOTHER ENGLAND... from you we were BORN.)
The HYSTERICAL one is found at http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=JnLyqBtU_F8
ENJOY the FUN!
Copyright © Dane Ann Smith-Johnsen | Year Posted 2009
Long poem by
Carolyn Devonshire | Details |
Elderly man’s fishing net hangs in his shed
The fish he caught in his backyard stream multiply
Net use was banned; he couldn’t afford a pole
Joy and sustenance gone, a tear falls from his eye
House Bill 875 would ban backyard farms
Forcing vegetable growers to invest cash
In overpriced produce on supermarket shelves
Uncle Sam flexes his muscle, makes his whip lash
The right to freely worship is endangered
As prayer is prohibited in public schools
Government intrusion invades all our lives
Public pleas are not heard by those who make rules
Freedom to choose our doctors is now threatened
Socialized medicine diminishes choice
Speech censorship? Just ask the Smothers Brothers
Who canceled their own show with a stifled voice
As crime escalates, look to the constitution
The NRA spends billions to protect Americans' rights
To bear arms against oppressors while thieves laugh
And sue owners of homes invaded in the night
Can this be what our forefathers had in mind
When they sought to escape a king’s tyranny?
Our rights are being limited more each day
In a nation spawned to promote liberty
Natural disasters prelude Judgment Day
Eerie escalation – tsunamis, earthquakes
But perhaps when the dust finally settles
Those who survive will learn from our past mistakes
Governments will form only to preserve peace
Not to strip away rights ancestors pursued
Don’t blink! Precious freedoms are now endangered
By those who feel they’re elected to intrude
Copyright © Carolyn Devonshire | Year Posted 2010
Long poem by
Sidney Beck | Details |
AUTUMN IN UDELNAYA WOODS
The smoke from the shashlik fires made us hungry
So that we could have eaten the falling golden manna from the trees
Offered to two wanderers in this sylvan wilderness.
Not forty years, but forty minutes in which life changed for us.
It was only a field trip she said, to study the socio-environmental
Arrangement, the attitudes, of couples in the autumnal picnic grounds.
She needed the truth for her dissertation, she needed my help.
Knight errant in the pursuit of knowledge, that’s me.
In pursuit of her, if the simple truth be known.
She gave me the golden opportunity I had been seeking all summer:
Now the harvest was at hand, and the reaper all too ready.
She needed photos to show the attitudes of the couples
No photos were needed to show our attitudes.
We were clearly a couple with attitude, and my socio-environmental
Score matched hers exactly: that’s scientific for “we fell in love”.
Look up! Such a glorious afternoon of yellows, and a blue sky.
Look down! The lake reflecting our faces filled with smiling delight,
Gold underfoot, and her lustrous flaxen hair draped over my shoulder.
The field trip showed the truth, she knew it and so did I.
It was forty years ago : we still remember it, tell our kids about it,
Especially on fall days like today.
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .. . . . . . . . . .
Written by Sydney Peck 2 October 2011, and
Entered in Francine Roberts’s Contest “A Nature Tale”
Copyright © Sidney Beck | Year Posted 2011
Long poem by
Tammy Flanagan | Details |
The rythme progresses through me
Reaching to depths unknown
Leading me to another realm
Only I have ever gone
A place of solitude
Where I can be free
For my soul is the melody
To which I shall dance alone
And the beat is my life walk
Opening the walls that have never been shown
Oh how I love to sing
Especially when I hear that old familiar
That takes me back to the day
That I could just proceed along
No cares, no worries, just me and the world
Being free...... to my song
How many memories are wrapped up within tones
That have touched our lives
How many people can we recall
With just one sharp# climb
Or with just one flat fall
The power of our melody is our own
No one can hum it
No one can take it
Because our life walk is our song
We can take this empowerment as high as we want
Or we can take it to the lows
No matter how we play it
It still grows
With each and every encounter
Down our blessed path
The music follows
With our every step
So embrace your sharps and flats
Knowing that it is helping you
Through this turbulent ride
Sing it loud and don't be ashamed
For your song knows you are doing your best
Don't let the bar line tell your ending
Keep the melody flowing
Continue your lines without cares
And when your curtain rides low
And the rythmes come to a sway
Just look at the pages before
To where you started from
And to how you have become so much more today
Keep the music alive....even with a hummm
Copyright © Tammy Flanagan | Year Posted 2012
Long poem by
Edward Orozco | Details |
<center> I do remember you, your brown curly hair that stole scene entirely
The day my eyes met yours, and how I dreamed of having you in my arms
Then they moved; your lips and out came the most beautiful voice that to an angels
You stood no judge and took me in to a warm embrace
Your heart felt the sorrow, and scars that my soul carried, and yet you held me
Hours came to be days and days came to be months and our hearts grew
I awaited the sun to wake up and stand on top of the day, so that I could see you again
Your laugh, your scent, your smile that drove my heart to swell in affection
The butterflies that you made come to life within my stomach grew and I took flight
Then only the heavens were the limit
A glimpse of hidden light I called you, and a verse I wrote for you that stole your heart
I too recall the glow in your eyes as I held you and kissed you
You said it was too good to be true, and then the truth came to surface
Fear was rich in your heart, and slowly you drove me away
And I stood to do nothing but see and feel the fire draw to not exist
Seconds became weeks and all in that you became a memory
A beautiful memory that I will not forget, as I became stronger at your side
I wonder if you think of me, as I think of you
Our first kiss beneath the sun, our first hug our first laugh
I see your smile from a distance every now and then, beautiful still
I will always think of you and what we could of had
You are a star forgotten
Copyright © Edward Orozco | Year Posted 2012
Long poem by
Shaz Cheesman | Details |
Bloody rude drunken pen has enjoyed a nib of ink or two, reminiscing on a few
Bad and ugly times, we both admit at times things were, a bit of a mess,
All kinds of intertwined, confused but along the way making some progress
On the grand masterpiece of all masterpieces – writing bliss
At first polite, we take in turns, to interject with collaborative words,
Until the air hits us hard, take a breath, where’s your etiquette, manners and respect,
My turn pen, I command, continue on to write, scribbling like an erratic bird’s nest.
Pen resists and spits its ink, a dirty blob from its nib…how rude
All smudged and slurred is a dribbling rambling of everything crude
Across the page leaking its ink, clearly from excessive drink
Dancing on thin ice, my drunken pen decides to try and entice
Inviting me to envelope, his muscular body with smooth fingers
Such fraternisation you drunken sleaze, how do you expect to please
The love of your life, giving you permission to write and express your ink with ease
Drunken pen is at a loss as reflects on his drunken state, its very late
Blubbering relaxed words across the page, deep within and obscure
Then I realise that my drunken pen is sometimes a little insecure
He has a way of making me melt when I think of his 50 shades of blue
Each drink of ink that fills his nib, that prints our words, that stains my skin
Is in every way the partnership of creative bliss and my perfect hue
2nd October 2012
Written for Drunken Pen - Part 2 Contest
Copyright © Shaz Cheesman | Year Posted 2012
Long poem by
frank halliwell | Details |
In the fading days of summer; in the early afternoon,
We climbed the path that winds to Dorry's Ridge..
Where the crispness of the autumn air fortold a snowfall soon
On the rolling hills beyond the Springtown Bridge.
See the reds and golden yellows of the woods up on the hill
Where the maples stood all summer dressed in green.
Can you feel the breath of winter in the early evening chill
With the north wind stealing down the lake unseen?
Does a sense of wonder fill you, when the wild geese fill the sky
As they start their yearly journey to the south..
And the strung-out chains of emigrants call loudly as they fly
Past the rocky point down by the river's mouth..
And when once more it's silent, and our world is still again,
And our geese have disappeared beyond our view,
I'll lead you down the ridge, along the pathway from our glen,
And wander back along the lake with you.
On Dorry's Ridge the snow lies deep, and up along the hill..
The maples stand forlorn; their branches bare.
The lake lies deep beneath the ice; caught tight in winter's chill
The fox is sleeping soundly in her lair.
But one day soon the spring will come, the land will blossom then,
And life will wake again, as nature planned.
We'll climb the long path to the ridge, returning to our glen,
And watch the geese returning, hand in hand..
Copyright © frank halliwell | Year Posted 2013
Long poem by
Seren Roberts | Details |
Santas little helpers were busy having fun
Wrapping and labelling the presents ready for the Xmas run
The reindeer had their coats washed smelt of lavender and things
The sleigh had been revarnished was now bright and glowing.
The reigns were now polished as a surprise for Santa Claus
So he would look the kiddy not a drab old droopy drawers
The presents were in the sack, in house order for delivery
Santa admired his reigns not realising they were slippery.
He jerked the reigns as a nod for the reindeers"
To start their pulling then it happened, oh dear
The reigns slipped through Santa's fingers reindeer were off at speed
Luckily thomas was out with his tank engine knew he had to try and stop the steeds
He puffed along the track shouting at Santa to hang on tight
Then disappeared into a tunnel giving Santa such a fright
The minions were out in their millions pulling on the reigns to stop the race
While batman flew in voicing his opinion that a race at Xmas wasn't the place
Said to the minions you want to help, Santa is exhausted not in the mood to yo ho ho ho
Deliver these presents off you go but be quiet those children mustn't know
But if you peeped and saw yellow Santas Instead of the usual red one
It's the minions helping out until the presents are all gone.
Santa is snoring now he has had a stressful day
Think before you do more than help it sometimes doesn't pay .
Penned 26 November 2014
Copyright © Seren Roberts | Year Posted 2014
Long poem by
W.... Truth | Details |
Someone asked me once what exactly is it that separates us from the socially elite or the ruling class,
and the answer she said would require real thought and that until I answered I could not pass.
It also could not pertain to a wise saying people use in passing or a notion or a clever line to sum it all up or cynically encompass it all,
but that the answer had to be definitive, direct and pertain to the actual tool used for this segregation or mildly put separation and that seeing the answer and knowing where very different but finally with the answer I must still stand tall.
Would it be crazy that the answer or name could be considered a real State or more over applicably characterized as the the 51st State but the main one of the many exceptions that comprise this State and many more like exemptions in that State is that it has no boundaries and no border,
And in politics demands for a strict criminal justice system by this socially elite especially in relation to violent and property crime as they described and through stricter criminal penalties against the have not's and then the have not's treated as depraved is this real definition of law and order.
So after very deep unbiased and original thought and after seeing all that's going on from Dallas and even many other country's and even far away in Nice
I believed that now I know the answer and I said to her "Police".
She let me pass....
Copyright © W.... Truth | Year Posted 2016
Long poem by
Geraldine Douglas | Details |
Jewels of Africa.
The saffron Queen spins the lilac sky,
her rays flick crimson cinders into Royal Blue Oceans.
Submerge, sizzle, frizzle...going, going, gone! ...But Not.
Cumulus clouds drizzle pepper fog over pink Flamingos, homeward bound.
Tea-green Botswana bush,
teeny, tiny Hummingbirds hover over brink-pink Balsams,
feast on elixir of nectar.
Royal Albatross rides the last whip of wind.
Sulking Stork swoops through veiled mists above marshy meadow ponds.
Sword sunbeams lash chrome, coppery twilight.
Mooned dusks, a violet cape cloaks bathing blooms.
Nightscape sky sparks, preparing morning’s thin blue...aurora hue.
Camouflaged branches stretch, tickle studded clouds
as ribboned roots cling to crevice homes.
A spook- silver ring appears from nowhere, pearling ripples aluminium.
Beams spill across the sea like lines of glittering fire.
Ethiopian wolves howl composed solos,
phantom echoes shudder Tarantula’s lair
as Flax Lily spurts scent...Frankincense and Lime.
Sultry Savannah’s secrets passed on by rhythmic lip-smacking Baboons,
cracking jokes in the knitted canopy,
teasing and tickling clowning Hyena’s below as
a blinkered platoon of Jet Wood Ants march to their Majesty.
Dawn draws indigo voiles over Nephthys, Goddess of Night
slashes of Sunrise surge shadows as the Bush Lark spangles jewels in the air.
The Alize wind dies in respect to heavenly panorama...
Mountains reflected, seen to be varnished into still, smalt-blue sea.
Copyright © Geraldine Douglas | Year Posted 2016
Long poem by
Spidey Williams | Details |
Nobody told me that the road would be EASY,
With every BREATH,
I begin to feel one with DEATH.
Wondering why it’s not me lifeless in the GRAVE.
Wondering why my life is being SAVED?
The more I breathe in this world’s AIR,.
The more I seem to CARE.
The more than I APPRECIATE,
Every time I AWAKE.
Every time I CRY,
Every fear I FACE,
I’m realizing I’m living NOW,
for a purpose, while preparing MYSELF,
for a better PLACE.
I do not know what tomorrow BRINGS,
But I know what today IS.
My tomorrow results from what I make of TODAY!
Today determines what my tomorrow may BRING!
Yesterday helps factors a fraction of my TODAY!
But nobody told ME!
The weight of the world would be carried by ME.
I knew it would be HARD,
but never did I think it would be this DIFFICULT.
I never thought I would actually loose so MUCH,
before I gain so LITTLE.
I never thought the little gain, would mean so MUCH!
I never realized how little I CRIED,
Until when I TRIED,
no tears would FLOW.
And when they started they would never STOP!
And when they stopped, the feelings would still REMAIN!
Nobody told me I would loose so many KEN.
Nobody told me I would loose several of my close FRIENDS.
Nobody told me I would feel so low DOWN.
Nobody told me I would be hurt by words SPOKEN.
Nobody told me my heart would be constantly BROKEN.
But even if they had told ME,
all of this and much MORE.
It would have never prepared me to be the CHOSEN!
Copyright © Spidey Williams | Year Posted 2006
Long poem by
William Masonis | Details |
"The boy's got a broken brain!
- Fix him for me now,
I can't do a thing with him."
- So I hear you say,
Though he seems intelligent enough.
After all, he's smart enough
To know the whys and wherefores
Of every deal that goes down on his street -
Every $ passing hands in the dark,
Summed and totalled in his head.
But Math - Forget it.
And you'll never see him crack a book for study's sake.
Perhap's that's because you broke his heart,
Long ago, though his face will never show it.
Because he bleeds inside,
Though to hear him talk you'd never know it.
You tore his shadoworld apart
Just by never being there -
You broke his proud red eggshell heart
Because he knows you never cared.
Perhaps this is why Rage is his religion,
And he only values Gain,
Why Payback is his Creed,
His only currency Pain.
This then is why he wears the shirt
That reads, "Never Forget, Never Forgive";
This why he's unafraid to kill or die,
Yet terrified to live.
So go get an education -
Start with a hard look at yourself -
You that schooled a nation
In the politics of Greed,
Builders of the conflagration
Of burning, unmet Need
Now threatening to consume us
As it climbs into the skies,
As it whispers warnings to us
From his vacant, coldstare eyes.
You broke his heart,
A wound more deep
Than I alone can mend,
I, just one beleaguered horseman.
Cannot set it right again.
You must help put things back together,
If you want our nightmares to end.
Copyright © William Masonis | Year Posted 2008
Long poem by
Helen J Radford | Details |
A knock at the door, who can it be?
Probably Sarah coming for tea.
She usually calls on her way
back from work to share some time with me.
A look in the mirror,
I 'tut' at my face:
Why do people always call
when there's junk around the place?
I open the door - a man is standing there.
I wish I'd worn some make up
I wish I'd done my hair.
It's then I spot the uniform:
the buttons made of brass;
the stripes that grace the khaki sleeves;
the boots that crunch amongst the leaves.
I question with my eyes?
It comes as no surprise to hear him ask
can he come in, and would I like to sit?'
He has some rather grievous news -
- I dread to hear it.
I know what he is going to say.
It's all a dream. Please go away.
I'm not in to truth today
I scream inside my head......
I know what he just said to me,
but I didn't hear a word.
His lips spoke out in silence, and me,
I never heard.
He's 'so sorry'. He gets up to go
and heads towards the door.
I try to rise to follow him
but my legs will move no more;
for they have turned to jelly and
my head is going to burst.
It's funny, when you're a soldier's wife,
you always fear the worst,
But it's only when you hear the knock,
the knock upon the door,
and see the face you've never seen:
the shining boots, the uniform;
the mouth that speaks the silent words
the apologies and platitudes;
'killed in action in the war"
The widow thoughts ring clear.
Copyright © Helen J Radford | Year Posted 2008
Long poem by
Holly King | Details |
Even now I sit, slump, shuddering,
Stale walls echoing lamenting calls,
A nightmare flickered in the red herring of betrayal.
Stumbling hormones, skinless evil.
Blood red lips snarling, capturing someone else essence, bone dry.
Deliberately slithering up my calf, I grasped a cube of insanity as a last hope.
Dead eyes feared a toy box, a fragmented sense
clung to my only protection, my untouched hell.
Blood soaked, dripping sweat, saturated fear I escaped...
Demons hell-bent on demise. Curiosity craved,
crushed my soul into submission,
But it's just a box...
Teeth exposed, chattered, blindly shoved fingers in to catch my tongue,
the taste of soured flesh.
A vibrating voice crackled static pain, shivered in pleasure.
Bargaining, a blissful retreat, whilst exposing incompetence, irrational?
Go to hell.
Pounded at death's door, let me in...
Warned the worm of the vulture, coming to devour its soul.
Something didn't fit, the sacrifice seeping into the floor smelt half human.
Realisation, cold, the door creaked, locked,
grinning gruesomely, the veins pulsing along a sadistic mind,
Quaking, i flinched around to a lubricated nightmare,
clenching my muscles, the hiss of hell's rapture...
A prison shook, a prisoner shrieked,
Sanity split like perfect fission, slime coated his
Come, to daddy.
Copyright © Holly King | Year Posted 2010
Long poem by
Rick Rucker | Details |
by Rick Rucker
When you have found “The One,”
That person that outshines the Sun,
Then you will understand the fuss,
Your heart convinced with the first buss!
Your lack of focus is normal, don't worry,
Love will guide your heart, don't hurry,
True Love is the force that cures,
Your heart of all the past sutures!
True Love has the power to change,
Your mind, to rearrange
Your whole life,
To take a husband, or a wife.
If all your life, you've lived alone,
Talking to suitors on the phone,
It's so nice to sit together,
Without the phone cord acting as a tether.
Something as simple as holding hands,
Takes on new meaning with wedding bands.
A wedding changes everything,
Makes you feel a Queen, or King!
That this person wants to spend
Their life with you, 'til the end.
What might have started out with lust,
Has ended with a promise: 'til dust!
Marriage won't be only Wedded Bliss,
But if each day starts and ends with a kiss,
Doing this, and other things,
Will mean you don't have to pawn your rings!
If you don't marry, out of fear
Angel's bells you'll never hear.
That gentle tinkling far away,
The one that makes you want to stay.
Imagine your surprise,
When you look into your lover's eyes,
Your Love, your spouse,
The one that shares with you a house.
Being in Love, after decades still,
Each one feeling marriage is a thrill
How long can True Love last?
I'll tell you when a century's passed!
Copyright © Rick Rucker | Year Posted 2010
Long poem by
Dave Streett | Details |
You’ll wanna forget, but I’ll sell your kisses for a bag and a rig.
My glory rides on a brick and a gram
You’ll never get more then half my mind.
I’ll eat ya to put you to sleep
Cause my dick won’t step up half the time.
Your eyes shut to tapping my vein
Dancing through shards of moonlight, emptying your purse.
I can score while your searching your plastic case for your pretty face.
Sweet poems and construction paper cards were pregame.
Now I finger through your parents drawers, quarter rolls are good enough.
Do you still crave me babe?
How’s third place, my two best buds a needle away?
Even when my eyes aren’t dotted up it isn’t fair.
Just a routine, credit card debt and jail don’t scare.
With me we’re always in the midst of thunder
Recoveries pink clouds in front but out of grasp.
Absence of luck permits you to hang on to my spirit embezzling tears.
I’ll be smiling at the freedom, Ignoring your texted stabs.
Long sleeves and 50 hour work weeks fooled your parents, but
The mirrors sunken and pale my features lost to warmth artificial from my heart.
Everything is gonna be cool as long as no one sees my arms.
Penniless, I’ll dissolve all my cravings under my tongue… for a week.
Steaks marinated in Pabst followed by talks of your creation.
We can lay in bed alll day watching Hulu and melting time.
For once I’ll be all your’s no more rocks disrupting my brain.
As soon as pay day hits I’ll sprint out the front door.
Copyright © Dave Streett | Year Posted 2011
Long poem by
Robert Ball | Details |
Many people in this world love their animals.
From cats, dogs, birds, all imprisoned in kennels.
To own one they pay for shots, and adopt.
The pay for licenses, fees, finally they are bought.
Now we as animal lovers care immensely for them.
Making them part of the family, like next of kin.
Sadly they care only for pets, not humans.
Plenty of children need adoption, left alone among men.
People all over the world are starving and dying.
Little children go hungry, many are weak and crying.
Did you ever have to go to bed sick or hungry?
Wondering where your next meal will be, it’s not funny.
In Africa, Libya, Sudan, Ethiopia, children are suffering.
Many nations try to help; many don’t try, not caring.
The Lord says “let the children come to me.”
His children are important, he wants them spiritually.
Children go hungry, one in five in the USA.
Inner City, our Cities, feel the crunch everyday.
As parents, desperation and panic set in.
So crime rates soar, as they try to feed their children.
Something is sadly wrong when pets are fed and children suffer.
Caring for animals, while children go hungry, Sisters and Brothers.
Desperately they turn to crime, drugs, robbery, is an epidemic.
Animals over humans, something is definitely wrong;
While humans suffer pandemics.
A new world, with Jesus at the helm.
Will bring an end to suffering, we will overcome.
A new thought “Love” will appear on earth.
It’s been promised by God what before our birth.
Copyright © Robert Ball | Year Posted 2012
Long poem by
Sierra Cowan | Details |
The world keeps spinning on,
but I wish it could go backward instead.
Who have I become, where have I gone?
I don't even know what goes on inside my own head.
I am not this person I have become,
I never was and thought I never would be.
This is someone else,
This is not me.
My priorities have shifted,
I value things that once meant very little.
I search for things to fill the gap,
but only find things that are noncommittal.
Happiness in one night packages,
is what fills my life now.
I'm not sure why,
I'm not sure how.
I want more,
but do I deserve it?
This battle is repeated inside my head,
but I will never truly admit it.
I know I could do more
I know I could be greater.
But in my own head,
I am a master debater.
I'm so afraid of failing,
that while I hide that's exactly what I'm doing.
I have so many hopes and dreams,
but are any of them even worth pursuing?
What if I fall flat on my face?
In front of everyone I know and love?
But then again I could be better than I expect,
go beyond and above.
You never know what the future holds,
only what has happened in the past.
In order to make your future what you want,
you better live in the present while it lasts.
Seize each day,
and do what makes you happy.
For no one can see what lays ahead,
whether it be great or crappy.
I may not know who I have become,
but I do know who I want to be.
I want to be present in my life,
no more being an absentee.
The past is the past,
and the future lays before us.
The old me,
I will repossess.
Copyright © Sierra Cowan | Year Posted 2013
Long poem by
JW Earnings | Details |
Once upon a time,
The Orange & Pink Dragon
Popped out of nowhere,
Blowing pink flames in all directions.
The Shapeless Robot walked down the street
With a blank expression on its robotic face.
He made a Snake Bird friend,
Since he didn't have a friend of his own;
Loneliness crept in on him & he wept despondently.
"I want a friend to sweep away these feelings of loneliness!"
Cried the Shapeless Robot hopelessly.
The Snake Bird felt empathy towards him & wiped his tears away by his serpent tongue.
The Non-stop Growing Vines twirled around them in all directions suddenly...
Vibes of discomfort crawled up and down the robot's back,
Electricity, originated from energy, zipping through him constantly...
Lizorse and the gangster red-head girl ghost named Gingah were playing chest with each other,
Exchanging love expressions flirtaciously...
They blew kisses at each other time and time again.
Bubbleman got bubbled up with benevolence when he felt an Angel Hand touch his shoulder;
At last, he witnessed miracles in disguise.
All of the characters hung out and listened to old school rap,
Partying and dancing like crazy monkeys at the jungle-like zoo during their leisure time.
The Incomplete Ship flew towards them,
Silence slipping though the merry atmosphere...
The palm tree, excluded from the rowdy group,
Acknowledges the Stripeful Fish happily.
"Don't worry..." said the palm tree sheepishly with content, "You can be my friend always and forever"
Copyright © JW Earnings | Year Posted 2014
Long poem by
James Horn | Details |
We are going on a trip to the British Isles
and Channel Island of Guernsey and Normandy.
This sure should be quite a cruise. Here is my
first poem I am writing about it even though I
have not been there yet. Here goes.
Crabby Walking Though the Abbey
by James Thomas Horn before we
Can't leave London without having fish and chips
Which originated from slick, sailing ships;
Could ride by restaurant in horse drawn coach
See beautiful women while wearing a broach.
Many smiling people everywhere we shall see;
Some may even be from upper high society
Who all have much money they can spare
Yet, still can seed noses held high in the air.
While we were looking did see a lovely doll,
And ended up having a big barroom brawl;
After we left and what soon was a little later
Americans were accused of being an instigator.
From it all we started having terrible cough
Maybe it was from riding get on and get off;
Over pages of those punished started to skim;
No wonder Tower of London looks so grim.
But, at last, lovely parade now had begun;
Women had fun wearing hair in a big bun;
After seeing hats and hearing all of the hype,