Long poem by
Shadow Hamilton | Details |
Although born in Scotland I have no memories of there as we left when I was two.
My first recollections are of Las Palmos in the Canaries.
I recall the donkey passing daily and being told he bites.
I was given a caterpillar and tended it, oh so carefully.
My mother when it was a cocoon persauded me to put it outside.
Well you can imagine my intense disappointment to find
that it had hatched and flown without me getting a single glimpse!!
This is the first disappoint in life that I faced. Our house had a flat roof
with a lovely garden on top and in the distance an enormous tall chimney.
I remember our boxer Susie she was real crazy especially on the beach
and while breaking open sugur cane it slipped and cut me wide open
right between the right thumb and first finger. I was taken to the doctor
who would you believe? poured iodine into it, he wanted to stitch it too, but no way
was I letting that sadist anywhere near me again. I still bear the scar today.
I recall seeing a woman dressed in black perched atop of a towering cliff
when we were out in the car my sister saw her too. We had to turn back due to
landslides and she was gone, she also had a pointy hat did we see a witch?
I had a wonderful dolls house into which I could walk, yet I took all my dolls
apart to see how they worked I was such an inquisitive child.
At five we returned to England living very near Hampstead Heath and Parliament
Hill fields. One day when my mother walked me to school I entered to find not
a single soul present so I walked up to my Aunts as she lived very close.
Needless to say I got into a real heap of trouble from both school and mum.
I recollect an outing to Hampstead Heath there was a cafe surrounded by a
large hedge from which I could never find the way out. I ran ahead and
entered through the hedge only to find my parents nowhere to be seen.
Of course I could not find the way out back to the car. This couple found
me and insisted on taking me to the police station four miles away I kept
trying to tell them I only lived two streets down from the Heath, Grown ups!!!
I remember always wanting to speak Spanish and people refusing to answer me
telling me I had to speak in English Bah! I used to ride my tricycle up and
down five stairs mum always telling me I would fall. Well one day my sister
called me and I tumbled down breaking my right wrist I used to stuff vegetables
up inside the plaster to avoid eating them. I hate most vegetables to this very day.
When I was seven we got Kim our German shepherd who we took to Africa with us.
I recollect the excitement of visiting Gibraltar and seeing the monkeys,
the mystery of sailing through the Suez canal the banks so close as to seem
touchable. A giant ray getting caught on the ships bows oh boy did it stink.
It stayed with us from the equator to Zanibar yuck! I looked on all goggle
eyes at the first dark people I had ever seen cowering by my mum as they banished
machetes in the air some with only one eye. I was trembling in my shoes.
Kim took a dislike to them as they teased her by poking her with sticks through
her cage. This dislike stayed with her for life. We arrived in Dar-es-Salaam
on my eight birthday. From here another tale begins, later to be told.
Long poem by
shannon april alice | Details |
A thousand tumbles takes a bottle in the sea-
a thousand tumbles and whirls and swoops.
A million grains of sand takes that bottle in the sea,
to break apart,
and fragment like a snowflake fractal.
How many waves carry it like the ocean taxi?
How many mermaid miles till she hands that glass to me?
For I've taken out my very-ness, for you.
- And my crossness.
My judgement and wrath.
I've taken out slight hot breathe
(for you to melt the ice on your whiskers.)
I've taken out my toes when they are reaching for yours in the cavernous blanket world through the forest of our lazy limbs.
I've taken out my righteousness
and my second guessing.
I've taken out for you (a surprise, a gift)
all the times you were going to be wrong to me-
and to wrong me...
taken them out to sea, you see?
In that bottle, pretty bottle. Broken now like too many vows.
I've taken out my knowing best and finding better.
I've taken out the half moon of your thumbnail as well
...I will miss that in my night sky-
(perhaps I'll keep that after all.)
I'll take out the complacency of holding your hand getting out of a chair.
and the mindless strokes
as you explain
my commonplace crazy
I'll take out the very-ness of me, and the we-ness of us.
and fill a bottle with a the brine of a thousand tears from hundred slights not slighted quite yet.
I fill the bottle and gift the sea
with the softness of you and the brashness of me.
A thousand turnabouts it takes to reach you on the beach,
a sea glass diamond ring, engage me you engaging man-
and the tides tickles my feet in anticipation, marry me. marry me.
just a sea glass promise
for a mermaid bride
waiting for the sailor man to sing her sweetly with salt on his lips
Just a sea glass lullaby from the man who loves me so.
Marry me, marry me
And we drink sparkling water from a sea glass flute
and we drink all the us and we drink all the we
for sea glass could never hold a second in,
sea glass is far too vain not to shine in the sun fanning
your invite out in a spectrum of color that
a small child's hand creates when he holds it up to the rays.
Spills out all of my intentions
Spoiled child, loved child,
Spills out all of my intentions carelessly on the sandy floor for the tides to swallow whole.
My sea glass prism chucked unceremoniously back to sea
and me the mermaid bride left at her own alter...
But a seashell to your ear and her my wailing sorrow calls,
'marry me, sailor. marry me.'
Long poem by
theresa stephens | Details |
I met my love one summer's day
Amongst the fields threshing hay
Her bonnet slung about her neck
As homewards afterwards we did trek
Her bonny brown hair
to waist length did fall
A comely wench with wherewithal
She at first was hard to win
But at harvest dance she kicked me on my shin
I winced with pain, I put it on
pretending it hurt more and more anon
It gave me a chance to catch her eye
To make her laugh and made her sigh
Next time we met I knew her worth
Her honest folk were salt of the earth
We courted for three long years
Our yearnings often brought us to tears
We saved as much as we could afford
We wanted to emigrate 'abroad',
America was the place to go
Jobs aplenty and land to grow
and farm upon
And all year round I heard that always
the sun shone
When we had saved up our fare
We booked our passage without a care
But once upon the steamer ship
We were retching and felt homesick
On upper deck we sickly laid
As my wife nursed our three month babe
Eventually we reached New York
Which we couldn't see, as we arrived in the dark
At Ellis Island they checked us three
As nervously I held Thomas on my knee
Inspection over we were led out
So joyous our happiness we wanted to shout
A land of opportunity we believed it all
But had no permanent work until the fall
Our dreams of owning our own farm
Vanished long ago with each early dawn
The children came one after another
Thomas had two sisters, then a brother
Our tenement flat overlooked Central Park
We saw horse drawn carriages and heard morning lark
I worked in a meat factory from dawn to dusk
The only way to get a few dollars to earn a crust
We were best off back in Ireland
Tending sheep for a guinea crown
Good honest labour out in the fresh air
Not working indoors under a gas light flare
My wife and children shall suffer no more
I promised her as I left through the door
I shall get our passage fare home
And down to the bank my feet did roam
To withdraw my savings for that dream farm
It's not worth it if my family came to any harm
Now we are back in old Ireland
And to cattle and pigs I now do tend
I'm renting my old abode
With an acre of land as I did of old
To see the contented smile on my wife's face
I think on it as we say our grace
To give thanks for what we are about to receive
To be back home we are mightily relieved.
Long poem by
Dave Collins | Details |
Can u take boy me for what I am or do u need to fabricate an ego estrogen entity
to fit yr fake *******. forum in twat time present and id absent intensity. Do tell howwhatwhatwherewhywhichwatkindhowmanywhose as I am of a different time place evo endeavor, rich in poor so u can take alternative advantage cause u feel infosexsuperior to me mine naked nill sense
with yr ****egg enhancedenvy and frivolous faulted agressive female fervunt. Tame the delerious diametric dimensions aplenty. Pushed pussy pleasure and feel femimine fornunicatious prowess for yr undiscovered undenying sadistic only offspring ongoince ocular pursuance negating all elses
in your precocious pretensious postal only psuedo friends that it can't be donated done
in an emoeffort with legs open charmed to a prone proficient practice promise
with giving gonad governance of which I bought into with a Florida filtered fragrance forgiveness favoring your internal id odd ego conveance only inclination wishwashing countercontrol conscious cerebral crap.
to a wilfull wonderous female who was, as the saying goes,
willing to give all of herself all to all of me, unbeknowingst to me that it was all a
post pisces ruse cancercase in point. pretensious pandering to a boy from Ohio to
a pussimic promise that reads all to well and
I will liveloveu in always regard less of societal dis regar retard retro renderings; given real or predisposed, contrivent, or nonminent in neutral nature. I givegavegiven up my low life to serve u only u in spite of me and your upper crust crest to be u like u or one
of u and to lovelittle unbeknowingst a latitude of 30 plus piss yrs and 3 glorious sons later gifted to u I have only all un's for which to fathershow un fornicatingly failed in every, according to u, every forgone fatherly catagory. Tminus and 8 yrs asa monk. Tell me who is the unGonad unpotential KING of living oin a monster mommo mode of ugly unforgiveness, un understandings of undeniable undertakings, make all all things admirable admissible, yet received all doings undoing. When all of ones self is totaly given to a cause and mutual ego emotion is grounded in guilt laden lunicacy, all is love lost. Individual identity cannot exist withou self sense; so all that is left is a ghost dead,
showing no male prowess, nonexistenant, nothing, neverness in being.
If I were King with 3 great sons I would be a *****Prince, a Gonad God, a Semen Sentinel. Long live me? (No Queen intended.)
Long poem by
Carol Eastman | Details |
Star Trek Rules!
It was time for: Comic Con! Comic Con! Dragon wanted to come, too!
But then so did everyone else at Troll Lake… Hey, now, wouldn’t you?
We made some really cool costumes… for the costume show, my Dear.
You can guess, ‘Star Trek Rules!’ It couldn’t be anything less, you hear.
Our favorite nighttime popcorn show, would truly now, become a part of our lives!
The penguins got permission from the zoo; to go… great publicity, so very wise.
McRacoon had his Las Vegas Dragons get us, and a mock saucer, there, all on time.
Naturally pre-registered and in costume, we strutted in! Hi there! Began the playtime!
Man we were really cool, as the guest actors ask for OUR autographs. For Real!
Pictures were snapped, and a poster made, to be signed by everyone, so cheerful.
It’s highest bid, given to charity, would be a nice touch, for everyone in our crew.
The costume show was set outside, where all the dragons, could fly in, or out, too.
And a small mock, star ship was landed on stage, so we could enter with more flare.
Lord a mercy! Look at us! We’d never be like this, again! We were like stars, I swear!
Grandpa Troll, became Mr. Spock, naturally, because he was so, very clever and wise.
Our neighbor witch, was Uhura, due to her great ability to, protect everyone’s’ lives.
Borp the Frog became Sulu, so he could take us up to Borp speed, with laser effects!
Hubby was Scotty, with the Tinker Trolls in engineering, for special effects, so perfect!
The penguins were the beloved crewmembers, running with lasers, all over the place.
The powder puff tribbles, got wet, so yes, became the ‘Trouble with Dribbles’, in space.
The Mary River Turtles wanted to be Checkov. What a groovy, exciting, security team.
Dragon wanted to be Captain Kirk, you know, like totally, in command… At the scene!
All agreed, I’d be a great Dr. McCoy, since I always get to, kiss the Boo- Boo’s away.
The Weird Frogs were the Aliens, chasing everyone mindlessly, around, the set, that day.
And the Las Vegas Dragons, became attacking star ships, over which our lasers won!
The crowds went wild, and we won first place in their hearts, as well as, in their minds!
Everyone had, such a good time, so the Trek continued, well after, when we got home.
That year Comic Con made the National news, and of course, nobody, was surprised!
As the residents of Troll Lake and Acorn Falls… continue to Trek on… every day!
By Mike and Carol Eastman…
Long poem by
Bryn Roberts | Details |
I took a rich man’s wallet
So that we would not starve
I’m sure the lord has forgiven me
But the judge he surely did not.
He spared me from the gallows
But sent me across the sea
Away from family and friends
And away from you sweet Molly
I could see you standing on the dock in the rain
As the ship lurched out in the mist
And I wondered sweet Molly would I ever again
Hear your laughter or feel your sweet kiss.
Well terrible fortune befell us
On that awful disease ridden ship
And brutes were the crew and the guards
Who beat us with fists and with whip.
And the wind howled and the seas rose
And many were washed overboard
And illness, storms and starvation
Were sent upon us by the lord
And gradually everyone perished
But somehow I seemed to survive
Until somehow I made it to Botany Bay
The only soul left alive.
I joined a prison gang Molly
And hard to work we went
They gave me a chisel and barrow
And told me to go and carve steps
From a mountain made out of rock
On a path that led to nowhere.
No food or drink did they give us
I feel that they wished we would die
Well their wish came true sweet Molly
As the men started dropping like flies.
The sun burned my face and my arms
As I hammered away at the stone
And when the rains finally came
They soaked us through to our bones
Then a flash flood swept the others away
And left me there all on my own.
Well my life was hard to be sure
But again I seemed to survive
And I finally made it back to the camp
The only soul left alive.
They all were surprised to see me
They clapped my back and shook my hand
They said we must throw a party
For the luckiest man in the land
Well a grand party it was
Under a night of starry skies
The officers all were so drunk
That they started dropping like flies
And in the morning the soldiers found me grinning
Twenty dead officers, two blood stained knives.
Holy Christ said the men as they clapped me in irons
He’s the only soul left alive!
So now I finally face the gallows Molly
And there are no more lies left for me
What I couldn’t eat of the men on the ship
I threw the remains to the sea
What I couldn’t eat of the men on the mountain
I buried among the trees
The drunken officers deserved all they got
So Molly my conscience is clear.
My only regret dear Molly
The only thing that causes me pain
Is knowing that I shall never
See your sweet face again.
Long poem by
Adam Hapworth | Details |
As I sit here on this warm, solid shore
beneath a lighthouse I adore.
It stands perfect, beautiful and mint
the roof shingled, a lovely brown tint.
its beacons, a blazing blue hue,
shine light upon all that I knew.
One day a while ago. Past the fog of the bay
my lighthouse shimmered and played
its beacons shown with a stare
at a new land, an island out there.
I had seen hints of it while looking around
though never thinking I’d leave this fertile ground.
As the fog lifted and cleared
my lighthouse showed a path that was close. I steered
through this maze of perils towards the new shores
Glancing at the edge of this place, suddenly I want more.
I want to venture and explore it so
Thank you my lighthouse for your allowing glow.
This new isle of desire,
surrounded by a bright red ring of fire
has two beautiful blue pools, clear and deep
a cave so welcoming, sweet sounds did seep
Its lovely peaks were thoroughly explored.
with light patch of grass along the other shore.
For all its beauty and wonderment, true enjoyment
lies within the relaxing feel of each moment.
Around this isle I can be myself without a worry.
It has welcomed me and listened to my stories.
I listened as the breeze told tales, many that related
The warmth felt upon these shores makes me elated
This isle has been so inviting
every moment around it was exciting.
My delight in it became hard to evade
but the light from my home was beginning to fade.
I left for home for that is my place.
Having difficulty ignoring those feelings, I pace.
The fog rolled back hiding the isle
Knowing it was there made my mind go wild.
Thoughts that, maybe I could journey without my light
Knowing the trip was very treacherous and not right
For days I pondered it. Deciding to wait out the fog instead
Realizing that I was out of my head
For on my shore I have everything I adore
Stability and sanctuary surround my lighthouse and shores
Family and friends within safe distance
Loss of all this if I were to crash in an instant
That is why I have stopped trying to find
the isle of desire that consumed my mind.
Someday if the fog lifts and the lighthouse shines
I’d make the trip and enjoy the time.
The isle of desire that once consumed my mind.
Now is a place that if I happen to find
Will be fun and exciting as I venture its shores
But only when allowed by the lighthouse I adore.
Long poem by
Dave Collins | Details |
I stopped to stool siphon sip on a cool blue
circumstance in the means between the in
times loath listening to complacent
poetic prostitutional practices of stir my friends
ego echoes doing the same f. u. c. k. e. d.
favor dance for me when I ego envy enter
exist your contra content littered with
manic moronic mentaloronic maladies
of entrance entrocities. Lining words
pentamhextamater, rich rhyme, cleaveage crotch
clearance, colic c.u.n. t. coffiure
frantic fascist frames, abounding with
wok out at me sillo sounds
composite of cruel crisp compound
cumulo capsules of I, me, mine
mousy miniscules in drop dreamy
lovelorn lostlust learned
limitations lauded longevity living
linguistic liquidlovelorn light
leaking lanterns, which bequeath
*****in broth biscuited breveties
lucid laminated with word wornwaste
catagorical crass. Leave wailwall
enough alone when yr tackless
trash talent is way less than spittle,
your poor prowess less than dodah duh, Po e tree?
So, my wordful children of BS, when writing yr so called pitypoetry,
devoid of dream dance diminutives coinciding correctly with wrenching wraps
of prostitutional ponder relentelessingly revealing a rapture
of vast vile emoelements of comprosotory
composites of fecalfroughtfrightfolly of fantasies in
poet emeritus of urineyourns a 3 way stretch non nobel poetlorietsupreme
goodfistingluckwiththatcrap;therefore u either play the game or
risk reside in the zombie aperature camera obsecura word death orbit; therefore
Assimilitate before u ass umulate,
Build before u bridge buldge
Concentrate before u cumulo capsulate
Decide before u dildo dick tate
Engulf before u evo enevelop
Fragment before u fracture fantasize
Grasp before u geno germinate
Hallucinate before u hasty hippocrate
Initialize before u initiate
Jackulate before u Jillulasm
Literate before u laud luminate
Mentor before u mirror menstruate
Nurtuate before u neuro negate
Obliviate before u oogle obligate
Postulate before u priest present
Question before u quotionent quest
Recreate before u radical resonnate
Saturate before u semen sacrlidge
Tintalate before u trick translate
Utilize before u usurp ugly
Victory before u vile vanquish
Want before u willful waste
X-turn right @ W follow the X signs
Yuletides before u yell yeildtides
Zeusotide before u zonk zerozilchotones.
Long poem by
cherl dunn | Details |
In the bay of icy mists, the viking ghost ships arrive, sails set full ahead,
Crashing anchors rattle loose, plunging beneath the cold murky surf,
As the hailing horns of the dead, announce to their lord, Odin, that
Valor's courageous have arrived, and wish to enter, the great halls of
Here the cold winds of the north dwell, it's chilling
Breezes flow freely, through the phantom warriors spirits.
But these rough men fear not death, nor it's harsh breath, for they
Are vikings of the northern kingdoms, and they have come for
Their last rewards treasure, to enter beyond the gates of Valhalla,
And are armed ready to fight, beside their God Odin,
In victorious battle.
In these waters of the ethereal unknown passage,
The cracking and heaving, of these heavily
Laden vessels made of vapors thin mists,
Send an eerie chill down the backs, of mortal men.
As mountain icebergs float upon the wind
Chilled oceans surface, the Valkyries approach,
Smiling beneath their shimmering chain-mail of
On the evergreen shores, a timbered lined hall stands,
It's gates of golden pitch blaze, with fires white
Hot flames of those concurred, their souls scream
For penance mercy.
Two long swords, Chris-crossed are the gates steel dead bolts lock,
Above it's embers glow, a fierce eagle with red crimson eyes,
Grapples, it's sharpen claws, cutting deeply into the oaken shields,
On the thatched roof of the golden hall.
A lone wolf beneath therein, passes sniffing at the
Garments of the fallen men, if fears scent, the wolf so smells,
Cast out is this soul, and dammed it is forevermore.
Within the many souls do enter, a hardy welcoming at the feasting
Table mead and honey wine, is set before these hero's of honor.
But outside the ships remain tethered, awaiting for their masters safe
Return, unaware of Thor's approach, his mighty hammer set at the
Striking with thunders raw force, the hammer of power,
Brakes against the sheer ice, as quick as the lightning's flash,
Freezing tidal waves clash upwards, swallowing whole all evidence,
That these ghost ships ever existed.
Oh Valhalla, I pledge thee my life, my fighting spirit, my blood and
Body given in the name of Odin, for thy honor sake, shall I live and die,
Behold the vow's pledge of these Nordic men, known as the Vikings.
BY: CHERYL ANNA DUNN
Long poem by
randall graves | Details |
Moments to Reflect
Dream voyagers seek reality with close eyes living within a big lie. Realist sees reality with their eyes open but their minds are closed life to them life is to be sold and not told. Traveling in this kind of world; it is hard for them to find that precious pearl, and it is not hidden, it is in plain sight if your heart is right.
Those who are in Christ know where to go find that precious Pearl that can bring true reality within their world, free to live and to have life without any sins. This is how their journey begins; walking in faith and living life right with no fear of the night. Treating others as they want to be treated, love is given without ending; as it is written. Keeping the Comments day and night eyes open to the reality of the Living Word that has been spoken. Placing the Christ first they know where their journey will end; everlasting life their voyage begins.
Those who dream and try to live a lie and those who called themselves realist will travel to and from getting nowhere fast; their voyage will never be done. For what they seek only comes from the One who sets high above upon His golden throne waiting on His children to come home. Everlasting life will be given and treasures that are never ending and this reality is just the beginning voyage to paradise you will be spending; this is what all should be seeking.
What waiting, no one can truly conceive; the wonderful Gift that you will receive if you chose only to believe. Faith is all need so get down on your knees and ask for forgiveness and let Jesus drive while you ride.
There is only going to be one last journey all will take, a trip to paradise or to that fiery lake. The voyage that is called life is going to end, where are you going to spend what coming to all in the end? Dream voyagers seek reality with close eyes living within a big lie. Realist sees reality with their eyes open but their minds are closed and those that are in Christ know that the real voyage begins when you get down on your knees and ask Jesus to come in. When time comes to an end, dreams are for sleeper and having faith in Jesus will make you a keeper and true life begin and will never end. Up or down where are you bound?