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Quote LeftI've been a member for couple months. When I joined I stopped writing, ran out of ideas. After visiting your sites; poets, poems old and new, posting poems, getting feedback, making comments of my own; I now have a new lease on writing. I love this web site.Quote Right

Comment By: J.G.

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 1      

Privilege

You've lived a nice life
with little you have to fear.
Those few moments
you felt a twinge of fear,
you had the good luck,
or the good sense,
to retreat,
and you breathed
a deep sigh of relief, 
and maybe,
for a good moment,
you reflected,
on your good fortune
not to be born among those or,
of those,
for whom fear is always
a good part of life.
But, for you, the fear soon passed
and you always took advantage 
of your advantage,
and only gave a passing thought
to those, who at any moment
might be denied justice, or
found one day mutilated
and raped in a hotel room, or
dragged to death down a
country road, or
left pistol whipped to death
and hung from a
Wyoming fence.
You see little connection
between these things
and your nice life
and the little
you have to fear.

Copyright © ahellas Alixopulos | Year Posted 2007

Staring into Distance

He stares
into the distance of the days,
of those gone and of those yet to come --
he touches no one,
is touched by no one.
Yet noisy commerce
around him flows, constant movement;
but movement without a change of place,
no progress forward, no backward retreat --
an illusion of movement, only.
He sees youths --
with no sense of self --
and leathery crones,
unhygienic vagrants,
no place to go,
assailed by noises --
a repetitious assault
upon the ear and air.
Still he sits,
in frozen semi-trance,
staring always inward,
but also into distance,
sentient and inert.

Copyright © Leo Larry Amadore | Year Posted 2013

Freedom for Tree-doms

In the shade of our hands great trees rest
And in the midst of our circle many forests hide 
Seeking relief from scorching greed
And the strong foul winds of menacing commerce.
Thickly they grow nourished by storms,
The storms of our words and deeds
That night and day stand with them.

The sweet birds sing to them 
About an old tree now long gone 
That one day woke to the terrors of a blade. 
Valiantly did she stand her ground
Defending her right to be a tree for a while:
Not sawdust, not plywood, not firewood--
Just a happy green tree for a good while.
"Freedom for Tree-doms!" she cried out that day 
To rouse trees and men alike
Against the terror of the cold steel blade.

But not a man, not a tree, rushed to her side
So alone she stood to fight her battle.
Alas, all she had for missiles were her pretty leaves,
Which in vain she hurled with a swing of her boughs
To drive the harsh blade from her mighty limbs.

Above the forest a little bird watched her struggle 
end
As with flailing boughs she drowned
In the sea of green below
To lie quiet on the forest floor.
On her soft fallen leaves that night 
Poachers crept while the world slept 
And bore her away to humming mills
In a town far from the birds that wept.

Copyright © Agona Apell | Year Posted 2015

THE POME

                                           THE  POME

I wanted to be famous,
So I thought I`d write a pome,
Somethin`reely spiritchul,
With touching undertones.

Somethin`folks would reed about,
When I`m dead and gone,
And call me poet, artist, bard,
And put it in a tome.

Them great big heavy books folks buy,
And never reely reed;
But if yer in one of them books,
Then folks are all agreed,

That yer the best that ever was,
A reglar Willem Shakespear,
So I set down to write it,
And found that it has took near,

All my time and energy,
To come up with a title,
Let alone the pome itself,
For me this writing`s futile.

                                        Judy Ball

Fergive me Yàll.
I got writer`s block.

Copyright © Judy Ball | Year Posted 2011

Heinrich Heine Revisited

I can clearly sense your utter despair of Der Matratzengruft*
As you valiantly carried on your poetic works to the very end.
This did not change your literary accomplishments well-known,
And your courage through the misery and morphine* is undeniable.

Your lyrical poetry speaks volumes among all of German literature,
And it was most marvelously set to music by the likes of Schumann,
Schubert, Silcher, Mendelssohn, Brahms, and Strauss—to name a few. 
Their melodic tones as applied to your verses then, now live on forever!

Your role in and principal contributions to Romanticism fall in line
With the highest quality of your poetic language and its intention.
Your role in battling early nineteenth-century censorship in Prussia set 
You out front of many of your contemporaries who resisted much less.

It’s so tragic Herr Heine that your literary resistance so prominent in
Challenging Prussian censorship would make you ever so more noted,
And besmirched as the Nazis in 1933 burned your books and those of
Other German scholars as a reflection of their insane and twisted beliefs!

It’s with great irony indeed that the banning and burning of your works by 
The Nazis was parodied further by them as they ignobly quoted and used
Your famous line from “Almansor,”* when you likened that “where books 
Are burned, in the end people will be burned too.” We know what they did!

And so, with both honor and sadness I do understand the very cry of lament
From the confines of your mattress-grave about your final exquisite poetry,
Written through writhing pain and tears as you faced the end of your life.
It took great courage to face your end like this while staying true to your Muse!

Gary Bateman, Copyright © All Rights Reserved (December 15, 2014) 
(Narrative Quatrain poetic format)

AUTHOR’S NOTES:
*Der Matratzengruft from the German means “The Mattress-Grave.” 
(Heinrich Heine was confined to his bed, his “mattress-grave,” in 1848
with various illnesses until his eventual death eight years later in 1856.)

*Heine poetically referred to his pain predicament in the poem “Morphine,”
written near the end of his life, when he noted in two famous verses: 
“Gut is der Schlaf, der Tod ist besser—freilich / Das beste waere, nie
Geboren sein.” (In English: “Sleep is good, Death is better—of course, /
Best of all would be never to have been born.”)

*Almansor was a play written by Heine in 1821 that had a most famous 
line in German: “Das war ein Vorspiel nur, dort wo man Buecher verbrennt,
verbrennt man auch am Ende Menschen.” (Rendered in English: “That was
but a prelude; where they burn books, they will ultimately burn people as
well.”) The significance here is that as the Nazis burned the books of Heine
and other German artists on the Opernplatz in Berlin in 1933, they actually
celebrated this event by “engraving” Heine’s famous words from “Almansor”
in the ground at the Opernplatz site. The obvious depravity of this terrible
event reflects the innate cruelty, stupidity and evil of the Nazis as they 
burned the books and defiled the names and reputations of Heine and other 
famous German writers. Their actions were monstrous and shameful, and 
were indicative of mankind’s base instincts at their very worst. Moreover, 
despite converting to Protestantism from Judaism in 1825, Heine’s Jewish 
origins played a continuing presence in his life and were one of the major 
factors for his being scapegoated by the Nazis later in 1933. And besides,
the Nazis were always more interested in burning books, rather than 
reading them!  


Copyright © Gary Bateman | Year Posted 2014

UMBRELLA

The birth of beautiful, beloved babes
Blazing love burning in mothers' heart
Flaming hot as sun above or hell below
Fierce, piercing passionate obsession
All engulfing, all consuming
Total control of every cell & vessel
And every second of every hour
Arouses feelings unknown before this arrival
Crazy, out of control love without caution
Now uncaring of limited sleep, or any
Nor thoughts of self entertained, none
Only for this magnificent miracle
She is all mine !!
How do I protect her in my absence
When my absence is required
Though unhappily entrusting in others care
An idea out of desperation occurs
Out of absolute addiction to this angel
An UMBRELLA of love !!
Whose size would be situational
And may require sudden adjustments
According to lifes' problems & plagues
Small like a parasol at first
In growing years & older years
Gigantic protection may be sought
Miles wide & long & deep, or more 
Glowing fiery, flaming, crimson red
Shield your eyes or you may go blind
Intensity to which nothing compares
Big, bold, blessed, bountiful, beaming
No barriers or obstacles or boundaries
No prevention of protection from harm
Shield & encase her forever & ever
With an umbrella of love from mother
An unlimited, lifetime guarantee
For this beautiful, beloved babe
She is all mine !!

Copyright © Jeanie Bennett | Year Posted 2017

Fell in Love, sort of

I fell in love was it chance was it a twist of fate
Looked into her eyes and fell in love
I fell in love as I saw it
thought it would be a made for TV movie 
sitting in the audience watching the actors
wishing I was one of them 
I fell out of love as she saw it 
Love was supposed to be a song a gold record but
she didn't buy it and fell out of love as she saw it 
Looked into her eyes and I saw a storm 
Holding onto lightning as the thunder got louder and louder
When human nature collides with artificial love the fantasy melts
Looked into her eyes and saw disappointment and sadness
Holding grudges for a reason or no reason sucking it in like a vacuum cleaner never cleaning the clogged filter 
My song was a pop song a one hit wonder once it left the charts I was done
I hear footsteps following me only shadows are dancing
The unwelcome song starts and stops inside my brain 
And all I can do is dodge my past as the music becomes louder and louder and hope for a twist of fate 
 

Copyright © Frank Blacharczyk | Year Posted 2016

The First Mourning

If the frequency of mind past that of sanity wait pain escape, 
But yet frequencly past the storm does it anger the gods forsake or, 
Unwaken what is precipitation. 

Knowing hearts of hearts details, moments, cycle, of living of standards, 
Who holds such things to kingdom hearts fantasy or passion why damper such passion, 
Love lost or was one highest among crowd of passion was it a storm or one passing, 
through a tower.

knowing hearts of hearts details, moments, cycle, of living of standards, 
who holds such things to kingdom hearts fantasy or passion why damper such passion, 
Persuasive heaven sorrow if a wave would make sound or splash look to shackle was left, 
To answer but keep moving on and on and on.

Wind that gather harness or rash something push one past grief is it heaven sake, 
Stumble by pass notice ghast, vitality, scarned, heathens breathe, 
To place hand to silence a heart rage is claim once vitality, 
Why question why ask of one pass does a person look tells, 
There intuition optimistis out weight perception. 

Truth be told is this all one knows more quinidine, 
Selfication with in deeds.

Copyright © Louis Borgo | Year Posted 2016

A Boxcar Named Desire


No, we weren't a couple one expected. 
"What could she be thinking", one reflected. 
Yet we held an undefined attraction; 
Some subconscious neuron interaction. 

After weeks we gathered our composure 
Time to face my parents' first exposure. 
True, your looks were just a bit off kelter(sic). 
Poets often live at homeless shelters. 

Mother stiffened, held her throat, and gasped. 
Father never moved, in shock perhaps. 
Then we vowed to do what we must do. 
Freight trains leave at seven, ten and two.


Gene Bourne
03-19-14

.

Copyright © Gene Bourne | Year Posted 2014

Sunken Sailor

Tie one on
Yesterday I went to port
Today I'm going to court
I'm just a sad sailor
And I'm in jail
That's all I know

Copyright © Jim Bowron | Year Posted 2015

The unlikely alliance

The unlikely alliance

for me you need not be clothed
I understand your fragility
of which the edges are like krill
To you I disclose my being,
for only you I rehearse my songs.
From the truest vestiges of the heart,
where the rumbling of the soul
and electric current making multiple zeds as if ignition cannot be..
until it does..

Erupts this volcano inside of me, the magma of the heart cascading walls and gleam.
Steaming, hissing ,smoking at your feet  and there it halts, and there it cools and I deliver me.
Touch me I am warm
Feel me I am true.
Where us unlikely two shall meet, you the tulip, I the lava.
There your trusting brave will do what none would believe.

I give you that diamond of the earth, that stone that doesn’t melt,
under pressure it was formed.
Be sure to stand the allegations of my antagonist
How I need your alibi
Oh how  I yearn for truth

Copyright © Jannie Breedt | Year Posted 2016

Reaping the Harvest

The harvest truly is plentiful...
Many seek to fill their empty souls.
Empty inside,
Is there someone to answer their cry?

A cry for help...
To be delivered from sin and self.
Is there more to life,
Than meets the eye?

What is the answer, does anyone know?
Dear Jesus, lead the way and show.
Show us the way we should go,
No longer to be tossed about to and fro.

We as the church...
Lord, give us a heart to search.
Searching to redeem the time,
Salted with the seasoning of Jesus Christ.

Let our light so shine...
In a world that Satan blinds.
The Sewer plants the seeds of life,
They are watered by our Lord Jesus Christ.

Go tell it on the mountain...
That their is a fountain.
Where we will thirst no more,
Clear waters that gently flow.

From the living waters of the Holy Spirit...
We will thirst no more because of Jesus who was pierced.
Pierced in His side, for all mankind.
Jesus who freely laid down His life.

He saw what it would be like with a life without Him...
Doomed to a life to die in our sins.
When mankind sinned he lost his first state and fell,
We were doomed for an eternal life in hell.

Dear Lord, let us remain faithful to Your calling...
By planting seeds of Your Word in hearts who are wondering.
Wondering if there is anything more to this life at best.
While we plant His seeds, Jesus will be Reaping the Harvest.


Copyright © Cinda Carter | Year Posted 2014

The Scent Of Your Soul

The scent of your soul a caramelized breeze of fruit odours reverberating softly through my memory Throwing me right back into ninth grade where we sat side by side Your right arm reaching slightly for my back Your name resonates gently with my spirit as thoughts of you dwell in my mind Carrying me back to the shade of purple grape orchids in evergreen woods Our first kiss perched upon last autumn's twig still lingers in early morn's bone-china cup wafting its pungent aroma of dark roast coffee beans and so the smell of rubber tyres against the wind Such revoked moments of unknown danger and defiant fun Other moments,of beauty and snow angels Of freedom and moonlights,sunrise and life I can still recall the days,months,and years till our footprints marked separate paths Ah,those days,those last hours,How can I forget? Sweet as frosty vanilla and chocolate chips of an ice cream parlour Melting as spongy marshmallows and honey syrup Fresh as the colour of your soul, which haunts me like an alluring glance of almond-shaped eyes This afternoon , like other afternoons I walk to the library which knows the musky sweat of your palm upon my own That fragrance 's gone now.All that is left is the fading perfume of forgotten petals between old books and dust No one here except my silence,and a rotten sliced apple vacuum packed ,lacking its cinnamon and even its spice. Back home,the mildewed strings of a guitar await my fingertips to play once more upon the worn out chords of my heart What will I play,what will I sing ,a song which isn't ours ? Fermented wine I poured into my glass Yearning to taste its purple grape for what it was before all it was turned bitter,acidic and sour I wondered about where you might be ,distant or not as far Listening to my voice on once upon a record player Wishing on a star ?
Not for the contest But thanks for the inspiration Contest name-The Scent Of Your Soul

Copyright © Charmaine Chircop | Year Posted 2014

Hraesvelg - God of Wind

No matter how hard I practice I find it so hard to escape
I can look out to see where I need to go and I try and I try
My wings keep flapping, but I’m too heavy for my feathers
It’s the burden within that keeps telling me I'm not worthy
I’ve struggle too long and I’m not going to lose this fight 
Oh Hraesvelg Oh Hraesvelg I stand at this cliff’s edge
I need for you to take flight and flap your great wings
May the gusts of your wind lift me up so I can soar
If I jump and there's no wind for my wings...I will die

Edward J Ebbs - January 1, 2015  
Hraesvelg, Norse mythology

Copyright © Edward Ebbs | Year Posted 2015

Still There revised

Christmas tree, oh Christmas tree
why are you still standing 
The days grow long
snow's almost gone
a new season is near to dawning

A snowman smiles or more than one
glittering snowflakes large and small
A new born's festive photograph
a second grade too much older
hand-made creations here and there
a decoration in the eye of the beholder

Tall and strong this tree still stands
holding all these precious memories
It took so long to decorate
each sentimental piece just right in place
It's a shame to take them down again
 
Sort which goes where
wrap with tissue and care

This ever green tree purchased specifically to annually assemble
loses needles here and branch limbs there with each holiday preamble
As life keeps moving ever on and change is creeping nearer
the Christmas tree still stands, testament to all I hold dear

Copyright © Sara Ella | Year Posted 2017

Call Me A Dreamer

I've tried so hard to live my life
As a caring human being
Don't understand the conflicts
Solutions are so easily seen

Just do away with all the hate
It doesn't seem too complicated
What a triumph that would be
If everyone was dedicated

There I go dreaming again
People must think I'm naive
Don't know why I'm an optimist
Guess it's just what I believe

Faith that most people are good
When offered simple choices
Most times they'll choose correctly
Be damned, those dissenting voices

Call me what you will, my friends
I feel much better this way
Get on the road to a joyful life
Let us feast on a happy buffet!

Copyright © Jack Ellison | Year Posted 2012

I wish

I WISH

Now I wish I didn't have, when my mother went without.
She selflessly gave out of love, of that there is no doubt.
I wish I weren't so needy, when my father worked so hard.
Toiled through day and into night so I'd be dealt a better card.

I wish I hadn't harped or begged, for the latest toy.
To possess for a little while and gave but fleeting joy.
I wish that I could give them back and give more in its place.
A little less commercial to light up someones face.

I wish I could take back the nasty things I've said.
Take them to the ocean and bury them in the sea bed.
Our words can be so hurtful, our actions can be too.
So think how would it feel to be in others shoes.

I wish I could forget the darker scenes of life.
The trouble and the termoil and deeds that eeked with strife.
But knowing that they happened, well just maybe it's ok.
To give us lessons for our life and aim for brighter days.

Copyright © old man emu | Year Posted 2015

Lives of Pretense

So now we return to our lives of pretense
She to her husband and me to banality
Even though we just shared a love so immense
It is time to return to our fake reality.

On the sheets behind me remains her fragrance
The memories of her caresses so sweet
But now we return to our lives of pretense
As she slowly disappears down the street.

I stand on this balcony the future unseen
As now we return to our lives of pretense
My love for her it is true and it’s keen
But of her touches I must feign innocence.

She has another life that I am not a part of
To try to make a change makes no sense
She cannot leave it now not even for our love
So now we return to our lives of pretense.



NOTE:  I wrote this poem for a contest thinking a Quatern was 
required when in fact a Quatrain of only 3 stanzas was the format.  
So, alas, this has no home other than I like it myself.  
I penned another, quite different poem for the contest.

Copyright © Joe Flach | Year Posted 2010



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