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Memories from the past
come flooding back
Mum's bright sparrow like eyes sparkle
as we sit side by side on her bed
Her arms are like wizened twigs
parchment like skin
yields to my touch
I gently massage cream onto her hands
as she drinks in the sweet scent of lavender
Mum puts her tiny hand on mine
‘You’re my life’ she whispers
A stray teardrop
trickles from my eye
I’m her life...
she’s my world
(written with tears in my eyes and a lump in my throat)
Friday 21st September 2018
Copyright © JAN ALLISON | Year Posted 2018
Listen to poem:
"You shall know the Truth, and the Truth
Shall make you free."
We wait for what will never happen;
the consequences of inaction
may overtake at any moment.
Vaguely felt suspicions foment,
feed uneasiness; words half-formed
hang in air, hover just out of reach,
didactic, but never really heard --
misunderstood, despised, ignored,
or ridiculed...One must not preach!
But harken back to days of yore:
attend, and hear repeated,
as before, and yet once more:
"What fools these mortals be!"
How perfectly descriptive -- of me!
Copyright © Leo Larry Amadore | Year Posted 2015
Brenda penned a story about Brennan the boatswain in Bermuda
Who had bought a Bavaria 43 barque for a sailing adventure.
The story began with the ballad of Brennan:
'Come sail with me, on see-saw sea
Becapped, bedecked, emblazoned blithely, a blast!
Your love becalmed in my arms embrace.
All aboard, all in, with my deck I beckon.'
As the rollicking tale unfolded,
Brenda fell brow over boots, besotted, in love with Brennan.
She found herself browsing more and more online
Searching for 'Bermuda', 'Brennan', 'Bavaria Barque',
Hoping to find a real Brennan on board, waiting becalmed, with arms beckoning
For her to embolden her text and join him.
10 September 2016
Copyright © John Anderson | Year Posted 2016
This is someone else's dream
I didn't plan it.
The ocean flow of ebbs and tides
called to me in childhood
when dreams were just imaginings
of what could be
but would never be.
Where are the stars
the full moon, the light, the sun
the love born in twilight?
This is not my dream
if it were
where are you?
Copyright © DM Babbit | Year Posted 2019
My woman she done left me, about a month ago,
She said when she was leaving
she was taking my best friend Joe.
But now she’s back knocking at my door,
Begging me to take her back once more.
The woman must have left me .... a dozen times before,
And I always took her back when she came crying at my door.
But I’m not taking her back the way I did before,
Cause I can’t take this hurting anymore.
The woman drove me crazy..... morning, noon, and night,
The only thing we ever did together was argue, fuss, and fight.
So I’m not taking her back that’s one thing I know……..
I don’t think I’ll miss that woman…………………….
"But I sure miss my best friend Joe."
<<<<< Cal Bambi ©riginal >>>>>
If you liked this please comment. Thank You
Copyright © Cal Bambi | Year Posted 2019
Is there room to care for the penultimate?
Can't decide if the space can satisfy two collard greens.
One oblivious cabbage... one who has desperately tried to expand the space, to save the others, who understands bobbing in the excluded oceans surrounding the islands of Oceania.
3, 68, 229, 345, 600, 892... not... quite...there, a goal, a dying wish, origami.
No heart, soiled by the fitted bubble of the inconsequential, Cetaphil.
Can't see past the blemishes, what about the cabbage losing leaves, poisoned, vomiting, now there are no leaves, vulnerability.
Don't worry, the spaces are occupied by vulnerability.
No room for judgement, or thoughts of the penultimate.
Even on the bottom, there is always something lower, trying to climb up on bubbles of Cetaphil.
A struggle, its true, but we can develop ours, at least we started with one, unlike collard greens.
The intricate folds, and beautiful paper, not always recognizable, not always attainable, origami.
Not everyone sees it but its there, hidden, but known like the islands of Oceania.
Not everything is complete. Not everything is as dependable as the vastness of Oceania,
There are fissures and cracks in more than just sidewalks, the weathering of these cracks lie in years, peoples vulnerability.
Red hot, blue... no black as the depths, bitter jealousy, the man behind the handcrafted heart mask, origami.
Second to last, started first, how is that? Penultimate.
Shes kind. A cabbage with something else to give, the other had so many more leaves of memory, but the man sought a different collard.
We long for the beginning, when things were beautiful, filled with patience because of the newness. Can't love persist through the weathered face, seemingly in need of Cetaphil?
Positive they say, it can be good for you, they claim, cleansing like Cetaphil.
No, not really, more like an unexpected attack from the depths of Oceania.
Avoidable they counter, get out of the self inflicted ocean, stop bobbing, break the cycle of the idle collards.
Impossible, can't escape, human vulnerability...
You'll regret it, they say, you'll be the penultimate.
That's okay. Life's hard, we've already fallen apart, like wet paper, origami.
Hold on, with time comes patience for the fragile paper projects that seem to fill our portfolio... weathered origami.
The collection of dreams grow impatient, longing to be polished and beautiful, the mind failing in its obligation as Cetaphil.
Longing to shatter the sky, to pass through its broken remains and soar with whatever lies outside its vast, restrictive blueness. Flying... to high above to be categorized as the penultimate,
Into the space opened by the shattered sky, the ocean of the earth we longed to escape, now pales in insignificance to the depths of life beyond the sky, beyond the misnomer of Oceania.
But how long will the waves continue to capsize? How long will the mind stand to be weathered by vulnerability?
Its up to the owner of the mind, we possess a heart and the drive, unlike collards.
Outside the bubble there are other collard greens,
Outside there is rain and sun, good and bad, failures and success like the breathtakingly intricate crane or the misshapen simple boats of life... origami,
Outside the bubble there are lives to be mended, if sights will be set past self vulnerability,
Outside there are others to be noticed, others who understand the irritating need and constant use of Cetaphil,
Outside our bubble, there is life worth living, vast possibilities and wide expanses of unexplored dreams, be brave, sail the seas of Oceania.
But first, acknowledge the bubbles which bind us, only then will there be room to care for the penultimate.
Copyright © Kyla Bressler | Year Posted 2019
Lilac lavender leaves fluttered ethereally
over the smooth sea of the placid lake.
A shimmer of light shone over the calm waves,
as they rolled silently and collectively
towards the sandy shore now lit
by the rising of the amber full moon.
Wave after wave composed
a lyrical enchanting melody
played by the rising orb.
The leaves formed fragrant shapes
emulating the grandness of the scene.
In the gathering darkness two lovers
heard the alluring symphony
and felt each other entwined
in a dance of love as the moon
in a dreamy crescendo shone
Until the eclipse took place.
Then it hummed no more that night.
Copyright © Victor Buhagiar | Year Posted 2019
Tune weavers sigh and sigh
The unblinking eye
Tree line Groves
Fingered love prints
Cold and broken
Tattered and yellow
Going round round and around
As surely my heart goes...
Copyright © Tonytocaa Camacho | Year Posted 2015
Thanks for staying near
Holding me dear.....
Keeping me strong
Inspiring me along.....
Lifting me tall
When I feel small
Always there when I call
Walking beside me through the long haul....
Truly My Family and Friends are there for Me....
A Journey I do not have to make Alone.....
Bestowing a Strength of it's Own...
Thank You for Your Love....
Copyright © Ninette Carey | Year Posted 2015
Thousand ‘I love you’s’
Will not stop his hunger
Give him a loaf of bread
And see him smile
Copyright © Hi-Dong Chai | Year Posted 2019
Through the window, I see collected raindrops rolling down.
I blow my breath, erase, and clear a small space
To see what lies beyond.
Dripping, dropping raindrops, like
Drops of pain easing with the blowing wind,
And separating dark clouds.
The rain collects on the window,
I open the window wide and leap out
Onto the soft wet grass, out onto fields
Underneath splitting dark clouds.
I feel the last rain drops touching
My cocoon and before they evaporate
I feel the first rays of sun, and fly.
Copyright © lily Cohen | Year Posted 2019
©Kathryn McLoughlin Collins
July 7, 2012
Copyright © kathryn collins | Year Posted 2012
From the beginning of time there has been exploration
To undiscovered places by every rich nation
Mans great love for exploring has moved up a gear
He has accepted the challenge of space, the final frontier.
Nineteen fifty seven saw the launch of sputnik one
Followed by sputnik two the space race had begun
Russia was first off the starting block
America was busy working around the clock.
The following year America entered the race
By sending explorer one up into space
Russia then sent up their first cosmonaut
America then followed with an astronaut.
America was now leading in the race for space
President Kennedy’s wanted a man on the moons surface
The whole world was watching, they were eager to see
Eagle Landers touchdown in the sea of tranquillity.
Research and development is now taking place
To establish planet Mars as a forwarding base
Future missions will refuel and take on supplies
So astronauts can go out further into darker skies.
Look up on a clear night and look for the space station
Manned by astronauts from more than one nation
Mankind has shown that he has the capability
By developing spacecraft that was once fantasy.
There have been many celebrations and even some tears
Accidents have caused the deaths of some brave pioneers
Two space shuttles Colombia and Challenger
Both exploded in mid flight, a tragic disaster.
Our sun will die out and mankind needs to survive
A new home is needed so humans can thrive
Mankind will colonise planets that’s a certainty
Using the great minds to develop new technology
Space exploration is fairly new and painfully slow
In the big scheme of things we’ve a long way to go
But one day these dreams will become reality
As man ventures out beyond our own galaxy.
Copyright © Tom Cunningham | Year Posted 2018
With regicide we often seek
to give our lot a little tweak
because our fretful lives are fraught
with not enough of what we sought
and so we let frustration speak.
The emptiness we live is bleak,
no strength to turn the other cheek.
We’ve plans to share what we have bought
And yet with final regal squeak
we find that we’re still up the creek.
For some with whom we gladly fought
have grasped the reins. ‘Twas all for naught.
We’ve merely gained another freak
Copyright © Wayne De Priest | Year Posted 2019
Telling me still more
She’s not what she appears to be, not now, not ever
Black, hollow portals to her self
I knew her
I loved her
I can still see her
Lying eyes wide on the white table
She still loves me
She will always star in my life’s fable
In my purgatory of love, I will always remember her eyes wide
Anguish I hope will subside
Eyes wide corpse
Copyright © Anson Decker | Year Posted 2017
The garden of love flourishes
with tender care
Kisses planted as seeds well nourished
By warmth of heart and quenching rain
Proliferate in colourful splendour everywhere
A secret garden where two become one
Under the most glorious summer sun
When blooms unfurl their petals and unfold
To bare their hearts and bare their souls.
The gentle caressing breeze wafts a heady sweet fragrance
So pure so unblemished so rare
A natural opiate that sends lovers to a far off special place
Only they can dwell and together share
Where mottled colourful butterflies
Dance a delicate ballet
And the birds sing with joy in jubilation
As the summer sun gently strokes and caresses naked skin
Waves of the warmest cosiest emotions are evoked within
Flowing forever growing from one heart to another
Perpetually feeding the greedy soul with euphoric joy and ecstasy.
From two such hearts seeds are sown
And nourished by love and care they are grown
To bloom in the summer sun
As the cycle of life goes on.
Copyright © Peter Dome | Year Posted 2015
Racing down a road,
I passed a place that wasn’t there.
Looking for the name
Of the spot that lost its place,
I found Elizabeth,
Down the road apiece from Grace,
Resting on a map
With naught else to leave a trace.
Hallowed by family,
Whose mem’ry they did embrace,
Their names were honored
By loved ones some distant year.
Full of other thoughts,
I went on and left them there.
Progress passed them by;
I did too, without a care.
Copyright © David Drowley | Year Posted 2019
If I was in an operating room
It would be fair to say
Somebody would tell me
Have faith in God and pray.
But why rely on an invisible friend
To help and save my life
When it’s a surgeon standing over me
Holding the ruddy knife?
Copyright © Ken Duddle | Year Posted 2012