A ray of sunlight streams across the room
To light the raven ringlets of his hair,
As now and then he slightly sways, within
His artful hands a violin and bow,
From whence bursts forth the musings of his mind
In vivid tones with deep vibrato's power,
And there expands and swells to fill the void
Of empty space that dwells within the walls
Composed of stones, both grey and worn with age,
Their only saving grace the leaded panes,
Designed by some forgotten man of old.
There stands Marcell, a stranger to the world,
Absorbed in fantasies of melodies,
The phantoms of how things appear to be;
For in the notes he dreams and then pours out,
He cunningly reveals his somber thoughts
And feelings, while the world is stamped to dust.
They tell the mournful tale of one who lived,
And breathed, and thought, but was not understood;
A boy whose parents died before his eyes
For crimes they never could have helped commit,
The crime of being born the same as he,
Of race that every other thought as vile,
And now while all the world engaged in war,
Is hidden in an ancient, empty church,
His one companion held within his hands
And speaking, just as he, to empty air.
{Written by Isaiah Zerbst on January 2d.
Published January 3d, 2015.}
Copyright © Isaiah Zerbst | Year Posted 2015
Lord,
Amid my hurry and my haste,
let me be slow but time not waste.
For time, is yours alone to give,
I must use it wisely while I live.
Time, is like an arrow once let fly,
that makes it's way across the sky.
Retrieve I can't, once it is gone,
nor can I save or to others loan.
For the time remaining allotted me,
may it be used dear Lord, for thee.
That as in life where ere I wander,
time given me I will not squander.
Copyright © Tom Wright | Year Posted 2008
You know, the other day,
I made a decision to ride the bus.
It was so pleasant to see not only
where one is going, but all the activities and
fun in between.
No, hurry or worry.
Of course, I could have gotten to
my destination much faster,
had I taken a train, but then,
I would have missed out on
the sounds along the way.
The Train: dreary subway stops to look at,
crowds of people pushing to get in.
No sights or sounds, just the roaring
of steel against steel. A sudden jerk -- and you
are at a stop.
And so, one must decide, whether the ride
or the getting there faster is best.
Copyright © Marilyn Williams | Year Posted 2016
I am given to you by Creator Himself
My Limbs long to grow straight and tall
Bathed in sunlight from above, paying homage
Fulfilling my God given task
From the dawn of creation, in the Holy Books I’m told
A gift was given to all nations to hold
The Tree of Life to feed and cure and clothe.
I am Me – Set me free
To live in a world- your world, to be appreciated
I am needed by you and the multitudes
Use me, Recycle me again and again
Plant me in your soil, I will take root
I live to Heal you, to Cleanse you
To Rebuild you to Purify you
I am Me – Set me free
Do not believe the lies in your ears they whisper
Free me from my confined goal,
Where troops have placed me
Sullied my name,
Denied the Existence of my core
I am Me – Set me free
Yet I am you, and you are me
Vital it is for us living beings
Your DNA and my RNA- we talk -we communicate
I am not only here to just take away your pain
But here to let you - Live Your Life Again
I am Me – Set me free
Do not be stripped of your human privileges
The Greedy will always deny Man his God given rights
In the name of Democracy, Controversy, Hate, Idiocrasy,
They are chained in their Bureaucracies and Hypocrisies
And do not see the woods for the trees
I implore you do not be
Of a ‘Sheeple’ people mentality
I am Me – Set me free
In a world encased with chemicals, plastics, synthetics
Created in the name of greed,
A world that is stifling, suffocating, stagnating
Poisoning you and your children
Let your Farmers Plant me, grow me as in days of old,
I am no weed
I have been here since time has begun
My leafy fingers and my palm point up to the sun
Absorbing and turning it’s energy into a life giving elixir
I purify the very air that you breathe
I am sustainability, I am Life
I am Me – Set me free
I can offer you the finest spun threads of my being
Does not the Japanese Emperor look good in his ceremonial clothes?
And did not ‘Mona Lisa’ smile - as she was stretched on my canvas?
Glowing from the oils of my seeds are Van Gogh’s ‘Stars’
And my finest for Raising Lazarus by Rembrandt
My spun cloth has stood the test of time
Carrying your very first Stars and Stripes still in existence
And did they not all feel proud when the Declaration was signed
But like Judas they turned their backs without our acquiesce
I am Me – Set me free
Haven’t my ropes tethered and towed ships from Days of yore
Until synthetics came along and put a stop to it all
My woven fibre sacks once carried your food?
But now with synthetics, I lie totally unused
I am self sufficient
I am your nutrition
I am Me – Set me free
Use my Oil and Mill my Seed
My healing powers are all you need
Leave the chemicals for the powers that be
My gifts are bountiful - I give with grace
Strength is in numbers - I rest my case
The way for us to become stronger
United we stand - we will conquer
I am the Tree of life
I AM ME – I AM THE HEMP TREE
A Gift from Nature - Healer of Humanity
Footnote:
A poet from Poetry Soup read my poem and the Footnote of ‘Christmas in July’ and was curious about the cure for Dementia with a certain Oil which would have prolonged my Mother-in-laws quality of life and indeed her life.
She emailed me to write a poem and spread the word about this species. Thank you sincerely.
Our family company in Australia and have been pioneers of not only Organic Skin Products but of Hemp products. We encountered resistance but were successful in countering it and were able to bring it to the people. Including a special oil.
We have witnessed miraculous results with the marvelous, fine food tasting oil and products of this plant ranging from Epilepsy, MS, Parkinson’s, Dementia, Nerve related conditions, inflammation, auto immune and the list goes on. It has even been shown to make cancer cells literally commit suicide. You can freely view research results on the internet.
Hemp is not weed but a species which does not contain the all feared THC. It is a total nutrition in itself and is delicious food product that can be used for culinary delights as well as smoothies.
A specific Oil that is extracted and has very special properties.
Copyright © Maria Williams | Year Posted 2017
LATE NOVEMBER
Now a season
for desolate ambers to quilt worn pastures
as harsh north wind songs
scold lonely Sycamore boughs,
Whose
ghostly silhouettes beckon endless horizons
arching gaunt fingers
to one lonely but swaying colding sky,
Heavy
grey-misted clouds
threaten a promise of yet to be,
I
see withered grasses
embrace worn tangled corn skeletons
to toss to dance
silent whispers
upon an earth, carpeted
so void,
so barren,
All
awaiting shrouds of hoarfrost
soon
sprinkled to their bosom,
This dismal stage
defied by stark whiting birches
astep soft firs, there
and there,
But beyond
nothing, but nothing stirs
save some eternal vow of golden days
that will yet
-NO !
must… to be,
But now
of my dearest of mine children
repose
'tis your time only,
Only,
that thee must slumber.
Copyright © EARLE WEISS | Year Posted 2018
He made a paper Arc de Triomphe,
And the horses went through one by one
Paper clouds were in the sky
No ceremonials at this Arc,
And the horses went bare back, seeming
The paper clouds, they had no sun
No tourists at this Arc,
Not even Japanese with cameras tuned...
Just a paper Arc for no one's Joan
----------------------------------------------
4/3/2015
Contest - 1-10 lines, Old or New
Sponsor - Rick Parise
6th place win in this Premiere Contest
Copyright © Julia Ward | Year Posted 2015
Rows and rows and rows of white crosses,
Like sentinels -stone-fixed to the ground.
The wind like a shroud wraps around them,
Enshrining each space where they're found.
Stone guardians stand at attention,
Into the distance -row after row.
O' mourn those hallowed internments,
Where our heroes are resting below.
Rows and rows and rows of white crosses,
With their numbers increasing with years.
And graves that are drenched by the weeping,
Will never run dry of our tears.
Now the soil is the dead's lonely blanket,
Below - and everlasting - at rest.
Those keepers -yes -all those white crosses,
Announcing -'Here lie the Best of the Best.'
Rows and rows and rows of white crosses,
All those warriors were yields of our lives.
And the harvest of what all wars cost us,
Are plowed under and nothing survives.
There is green lawn laid like a carpet,
That covers our heroes repose.
Outstreched are the arms of the crosses,
In a garden where nothing else grows.
Copyright © Margaret Wade | Year Posted 2017
I fight in a war that none can see
An internal strife between myself and me
Will I fall to the dark or walk in the light
give in to despair or stand up and fight
Two paths lie ahead and I must choose
which way to go there's so much to lose
Will it be the one that is narrow and straight
or is the winding one going to be my fate
One leads to death, turmoil and strife
the other to God and eternal life
Through traps and snares I must fight
I'll win this battle through God's holy might
mkt
2016
Copyright © Michael Thompson | Year Posted 2016
If a group of religiously fanatical Muslims blow up a building, sadly
many then think that all Muslims are all terrorists too.
I've only one question to ask of them with that backward way of thinking,
"What in the bloody hell is wrong with all of you!?"
By that standard I guess that all Christians most certainly are all terrorists too,
since some have been known to take innocent lives, blowing up an abortion clinic or two.
Those who do evil deeds in the name of God are just that. They're evil. Evil is all that they do,
or most probably severely, fanatical, ignorant, irrational, emotionally and mentally disturbed
fanatical zealots who think that they'll get into heaven by blasphemy of GOD's Word.
So judge wisely who is terrorist
or one day soon you may find this very thing happening to you.
You may find yourself being a victim of a hate crime because this time
The Suspected Terrorist Was YOU.
Copyright © Billy TheKidster | Year Posted 2009
Feel me like an autumn breeze
Dancing easily through your thoughts
Let me stir that hidden part of your soul
That part that you've forgotten long ago
Experience me, deeply breathe me in
Attempt to capture the essence of who I am
But know that you will never pin me down
For no one is able to capture the wind
Be ignited by the flames of my passion
Frolic in the radiance of my vibrant colors
Let my heated whispers call out to you
Embrace me, and slowly remove the layers
Leisurely explore every subtle nuance
Attempt to discover my deepest secrets
But realize that you can't fully know
For no one is able to grasp a fire's glow
I am waves of pure intensity
I'm sincerity, passion, pain, and pleasure
With glimpses of clever, reticent, and demure
Swim into my crystal clear epiphanies
Bathe in the spring of my sensuality
Drink and be refreshed by my offering
You'll never grow tired of tasting me
For I am timeless . I am Poetry
Copyright © Becca Teagan | Year Posted 2017
"Immortal Torment"
wolves would howl and demons would prowl
as gold full Moon invaded
a starless sky hushed a muffled cry
as human spirits evaporated.
pathways of gold grew decaying mold
once old clock chimed dark midnight hour
visions from Hell cast gory spell
flying bats from belfry tower.
fangs fell free 'neath dead skeleton tree
as creamy clouds turned to misty dust
a beast of dread rare form, undead,
swooped in on wild wind gust.
enraged in craze it struck in rage
a sweet young thing was blood drained
a bright soul lost for centuries cost
a lifeless figure in bondage, chained.
a wooden tomb secured her womb
caged by a vampire seed
her joy was none as she bore a son
who ... on her bones ... did feed.
she writhed in pain an evil stain
left her a hollow shell
immortal torment grew as each breath she drew
she hoped she would expel.
but time stood still and broke her will
doomed to a hidden life
her darkest dreams erased sunbeams
as she prayed for feel of knife.
*For S.K.A.T.'s Eerie Poem Tale Contest.
*Please read my personal comment for more details.
Copyright © Linda-Marie SweetHeart | Year Posted 2012
My vision cleared the moment he took my hand,
and this drab world became a colorful wonderland.
Summer grasses became a soft carpet of green.
Eyes full of love painted a canvas of hues, serene.
My heart turned the sky blue and clouds into crowns.
Robins were singing, bells ringing in harmonic sound.
The warmth of his touch rivaled the heat of the sun,
a golden circle to symbolize our love had begun.
Trees blossomed in brilliantly colored flowers.
Love has such extraordinary mystical powers.
I felt so light and happy, I might have been floating.
Forgive me if my new-found love has me gloating.
If holding his hand in mine made me feel like this,
I wonder what emotions I'll feel with our first kiss.
6/8/16
Copyright © Marti Sutherland | Year Posted 2016