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This Week's Featured Poems


Damn shame

                          It's a damn shame they say honor thy parents

                                                But I had none

                                     They shot my only love grandma

                                                   In a drive-by

                                               Now I'm all alone

                                        What a shame bout my pops
                                              Rolling Stone he was

                                             sucka was never home

                                             Even in heart and soul

                                              What a damn shame 
                                            Wanna talk about Shame

                                           How about my sista Trisha

                                                   A junkie a ho

                                         Was found two years before

                                     sprawled on some basement floor

                                            What a shame what a life

                                       God Oh God I want to blame you

                                             Lord I want to cuss you

                                        I want to ask why why why me

                                            But can only blame myself

                                              As I sit here in the joint

                                    Staring at these walls and my thoughts

                                                 Doing twenty to life

                                         have no pity my little brotha man 

                                            You see you have but one life ..

                                                      One damn life

Copyright © Tonytocaa Camacho | Year Posted 2015

'Closed Doors'

Closed doors  Especially if they are bolted shut Why refuse to move on? Why do you keep knocking at that particular door? As if your very next breath depended  On someone answering On someone opening  It is closed for a reason  Maybe your destiny is not behind that door  Stop knocking  Stop forcing your way in  Change is good At time a necessity To find your place in the world Move on

Copyright © Wilma Neels | Year Posted 2014

A Dylan Thomas State of Mind

A Dylan Thomas State of Mind

It’s precisely 2:45am...the time when
~ if I’ve fallen asleep ~
I always awake to find
Myself drenched in sweat.

I lie here beside my beloved
~ as I have so steadfastly since
16 November 2016 ~
Thinking about...wondering...pondering
The end of my existence.

I am not talking about
Taking my own life.
I’ve seen, heard, touched, tasted, smelt
          too much...
I’ve survived too much, felt too much...
I value Howard’s sweet...sweet...
Nurturing soul’s devotion 
To keeping me alive these past 40 years
To raise my hand against

I AM talking about these things:
     Where do we go when we die?
     Do I have a soul?
     Will I be conscious — at the moment it happens —
     That I am drawing my very last breath?

Sometimes, when I awake in the early morn,
Howard is motionless beside me
And I stare at his beautiful face.
Dare I reach out and touch it with one finger?
What if it’s stone cold?
His flesh heavy...dead?

The End of Living.
The End...The End...The End...

Last January I begged for surcease...
For an end to the pain...
An end to the physical torture...
An end to the psychic suffering...
The constant thoughts of:
        “Is there a Hell?”
        “Will I go there if I take my own life?”
        “What does ‘eternity’ mean?”

Now this morning of 19 October 2017
I am thinking...feeling...praying:


         God/Goddess/All That Is/The Universe/The Spirit
         Make my neglected hated scorned body
         Healthy and whole.
         So I may live
                      next month...
              next year...

Do not let me go gentle into that good night.
I am alive now...
And I rage...
                   I RAGE NOW!
                                       ....against the dying of the light.

Barbara Dickenson 
19 October 2017

Copyright © Barbara Dickenson | Year Posted 2017


A friend is truely a friend
When sorrows he is to mend
A warm shoulder to lean on
Trust, advice and love to rely on
He's the real value in life
Never like the rolling dice
But helps seeking no return
He's vital in both need and fun
Being ever ready to defeat downs
He makes love rule out frowns
Till we become aged
And see the last sunrays
He remains  a true friend
Always dealing with open mind
As we both comprehend
And share the same stand

Copyright © Beejadhur Sewumber | Year Posted 2016

About Trout

If ever, you had any doubt 
When I fished, I'd not catch me a trout 
I've got fine expertise, so pardon me please 
While I cast my line out and about

Copyright © Charles Messina | Year Posted 2018

Addicted Part 2

It came back around and said, "I know you like to party."
He gave me a red cup, a little Coke, and Bacardi.
The Devil working hard, attaching himself to my body
He's scratching and clawing.
The work of my Angel, my Angel who has fallen
Firery halo, I get weak, then I'm calling.
Bottles and weed, a black to soothe the thoughts
I am already happy, But I need to do and be with something that would keep me off my knee's
A life I choose to keep me at peace when I feel like nobody loves me
Or is it just me?
When will I become free?
Addicted to you and me
Into my own mind, some crooked thoughts, and my own body.
The spliff is killing my eyes, shutting down every inch of my body.
"But you like to party."
Disrespecting Gods body
Forgive me, Lord, but this depression is acting naughty, and I have to kill It.
But now I am addicted. 
Now my whole world shifted. 
On a full train with the same gifted 
We especially high headed to a place where half-baked lives. 
I'm cooked out, and I want out. 
Please tell me where my escape is
This is all killing me, and nobody knows it.
I might overdose 

~I'M Addicted

Copyright © Malcolm Brooks | Year Posted 2013


When gazing Beta Persei,
a star with many ghoulish names, 
be wary of a winking eye,
for many fear its flames,
and ghastly, ghostly games. 

Ancient mariners would watch with dread
and chant their prayers out loud,
when that “Eye in Medusa’s Severed Head”
was held by Perseus proud
high o’er the heathen crowd.

Sailor’s hairs would stand and straighten 
when they glimpsed its grim Gorgona.
The Hebrews called it “Rosh ha Satan”
for its demon head persona,
with serpent hair corona.

Dubbed “Ras al Ghul” in Arabic,
or “Algol” in the West,
“The Demon Star” plays quite a trick,
“The Ghoul’s Eye” says it best,
of this I can attest:

In early evening blazing bright,
guiding galleon ships,
then dimming deeply late at night,
by means of an eclipse
of stars in an ellipse.

Three days hence this trick repeats
with pre-ordained precision.
Dark demon light again depletes
when it winks with wild derision,
which begs a bad decision.

Oh Ras al-Ghul! Oh Ras al Ghul!
So near and yet so far --
do not take me for a fool
that fears "The Demon Star,"The Devil’s Demon Star.”

Yet many who think it mirth or myth,
still double down in doubts,
when that wily eye would wink forthwith
they’ll watch their whereabouts.
Better watch your whereabouts!

For those Gorgon snakes give you the shakes,
and chill you to the bone.
And one wrong look is all it takes
to turn you into stone,
eternally alone.

Submitted June 27, 2020

Copyright © Eric Cohen | Year Posted 2020


Intuition has a forceful voice
It speaks aloud, though makes no noise
No fear, no anger, not hot nor cold
A spiritual encounter within the soul.

Instinct walks a different plain
An experience related, alert refrain
Fear or joy might mark its course
Sharp hidden probes might give it force.

The mental is the strongest link
It controls and rules the way we think
Thought tries to oust out all the rest
It attempts to enforce, what it thinks best.

Emotion’s the spontaneous part
No grid, no goals, no weather charts
If in need to cry, to laugh, or scold
It frees itself from the mental mould.
The physical is oft the one deprived
For the mental takes it for a ride
Don’t drink nor eat, no time to sleep,
All bodily needs are trite and weak.

Life could be a kinder friend
If we’d but listen, and not pretend.
For our pieces should all synchronize
One can’t undermine, the other’s size.

Copyright © Michelle Mac Donald | Year Posted 2012

BJ Legros Kelley

                       BJ is a wonderful poet,
                       Just writing her heart out for you and me to enjoy.

                       Like this one here titled ‘Spotty Boy’
                       Ernest and Emily 
                       Glorious day 
                       Really amazing poems by the way
                       One or two acrostics, most written in rhyme,
                       She even wrote one poem she titled ‘Sometimes’.

                       Keep writing that poetry
                       Love what you do 
                       Like what you write, I hope this will
                       Encourage you and make your day bright
                       Your friend Anna Marie Kelley

Copyright © Anna Marie Kaianah | Year Posted 2021


The caterpillar she crawls around and around
Wondering when he'll come home to lay his head down
She cooked and cleaned and is awaiting for he
But there with his caterpillar, he'd rather not be

She's tired of the neglect and wants to get away
There's nothing more to talk about, nothing more to say
The caterpillar is hoping to find happiness one day
With one who will love her, with one who won't stray

Are men that stupid or they really don't know
When they have a good caterpillar, they tend to let it go
Now that she has left, he can no longer hide
The true love he feels for his caterpillar inside
He didn't appreciate what it was and all that he had
But it's too late, too bad and now he is sad

It's over now and they are no longer
She hid away from the world until she could become stronger

Yes, time has passed and the season has changed
And look what has developed, a beautiful butterfly with wings
So you admire the butterfly and how it has grown
With the wind blowing softly, the butterfly is gone

For the happiness and love was found within
Off across the sky flying so free
The butterfly is happy.. the butterfly is me!

Copyright © Colette Dright | Year Posted 2018

Chalice Of Ambrosial Dreams

she sashays up the shore 
from a sequin gowned sea
wearing the undulating waves
of aquamarine and ambrosial sheen
adorned with shimmering and shivering seeds of excitement 

A thousand beaded fingertips
trace her coral curves
whispering sweet nothings
in the luscious language of brine and blue
drizzling down 
her sea-salted soul-case
teasing and tempting
her cooled honeyed patina
to passionately impearled pertness 

Enraptured as he is
enticed by her dreamscape 
the yearning senescent sands sigh~
longing for relics of rose-water regrets.

Susan Ashley
February 8, 2017

~ Fourth Place ~
Premiere Contest: #400
Sponsor: Brian Strand

Copyright © Susan Ashley | Year Posted 2018


An empty echo bellows from within the depths of a chasm. Endless and cold, it moans an apathy that desecrates the sanctity of love and alters the signal of all feeling and emotion. It reaches and bites the heart, concealing from vision its true mission of destruction. Tightly wrapping itself around the soul, it plunges its deadly sting through its victim, cutting off the gentle flowing mixture of happiness, sincerity, laughter and devotion. Mindless faces speak a meaningless language. The lips seem to move in an endless array of contours as a lone silhouette vanishes with the last beam of light. Alone it stands as it silently waits for time to pass. Alone in these vast depths of indifference, there is no hope, no salvation from the inward conflict that evaporates the soul. Bow your head little sparrow. Weep the tears that none else can. Reveal the pain that none else will. Lift your eyes to a destiny. Take the future up in your tiny wings and bring it back to me. Together we can cry over the past and fly away. Darkness is the absence of light, yet you and I see. Within the chasm flickers a small candle. To you and I little sparrow, no freedom is too distant, no change too great. We persist with love where blind hatred dwells. Lingering within us is a hope, a dream and purpose that lifts the wind beneath our wings. We've tasted the bottom of the chasm. Together we can cry over the past and fly away..........

Copyright © Walter Williams | Year Posted 2012

Cloudy Skies

Cloudy skies have beauty, too
Their allure is more mystique than true
As cascading rain surrenders to dew
With their secrets of pearl, and illusions of blue.

Copyright © Michelle Faulkner | Year Posted 2018

Dare to be Alone and Together

Sitting atop a large flat stone in an open field
Brushing aside his long silver locks
Bringing to his lips a long clay pipe
Steadying for a light, his gnarled knuckles make this a fight
His sandals dusty, brow wrinkled and damp
His eyes, an odd milky hue of liquid blue

A group of younger men sit to his front
Some on a stone, several on a log 
The moon crescent
The breeze light, the dusk hot
The earthy smell of horses dancing across the night
Rising from the burgeoning rye fields wafts a hopeful promise

A younger man stands to be recognized
He is tall, lean, well muscled 
Wavy brown locks cascade across broad shoulders
A leather band binds hair to head
A strong hand resting atop the pommel of sword in scabbard 

Tell us wise stranger 
We know great success
The fruits of our labor are bountiful
Behold endless fertile fields of rye and stores of meat
Our stomach’s are full, our trade is rich
Our enemies at bay
There are none better 
Yet we are unfulfilled

We have not mastered the most important art of all
One final achievement and we will be truly rich 
Yet the road ahead is dark and unknown
Love – what is the secret of enduring love
Why are we cursed to know only hollow carnal pleasures

Slowly rising to his feet, leaning upon his walking staff
A scowl overtakes his ancient face, pointing  while chanting

I have learned many things in my time
But what you ask is the most sought after secret of life
The very grail of love
I have spoken of this with many wise men, kings, queens, warrior’s and merchants alike
And I have learned this my sons
I have learned this

A life together flourishes only as well as lives apart
Yes you confide secrets that bind as one
Yes you share danger, thrilling and chilling
Yes this forms bonds of trust, in which you must
Yes you share pleasures of flesh yet this alone doesn’t endure
Certain to leave your love vacant and poor
To this, I know there is more

You seek everlasting intimacy, so listen to my prophecy
You must allow her to grow
To realize her full self
Do not attempt to control her way
Enable her to blossom separate from your union
If you fail you will pay 
Unless you dare to be alone and together

There is more my sons 
Hear this and make it tribal lore
Never stop learning and trust her for the same
Share your fears, your self doubt, your failures
Reveal your weaknesses and you will know love everlasting  
Celebrate your individual successes as one
Help her to achieve what is hers and ask the same

When she speaks succumb to attentive silence
Fix your gaze upon her eyes
Listen to the rhythmic song of her breath
If you can, your love will know no death 

The young man strides forward
Could it be so simple wise father, is this the grail of love

What I describe is far from simple, he declares with a glare
His voice booming thunder, a new wind kicks up dust
The dusk turns crimson red filling hearts with dread
There is one last commandment I must share  and I do so with great care

This golden rule is your precious jewel 
And if you choose, your love, you will never lose

In a hoarse, hushed whisper he imparts
It is laughter my sons 
Together you must laugh
Laughter is the elixir for which you search
Laughter is the highest perch from which may will see heavens dove
Foreboding the arrival of endless  love

Laughter is to love as blood to body, as air to life, as tree to air, as hope to humanity
Laugh together and you will find what you seek

But I lament, most of you will leave me in torment
Destined to plant your bastard seeds through lifelong meaningless deeds

Write these words so they are preserved
You must choose love eternal
Laugh alone and together and you shall both  live forever

Copyright © Anson Decker | Year Posted 2017


The threads of first light 
Open my eyes
And dance on your naked body
Part shadow
Part shape
I'm in awe of your beauty 

I watch you sleep
The rise and fall of your breasts
Marking the time
In the quiet morning
And time of peace

Moving closer
Compelled to feel
Your soft sweet curves
And smell your scent 
Of island spices
Reminding me of our passion 

My soft touch 
Causes stir and purr
Two bodies melt into one
Limbs intertwined in sweet embrace 
Whispers of contentment 
And hopes for the new day

TLR 8-12-17

Copyright © Tom Rutherford | Year Posted 2017

Deception in the Church

Deception in the Church

Deception church, it is here today
just exactly as the Lord had said,
and because of it many churches
are slumbering and most are already dead.

Yes, dead to His Spirit 
and dead to His glorious Word, 
no wonder the masses are missing 
since the Holy Spirit’s voice is no longer welcome or heard.

Have you studied His Word today 
have you read it for yourself,
have you called upon His Spirit of Truth
Who would have helped you figure it out?

Or have you wanted someone else to work out your
salvation, being too lazy yourself to wait upon Him, 
always wanting to run to and fro at a moment’s notice
or just another worthless whim?

Waiting on the Lord is not an option
at least if you’re planning to spend an eternity with Him, 
we need for Him to recognize and know us
or the door will be shut and we will not be able to go in.

Leaders who practice deception do so 
mostly for the power and wealth it will bring, 
they play on your sympathy while pulling your heartstrings
lining their own pockets with your family’s money, property and diamond rings.

The Book of Jeremiah says it plainly that God will not only punish the false teachers but will punish their people as well, 
because they consented to be deceived and they applauded them being unaware that they were dragging them also to hell.

So wake up, wake up!  You slumbering churches
wake up before it is too late,
for the Lord of Glory is coming in an hour
and in that time there is no way to change your fate!

Written by:  Marilyn S. Jennings
February 14, 2015

Copyright © Marilyn S Jennings | Year Posted 2015

Do a little dance

When you get up in the morning, before you put on the pants, just go ahead and do a little dance. You don't have to know the beat in advance, just move those feet and take a chance. No one's watching, there's no petition, it's just an intuitive tribal tradition. If you do a little dance as you start the day, it will help keep anxiety and dark feelings at bay. If your life feels bland and a little boring, like a ship that's been buoyed with a heavy mooring, do a little dance.

Copyright © Nancy Kaufman | Year Posted 2020


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