SARAJEVO the closing in
They've known their only friends weren't here to stay
but only come to spend a night or two
in hopes of putting off the judgement day
that's closing in no matter what they do;
all chances are the story will be sad
but who recalls beginnings, when it ends?
To lay the blame would only drive one mad
and so they lay the blame upon their friends
who leave them to the way that's come around
in spite of all the tears there are to cry
for love of Sarajevo, hallowed ground
a fitting place for one to stand and die.
And all the world will hear the final plea
but pass it off as what was meant to be.
Copyright © Vee Bdosa | Year Posted 2011
Your footsteps might disappear after a while
Your voice might go silent at times
Your needs will not be visible to others
Unless you voice them
Not everyone has the gift of reading between the lines
Not everyone listens to the gentle nudge life gives them
Unbeknown to others you might struggle
Your heartbeat might have gone faint
Your zest for life crippled
In those moments
Your maker has you under His wings
He is your protector
He might send a stranger your way
Or a long forgotten friend might look for you again
But because He worked behind the veil
He knew you wouldn't get it if he sends a known entity
That's why he chose the people or things
You are not familiar with
Don't cringe at His choice
Embrace the comfort or joy they bring
Copyright © Wilma Neels | Year Posted 2015
A Fond Farewell
M P Walsh
I text her every day at Ten, just to say good day,
Ask how’s it going, Nana, is everything okay?
Did you sleep the sleep of slumber, or stay awake ‘til 10,
And by the way the real good news, the Red Sox won again!
She answers back and I could see the tiredness in her text,
I woke again, she tells me, for that same old 5 AM.
I offer her a fix to keep her sleeping through the night,
But she writes it just won’t work for me: “I’ve already tried it twice.”
I send her back a ha, ha text to let her know I care,
She then sends me a big red face (I guess I wasn’t fair).
She asks me if my walk went well and did I wave at cars,
I answer her with big bright eyes, emoji eyes not mine.
My Nana Jo, a precious jewel, whose friendship means a lot,
We seem to get along most times but scold me when I’m not.
She is one of my darling Angels number one to be exact,
The other two are there for me but Nana tops the lot.
All three Angels are my friends we share some precious dates,
Like birthdays and of Christmas time with dinners to celebrate.
We laugh and joke and smile a bunch and try to stay at ease,
We’re happy as a clam and snug, my three Angels and me!
Of course I’m getting older just not ready to leave the Girls,
They’re also over 50 but they just don’t look their age.
I celebrate my life and pray that I will go with ease.
Because after all is said and done, it’s where I want to be.
And when it rains look at the sky to Heaven and beyond,
Because the rain that wets your face is just a gift of mine.
And when the rain lets up and a Rainbow comes along,
Just sneak under the Rainbow, pause, and hear me sing my songs.
Copyright © Michael P Walsh | Year Posted 2018
On a walk after the worst of the Sandy storm
I slogged down the still dampening
Green grass valley rutted between
The moldering fences of the shadowed alley.
Under the low, ominously rushing, soggy gray clouds
I saw so many black birds silently
Clinging against the stiff breezes
To the broken branches of the skeletal oak on the corner
As if they relished the fate of the cruelly stripped leaves.
I saw a hundred crows there.
How many make a murder?
Black pointy wraiths;
Scattered commas lined up like
Iron shavings stuck
To magnetic branches.
Dull steel skies slid in vast arcs around them.
Sprinkling windy foreboding,
Their clouds reached down
To Collect their talons.
So many eyes I know they see
Spiny black needles poking out of me.
Bloodless murder, muffling gray gauze No need to caw…,
A hundred crows see it all.
Copyright © Kevin Lawrence | Year Posted 2018
The lonely street stood still in the night,
Buildings grew tall all around with dim light.
Sound of my steps echoing in the alleys,
The air is moist like a mountain valley.
A bright neon light a few blocks away,
With a beer and an arrow pointing that way.
A few cars lined up beside the street,
I work my way through them not to discrete.
I walk up to the door with my collar pulled high,
The cold air chills me, as a taxi rides by.
Thumping of music can be heard from behind the door,
Some kind of music that I've never heard before.
A slight push on the door opens to a big room,
Louder now I heard sounds and the smell of perfume.
Smell of smoke and alcohol fills my lungs,
So thick is the smoke, my eyes burn and stung.
My eyesight dances across the room that's filled with so many,
I hear a man ask his waitress if she has change for a twenty.
I can see the bar all the way in the back.
With a lot of alcohol and a huge wine rack.
This was what I saw when I went out that night to the bar,
People gather and have fun in a place called The North Starr.
Copyright © Donald Williams | Year Posted 2014
A choo! Achoo! Oh geez, here we go!
L ousy allergies putting on a show.
L ingering effects of pollen's assault,
E yes weeping, nose running, I wish it would halt.
R ecurring miseries with each seasonal change,
G uaranteeing discomfort, plans rearranged.
I ndecent exposure to dust mites and such,
E nergy draining meds a necessary crutch.
S niffing and sneezing - I've had enough!
Copyright © Kim Merryman | Year Posted 2011
to shadow an eye,
is to shadow justice
justice is justice's of a shadow
justice is justice's of an eye
an eye is an shadow of an eye
an eye is an shadow of justice
justice is justice's shadow of an eye
to shadow the law,
is to shadow the eye
a law is a law of a shadow
a shadow is a shadow of an eye
the law is the shadow of the law
a law of an eye,
is a law of an shadow
a future of justice is,
a future of a shadow
a shadow is a shadowing future
a shadow shadow's is,
a shadow future
a shadowing future is,
a shadowing eye
Copyright © lucifer very very very 1st | Year Posted 2017
Dying leaves take flight
in the swirling autumn winds
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Earth's slumber begins
Copyright © Michael Thompson | Year Posted 2016
OOPS! I Forgot to Spell Check.
Copyright © Billy TheKidster | Year Posted 2009
There was an empress in a 19th century land
Who ruled with a fair but iron hand
A small white dog was ever by her side
In times of fear under her skirts he would hide
Dogs not allowed in the Forbidden City
So they took him and strangled him --a great pity
From that day forward she was hard as a nail
And made sure the guilty on nails were impaled
Her vengeance was sated but there was yet something to do
And for that time it was a remarkable breakthrough
Dogs no longer forbidden in that place
As long as she lived that was to be the case
She told them she wouldn't tolerate such wrong
All for the memory of her one friend Baixiong
Copyright © Elizabeth Smith | Year Posted 2016
I have been too long in the shadows
trying to hide the hurt and shame.
I wanted to run away from myself
and not carry the the burden of blame.
I needed something to hang on to,
something to occupy my mind.
I didn't need to relive this anymore,
I needed to leave it behind.
I know that it wasn't my fault
that the situation became so bad.
I was just trying to survive,
using anything that I had.
I used my strength to fight
the demons that were plaguing me.
My thoughts were not my own
and neither is the image I see.
I had to shatter this illusion,
so that I could finally be
the person that I truly am,
the one that longs to be free.
The truth, the reality of it all
is right in front of me.
I know that I had been wronged,
something that I needed to see.
With this revelation came understanding
and that has made me strong.
Now I can put things right
and rid myself of the wrong.
My life and how I live it
is finally up to me.
I no longer seek approval
for who I have come to be.
It hasn't been easy to get here
and it won't be easy to stay.
I am ready to give it all that I can
so I can find a a sense of peace someday.
Copyright © Sandra Weiss | Year Posted 2018
I was passing by, pressed and already late.
I did not stop to look. I did not ask.
I could have turned around to investigate.
Going back what could I have done? What task
achieve and really make a difference.
Then it dawned on me: was it really He
strung up there on that hill beyond the fence?
who'd called, who might have really needed me.
“Brother, it was I, dying there that day.
All I needed was for you to come, to be
witness to what was done to me, to stay
and feel with me the pain and agony.
Go and find what it is to be with me
in those being hurt and seek to set them free.”
Copyright © Lisle Ryder | Year Posted 2018
Nestled closely curved
Like two spoons well kept in a drawer
I lay beside you every night
Drifiting towards the dreamtime
Pressing the alien softness of your female flesh
Filling hand with its gentle weight
Enfolding into your perfect curvature
Feeding on your warmth, your living heat
As it rises through your skin
To cross over into mine.
These are the moments
The downtime after loveplay
When our sexes settle into one another
Crossing the in-between of days spent together
As an undistinguished One; the Human Beast
Who fears the dark
Who needs its mate
For strength and calm
And reasons to get up again.
We curled together so
By the guttering fire
In the frigid cave.
We'll curl together so
By the guttering fires
Of dying suns
As we cross the eternal dreamtime
Of the Universe,
Copyright © William Masonis | Year Posted 2007
Awakened by a snake's hissing noise,
I wandered out quietly
as it girded around the tent—
with pointed head bulging among piled leaves
as if to court danger,
I allowed it to sense my own flow,
without any sign of intrusion--
that for a long while
my senses lightly noticed it's breath heaving
in gentle beats calm quiet while I stood, harmless:
In the gloss of moonlight
and tender darkness, a float of bold enchantment
rippled within me, as this snake, in an amiable gait,
crawled away as if nature had spoken.
Late June 2018 Standard Contest
Sponsored by Brian Strand
Copyright © nette onclaud | Year Posted 2018
Like riding on the handle bars of a bike
with no brakes, going down Telegraph hill
in San Francisco,... during an earthquake…
...With a flower in your hair…If you like.
Copyright © Charlie Knowlton | Year Posted 2018
Their rending cries, when all is still, reecho in the moonlight;
They lie about in fitful slumber on the ground at noonlight,
Their virgin hair spread in the dust; for nothing really matters:
Who then will see their tangled locks, their dresses all in tatters,
The myriad trails of tears on dusty faces robbed of gladness,
The haunted eyes all swollen red, such depthless pools of sadness?
It seems that they could melt the rocks to tears of lamentation,
There being not a hope for fair Celena's preservation.
Both months have passed; the time has come. Celena must be going;
She wanders to her father's house, while dreading, fully knowing
The manner and the time of death; she sees the gory vision
Of being bound, awaiting fate for Jephthah's poor decision;
Her trusting eyes both fixed on his, both filled with untold torture;
The final sight her eyes will see before her soul's departure:
Yet still she presses on, determined, lest the Lord in fury
Rain down his wrath for promise broken in a deadly flurry
On father and his wife and daughter, nation, tribe, and village,
And curse their life and health and plenty, oxen, sheep, and tillage
With sword or pestilence or famine, plague or deportation;
Thus one, though innocent, must die to ransom all her nation.
Beside his doorway Jephthah stands, all torn with deep confliction
Between the hope that she'd been killed, or lost her path's direction,
And longing just to see again his daughter, but for fleeting
Bitter moments, and to chisel in his mind the soft, yet wild beating
Of her heart against his own. Alas! A heart cast down in sorrow,
Dread, and fear: a heart run short of precious moments which to borrow.
Look! There she comes; the tearful maiden, followed by companions;
Bedraggled garments torn, and faces streaked with dust of canyons.
The bravest of them turn away with looks of wretched terror,
Departing to their distant homes, while trembling footsteps bear her
To where he stands, and wordlessly in this, their final parting,
Embraces her, and feels each heartbeat softly, wildly beating;
While that of his is softly, wildly, e'er so slowly bleeding.
Then hand in hand they tread together to the highest hilltop;
In Jephthah's grasp a wicked knife and fresh-picked bunch of hyssop.
With leather cord he binds her tight and lays her on the altar:
He takes in hand the fearsome blade, but there his fingers falter;
For sapphire eyes, Celena's eyes, into his own are bearing,
And seeing hurt and pain and fear, his firm resolve is tearing.
Jephthah's visage wilts and quavers, as if he would save Celena;
Then she speaks, his brave Celena, dutiful and grave Celena,
"Father, do it! Slay me now! E'er resolve is gone forever:
E'er I break and cry for mercy; then you know that you could never
Do this deed of you required." He with one last look of dolor
Into eyes so wide and fearful, thrust the knife and crimson color
Spread and trickled from her chest. So there it was! The deed completed.
There one moment, gone the next. The only thing he really needed
Frittered on a foolish vow. His only joy, his only child
Pale and still, and in her place a torture aye unreconciled.
Shaking fingers set the purest, sweetest offering afire,
Half expecting, hoping, wishing, as the hungry flames grew higher
That his precious sleeping daughter waken from her dreamless slumber;
But, alas! She ne'er could waken. Now he must be of the number
Whose lineage drifts away with them; who know no satisfaction:
Thus Jephthah grasped the wicked blade with sudden thought of action
And cut a yard-long lock of hair before the flame consumed her,
Then faced away; he could not face the awful way he'd doomed her;
Instead he snapped the blade in two and fell down by the altar
Crying, "Take this shame away from me, O Lord! And do not fault her
For dying in this time and fashion; let the blame be solely carried
By myself: oh, let her spirit live in peace!" And then he buried
His weeping head into his helpless arms, and kept on sobbing
Until the flames had burnt to cinders, thus forever robbing
Him of the chance of ever seeing sweet Celena's features.
Then he arose and stumbled home, not seeing all the creatures
Who stood their ground in utter silence, crying for Celena;
Nor all the girls at every doorfront, sighing for Celena;
Thus never knew but one man's heart was dying for Celena.
Copyright © Isaiah Zerbst | Year Posted 2015