I'm like a life force travelling wide and far.
I access mountains and esteem every star,
I dip down to oceans and ruffle the sea,
Oh how happy to meander, to feel free.
Hearken to me as I gust so far and wide,
My unchained melody over white clouds ride.
I veer towards valleys, all verdant fresh grass,
Pass quickly through some mountain tortuous pass.
I love to see eagles fly on currents warm
Watch over small birds evading a big storm.
Visit hamlets, villages, communities,
Admire all, their toil and opportunities.
But I must also travel to frightful towns
Where many sadly live with their ups and downs.
Still I prefer the fragrant countryside ways
There, sweet lovers are happy and their God praise.
Copyright © Victor Buhagiar | Year Posted 2017
In solitude I dream tonight
And watch a moth in fevered flight.
It’s drawn toward my quaint porch light
And flies consumed with all its might.
Through open window I can see
Its desperation shared with me;
How freedom in this world is light—
And we as souls are drawn to fight.
Though freedom’s light may cause our death,
It’s worth the risk with every breath.
I understand the moth’s sad plight
When drawn to the glorious light.
Though it knows not of human trust,
It buzzes on because it must!
© Connie Marcum Wong
Copyright © Connie Marcum Wong | Year Posted 2014
These are just a few words about reality,
as Muslims struggle each day with individuality.
What is a Muslim and from whence does he come?
Like you and me, he is born into the world. because of two someone's.
Many of us grew up knowing prejudice in life,
I was gangly, naive, ever given to strife.
Raised as a Christian I never knew what it meant,
As my Muslim friend, how people could vent.
My younger years were spent playing baseball you see,
They were a team of Puerto Ricans, not one Muslim to be.
My Polish heritage was always the butt of a joke,
It was infinitely small, compared to a Muslim's yoke.
My parent's generation was prejudiced in mind,
To Blacks, and Jews, Hindus, Muslims, Hispanics and people of all kind.
I, being naive, never even recognized the strife,
to which these peoples had been subjected to in life.
From experience I learned to treat each person individually,
slowly finding out that that was how they treated me.
Oh, I can say I've met both good and bad,
and the underlying theme is all so sad.
For it seems that we put labels to people like cans of beans,
stick them on a shelf, never tasting their means.
But once you open that can and taste the fare,
you may very well find yourself going back there.
We have our share of detractors in this world of our choice,
but Muslims are not the ones against whom we should give voice.
They are as decent, hard working, and loving as you or me.
They only want what is best for their family.
I pray to my Christian God for Muslims though they know it not,
because they are people that He has not forgot.
Words between man and God are private you see,
that is what connects man to his Deity.
But in every society there is always some remark made aloud,
about how this group or that group has no right to be allowed.
What, I wonder, gives them the right to speak that thought?
Unless it was the freedoms for which this country fought.
And I am sure that the Muslims fought with us too,
so they could have an American dream or two.
So, I think I'll stay in my own naive little way,
and keep those prejudices well at bay.
I won't care whether the next person is Red or Yellow, Black or White,
I won't care if he's Hindu or Christian, Jewish or Zen on sight.
Yes, I'll like the next Muslim I see,
I'm going to smile at them, and I bet they smile back at me!
Copyright © Dan Cwiak | Year Posted 2017
Blessed with ingenuity, he fought advancing tyranny
That stormed the sea in twenty-three great warships sailing furiously.
That day, October twenty-first, saw Admiral Nelson at his worst,
As cannons roared, while gunners cursed. The times were changed, the tides reversed.
Lord Nelson, as an admiral brave with all his fleet defied the grave,
His native land and king to save:-- his life for freedom's cause he gave.
In but a half a dozen hours he humbled Europe's finest pow'rs,
And toppled Tyranny's highest tow'rs; yet Vict'ry found him crowned with flow'rs,
And not a place the crown to lay, on him, nor all who died that day
In sending Britain's foes away, across the stormy seas of grey.
Copyright © Isaiah Zerbst | Year Posted 2014
Can there be beauty in my toes,
Where stubbornly a fungus grows?
I never thought it could be true.
I try to hide it with my shoe.
Its purpose, not yet discovered—
I try hard to keep it covered.
From large toe to the next it spread,
And now I look at both with dread.
It wants to grow against the norm,
My toenail with misshapen form,
Knows the wild ways it wants to grow,
And now it has a mate in tow!
I’ve vowed to make a sacred oath
To kill this hated fungal growth,
But I now see the beauty of
My wayward toes denied of love
Are like the people we might hate
And I’ve learned to appreciate
Diversity against the norm,
Well taught to me through my toes’ form;
That each of us must be unique,
And there’s the beauty that I seek!
As my fungal toe and its mate,
Which I condemned as reprobate,
Conceals within their ugly form,
Their freedom’s right against the norm!
© 1-18-15 First Place
For Hidden Beauty Poetry Contest
Sponsored by Rhonda Johnson-Saunders
Copyright © Connie Marcum Wong | Year Posted 2015
I found the bottle lying on a dune of wind-swept sand,
And I brushed the grains upon it with a weak and trembling hand,
I was crazy-mad for water, I was more than three days dry,
So I pulled the cork with sand fouled teeth and spat it at the sky.
What came out wasn't water, it tasted more like smoke,
So I thought myself the victim of some fools cruel joke.
Then standing there before me, like a Muslim houri dressed,
Was a damsel more than beautiful, who my flaking face caressed.
She said "you've given me my freedom from my prison of the ages.
So I offer wishes numbering three as payment of your wages."
I knew what I desired, I knew what to wish for first,
I said "give drink to all upon this world who now suffer thirst.
But give those thirsty, a love of fellow, more than words upon the lip.
So they offer the bottle to a brother, before they take a sip.
And give those brethren gratitude, to kneel before they swallow
And thank whatevever God they serve for allowing them to follow."
When this was said I realised, my wishes all were spent,
Which was what I knew I'd wanted, from my first intent.
She said "o man, I see you're one, whom God has truly blessed,
So take a drink of water, and lay thee down to rest.
I grant thee freedom from jealousy, from earthly want, from sin.
Accept these gifts as tribute from an Effete of the Green Djinn."
My reason for wishing as I did, to this day seems to flee me,
But nightly as I slumber well, I still dream of Genie.
Copyright © William Kershaw | Year Posted 2010
OUR SHARED DESTINY
Our shared destiny to leave this ruthless world,
shallow existence twisting a mind tangled and twirled.
To heaven went those who could not carry the burden of hate,
through their own desire taking into their hands their fate.
The unsung martyrs with feelings covered by mountains,
and sentiment buried under deep waters, earths fountains.
I went to heaven as did those before me,
to find peace and glory for all to see.
It is the childhood innocence I feel once more,
to have found my peace, the light of heavens holy core.
There is no heartbreak, no anger, no hate, no greed,
at last I have found my condolence for my soul to be freed.
My hearts fulfillment in the spirit of God, Jesus and the Holy ghost,
to cherish heavenly paradise with the ones I love the most.
For contest – I went to Heaven
Sponsored by Laura Urbaniak
Copyright © Teppo Gren | Year Posted 2015
Times when families get together,
it can be in Spring, Summer, Fall, or Winter weather.
Days filled with relaxation and rest,
and all the feasting that is only the best.
Days for the enjoyment,
of not having to go to our employment.
A gift for children for as a rule,
it's a day when they don't get up for school.
A time of laughter heard in the trees,
or the aroma of barbecue wafting on the breeze.
Memories of those no longer here,
and all the times they brought us cheer.
When some are thrilled by colorful presents,
but are a better gift because of our family's presence.
The year's gifts of giving,
for us taking part in our daily living.
Nearly upon us again, and they bring us a tear too,
because we love you and wish we could share them with you.
Truly, a present from God above,
presented through His Son, bestowing on us His gracious love.
Copyright © Dan Cwiak | Year Posted 2015
I feel the tinge of a wind blown face
And set my sails to open space
Leave behind my shadowed sorrow
To explore wind-fed days of tomorrow
I'll find direction from the wind
Let it guide and not rescind
It's pushing force that moves me on
To await the light of every dawn
And seek life's measure far beyond
These churning waves I sail upon
Horizon's thread I'm sure to reach
From tethered sails, I do beseech
There I'll find a life unspoiled
To be free, to be uncoiled
And feel the sun upon my chin
As I turn and face the blowing wind
8/24/17 Contest Blowing in the Wind
Copyright © Frederic Parker | Year Posted 2017
God has a plan,
And it is out of my hands.
Copyright © Kevin C. Martin | Year Posted 2013
Far as the Politics and this is my voice
Medical Marijuana is the right choice
Even though that road is no longer for me
It serves a purpose and that’s clear to see
Convicts are growers as it thins out the pen
Offering the players a game they can win
It’s true; home invasions may be on the rise
As smoke from the pot fills up our skies
Children of growers will grow up and use
Trying hard to fill up their parent’s shoes
We work, pay taxes, they rake in the cash
Everybody’s looking for some kind of stash
My stash is my daughter she is also my pride
From her there are no actions I would ever hide
There are two little feet that are following me
Eyes as beautiful and innocent as two eyes can be
Those eyes look at me like I’m Robert De Niro
I’m not just her daddy I’m that little girls hero
Because, I made the changes a man makes in life
I made them for my children and also my wife
I’m at the top of my class and like it or not
I wouldn’t be here, sitting around smoking pot
The Lord is my Shepherd my wife is my friend
Each lets me know there are rules I can’t bend
I talked it over with the Lord and my wife
Everything bad comes with that way life
We no longer choose to wear addicts shoes
But you be our guest go right ahead and use
I bear no animosity I will hold no grudge
I may be a Christian but I am no Judge
Aside from all the Politics this is my voice
I know growing pot is not the right choice
Medical Marijuana is an issue that I have
friends on each side of the table. I think
each side has many valid points. i think
it's an issue that will never be resolved
because the two sides see things very
differently. I have far to much to live
for to sit around high. But then again,
who am I to judge.
Copyright © Michael Jordan | Year Posted 2010
A heritage no man can sell,
a history no man can tell;
so much we share in Jesus' band,
nothing to fear, in storms we stand.
To lordly things we are kindred,
mansions of gold, pure and sacred;
to endless beam, to saintly streams,
to heaven's gaze and holy hymns.
Our dreams are shaped eternaly
by faith and love in God's alley;
no baser thought our spirit fills,
as we approach heavenly hills.
We who are born of Christ Jesus,
Hallelujah is our chorus;
pilgrims we are, on earth we roam,
yet pressing on to our glorious home.
Copyright © Adeleke Adeite | Year Posted 2013
To a tattered-clothed monster, the city of lights looked so dim,
only stone-faced gargoyles never grimmaced at the sight of him,
everyday, with hideous cries of horror, voices rose and rang out,
it may have been his tears running down from the rainspout.
A human creature who can easily fit in with festivals of fools,
his grotesque, deformed face deemed unfit by society's rules,
while this toll reverberates within his ears, until torn apart,
a song, so beautiful, still plays from the depths of his heart.
People turn their gaze skyward to breathtaking cathedral towers,
where a lone, strong back peals the bells to pass by the hours,
a golden melody floats from the heavens to the town below,
his outward gentle nature only the gypsies and peasants know.
At night, he peacefully slumbers with a picturesque view of Paris,
for, in his dreams alone, no one could ever mock or embarrass,
wishes to dance, to taste the cuisine, in this sanctuary are hidden,
still he carries on a hope, a longing, for a freedom forbidden.
Copyright © Kelly Deschler | Year Posted 2015
They pollute our waters, the land, the air
They pollute the planet without a care
They kill our friends from down below
As they swim up to say hello
They build weapons to kill each other
They don't respect each race or colour
They try to hunt us in every way
But they cannot find our hideaway
We'll never surface because we fear
We cannot trust the humans here
by Ana Espinola Collins
Copyright © Ana Espinola Collins | Year Posted 2014
Moon dancer, in your petticoats, swirling on the lawn,
dewdrop drinker, night wind stalker, daughter of the dawn.
Castanets coil your fingers, diamonds drape your toes;
not equal, but greater, if with normal juxtaposed.
Beautifully different, a gypsy sort of soul,
one, who out of nothing, music can cajole.
Lightly stepping, ever reaching, walking upon air;
if searching, one will find you climbing heaven's stair.
Don't let the stale world change you; continue to pursue
your dreamy fabrication--living impromptu.
Copyright, September 28, 2014
Faye Lanham Gibson
Copyright © Faye Gibson | Year Posted 2014
Dirty rotten scum
to take the life of an innocent one
torn away from my childhood
but not yet thrown into adulthood
you've given me a life of pain
certain to only knowing, that never
again, will the days be the same
but I have found my new freedom
here, within these mighty walls
known as Gods kingdom
Copyright © Denise Hopkins | Year Posted 2013
Dreams show us the opportunities we have in life
The source of faith in the future and happiness
Do not lose faith, we can realize our dreams
Create our own reality ~ a new world without high walls
In thoughts, feelings, impulses and actions
The art of follow your dreams, always have faith in yourself
Listen to your heart and use your abilities and wisdom
A valuable treasure we have inherited from our ancestors
Be tempted by the delicious dreams
150 grams faith
150 grams of hope
120 grams joy
8 tablespoons golden honey
110 grams wisdom
4 cups drama
Some tear drops
120 grams of value and meaning
200 grams of love
- Sun :) - A-L Andresen :)
- (unrhymed couplets)
- Copyright © All Rights Reserved
Copyright © Sunshine Smile | Year Posted 2016
Way back then when I was ten
Oh gosh how easy life was then
No work to do and no bills to pay
It’s a shame aged ten we cannot stay!
We’d climb up trees and skin our knees
Run around the fields in the cooling breeze
I could play safely outdoors without a single care
Have picnics in the park with lots of food to share
I was friendly with lots of the local girls and boys
Our garden shed was our ‘HQ’ we made lots of noise!
We would ride our bikes and play for hours
Go on nature walks and pick daisy flowers
I would paddle in the brook, as I didn’t swim
I was always very careful that I didn’t fall in!
I wish I could turn back time to those carefree days
Life was so much simpler then in oh so many ways
Contest: Way Back Then When I Was ten
Sponsor: Kelly Deschler
Copyright © JAN ALLISON | Year Posted 2016
Anger and pain,
Whole worlds suffer
Yet none may gain.
Strife without end,
Mankind’s in the dust
Death comes as a friend.
Copyright © May Fenn | Year Posted 2015
Barley a man when he went off to war
not really sure what he was fighting for
To serve his country he knew for sure,
unaware of the suffering he would later endure
He worked hard to put on a brave face,
but he couldn't imagine a more horrible place
So often afraid of losing his life,
he would cling to the thought of his son and his wife
When he came home it was an answered prayer,
it was due to the illness he'd received over there
Whatever the reason he was finally home
He had a six week old son of his very own
He tried to work and live a normal life
He later married his second wife
They had two kids, that made him three
From this sickness he couldn't get free
He was completely disabled, he couldn't work
His pain was getting worse and worse
He'd had many surgeries and there were more to come
It attacked his liver, colon and lungs
He never spoke of the horror he'd seen
His brain must have felt so unclean
He never bragged about the Purple Heart
The illness was tearing his body apart
He wasn't perfect, that much is true
but imagine all that he went through
He died when he was only fifty seven
I hope God saved a place for him in Heaven
Copyright © Nikki Reynolds | Year Posted 2016
His back meets the cold, wet grass under him,
his eyes meet the blue endless sky hovering over him.
The cigarette from his hand dies out as it meets the sopping grass below
He feels the blood escape his body that now is no longer whole.
As he stares up into the sky,
he thinks of the girl he hated to leave behind.
He thinks of his mother, her tears streaming down,
his father’s proud hand, as it strongly grazed his crown.
He thinks of the men fighting for their life,
He thinks of his enemy, ducking for his life.
He thinks of the reasons war even exists,
Maybe this isn’t the way one should even live.
The sounds of his men approaching feels distant in his ear,
the struggle to save a life is unyielding,
when the bullet cuts through the heart,
there is no weaker feeling.
Slowly the sounds of planes hushes down,
The sounds of gunfire are stifled,
The missiles whistling in the background stop
and all of nature’s sounds just suppress, as they come to a halt.
The men become blurry as his eyes start to freeze,
The body that once fought, now turned to solid ice.
For the last time in his life,
he thinks of the girl he wishes he never left behind.
He thinks of his mother, whose tears will continue to run,
the father’s proud hand, that wont ever touch his son.
In these last few seconds, he does not feel scared,
as he spent this life fighting strongly for his homeland.
Copyright © Jovana Pokrajac | Year Posted 2015
Copyright © 2013
Politicians' greed seems to hover
Over our lives, a simmering cover
Separation of Church and State?
Satan planned mankind's fate
As in the days of Noah, sin did hover
Over their land like locusts do cover
The faithful do not fret what is hovering
By HIS Blood, the Lord is still covering
Our leaders refuse to make a deal
When enthralled by Satan's Will
Politics, and selfish greed
Failing our Nation's need
Obama-Care, a change that's fair
Or, struggling against Satan's lair?
But, ye faithful remember the heavens hover
Till horns blow clearing clouds that do cover.
edited: 6 Aug 2013 - 8:22pm
25 Sep 2013 - 8:13pm
Copyright © Les Pruitt | Year Posted 2013
My Ode to the Netherlands
White water lilies picked for Verlena in Friesland.
The Dutch Republic is over a century old.
We are there during autumn.
Flowers are everywhere.
The sunflower fields
Yellow and brown profound the canvas
To visit the Domtower is a climb.
Utrecht is a trek.
An ode comes to mind…
Dutch greetings we say…
Dutch greetings we say,
in the land of Friesland today.
Our home is our joy.
We are logical people and not emotional.
We are expressive in our thoughts.
Call us opinionates, if you want.
Dutch greetings we say to all!
Sponsor: Elly Wouterse
Contest Name: Your ode to 'my' Netherlands and/or 'my' Friesland
Date of Entry: March 29, 2014
Date Written: March 29, 2014
~Elly, happy birthday... This is two forms in one poem. The couplet and the irregular ode.
Best wishes and hopefully, this is not to much.~:)s
Copyright © Verlena S. Walker | Year Posted 2014
Slowly breathing with a steady beat
Boots are crunching you feel the heat
You inch on closer, looking around
Watching your friends make not a sound
You have been told to kill this man
A threat he is to freedoms plan
Hold up your rifle, take careful aim
Let go of the guilt your not to blame
Orders you follow a good soldier you are
Try not to think the size of the scar
That this order will bring deep in your soul
We raise the flag on top of this soldier's hole
I will give support, I will lend my hand
So you can brother, continue to stand
To fight for the freedoms of people everywhere
Down your rifle I, with you, shall stare
Copyright © Jordan Dickinson | Year Posted 2012
Butterfly Wing Man
OH …. would I……could I……should I…..????
Write about the butterfly…….and why?
Awakens from his past ---full fledged
while beneath I stand ---still pledged
To hold my ground – on sacred soil
watch his translucent wings uncoil
A gentle breeze his birth ….. updraft
first touch of joy ‘neath fragile craft
Duty bound in ancestry
I envy him his being free
Watch him praise the rising sun
bathe in the heat that I must shun
Nestled in his petaled bed
I see him slowly dip his head
Promises to nature kept
tears for those who never wept
Wings that change the course of time
Wings – that sadly – are not mine.
submitted to – Write About Butterflies – Poetry contest
sponsor – SKAT A
Copyright © John lawless | Year Posted 2015
Retook a relationship,
With an old friend, chip.
Bought lots of new clothes,
There weren’t any woes.
Became a vegetarian,
Not an authoritarian.
Got back to YouTube,
More of the mind cube.
Wrote evolution essay,
Not creationism heavy.
Wrote about my brother,
Who was often my other.
Contacted a technology OT,
I’m not special blatantly.
Downloaded a course,
Won’t become hoarse.
Wrote lots of poetry,
Not ashamed, openly.
Copyright © Rhoda Monihan | Year Posted 2016
When life’s traffic yearns for wanton climb,
I unleash as a gypsy of summertime.
What Makes You Tick Contest: Serene Roberts
by nette onclaud
Copyright © nette onclaud | Year Posted 2013
Salutations Soupers! I am told this is not a political forum.
Why is my poetry-poesy in decorum?
April 18, 2014
Single Couplet End Rhyme
Copyright © Verlena S. Walker | Year Posted 2014
my horse runs freely wild my curls run like a river's child into mad battle run arror spear gun through his shirt blood did not run until they came for the Gold hills to run his horse once more freely to fulfill as by his own blood his runs betrayed a spirit quenched by a greedy stave
Copyright © John Beam | Year Posted 2014
Throughout the years of bars and fences, several things kept me from falling
My Faith in God, My Mom, My Writing...and, that Freedom Was Always Calling
The nightmare started in "93", shipped off to do a second bid
I knew my mother was hurting deeply from all of the pain her silence hid
Downstate was another dagger, the lonely days, the nights, the "Draft"
In times of peace the seagulls shrieking...and, I could have sworn at me they laughed
Then came Green Haven/the pain continued; those forty months in just a cell
Abundant vermin, to live determined...where most Co's were scarred as well
College courses would keep me focused, mixing with others who sought degrees
To be well rounded my reading varied from Og Mandino to Sophocles
All was good, then times grew darker, by "95" my health had waned
Some forsook me while others wondered how my Trust in God remained
On bended knees I prayed this daily..."Not my will be done, but thine"
Then I was showed One set of "Footprints" which I knew could not be mine
Deliverance came, yes things got better; I thought my sorrows were finally gone
Until I left to live in Fishkill, which in truth was Matteawan
Intellectually I was their equal, they had no choice, but to grin and bear it
For, I knew their books, their words, their history...and many things deemed esoteric
Bogus tickets, the box, harassment, they thought I'd fold from all the stress
Still, what would I be if I didn't suffer?...a spineless man who acquiesced
People have asked me how I survived it, a prison life sometimes appalling
I inhaled deeply, and finally told them...That Freedom Was Always Calling
Freedom Was Always Calling by Poetiq1der aka Don Simmons
Copyright © Poetiq1der Simmons | Year Posted 2014