My love is like an Owl
Knowledgeable and deep and wise
My love is like the Raven
With magic behind its eyes
My love is like an Eagle
Its lineage crowned most high
My love is like a Lark
So swift and scarce and shy
My love is like the Peregrine
Soaring silent above the hill
My love is like the Dove
Spreading peace and good will
My love is like the Stork
Bringing life so fair and bright
My love is like the Sparrow
It’s intuition for life’s fading light
My love is like the Albatross
Floating high on fair winds
My love is like the Crow
The darkened portent that it sends
My love is like the fabled Tern
Crossing continents the status quo
My love is like the Penguin
With its tuxedo in the snow
My love is like the Mynah
Able to sing any song or say
My love is like the Rooster
Heralding each brand new day
But most of all my love is like the Lovebird
Her loving song oft heard
That perfect pair to my person
And the inspiration for these words
Copyright © James Burns | Year Posted 2010
It is strange
how things that we see
and take for granted
in everyday life
should suddenly instil
in our minds
a new awareness
of their presence
A silent moment
a brief pause
from life's ever quickening pace
a moment of peace -
in times like these
a common thing
like a dried old tree
becomes alive with beauty
It stands like a quiet sentinel
who has witnessed
many an event
Time has passed by
but it remains
silently standing there
What secrets do you store
in your noble branches?
How many events have you recorded
that man knows nothing of?
In your younger days
when you wore your mantle of green
you nested the carefree birds
to their offspring
you gave protection
When the sun scorched the earth
you gave them cool shade
On a cool windy night
you gave them warmth
How pleasant was their song
to your ear
as they sang a song of thanks
You were a playmate to the children
When they romped at your feet
or climbed on your branches
Time grew older
and the children became lovers
You saw them kiss in your shade
soft with the light of the moon
The aura of their love
touched your leaves
and you blushed
they have all gone away
but you still remain
still waiting and watching
How many untold events
have you witnessed
faithful keeper of secrets?
O that my soul could commune with you
and share of your rugged beauty!
Most Noble Tree!
forgive me for my
Copyright © john beharry | Year Posted 2013
I am a fearless Kiskadee
Sitting on a branch of this tree
Singing my theme song happily
With a Kis Ka Dee Kis Ka Dee
I sing my song very sweetly
Seeking to make others happy
Filling them with ecstasy
With its rhythm and melody
My message is not to worry
Despite how things in life may be
Don't let them make you feel crazy
At all times, strive to be happy
One can state things that are likely
But no one knows what things will be
So keep your chin up cheerfully
And sing Kis Ka Dee Kis Ka Dee.
The Great Kiskadee (Pitangus Sulpharatus) is indigenous to Central and South America, the Caribbean and Southern Texas.
Copyright © john beharry | Year Posted 2015
The phrase "Music to my ears" has been injected toward the
wrong part of my body, and most unpleasantly personified.
There is a record player that I let skip and scratch on purpose, hearing
colorful sound of life back when truth kept us both inside the lines.
I thought order was helping me draw closer to you, while you began on the next
page without me. The needle digs it's way into my ape-shaped forearm.
I'm directed by the guitar string shaped veins
that only play notes in the keys of D# E# A# F# and the sharp sounds pierce
my perception to the point I can hardly hear your voice anymore.
At times, listening to the same old sad song on repeat makes me think
that I am just an old soul getting repeatedly tossed around in God's
big barrel of human paradox. "Lord what was I made for? Surely it wasn't
to repeat the mistakes of my forefathers, because I'm certain I am the
only one you molded with forearms so large, that the record got lost
and forgot how to spin in circles. Music is all about art, and art all about
perception. Perception has nothing to do with your eyesight, and
you use your ears to envision the painting on a blank canvas before picking
anything else up but sound waves. I drive myself crazy sometimes when
I think that my inspiration is speeding away from me in the
opposite lane, but I didn't even ask for directions. Mostly because I'm a man,
a stubborn one at that, and I always think I know where I'm going.
But this time, I swear I had gotten the map right. So I transformed my open
hands into tight fists to make music burst out of my arms, and the needle went
faster and faster until it broke off, and the high pitched vibration
disintegrated the steel into my own blood. I blame myself for letting this
be the first time to let myself draw some air into my body. A surgery of
scalpels cutting into my physical, and an orchestral symphony of sutures,
threading my life back together again. My blue blood turns crimson as it kisses the air.
Why do we associate the color red with life and vibrancy, when it clearly shows that we are letting our own blood run down our arms? Why do so many women where red lipstick; the kind that sticks to your collar, screaming to your wife that you clearly sinned?
Why do we see sin so clearly; transparent enough for others to correct us before we really we even grasp the desire to fix ourselves? AND WHY IN THE WORLD IS THIS MUSIC PLAYING SO LOUDLY NOW; when my needle broke off into my body a long time ago, and I can hardly hear you anymore.
Good thing my life's song still isn't completely written yet. Let's add a more positive climax to this. One drawn in harmony.
Copyright © Spenser Jones | Year Posted 2012
Beauty ,the tormented pain,
hiding deep within.
A web of abandoned emotions,
wasted energies and chaotic dreams.
A dark chastising silence,
engulfed with flames.
murderous contempt, within our hearts,
for our fellow self.
Thick black ashes, entangled in a web,
of Stolen time, and memories.
Learning life's lessons,
harshly, without a forgiving word.
Leaving us gasping, for the breath of life...
Copyright © jennifer hedrickfinch | Year Posted 2008
i see life as a struggle
and how to make it ?
to some people is a baffle
but i know myself
am gonna jump over the hurdle
no matter the situation
even in the hardest scenario
just trying to make some few notes into my pocket
take time like hitting a tennis ball with a racket
my road to stardom,see it just started
am focused minded like searching for a nugget
people want things easy,that's not what i want
i wanna strive and get it,that's what i'm in for
nothing to break me down like the virus jeefo.
i owe my life
Copyright © nana owusu | Year Posted 2007
Take this heart
And beat it with a stone
As healthy as it is
Yet wounded with bruises
This heart that you will take
Is still beautiful
Because it isn't stopping
It is still beautiful
Because it beats
To the sound of its own rhythm
Saying that it is beauty
For beauty is its noise
Beauty is its voice
The heart you will take
Creates its own definition of beauty
It creates its own sound of beauty
Surgeons will say that it doesn't look like so
But it knows it is, because its not always what you see
This heart knows
How to connect to your ears
And force you to listen
Do you hear that melody?
Sometimes, it seems to go off beat
Because it is different, and unique
It takes a while to get used to
Only because no one has ever heard the beauty
Of its song
So just take it
Even though it looks beat
It still beats to its own rhythm
Even when it's getting slower
Trust me, it's not dying
This heart will keep going
To The sound of its drums
But you have to sing
And fight along
Copyright © harmony raymond | Year Posted 2016
Felt as if I were a stranger amongst family.
A mere shadow puppet on the wall.
The whispers that enraged me deeply.
From all the distasteful, shameful,
ungrateful words that had been spoken.
Utter silence drifting away,
the darkness starts to reign.
Sincerity's all so superficial beauty shines brightly,
blinding us from the true light burning within.
Rebelliously our selfish motives,
and lustful attitudes,
ruthlessly are felt thru out the land.
Emotionless thoughts,a lack of wisdom,
Aimlessly wandering about,
consuming everything in it's path.
Leaving "heart aches" as distraactions,
felt dining the war within the chains of bondage.
Keeping us slaves of death.
Our "seeds of faith" never failing,
surrendering to our human nature.
Repenting with our bankrupted souls.
His grace,given with forgiveness
Copyright © jennifer hedrick | Year Posted 2011
Anger and sadness combined into a blend.
Expressing your feelings that lie within.
Not able to understand or say anything.
Your life you live, the impossible seems like a dream.
Heated and tired of self-playing games.
While hurting others, don't point or say no ones name.
Everyone is or should be treated the same.
Listening to my heart can make a torch burst into flames.
Proving your point on paper, not able to say a word.
Can't understand this feeling, feeling lower than a curb.
Pain is love, but pain can be worser than that.
Because pain falls into anger, leaving sadness without a partner at back.
Feeling lost, helpless and hurt within my eyes, I blink.
Able to stand, but fall within every 5 steps, I sink.
Needing a powerful prayer only signifies that I need God’s help.
Pain and unhappiness is something I've always felt.
Wishing all my inner feelings I couldn’t ever kept.
Wanting to say how I feel, but my words hold me back.
Eager to say something, but there's no love on my track.
The love I had was bunched into a pack.
It was thrown away, while my mind was hacked.
Waiting to speak and let my mind flow and go through.
Still waiting for my impossible dreams to come true.
Copyright © lakenndra bell | Year Posted 2006
Arising from bed this morning about half past five, I was delighted once again to be greeted with a September morning. A hardy good morning to you, my beloved September. There are choice memories of you that I am compelled to consider. Not only was I born on a noon day in September, but the birth of Autumn also appears on the 22nd of September. And like the memory of 30 years ago when I first heard a song with September in its title*. I shall never forget the place and scenery when I heard the song. That song has become one of my favorites, and like you September, it's so refreshing and delightful each time I hear it.
The summer heat sometime flows into you like an over-heated engine. Like today, in my area of the country it's going to be 111 degrees. Nevertheless, there is still this mind set focused and filled with ''goodbyes'' to the century plus temperature days and ''hello's" to Fahrenheit numbers on the downside.
My sweet September, I like to feel the gentle and tender roll of your name across my lips: Sep tem ber. And I love the soothing sounds of Sep tem ber flowing into my ears. You are like a bridge connecting too extremes. You bring the season of Autumn to separate 'heat from cold'.
I hasten to add that we have a dear friend name June who is most delightful and kind. There is no denying that July is a beautiful word. And what's not to like about a name like August? I suspect that the three summer months provide more sunshine and light up our world more than any other. But it's you, September, that I most adore; and I truly love you more.
09012017 PS Contest, Early September; NA Judged, 9/4/17
10092017 Contest, A Poem, I Wrote and sent drifting, Broken Wings
* September Morn, Neil Diamond, 10P
Copyright © curtis johnson | Year Posted 2017