A thousand echoes
whispering through the deep seashell
As the common bond between us
is lovingly holding
Sweet gentle tenderness
On desert dry lips
winds of change kiss
Looking towards the mountains
snow covering her face
White clouds cap the head
Just a plain country boy
Drifting away with shadows of a past life's pain
finding your love completes the circle of a promise
Believing something greater exists
As the birds sing over amazing grace
Searching the high plain
Blue holds heaven's vision
As a cold wind alone cuts clean to the marrow
Copyright © liam mcdaid | Year Posted 2016
Going on a tram to Lattes*,
the tram rails winding this and that,
but first, Montpellier was seen.
Tall buildings, cream and white,
and the sight of seagulls
near bright sea.
Best day was to be had in Lattes,
and ice-cream from bow-fronted shop.
Eight euros then to pay...
Tall buildings, monochrome,
and the sight of seagulls
near the sea.
The seagulls followed the tram back,
the tram rails winding this and that,
and then Montpellier re-seen.
Shops were shutting for the day
in tall buildings cream and white,
before the seagulls went away.
* pronounced Lat.
Contest - My Abiding Memory
Sponsor - Viv Wigley
1st placement win - a real prize this time as well as glory!
Copyright © Julia Ward | Year Posted 2015
When we went down the road that day,
Into the green and sun, just we'
It was a time of joy and play
When we went down the road! - that day
So sad, I go alone today
To hear the birds and see the trees
When we - went down the road that day
Into the green and sun, just we!
May 24, 2015
For the contest, One Lovely Summer Triolet, sponsor, Andrea Dietrich
Copyright © Broken Wings | Year Posted 2015
Ordinary…yet precious moments
That adhere ardently
To one’s heart
Points in time that
Without reason or rhyme
Become outstanding… and stand apart
A trio of quarrelsome hummingbirds
Outside of one’s window
Tentative, timid… first flakes of snow
Playful puppies fighting over toys
Prickly Hummers and puppies alike
Naught but bickersome boys
Just an ordinary moment, in an ordinary day
ordinary ol’ man and his ordinary wife
An ordinary daughter, an ordinary life
This ordinary day…becomes a memory
And in turn becomes extraordinary
By some strange happenstance
A happy memory of Hummingbirds
And puppies and daughter’s pleasant company
..and snowflakes that dance…
Copyright © David Whalen O Haolin in ancient Celtic | Year Posted 2017
A peaceful place where memories linger,
linger through the grasses upon soft winds,
winds that carry the nightingale as she sings,
sings a lullaby to the passed at restful sleep.
*Not an entry for Nette's contest, but it was inspired by visual #3 (cemetery)
Copyright © Kelly Deschler | Year Posted 2015
An icy salt spray begins to tarnish my feathers,
The salt is corroding.
That salt. It’s ingesting my plume, diluting true meaning
Teal turned navy. Crimson now brown.
I had keen pearlescent eyes,
Now clouded, they see nothing, nothing at all.
I can't even step foot behind the silver mirror; it's broken.
Shards of thick glass tease, reflecting,
I’m falling on the other side, no one’s there to catch,
I’ll just be a mess on the floor. A sad grey reflection.
I hid for a while, from the salt.
But I just knew that shelter
Wasn’t for me.
It wasn’t my home.
Cold, salty concrete scraped my dignity away.
It tore my skin, left dirt in my bleeding feathers.
So again I hid. Not from the salt, I can’t hide from the salt.
I’m hiding from me.
I’m hiding from the reflection I can still see.
I chose to linger. I chose this. I didn’t choose this.
I watch as she stretches her magnificent wings wide, takes flight,
Ascending, dancing gaily between wisps of pure white.
I search the bare sky, salt is still in the breeze,
Taunting me; try fly with tarnished feathers.
But glinting, I see the green trees on an endless horizon
They are not a reflection, I tell myself.
So I stretch my broken wings and timidly I take flight,
Away from the salt, back towards myself under a silver moonlight.
Copyright © Victoria Wood | Year Posted 2015
Basking in moonlight,
Old birds remember the nest.
Ruffles my feathers.
Copyright © Robert Candler | Year Posted 2014
(Dedicated to Folake)
Your eyes, woman
are like twilight rainbow
amorously bearing aloft passions of mine
toward androcytic ecstacy.
They tell of endless lights.
Night skies clarion the warmth of you
keep me balled-up till
i am tilted to your adorned essence.
May I call up words to adore you,
agglomerate them into a panoply of worshippers
unsandalled before you
like Moses at the burning bush.
And now you seem to fall asleep
but you tell me it's the heavy night
bidding toward a sunny dawn
wherein our love is lighted.
Slowly I let you fall asleep
impatient with the long night
waiting to gaze once more
into the eyes of my lovely love.
Then a lip is placed on yours
and you rouse up wide-eyed
smiling at my romantic move.
We enjoyed the night, cruising on.
Copyright © Onis Sampson | Year Posted 2013
I still remember
when I was a little girl
mom and dad loving picnics
we liked this one place
with lots of old shady trees
and a wooden water pier
the little ducklings
swam right behind mother duck
and they were so sweet to watch
on the very end
of the pier I liked to sit
can I feed them, dad
dad said yes of course
but never feed bread my dear
he gave me some nice green grapes
some chopped old lettuce
even some grated carrots
oh, I ate some too
why dad, why not bread
he told me bread would kill them
water fowl cannot digest
bread- feed them good food
dad knew a lot about nature
and feeding wee ducklings too
I loved how they came
paddling fast to get a treat
mother duck drifted watching
even I had some of that
I was just a small girl then
a memory now
of an afternoon feeding
precious ducklings from the pier
of my mom and dad
and that special place we loved
I still go- to feed ducklings
May 5, 2016
Choka x 6
For the contest, Feeding the Ducklings,
sponsor, Eve Roper
Copyright © Broken Wings | Year Posted 2016
On that cloudy weekend in June
I hear a soft and graceful tune
from the grey bird on the tree
Singing sweet lullabies felt
blessed in the moment
My body tingles of joy at sight
Gazing out through
my open door,
Letting thoughts fly free
Releasing love out into the horizon
Heart filled with emotion came
Grey bird stood playing its tune
for awhile and on the wings of
Then as the rain fell from the
sky the grey bird flew away
I blew a kiss to the clouds and
utterd these simple words of I
Love You father ( who's now in
heaven ) and yet I hope to hear
that grey bird sing again once
more for me
Farewell, love your son
Poem contest for Debbie -referential
Copyright © Brian Otoole | Year Posted 2013
Whenever Summer comes i become sad
So sad that i start to bahave like mad
Days regain their elastic seasonal spell
From June to August my heart starts to swell
Emotions rise and fall like waves on shore
Sometimes I float,whiles i sink to the core
While in deep see I remember those days
The backward memeries from childhood plays
As naive boys and simply seeking fun
The birds that nest were our devilish plan
Once they nestle quite in their feathery seat
They become our satanic childhood treat
Days were so long when we were so young
Now they are so short, there is something wrong
Copyright © Lonely Shepherd | Year Posted 2015
Important chicken poetry coming up,
though no binary fantasies shall deconstruct
into raucous biddy enjambment.
Grandfatber always kicked Grandmother's chickens away
while he sat whittling under the Oak,
Those ruddy, Cherokee cheeks sweating even in the shade
as sweltering Carolina summers and bifocaled
old women melted him away in his seventies;
(Nothing heard by telephone,
cackling when he put the speaker to his mouth
or laid down to rest from the planting or harvesting,
On the flowered sofa
fussing with him to take off this boots,
putting The Liberty News under his feet);
But watching was Grandma's joy,
Haystack Calhoun and the Nature Boy,
wrestling on Saturday night
on the Philco black and white,
jumping up and jumping down
fists flying with each takedown;
Her fussing when he kicked her chickens--
He was a man of the Land not of the Leghorn;
Course he still cut off their heads for
with a whistle of his axe,
quick and clean;
So much better than Grandmother's
Flung blood and feathers,
The live body's flight
After wringing its neck.
Must take chickens seriously.)
my brother and I hated that rooster!
I'll give you Mean!
Why that Leghorn from hell,
with the perfidious, featherless rear,
That wily old bastard,
laid for us kids from under the porch
flying at us spurs first
when we snuck out to play.
You had to admire his fierce
Protecting his brood
or just plain crazed for children's blood
Therefore, I must insist
That you take chickens seriously.
The greatest chicken lit will not be televised,
but written by neurotic poultry
flirting with free verse
or thrown helplessly into concrete idioms,
wallowing in dirt-poor sentience;
on the identity crises of Rhode Island Reds
and the propensity of White Leghorns
to transfer insecurities of undifferentiated
as violence enacted on certain small children
will be written but will probably not help chicken poetry endure.
I pledge allegiance to the celebration of chicken poetry,
And the underappreciated poultry for which it stands,
One species, flightless but enduring,
With free range and corn for all.
Copyright © Thomas Martin | Year Posted 2015
What am I to say to you dear sweet Jim
You have chased me away and now I am gone
But what about you broken by your promises
To me it's a sad old song, you've been gone for way to long
I doubt you knew, fondly whispered memories- same old song
For me there is and will be nothing left to do
You could never now complete the man I knew
The words were clear I was left in the shadows now with out you
Same old memories same old you I cried untill heavens turned blue
I am not ready for challenge I will not play the game
I am still hurt from the memories, hiding from the pain
Embarrassed becasue I am left standing here this way
Alone because of a man whose arms I have held so long
Caught burying worries and facing all the blame
But what about you, forgive yourself and start again
You'll be the same old guy to all of them
Copyright © Courtney Courtney | Year Posted 2013
There is no reason why i shouldn’t do it, i thought
come what may and what may not.
The grass is always greener on the other side
I wanted to explore , to go against the tide.
The game was on and the score ticked on,
seemed it was just the beginning of the dawn.
never knew the boundaries,no fear,no limit,
never tried so hard, never seen the summit.
just wanted to hover around,just wanted to glide.
just to ease my mind and come down the slide,
I thought i knew it all, seen it all,
but for that something behind the dark wall.
came so close as I always do
deja vu again, nothing new.
never dared to jump across the wall
I ain't crazy, i knew i would fall
so i turned to fly back, back to base,
but before i knew,got caught in a haze,
didn't panic ,played by the rules,
kept my cool, went on with the cruise.
I flew on ,but the haze got thicker,
now i had to act, do it quicker.
I veered and swerved, tried to nose-dive
then it all happened, it trapped me naive
lightning started striking, started striking twice
venturing into forbidden territory ,I had to pay the price.
caged in fright in the steel machine
so freaked and scared,i've never been.
extreme g-force froze my brain
deep inside,i felt my blood drain.
voices ,a thousand wailing voices
screaming and whispering all the noises
disillusioned and petrified ,i tried to scream
my memory failed and i began to dream
woke up with a start in a different scene
pondering in the dark, nothing to be seen
I struggled inside my hollow self
couldn't breathe ,couldn't cry for help
but i thought i cried, someone came along
i tried to run away, but it was too long
dark forces came all around
haunted my soul ,the banshee sound
i fell into the valley of death
the dark knight there cometh
to drown me inside the quicksand of hell,
this time for me tolls the bell.
sliding inside that black hole,
i didnt want to let go of my soul.
I took a look at the black sky
the last time before i die
my memory faded and then i drowned.
stranger to the mystery around
i floated around in the maze of time
in an age of evil and endless crime
then came that flash of light
my guardian angel on my flight
i opened my eyes, got back my senses
saved myself from all the wicked trenches
"planet earth calling" that familiar voice
home sweet home,bring back all my joys.
vow unto death i took, never again to fly
the vow that would be the biggest lie.
Copyright © Lakshminarayan Rao | Year Posted 2010
On wings of whisper seagulls rise
Like an unhurried, gracious fleet
Which sails upon a sea of sighs
And takes my dreams away with it.
The clouds and waves anoint the sky
With drops of myrrh and hues of blue
Whose colors blend and tower high,
While masts glide free and out of view.
How soft and languid is the roll
Of vessels tethered to the pier!
I wonder if they hear the call
Of friends afar and fellows near.
They roll with jealousy and grief
While many others, far away,
Might float over a glowing reef
Or laze upon a peaceful bay.
But here, where seagulls roam above,
The sad and silent fellows weep
For fear their unrequited love
May die forgotten in the deep.
Find my poems and published poetry volumes at www.eton-langford.com
Copyright © Eton Langford | Year Posted 2016
The vague patrolling recollection
sits like a fat white swan on her nest,
cuddling the unborn nakedness, fragile, soundless!
He caresses her wings,
she beats them frantically
as his cold old lips meshes and folds.
Dragging, he goes, she crackles
to the red-stained woods, painted
lovingly with millions that entered before.
His touch blackens and grips
She feeds on youths she hid in her thoughts,
Their time winding down, seconds after seconds.
And with the rage of Moses’s staff,
the loud shed quivers and her incantation feathered gown
sweeps in the red wind. Done, revelation!
The decapitated fowl runs in the eye of a God.
The red man ascends like Lazarus
coming, coming for the next victim of his plague.
Inside my coldness, I feel warmness,
I feel restfulness, I am papery and ready
for his touch of death. Thanks giving to clouds.
Copyright © Marcus Bailey | Year Posted 2016
The pen I write with one day you gave me
The words I use would not perhaps have come
Had you not given me your misty sea
That flooded my rooms with splashes handsome
The time I come across every morning
The birds from hills and woods inviting me
Are whispers I have saved from your hairpin
Making me look at you in reddened glee
True you are no more in my hands and lips
And I get you when my breath is lonely
When sea is calm and in rest are tulips
In the purple whispers of time only
The river though has got robbed of its game
The restless neurones still now dance like flame
Copyright © Probir Gupta | Year Posted 2016
madness had taken her in the night
she danced naked in the moonlight
screaming of revenges and mysteries wet
when she finally fell to exhaustion's sleep
i tended her fevers but could not ease her mind
which flew like a black raven in the rain
here and there without sense of reason
crying out its displeasure's and it discomforts
a bead with a hole for an eye
her mind was down there in that hole somewhere
she fled in the daylight
and i tried to follow her on down to the swamps edge
but i could not follow the trail further cause it was
into madness she raced with careless abandon
and in the swamps breeding breathing bleeding
that her footfall lead
long days passed without a sign
as i camped there by the dark edge of sanity
waiting for her return
waiting for my loves sweet arms to find me once again
but my only companion was a black raven
he came to talk to me
all those long days under the sweltering sun
and after a time his words became clear to me
after a time his thoughts became mine
told me to dance to the song of the rain
told me to run and seek the sun
in the swamps dark halls
now we are here
living in our own world
and its alright
cause we have our friend
a black raven with a eye like a hole
with a mind like gravel
a mad dream to be sure
but it is ours alone
Copyright © mark junor | Year Posted 2016
You are here.
in the tree outside
in twilight silver leaves,
the silent red hawk
for the mouse, just now hidden
in the brush.
You are here
in the amber light
in the tender hour
between day and night
as the mouse lifts its grey head
You are here,
in moonlit shadow,
of talons and beak
fierce love and sorrow
Copyright © Kate sparks | Year Posted 2017