A solitary piece the diamond
precious rare gem most treasured
by those lucky enough to hold
Once in possession it is rarely out of grasp
Like the gemstone the mother
requires very specific conditions
in holding fast her (family/) childrens love
Treasured forever in her heart
she will go out of her way
to preen and protect them
holding them dear to her
deep within her maternal safe – the heart
closely guarded by the mind
Her infatuation of all treasures to her
are totally understandable
especially when you think to the complexity
of structure and process taken in creation
Just as from the ‘unbreakable’ in ancient greek
this allotrope of carbon
with strength of bonding between atoms
is representative of that strong love
between mum and child
The maternal being could be compared
to the superlative physical qualities of the stone
Even the characteristic luster
of this gem so prevalent from its ability
to disperse light and colour
compared to the many strengths
roles and qualities of the mother
seen by the many she deals with daily
A most high pressured job
versus the high pressured temperature
within the Earths mantle
that forms the delightful rock it gives birth to
Infants delight and ignite the forbearer
just as the jewel would dazzle the room
a mother’s love encaptures the magical luster
of those she’s birthed and nothing
stands inbetween this richest of cargo’s
Copyright © Anna-Marie Docherty | Year Posted 2013
I often wondered why it is that so many people don't believe
Life's a test, each day a quiz and yet themselves they deceive
I could never even imagine where I would be without His Grace
He paid the price for all sin as you define your heart in this place
I often thought long and deep oh how good the Lord's been to me
How good it is to just steep and why can't all these others just see
I myself unable to understand what came so easy to one as such
The Creator of all that is grand yet capable of an individual touch
I felt it in my heart, seen it with my eyes so clear I could not miss
But as satan goes about and tries, many people succumb to this
Yet I did nothing different than you no this was not of my own
All of your sins will come due since it's Jesus you've never known
I did do one thing though something you might want to also do
I started to praise His Name, but I did it in sincerity, it was true
His eyes are on the sparrow but His Love is always there for you
The path will be narrow yet He will always be in all that you do
Copyright © Vincent Flannery | Year Posted 2017
Our picking pail is full, my son
With ripe and green and past their prime;
I'm not quite certain what we've done
And what has happened to the time.
In cents per pound we're lunatics
To pay the same for sweet and sour.
Let's say our eyes were playing tricks,
And blame it on the darkling hour.
How else describe the magic sense
Of things as they were meant--
Or how it made a difference
In being indifferent?
The pragmatist could not appraise
The worth of things so seen--
As though before created days,
Like Being before it's been.
Yet that's how fresh the berries seemed--
Or so they did to you.
And their so seeming did redeem
The old and make it new.
Copyright © Joseph Pedulla | Year Posted 2016
~I n m e
There is a heart of glass—
That shakes with the contents of the past,
And so a cutting away with you—
Now have shards of my glass, too.
I fear the emptiness that comes after the blood—
There a child playing with like red mud
From the glass dark in my chest--
This partial fullness.
Hang up my heart for a looking glass—
Reflect onto others, while they pass
Moving into their dreams—
The glass of them, the glass in me.
~I n m e
Copyright © L. M. | Year Posted 2017
yall devilish creatures tried to take away my family
My family is my world
let me take yall
back in time
were creatures of my
land riped out my heart all of a sudden
out of the. Crupted blue crowd of ugly creatures
with dead hearts.
literally tore my whole world almost apart.
they snatched my golden little angel
from my heart . they made up all these lies.
to try to get my family torn apart .
these creatures must have no heart , to drag a
family of gods creation straight into the dark.
creatures of hell , you dont snatch away god's
little angel from the original creature creator .
she was choosen to be with me heart to heart .
funny how the devil works he keeps pickin us with his
pitch fork.tryn to make us burn with them .
no , when we didnt do any kind of unholy sin.i hope someone out here can relate to satins workers like what they put my family through loops and circles of Satins unholy cobered up lies lies lies.
Copyright © ashley rainwater | Year Posted 2017
As the sunsets at the end of the day,
And the night begins to fall,
So, does all the dreams of all the little children,
In their own wonderlands of their own,
Wishing and thinking of great things to come,
Hoping their parents will make these dreams come alive,
Cause dreams to children should become bright and gleam,
And all to them more than just alive,
All children want is hopes and dreams to become true,
But if you can teach them how to work hard at them,
They too can make their dreams become their own reality,
For any one person works hard enough,
At what they want in life,
They can have any one thing they want,
All they have to do is work really hard to make it real,
For believers can believe in themselves,
And strive to work toward making their own goals,
Their very own come true,
Which gives more satisfaction in life,
Than things being handed to you,
So always strive for the best,
And all your wishes and dreams can come true,
In your life if you want them too.
Copyright © John Hembree | Year Posted 2013
I do so love harvest thanksgiving,
That time of year which celebrates agriculture,
When church flips from being god-centred,
To remembering farmers and good food manufacture.
It’s not an Armenian or Amish allusion,
‘Cos tins are given no problem;
Natural remedies aren’t primed as better,
Than medicines, to the mind and body superior.
As a child who regretfully attended church,
I thought on that day of poverty and Christian giving:
That their offer was kind of a respectable food bank,
A silent redistribution of wealth, income and living.
No food bank is respectable, of course,
But they can channel wealth efficiently and appropriately;
And that the Church offers such for just one day,
Should be celebrated as a positive sign most definitely.
God is sometimes just such an abstraction,
Academically, he’s for the objective mind;
He’s not comforting when your needs are just so real:
Physical, emotional, psychological: he can be so unkind.
When you just need a meal on the table,
And need it supplied by someone else,
Whether by government, food bank or church,
It’s a person that's there, not divine impulse.
I thought it was moral to impose that on believers,
As a kid who just so wanted to talk and shoot,
About real mechanisms, real structures and methods,
Which made life’s systems, dynamics, art and roots.
Being grateful for food, diet and health,
Eclipses salvation humility and responce;
Eternal purpose lays as distant and non-tangible,
To people and belongings which have an unimpeachable force.
Farmers need to be remembered, given relevance,
For their labour, dedication and sheer love of the job;
It’s that occupation and training which ensures,
Our basic daily needs are met not just with contours.
The harvest basket every year means to me hope,
Nourishment for those who starve and scrape;
Church wealth rides so high and mighty on average,
That this real examination is something to advocate.
Copyright © Rhoda Monihan | Year Posted 2015
My Son Moon and Star ~
Approaching the celebration of his Birth
cherishing the gift I received
within weeks of conception I knew
something amazing was in Creation ~
the Stars held a party
sending me with one of their own
Gazing at 3 shooting stars twinkling crossing the sky
It was magic It was destiny taking its flight.
In love with an October full moon
drawing and painting I liked
thinking of Vincent Van Gogh ~
caught in a loss of time
Hours going by as choosing my color
a wittness to three falling stars
A clear night sky sparkle's
A once Famous Star was sent
inspiring the tiny child inside ~
Never a doubt in my mind at all
child bearing was worth any pain received
yours will be in a pursuit of a dream ~
one to cherish and hold
My Son was born the following August ~
working on the set of Grimm 3rd season this year
as the set of Leverage for 3 years .
Has done a Indie movie here
In Paris it was seen and honored
coming soon filmed in Portland ~
"The House of Last Things "
awaiting the credits , you will see
1st Assistant Director ~ production assistant
My Young Lion Mans dream ~
A proud mom I watch every show and the credits
as foretold in a whisper to me 25 years ago
My Son & Moon and Star
A name you will all know ~
Happy Birthday to my creative Son
you will exist in my heart forever~
Copyright © Shanity Rain | Year Posted 2013
SHARING A NEW BIRTH
Life begets life.
A Miracle takes shape
Bathe in its aura and
let the joy wash over you.
You are the recipient
Of the Creator's great glory.
flavored with amazing grace.
A poem written to my niece
of the birth of her son.
I'm thankful not to be in Canada
Where sad memories live
it asked me for and demanded more
of what I could not give
if you ask what was it worth
for me to have taken the lower berth
I will not hesitate nor eplicate
the answer would be yes.
The lower berth is America.
I love this country and it gave
me the opportunities I needed.
Wrong-right, being equal sides of the same coin
when tossed ends up blown by a blast of wind
and falls out of sight.
So who won the toss? Did it matter?
Knowing and not knowing,
questions and non questions,
to the flipped coin each has a truth all its own.
Could it be that the many sides of destiny are
found in other dimensions?
Copyright © Allan Koven | Year Posted 2013
Reflections of imperfections
have shown me a way
that I can move mountains
through my power of faith
even though I can't see him
I know he is real
through the power of prayer
and a Love that I feel
It's growing inside me
like a flower in bloom
shall I reveal my powers
or is it too soon
I am reading the signs
through my darkness I find
a reason for belief in
the light of mankind
that I know shall overcome
the greatest of odds
the Love I seek amazes me
especially through the flaws
because now I am inspired
through the hero's that bring
my throne through the darkness
on which I return on as your King.
Copyright © Bj Fard | Year Posted 2013
For nine months I carried you beneath my heart
Felt you growing and moveing, feeling such Joy
Eagerly awiating your arrival, knowing you will soon
The day you were born was filled with happiness
As I held you in wonder, my little miracle, my little babe
Counting toes and fingers, seeing your little face
Love just bursting from my heart as I just gazed
I watched you grow in time, first smile, first tooth
Crawling, walking then running, always curious
Holding your hand walikng you to school on the first day
Taught you to ride a bike, picked you up when you fell
Kissing the hurt away, just to see you smile that pretty smile
Seeing you grow and mature, into a young adult
Starting high school, learning to drive, dating
Now here it is juinor year, one more year and your gone
To test your wings, to fly away and learn even more new things
I hope my love is enough to guide you on your way
To give you that sense you can do anything you set out to do
Always remember that I love you and you are my little one
May 5th Written for my beautiful daughter
Copyright © Teresa Lindsay | Year Posted 2013
The Little Heart
by layman on Nov 8, 2011. © Madhusoodanan Kizhakkepattiath, All rights reserved THE LITTLE HEART
A little, little girl
Looking very smart
Come, come, come
Dear little heart.
She is like a rosy rose
Dancing like a lovely plant
Come, come, come
Dear little heart.
Her voice is like a cuckoo bird’s,
Her speech is like a little parrot’s
Come, come, come
Dear little heart.
Her world is like a princess’ world,
Her parents, like a king and queen
Come, come, come
Dear little heart.
Though, her world is like a princess’ world
Her parents like a king and queen,
Dark, dark, dark,
Every ,every where.
The Innocent Culprits
by layman on Jan 25, 2012. © Madhusoodanan Kizhakkepattiath, All rights reserved
Except you and me,
Everyone slept in midnight.
O, lovely, Nolhivaram,
... what is left, me alone.
Vultures of universe,
Left a little,
for you and me.
The innocent children,
Roaring at me,
A taste of passion.
Me, a lover of thy beauty,
Never pinched a little,
In shadow lights.
Beauty of ocean,
The men of broken heart,
A lost paradise.
The roaring tides,
Blows at beach,
Never be happy,
In vultures peak.
The unknown beautiful,
To the known painful,
Does it in nets,
A little in seas.
The soldiers of seas,
Solitary in heights,
Webs their morrows,
In night's paradise.
A Little is left,
To me, a unknown,
By the heart of beauty,
With innocent culprits.
BY MADHU PATTIATH
Copyright © MADHUSOODANAN KIZHAKKEPATTIATH | Year Posted 2014
There once was a playful little boy his imagination 'Oh' how it would soar
dreaming of nights of dragons and forts becoming the warlord of his blankets
On a weekend day he requested to build a fort so the dragon he could slay
all the time his little mind running into overplay.
So being a kind mother him having no brothers or others
I gave him free rein not knowing his fort would look so strange.
From room to room he ran with delight grabbing any item in sight
preparing for his brave and final dragon fight.
Chairs were moved and tables were flipped even our cat would hiss and spit
while Polly our parrot sang Oprah in the background with a nervous twitch.
Finally, hours later and all out of breath he runs to my room his small hands
tugging and pulling yelling for me to come see his display.
With a large gasp my breath had escaped, what a colorful sight I did see
as he jumped up and down screaming whoopee!
All my panties were hanging at the top each one a special window
so he could see the dragon coming for him to slay all looking like a windsock.
His choice of weapons with colors of red, black and pink were all
of my thongs he had carefully turned into sling-shots.
Each one holding a hard candy he had proceeded to suck on
so they would all stay in place and lined up ready for his offense.
With a gentle pat on his head and a forced smile of dread into the fort we slid
while waiting on the dragon we ate candy looking out his windows ahead.
T Reams 10/11/2015 Contest Sponsored by: 'Team Poetry Soup'
Copyright © TAMMY REAMS | Year Posted 2015
I Love the elderly
so full of history
I love my generation
who kept me a mystery
I love the children
who's future, now bright
for I have died for them
to capture the light
for i understand
pain more than ever
once I released it
the anger got better
as it went away from the people
and into my music
without a single
reason to prove it
without a reason
to let Love's light in
I didn't, it found me
and lesser I sin
God and my father
both let me know
it would all be okay
so very long ago
even tho the road
would be full of pricks
even back then I'd tell them
you can all suck my dick.
Copyright © Bj Fard | Year Posted 2013
Writing about daisies roses rainbows and waterfalls helped me
Escape the madness of the city LIFE. The JUNGLE.
Whenever I wished to return I laid my pen down and
Anticipated the next siren. So...
I laid back and reminisced for most of the day. Now, time for
Concrete and asphalt. Cement and metal fire escapes. I
Screamed more times than not with every passing siren.
I wanted to admire the faults in the pavement close up. I
Missed NEW YORK when I stayed half the Summer at my
Aunt's place in Brunswick, Georgia. So I've been away for
A while, just My style.
In this aisle! That's my CHILD! My mother screamed in the
Local SUPERMARKET with her thick Caribbean accent. It seemed
As though her voice boomed through every aisle in the
Market. She would search the security monitors when ever I
Wasn't at her side.
YEAH, I'm pretty regular now.
Not versatile anymore at all.
I dance SMALL. EXQUISITE. I've had about enough of
This. O.k let me entertain you." I'll put. On a skit." Then
I said " I know. Look out of the window. I'm going down
Stairs to dance barefoot!!"
If you danced barefoot You're sure to Gather a huge crowd.
"I HOPE they throw money at me."
Dressed in Jean shorts and a new green T-shirt, she
Pursued her money making scheme.
I was thankful for that summer.
9 years old and bored in NYC.
IT'S only a matter of time before I found trouble.
Little child running WILD with brick feet.
I had to get their attention.
"This here Is about to be a TREAT!!"
A teenager had a boom box with him.
"Hey yeah, that sounds nice. Turn that up"
He increased the volume as high as the sky.
She tapped her feet listening for the beat.
A slightly raised portion of the stoop was her stage.
Before anyone knew it she whipped the crowd with
The NAE NAE for at least 8 to 10 minutes and the
Crowd grew as they oohed and aahed.
Someone in the crowd asked her what her name was.
"Licia." She smiled breathlessly.
"My name's Licia", she repeated.
They responded just as she hoped they would.
They threw money at her.
Yeah! She danced more and heard the excitement of her cousins
Racing down the stairs to her aid.
That was fly LICIA.
No one ever called her Val, her first name.
FANTASTIC!! When ever we.
Needed money all we had to do was dance.
Sometimes my identical twin cousins
Damian and Dezrah joined me.
That was a little adventure.
THEY bounded the stairs swiftly, anxious for an accurate count.
That was it she had a rep now.
Her three cousins cheered her as they entered the
Apartment still the only ones home.
She lived with her mother. A nurse at the local
She wouldn't be home until twelve tonight.
The four of them sat on the bed counting what looked
A bit like bank robbery stash.
It was $137 and 50¢
Copyright © VAL BROOKLYN Rogers BLK PANTHER | Year Posted 2016
God made each Child unique.
Some can soar higher than an Eagle, and can meet life storms head on,
but each Child can fly the best they can.
My prayer is that as a Child grows into Adulthood, that they will continue to
see each person as a human being.
God has made each one of us differently,
Each Child is special, with different talents and gifts.
For each Child is fearfully and wonderfully made by the Lord, and
that each Child is a beautiful creation.
Copyright © Kimberly Lowe-West | Year Posted 2015
The wild berries of the Northwest
it seems every path you walk on , they are there for you to sample ,
Almost as The city of Portland itself is welcoming you with astonishing beauty, the view of a snow tipped Volcano , as if greeting you with a basket full of fresh wild Marion berries
The beauty, just picked plump , the color of dark purple
a fragrance to savor , what will I do ?
will I make a pie or preserves ?
Oh the pancakes and waffles , the Tillamook ice cream is a must ~
After rinsing the fresh picked Berries with water and dusting them with fine Sugar , a hint of cinnamon , if pie , waffle , or cake . maybe just plain ,
serve with whipped cream made from scratch and a leaf of mint .
The Salmon , the berries , roses and apples all in the Great Northwest ,
You may visit however be warned , for many have come this way
Many have travelled a far ,
For the great Spirit of This Northwest will encompass and astound you .
Begging your soul to stay and live the way of a Portlander .
Give me rain I say , for the green here will blind you, it is
like walking off the black and white set of Wizard of Oz,
and opening the amazing door to Colors .
Copyright © Shanity Rain | Year Posted 2013
WHAT A SIGHT
IT TAKES ALL MY MIGHT
TO GET UP FROM MY FRIGHT
THE FRIGHT OF HALLOWEEN NIGHT!
Copyright © Elizabeth Negrete | Year Posted 2014
Big blundering beast
Poor fish have no chance whatsoever
Neither does the slowest runner in your group
Copyright © Smail Poems | Year Posted 2013
The peaceful, humble beauty
of a white lily drifting on reflective night
hums a sweet melody
of contrasting light.
Trusting the darkness
to be his throne
and the moon of loneliness
to crown his soft, unheard moan.
I watch from bushes of scorn
that mock him cruelly.
His fragile crest is pierced by the thorn
of rejection and bleeds its sorrows silently.
The rejected jewels of nature are mourning
for the king of the skies to raise his wings
but he can't see beyond remembering
and can't see past the thorn's stings.
Oh, scarred heart of grace,
spread strenght and flee with wild freedom
unto priceless solace
away from this desolate kingdom.
Oh, jewel in creation's crown,
look not to stirred reflection
for it is mere perversion, a frown,
of the white rose of perfection.
Go now, leave behind only
a legacy of despised beauty.
Copyright © Robyn Thomas | Year Posted 2013
His fingers left blood on the strings
but, come time to walk away he hadn’t really learned anything.
Course and dried brushes sit atop the rubbish,
His mind held a perfection too delicate for his clumsy hands to create.
He opened his mouth to sing like a jay but, instead of notes it was rust that fell out. Part of the wear and tear of early adulthood.
But then, this same boy picked up a pen and found some paper. The pen in his hand felt as natural his own bones and he began to write.
He wrote every tear
He scribed every star
He built towers from mountains with every line
High enough that the angel’s just might hear them.
He made pages for chapters of his life that could make those seraphim weep sapphire tears.
He could write the wind blowing across the nape of your neck in Autumn
And make you feel the chill on your skin.
He could articulate the sad beauty of a lover’s quarrel that ends in tears
If they cry, it makes it all more real.
He documents the history of a war inside himself that will never end.
The loss and the gain,
But not those of monetary nature.
When life begins to scream around him
All he must do to silence it is to put it in a stanza.
The boy’s tongue can pave the way for good intentions, and we all know those can fall South. He finds strength. And with this Strength a power.
Finally the boy knew his gift. But how is he meant to use it and who will truly listen to the personal strands of his soul he ties together with punctuation?
And now that he has tasted the pleasure of his power, will that be enough?
Copyright © Alexander Schwartz | Year Posted 2013
Your children can't find work
they wander the streets
form up as groups
those groups become gangs
people introduce drugs
if you get a child hooked on drugs
you have a customer
for the rest of their live's
teenagers the years
where we make mistakes
the years where we get addicted
smoking drinking drugs
teenagers make the decisions
that we as adults live with
for the rest of our lives
yet give a child a job
and the road is vastly different
give a child a job
they get married start a family
save for their home
Children fight, to prove themselves
a child lost, in a fountain, of confusion
ready to prove themselves a man
yet we ignore their needs
to many lives are lost
trying to find the inner man
trying to cope
with the broken hearts of love
in the wild the male stag
fights to prove he's come of age
fights to prove his right to mate
we think ourselves above
yet nature still holds sway
the birth of life the summer stage
we but actors in life plays
the male stag has come of age
I remember my youth
when we as a group of four
planed to defend ourselves at a dance
parking the car blocks away
who would stand and who would leave
each to head in different directions
only to find the dance had been shut down
to much violence in the town
In my teenage years
I started smoking
enjoyed a drink
suffered pain lost love complete
Teenagers the time
where mum and dad
are no longer the gods of advice
as we develop the adult mind
start to believe that we know better
remember the arguments
all my friends will be there
yet how much more we have learned
How do we protect our youth
if we leave them roaming the streets
we talk about abuse
yet not having work
not having a career
is the greatest mistake
help get the youth off our streets
build jobs for all our people
Copyright © Bernard Barclay | Year Posted 2015
(in your cells)
that we are made of each other
we drink in
more than becoming)
with the space we fill
patterns of encoded mystery
(down and out and down again)
Copyright © Jenny Dumaine Backlund | Year Posted 2013
© Eugene Harvey
Copyright © Eugene Harvey | Year Posted 2016
Something that stuns me from revelations awakening
All good people of the world see you Isis
clearly diamond cut your scale tips heavy
with the wealth that's stolen from foreign lands
to build weapons of mass destruction
Adorning the cup of twelve jewels
surrounded by my many seas
filling this world with misery and suffering
supplying arms to terrorists as in confederate times
lucky Russia stepped in truth your grudge is still held
I read the evidence what an impact truth has
Dark entities you have the purse to buy armies
crossing silver over palms
your trying to rise out of your pit A-bad-don
read between the lines three sixes hidden
a bad don drinks from a chalice of wrath
again through your spawned seed
stealing souls of the weak minded
Babylon the great has fallen
in verse these words holds me
within thought deeply disturbing facts
an outsider always views it with an open verdict
My view in the seventh vial
comes to a point to express concern
openly worried for our children's sake
Seven towers came down one in front of my eyes
a reporter said it fell and was still standing
as her soul identity slipped when she looked around
it was still standing she looked stunned to me her mouth fell open
That day watching this
first thought came to my mind
a setup like she was drip fed false information
then bang before her eyes I felt a gut feeling
Then it fell so accurately
almost looked controlled
like dark magicians working their evil magic
because this was aired quite a few times evidence
where has it gone secret society
The Bible says when it comes
devastation will take place leaving the place to demons
Now this opened my eyes completely up politics forbidden zone
All those who reject your bank Ceasears law get invaded
Strange yet very true
in truth and hindsight
we have been warned by God
Punishment will come in a cloud of smoke
When the red moon's bled
A strange occurrence back to back appeared
from scripture readings back in time
history do we learn nothing from past sins
The refugees before the second eclipse
began flooding all over the world
Because pride took centre stage
Worshipping the golden calf again
stealing treasuries and precious minerals
from lands invaded under a falsehood
Crosses over seeking the promised land
now that has been stolen from underneath their feet
bombed freedom became a slave born to such sickness
Three weeks before Christmas
the three stars lined up in the Heavens
proof is in the pudding mix
According to the wise men
before the birth of our Saviour
It was either the birth of a king or Babylon rising
Imagine how ironic predator drones kill on Christmas day
authorised by the powers on earth's domain
The water has become contaminated
facts remains forever hidden on such soil
soddem and gormoragh living proof
Life becomes non existent barren
As many of her soldiers suffer radiation poisoning
on a daily basis swept under the carpet viper
all the victims of this have a voice unheard
under such hate filled actions
one genocidal regime acts possessed
in a group of mass murders
totally corrupted by greed
thousands I mean involved daily killing
Hypocrites unholy ground hallowed not consecrated to our king
And I heard another voice from heaven saying
Come out of her, my people
that ye be not partakers of her sins
and that ye receive not of her plagues
Erecting a temple to an abomination
cast down from heaven
Like the holy book says
eyes are being turned around
looks like Lord of the flies and demonic locusts
is already here a henchman of the devil appears
His name is signed on stone
Cold the mark is in it
plain sight a signature on trading adds up
To be seen clear if your not blinded
looks like the Inca demon has been resurrected
from the valley of the dead graves crying humanity
in ugly sickness empty vessels
As they are inflicting mass human sacrifice
on a large global scale daily and tortures
equivalent to Hitler's claw under the eagle
Freemasons it's time your chaos was addressed
by the richeous who call out to God inside sufferings
victims weeping at his feelings towards such a vile beast
expelled for his wickedness towards the sons and daughters of Adam
and Eve through jealously because we were made in his likeness
For her sins have reached unto heaven
and God hath remembered her iniquities.
Copyright © liam mcdaid | Year Posted 2017
Surely to know the ambrosial quiver
Of stiffened fruit, ripe and swollen
With stolen fragrance and lovely flush
Of seeded solvent all down a furtive face
And up the greedy pink arms of cloud-ward reaching children
Is to know also the jealous rain
Her green glances gorge on mellow delight
Indulgent and impatient with quick eyes
Snatching strokes of waxy flesh
Torrid caress under an austere guise of gray
She is a lean and idle glutton
Who lashes in strife with quickness and lusty strikes
It will be a feast of soul
If you do not slay her first
Copyright © Chelsea Westerfield | Year Posted 2013
Hopelessness was drifting in,
That’s when new life begins.
The life is from the One above!
His Spirit is in the form of a dove.
His grace will give you life anew,
His love and mercy pulls you through.
He will always be by your side,
In your heart He will abide.
-Inspired by Psalm 139
Copyright © Hanna Potter | Year Posted 2013
A million men marched;
I merely asked for one, though.
God said of it, "Be."
Copyright © Mark Morris | Year Posted 2015
Simple things like love arent easy to understand
My pen trembles, my thoughts scramble
All my monsters are weak in her presence
Its sad how they no longer seem ugly
she says I do not write poetry for her no more
I found simple pleasure in her presence
Thieving a man from his madness
Like a candle forcing the darkness to speak
We still play but no longer keep score
She is my poetry but...
But she says I dont write poetry for her no more
I left that role to my daughter sitting in her womb
Her tiny fingers like thunderbolts and tornadoes
She catches placental waters like raindrops
And scribbles like her father
Silent as the night before a revolution
At a bonfire listening to insects recite their stories
About their evolution and our revolution
She says I dont write poetry for her no more
In a world full of fury, sin and silence
Choices choose us. We got nothing to lose except strangers
I live poetry through her beautiful life
The beautiful matrix of our creation embedded in her belly
She says I dont write poetry for her no more
I let my faber castell assault the paper
I write about non existent revolutions
Spread propaganda like a library of lovers
No full stop to my literary nonsense
I m like tepid pause in a witch's cauldron
I m a poetry proctor peddling my stories to wishing wells
I m a failing bridge giving her away to the chasm below
In one life there is a trillion choices
But in two lives there is none
She says I dont write poetry for her no more
Her feet burden with the weight of my world
My secrets and sins between her toes
I rub them off whenever I get a chance
Her legs long and divine like the history of my lineage
They follow behind the absence of my steps
She says I never write poetry for her no more
In my head I found answers, tenfolds of answers
Answers too complex to pronounce
So I decided to scribble this love poem on her maternity dress
She says I dont write poetry for her no more
Copyright © Prince Katlholo | Year Posted 2013
Joy, happiness, pain, sadness, love, passion, hatred, greed, tears, pleasure, grief, lies,
regret, pride, addiction, suicide....
Lots of emotions
Lots of feelings
Lots if confusions
Some are nothing but act, lies and performances
Some are truthful and painful
And Some are helpless and hopeless
I stand as a baby bird ready to fly
I blunder forth and back, Left and right
Where ever the wind takes me
Just like the voices in my head moving inside my mind
The sound of the screaming nights, the stormy lands, the raging hungry oceans, the cries
in every drop in a rainy day and the broken heart of the earth.
The floating sea animals, the burning forests!! Because of the intelligent acts of human!
Thoughts, poetry, stories scrawl across the white empty pages... Meaningless words!!
Safe, secure!! Look at them no houses, no families, no shadows... Nameless!
They're hungry for hugs and kisses for a bosom and we get angry for getting a bad payday
and they aren't getting any!
Their only shield is the naked trees!!
The mask of blessings and the beliefs of belongings are wilting with the fires of
loneliness and guilt.
The music of the weddings
The screams with every new birth
The voices of the crashing bones when a body hits the ground...another suicide!
The shouts of a girl lost in despair holding her father in her arm screaming for help to
save him...another heart attack!
War, human, peace, god!!
Voices of thunders - god creation - Reach from the farthest, vast skies burning houses
trees and cities.
Human creation crashing the skies blowing homes, women, babies... Blowing them into pieces!
Somewhere in this world in this minute a girl weeps
A child cries
somewhere in this world humanity fades
Some are killed
Some are hurt
Some lost in dreams
Lots of voices I can't handle
The thoughts of an addict living with a blue hole in his arm barely losing it
The thoughts of a daughter brutally beaten from an alcoholic father
The thoughts of an hungry child of war dreaming for a family to love him
And the thoughts of many more
I should have helped them all, but I can't!
Copyright © Nesma Alnsour | Year Posted 2010