Modest woman moderate woman
Your inner beauty strikes me
Like the tongue of noble eloquence
More than gold even refined gold
Or our purged fulgent silver.
Black woman proud woman
Your pride is not haughty
But a humble pride of eaglets;
Your black eyes are so glittering
As the eyes of our dark rivers
Filled with messages of peace
That banish the broody turmoil
From those panting hearts
Of your foreigned offsprings.
Gentle mother diligent mother
Your kindness kindles the fires
Of my heart –
Your dexterity dresses
The table of our ageless history
And the thought of your being
– Oh kind mother! –
Makes the most delicious menu
For my heart.
I remember your naked feet
Fast and fair as a pigeon’s limbs
Treading the invisible paths
Almost covered by shrubs
Small shrubs misted by the prime mist.
I remember the wood from the wood
The water from the water
And manifold items from jungle alleys
Borne by your delicate hands
And upon your soft black-haired head.
I remember the constant match
To markets and to farms
And your bright face smeared with
The ash dust
Making you more beautiful
Than any woman whose feet
Ever touched the naked earth.
I remember those burdens
Upon your cheerful kin-souls
And babies strapped to your backs
Babes full of unspoken words
To unborn others in patient wombs
Waiting in an endless turn –
Indeed, mother is dove!
A black dove and a dark huntress
A hunter’s gift from the maker?
Mother is like a weaver-bird
Building a big foot-like nest
Filled with corn and warmth
A bundle of eagle-flight
Mother is dove
And the hunter calls her
The clan’s eternal dove.
Oh, mother loving woman
Gentle as our black horizon
To you we humbly come
From these far and lonely lands
Hoping to grace our love and beauty
Before that jealous grave
Makes her temporary feast.
Copyright © Canny Amah | Year Posted 2009
To escape sin, I built a glass box around me.
Though sin like water started leaking through the cracks upon me.
Soon the water would consume me.
Forced hand prints scattered inside the glass by me.
Trying to break free of what I built around me.
No one is near to see or help me.
No one to call, to assist or guide me.
Tears accreting to the water wasn't helping me.
The water is slowly getting deeper around me.
The strength is fading away within me.
Please, someone save me!
Oh God, please forgive me!
Thinking I had all the answers to build this glass box around me.
Sin, yet and still captured me.
I need you now Lord please strengthen me.
Eyes closed beneath the water crying out for him to save me.
His voice appears, "Come as you are to me.
You made a decision to consult with yourself without me.
For I am the only way the truth and the light; not you but me.
All the tools you need are provided by me.
I will bring down this glass box only for your life to be with me.
For I make no mistakes because I am me.
I will send you back to be a living witness for me and only me."
Copyright © Pace INK-U-SCRIPT | Year Posted 2012
It took place shortly after and the stage was set
before words before ink before heavenly breath
There was a rain on the parade
of eternal monotony
and the angels were elated
In the Beginning God created... the verse everyone knows
tantalizing phrasing that leaves you on your tip-toes
before grass before plants before earthly foes
And the earth was without form... (and talk about void!)
It was there when it was all lightning and storm:
chaos untamed in watery upheaval,
though the celestial walls were impermeable
Enough disarray to make a grown man weep
And darkness was over the surface of the deep...
It was there before it was given the title: Sea
Before light was birthed with a "Let there be"
Blanketing the earth with cerulean comfort
in preparation for ethereal tickles,
despair happy to take her wings
And the Spirit of God was hovering...
Like a golden eagle dipping down
into azure pools
knowing mountains will soon rise from your depths
... but LOVE is the requisite
... and HOPE is the heart of it
Just like the weather that's about to hit the scene,
before Pangaea performs in emerald green
... and there was morning the Second Day
Can you not hear your doubts just wash away?
---remember what happened on the Third?
I'm sure you do---
As you see Him reaching down with liquid love for you,
longing to invigorate your being
He wants to split you in half
as the Rod of Moshe
made watery walls of crystallization
He longs to enter into your towering trust
(and not just on occasion)
For sometimes the Water of Life is dramatic
Sometimes it's not
And sometimes your fears could use a little irrigation
(right now your eyes could use
a bit of prayerful precipitation)
Remember the ruby water that dripped down
the Face of the Son
that fateful day
Drink it in Become full
Indulge in humble hydration
Your heart will tell you what you should
And behold it was very good...
NOTE: Moshe is the Hebrew rendering of the name Moses.
Written April 2nd, 2016
For the Element Water Contest Hosted by Brian Davey
Six Words Used: Impermeable, Requisite, Invigorate, Crystallization, Precipitation, Hydration
Copyright © Timothy Hicks | Year Posted 2016
Still shallow waters,
Fish unseen, hugging the brackish bed,
Salt grass and saltwort give ample shade
And shelter from hungry predators
That fly around the insurmountable
Pinnacles of the surrounding hills.
The lad sits quietly on a small wooden pier,
Mulling on thoughts that elevate his soul.
No vale of darkness shall invade his being,
At least not while he rests before the stretch of water.
For there alone he feels at peace.
Indeed the quiescent waters refresh him.
Even the flapping of some solitary sea duck
Will not ruffle his meditative mind.
Suddenly he hears voices and a boat arrives
To end his peaceful stay on the water way.
Copyright © Victor Buhagiar | Year Posted 2017
I could smell and sense
the showers coming in the air
with an approaching storm.
I inhale this
light little scent of heaven.
The rain will never dampen my spirits.
No umbrella for me tonight.
But, I don't mind,
I'll walk in the rain.
I savor this
sweet little taste of heaven.
The flavor is cool and refreshing,
with a purity
that is almost indescribable.
It is cleansing to my soul,
I can feel it
washing away my cares,
and making it okay to smile, again.
I experience this
gentle little caress of heaven.
When it soaks through
my jacket and my jeans.
My shoes splash
in the rain
with every step that I take.
I can hear it
tap dancing on the rooftops,
with invisible feet.
reflect on the wet pavement,
in pools of gold and silver.
The neon signs blink,
red and yellow,
blue and green.
Like drips of paint,
it puddles on the street.
to where there was none before,
only a flood of gray.
Now there is a palette
of fragrances to absorb.
Creating almost a rainbow
in the nighttime.
Written by: Kelly Deschler
November 11th, 2013
For Nette Onclaud's contest - "Fragrance Of Rain"
Copyright © Kelly Deschler | Year Posted 2013
Hydrogen to Helium
A fusion formed by gravity
A carbon-based delirium
Molecularly infinite energy
An ancient discipline known as alchemy
We’re consciousness - the explosion - amorous
We dream of gold from lead and mercury
Fueled reaction in copper with phosphorus
A universal age of prosperity
Bismuth bath. Deficient of iron and zinc
Astronautic laugh – last shine of hope
Nuclear decay –enlightened way – elemental - instinct
Scientific – logical clay – gaseous isotope.
The fluoride, we drink?
Humanity on the pivotal brink
The edge, a precipice.
Lanthanides and actinides
Metals and mysteries.
Shrink down to atomic scale
Our intellect – an accelerated history
A holographic projection
A gravitational trajectory
Precious pavonine pearl
Our planet, our world.
A place all our elements may inhabit
Terrestrially unique. Diverse and intelligent
The push of inertia
The pull of gravity
The spin of an atom
The spin of our galaxy.
(written for the periodic table of elements poetry contest) 12-12-14
Copyright © Joel Thornton | Year Posted 2014
The thing about today is that:
It will be different than any other day
Many different factors will share in the reasons
That today will be completely original
The people we encounter can play a huge role
In the way that our day plays out
We have no control over how these people may act
No control over what they may say or do
We can however control the way we allow it to affect us
I have met and been friends with
About every type of person that there is
From healers to killers I have met them all
Shared meals and how we feel;the pressure of it all
I used to allow outside influences
Like these people
To play a role in how my day would go
Then one day I realized that if you remove the water from the falls
All that you have left is a cliff
And of course a hole at the bottom
All the breathtaking beauty of the waterfall is gone
All because some fool decided to build a dam to divert the water
The River had no choice in how its day would go
It had no choice in allowing an outside force
To change its course
Of where it would end today
We have a choice, no matter what anyone does
We can stay on course and maintain the original beauty of our day
As long as we always remember
That this day belongs to us
The only thing that can change that is God, for it is his gift to us all
Copyright © Michael Jordan | Year Posted 2009
curiously peering over a cloud
Angelica stepped a bit too far
wings fluttered and disappeared
stolen by jealous demons below
angel flying too close to the ground
leaving the harmony of heaven
sensing a need to save a ravaged planet
landing gracefully on soft soil
Angelica hears the bulldozers
weapons of environmental destruction
sauntering through Earth’s rainforests
curiosity beckons as water reflects her image
her lost wings still reflect in the pond
seen as ripples from her pink, silk gown
orchid floral tiara crowns her long auburn hair
even water lilies envy her beauty
captivated by this pool lit with filtered sun
immersed in an image of herself
in God’s light all angels appear the same
bright beams to welcome new souls
fly again she will
bubbles of hope spring forth
Earthbound for but a brief time
cherished cherub sent as nature’s guardian
halo of comfort surrounds
Angelica leans forth to feel the coolness
sparkling water caresses warm lips
her kiss renews Earth’s freshness
other angels transparent in sunlight
bestow a new set of wings
mission accomplished, they escort her home
once again she revels in heaven’s light
For the “Reflection” contest, sponsored by Constance La France ~ a Rambling Poet ~
By Carolyn Devonshire
Copyright © Carolyn Devonshire | Year Posted 2011
I walk on water. . .
I feel the coolness of the
Rolling waves splash
Beneath my feet.
I watch the sun sprinkle
Diamonds across the sea.
I float above the clouds
And feel the radiant warmth
Of the sun bless my body.
I feel the power of the wind
Caress or twist and break
Anything into submission.
I rise above the towering Alps—
Snow capped and pristine.
I enjoy a fragile flower sharing
The faint scent of heaven.
I know the Sequoias, ever growing.
I blend with verdant pastures and
Serene rolling hills in misty rain.
I know the secrets of the
Deep dark abyss.
I sense the moon’s tenderness
And share in her emotions.
I flow with the clever rivers
Seeking new exciting paths.
I form a rainbow in waterfalls.
I am free to be the wind, the earth,
The sea, when all you see is me.
© 2010 Connie Marcum Wong
I am only inferring I am one with nature in this poem.
Copyright © Connie Marcum Wong | Year Posted 2010
The beauty of water
Water, one of nature's great pleasures.
Do you find the sound of water calming, soothing and serene?
Whenever I hear water and am outside, it instantly calms me. If I’m feeling angry I’m calmed, if I’m sad, happy. When I’m near water I feel free from life's troubles and can have a quiet, peaceful time alone to meditate.
When I’m meditating, I feel free like water is. My negativity can flow away and I'm left with a feeling of true peace which is beautiful.
I particularly find lakes and rivers fascinating and beautiful. The still water and the serenity of lakes’ surroundings make it a very special place of pure happiness.
Whenever I'm near a lake or mountain I feel like that I’m in a higher state of consciousness. I believe that this is because it is a place of peace, profoundness and beauty in its truest sense.
I feel as though I'm in the presence of something truly great, majestic and benevolent. Like a feeling of overwhelming love, knowledge and power. this is our creator, our lord.
True beauty and knowledge are around water, you need to empty your mind. Be formless, shapeless like water. Water can flow or it can crash!! Also when I enter the water, I feel as though I'm being cleansed of all troubles and worries.
Water is like love, clean and pure. It is life, nourishment and fulfillment. Water courses through the earth like love goes through all of us. I feel that water is like a trinity; a trinity of flowingness, calmness and purity.
Water is symbolic among many peoples. Water has many positive aspects, some of these are; gentleness, sensitivity and expressiveness. I feel as though I have these qualities as we all do. You just need to let go of all your troubles and worries.
Copyright © Ryan Moon | Year Posted 2016
Maid of the Myst
I lie in repose
Under the falls
In a tranquil pool
Of turquoise blue
He left me for another
This I could not suffer
My pain already drowning me
I fell from the falls
Spectacular was the news
Young girl with the blues
Dives to her cherished death
My lover left me for I was on meth
I was confused and skin so bruised
Misused and tears seeped from my veins
No one at all could know this enduring pain
So now under the falls I enjoy the rain
My soul lies deep
Under waters so very steep
I wait, and I wait
To be alive again
From the skies
Not another… but I see a phone that dives
Floating downwards upon my weary breast
A chance you see, finally I was blessed
I call from the depths below
Like a spirit I begin to glow
Daddy daddy is that you?
From below I call to say a proper adieu
Found inside her pocket
I miss you daddy
I love you so much
Forgive my wild youth
Remember me as I was in your arms
Long ago with my pony tails
Your little cuddly pumpkin
Love you daddy
Copyright © arthur vaso | Year Posted 2016
Atacama, Eden of winds,
flower of abandoned rocks and of sapleter,
homestead of flamingoes and geysers,
and above all ,
below an azure sky,
mountains are carrying on their tops
ice of the past.
Old villages tell us their stories,
Toconce, Toconao, Chiu-Chiu,
carry in their canons
water from deep below
let flowers and vegetables grow.
Chiu-Chiu, oasis of the desert,
a green spot,
surrounded by fragments of history
with the colour of orange, red and brown,
embedded in fragile foam of salt and hope,
the history of the Atacama.
Still alive in their churches.
Fragments of an ancient culture
reflecting on the surface of Río Loa.
Like ants – far away,
dispersed in vibrant light
some Vicuñas are looking
for tranquility and forage.
The geysers of El Tatio
send their hot water into the cold and pure air.
How pacient the Atacama is with us,
slaves of modern times
with the desire for paradise
with the dual face of history and hope.
Salar de Atacama, show me your
cracked and wounded face,
your wrinkles of solitude.
Far in the distance the chain of volcanoes,
with towering Lincancabur,
and its shouldered knapsack of crystals and ice,
holding its splendour towards the sky
with the colours of lapis lazuli and light agate.
Toconao, the ruins of Quitor greet you,
dormant since ages
they narrate the history of the Inca,
of their last refuge and their last battle with
Pedro de Valdivia,
who came with his men
to break the bravery of Inca soldiers
with thunder and destruction.
The waterfalls of the hot spings of Puritama
shoot their water into the air with the colours of rainbows,
drawing delicate faces of life
on dry sand and charming stones.
The wind from the mountains carries songs,
flute music, ancient tunes,
stories of salt, gypsum and clay
to the Valle de la Luna,
to let it remain calm and unchanged
with its eyes filled with dust and stones
in the eternal canto of earth.
Atacama, heart of the North,
plant of wind
in the song of history,
you make the day sound
and rock to sleep the nights,
lonely between the arms of the mountains
and the Altiplano.
Copyright © Gert W. Knop | Year Posted 2009
I feel the water
all around me
I go further down
to touch the bottom of the pool
on the two painted dolphins
I push my hands down
and my feet break free from the water
shooting up into the air
For a moment
I revel the erectness of my form
My legs above the water
the water trickling down them
I bring them back down
and burst out of the water
head and chest pushing out
Hair...laden with water
spraying a trajectory of liquid crystals behind me
I take in the air
my arms move back and forth
I dip in again
then swim to the far side of the pool
I hold on to the metal hand guards
Put my legs out on the side of the pool
I push myself below the surface
the water, my home
I'm in my element
weightless and happy
the muffled sounds
and dancing lights on the surface
flirt with me
I stay for as long as I can
then I break the surface
Floating on my back
I look at the sky
I feel sublime
chest and tummy tasting the air
where in my mind
I'm beautiful and divine
sultry mistress of the water
he's touching every part of me
I am never as happy as when I'm swimming....the pool lets me be more creative, but I also enjoy swimming in the Mediterranean sea. I've been called a dolphin.... I'm more like another aquatic mammal at present, but even those creatures are graceful and beautiful in the water. Summer is coming....
Copyright © Eileen Manassian | Year Posted 2015
Hooves of aquatic thunder these white steeds
Of wonder, slamming against the coral reef
As hail storms rage, set us free their voices
Softly speak through the seashells littering
The sandy beach.
Enchantments cursed beast of purity’s beauty
Trapped within the foam and spray, touching
Almost the land then in sorrow’s undertow
Driven back is this mystical herd of wild
Poseidon’s sacred water horses, surfing
Within the frothy s riptide of mermaid tears,
Clashing their silvery horse shoes, against the
Rocky edges of the under currents tidal surge
These titans of the fathoms deepest depths.
Lightening immortals shimmering, bathing
Translucent beneath the hued blue waves,
The last unicorns beg for release, to run
Freedom trails once more, to feel the
Mountains breezes of liberation flowing
Through their milk white manes again.
But silence is the reply from their capturer,
Unmoved is his trident of power, sitting on
His ivory thrown Poseidon watches these
Wonders of myth, and relishes in their
Spectacular beauty, vowing never to
Set them free, thee belong to me, my
Sacred water steeds of the bluest deep.
Within the seashells hear them weep,
These creatures of the mystical realm,
Crying out, release us please, can thrust,
Not hear us.
Out of the water, to feel mother earth
Beneath our silver hooves, we give our
Horns of crystal power, or the shimmering
Shine that beguiles our under sea father.
Out of the water, we’d roam in the wilderness
Wild, roll amongst the sandy duns of the desert,
Climb the mountain tops heights, and breath
The sweet air of freedom within our lungs.
Out of the water, for just one single day,
We sacrifice all that we are, or were in
Mysticism mystical realm, just to be free!
Hooves of aquatic thunder these white steeds
Of wonder, slamming against the coral reef
As hail storms rage, set us free their voices
Softly speak through the seashells littering
The sandy beach.
Copyright © cherl dunn | Year Posted 2015
Smooth as ebony silk, black aquatic waves the melting
Essence of liquid evil, stirring this lake placid of our
Eternal nightmares, deadened space in the fathoms
Deep, beneath the dreaming realm for which we sleep.
Translucent tears, left dripping in our unconscious mind,
Trick, trickling, encroaching, drowning us within the
Fear factor, heaving, and tugging at the reality of
Humanities thin realism.
Raw is this blackened well, of emotional plunging,
A pit bottomless, in suctions raw force of power.
Thy soul trying to cling against the porcelain sides,
Yet sliced by the roughed edge of illusions delirium.
Sheer glasses elliptical memorization, hypnotizing
The lucid mind, smacking hands blister at the panes,
Begging for this bad dream to end.
But your voices scream remain nothing except
Echoes refrains, that are lost amongst the complete
Darkness surrounding thee, in this murky abysses
Wake up, wake up, this is not real or is it,
The torn spiritualist grasps at faiths buoy, but
Instead sinks farther below the currents swift
Under currents, then light slits through the dark,
As lightening slashes at the blackest night, and
The dreamer shivers beneath his covers warmth.
Laying within his twisted sheets of sweat,
He wonders if any of it was real at all!
But whom can tell what lucks under the black
Waters of our nightmares, dare you to go swimming,
Into the rivers of the unconscious to find out, and survive.
BY: CHERYL ANNA DUNN
Copyright © cherl dunn | Year Posted 2015
Blackness moving slowly into light!
becoming one existance
The stars gather like flocks of birds.
See the colors mix and mingle
Creating the perfect shades of colors, the
most beautiful blue and yellow.
Funny how words could form such a savage thing.
These islands come apart
Gods fingers pulling them into various directions
By his very words they are released.
Morning and nights wed, but they are never
essembled as one.
Out of some experiment called love?
To see us form into flesh and blood
And obeying of water slowly, a piece of dirt
Spreading as far as the eyes can see
Its water circled the new dirt, and calm and
sometimes sea's prevail!
Birth of nations!
The beautiful green, red, yellow, orange and
other shades of our humanity, vibrant fields I seek
and found before the eyes of the almighty.
New species arise, what perfection...
The heavens speak of many moods, and speaks
to us to know the time, are signs and marks of seasons.
Our days and years combined to reason. Two emotions.
One to sleep and the other to wake, His return on earth cometh
And will cease the same by partened clouds and running
horseman, out of the clouds into earth.
And then the ocean filled with the wild and tamed
A whisper into their hearts and souls to multiply
and above the sea which holds the sky, movements of
graceful wings sour the clouds freely, and glide beneath
a wise space
Below a newly born star.....
Atlas! the earth has formed to paint these?
and soon our hands which once held silence
and our hearts held peace! this is good
The earth is spinning, the oceans flowing, our blood passing
the woman exist, our beast wondering, the friut so bright!
This is good! Out of the garden. The murder of innosence
Into our ever lasting taste for flesh, obsession and power
Our need for greed and death! The birth of sin!
Atlas! the setting and rising, our beating hearts
and pulse which slows its rythem by the generations
Generations fade.. nearly rythemless life beats as the dying rose
Copyright © derrick burton | Year Posted 2010
Flight of stillness;
Ladders point up
but they say the ground is greater;
sunlight knitting to their brown feet green socks.
They crestfall and
buckle at the knee.
Hear guts clap thunder off somewhere else
but no storm in sight to maitre d' this mesa;
got to rot the mud lest
an urge to ripen ripens.
But hear now
the locusts flood this rut,
hunt for want,
impelled to eat each lunch of your decay.
Earth uncorks her pores.
you drift upon the grass, lift the damp from the sod
like a pillow of cloud sopping Earth's steam-
to be made the steward of this land;
Pay in full the cost of water,
less labors not yet lost.
Copyright © Andrew Gallagher | Year Posted 2008
That I am alive today
Is His grace I should exalt.
That I conceives thoughts
And am able to interprete them
Into words for minds to receive
Is another reason I think
He deserves my praise.
This new episode of my life
Is like a dream.
A dream that
Perhaps I know
Where its starts
But I don't know
Where and when
It will end.
A nation of pieces may not contain
I don't know of later.
Copyright © Abdulhafeez Oyewole | Year Posted 2013
Under a spray of cold water
Sizzles upon impact on my passionate body
Droplets of desire trickling down
You are the water phantom
Flame and water ignites a spark
Building intense harmony through silent chaos
Desire burning inside
Sensations brewing in hot lava
Your love letters licking my mind
Every alphabet is a glinting beacon in my unlit chamber
You are the conductor of my orchestra making melodies
Together we make beautiful rhythms in giving and taking
Copyright © Angeline Haikutwinkle | Year Posted 2016
Unorthodox, this water- bearer rules,
an Aquarian god moody yet calm in the
face of persistent winds…his pail of wine
gushing on mouths of February streams,
like an outpour into first night’s cycle
of unpredictable moves, reigning for thirty
days to unfold like a river-in-waiting,
this heir of brazen stars: a cool dip
born from rose-yellow...red, maybe for
hearts to quiver upon Cupid’s aim.
Oh, his vision is light years ahead of time;
breaking from clasps of tradition,
his maverick streaks defy life's norms
and ignites a Uranus heart to signal
the rise of new dawning…and while he
dives into a crest of independence,
fool he is for needing warmth and affection.
Yet,a blend of hermit's pride and gentleness
dares the element of air to brew a storm,
then romances the lusty sea of love in a flash...
pray tell, how can one define a mystery?
Though I'm Capricorn, this poem is for my
dear brother, my former boss, Sir Tory,
a special guy mate, and close buddy, Arno.
Leonora Galinta's Poem With A Theme,
Zodiac Sign Contest
by nette onclaud 7/09/2014
Copyright © nette onclaud | Year Posted 2014
Night follows day in bitter hungry monotony,
as wane laughter dies upon parched lips,
and ignorant innocence is trampled underfoot
at every corner of the decadent deserted plain.
Homeless bulimic children unsmiling, subdued, thirsty
seek dilapidated dug-in shelters devoid of nourishing food.
Employment inexistent, as the rich grow richer,
the poor poorer. Death is not far away. Famine reigns.
This is today's nightmare as vultures fly above
ready to prey on dead children’s carcasses below.
But I am head strong and will not give up.
For I'm sure someday there will be
a reckoning, a purge, where judgment triumphs.
Then as years roll by, we will return to till the land,
our laughter will increase, our food becomes abundant,
our minds will return to sanity.
And all my wishes will come true.
Love grows with humility and respect.
But that's another story, another age.
9 April 2016
Picture No 1
A Silent One Contest
WHITSUN STANDARD CONTEST any theme ,any form ,max of 25 lines
Sponsored by: Brian Strand
Copyright © Victor Buhagiar | Year Posted 2016
in the Heavens sky
A journey inwards
Begins unravelling out
Golden moondogs kiss
Drawing one circle
ring around a rose
Warmly embracing silk feelings
milky lunar smiling vision
Sharing darkness with stars wishes fly
a croaking choir
capturing one lullaby
In the stillness of night
They drift away
on a breathless air
As your baptised in the heart
in the living water
Which flows from deep inside
Copyright © liam mcdaid | Year Posted 2016
The grandeur of a majestic mountain
standing proud against the horizon
with its snow-capped peak
enveloped in fleecy white clouds
against a clear azure blue sky
The glorious majesty of a stately sequoia
towering above the surrounding vegetation
being the largest living thing on earth
its massive trunk over thirty feet wide
with its gnarled rugged beauty
The wondrous artistry of the setting sun
edging the darkened clouds with silver linings
and painting the evening sky
in brilliant colours of the rainbow
mirrored on the ocean's surface below
The awesome power of a thunderstorm at night
with jagged bolts of lightning
that split the darkness
and light up the surroundings
with blinding dazzling intensity
The thunderous roar of a mighty waterfall
cascading down in huge torrents of liquid fury
smashing into the water below
creating mists of water droplets
that transform the sunlight into a rainbow
Copyright © john beharry | Year Posted 2013
Enter a storybook tale
Where I can be
The heroine you hail
Lucid dreams of soft reflection
A touch heated with lust and desired protection
A breathe a gasp as we succeed
Join the fairytale with me
Valiant night within dark eyes
the right movement and I make them shine
like moonlight on the steamy hot spring
care to follow for a little dip with me
Trailing like the water at my fingertips
Grasp me around my hips
As close as the breeze on my skin
Whisper lies as I let you in
Lips mumbling up my thighs
bare heart exposed to the sky
fire burning in my veins
Am I a mistress of this lust or simply a slave
Trembling with desire
Take me till we've lost count of the hours
enter this storybook tale
Where I can be the heroine you hail
Copyright © Jay Loveless | Year Posted 2012
I remember, back before puberty,
and all concomitant complexities,
visiting the pond behind our barn,
to watch water spiders.
I wondered what we would like living on thin transparent skin
between two equally visible universes,
one below, and one above.
life would be somewhat darker
but unlike soil.
I would look down into flowing water space,
watching other little pond insects and amoebas, and lichen,
and occasional predator fish or water snake,
I could look up to see flying insects,
and grass forests,
rocks above, as below,
but dry, lighter, easier to maneuver,
to stick to,
Again, the occasional predator,
like birds and again those pesky frogs
who also tend to live near life's bicameral surface.
Yet, in a way, this surface,
Boundary Universe skin between two universes,
Prime Relationship limned barrier between air and water universes
has its own specific universal traits,
responding to both air and water flow,
My own spidery journey along that surface,
looking in and looking up,
is quite different than looking out,
with confusion as I lose capacity to see down and up
while looking toward my future.
So, my water spider grows three eyes.
Only supereco eye looks directly toward my future,
interpreting Prime Relationship between my right eye,
looking within water below,
while my left eye,
looking up and out,
seeks to understand
what this huge mammal,
a red headed kid,
is doing with our day.
Copyright © Gerald Dillenbeck | Year Posted 2015
Again, there will be water - Soon!
In sleep - the deaf silence
reminded me - last night
a leaf withered...
It reminded me of the vase
In which we were the three of us
Dreaming a dream with dew
Sipping from the month of May...
...and little by little my stem
withered in distress
and my painful leaves
found an excuse in Death...
Again, there will be water - Soon!
With little, gentle handfuls
the Life's cup is filling
with crystals of desire
I dream a hopeful dream
There is the water - plenty
and Oxygen enough...
written at 13, translated now
Copyright © iolanda Scripca | Year Posted 2010
Fall tumbles relentlessly on our door steps
young winter birds inducing provoking sounds scamper in trees
Watching winter crawling slowly under our feet.
The night rain wet the ground with sadness
washing away the environmental stench
purging the atmosphere of its infectious dew
And I could absorb fresh air in my lungs again.
I fell into a deep sleep shortly after nine but woke up
by my next door neighbor bustling activities.
Nice showers clean fresh air is the perfect night to
be drenched with sleep but instead I was on my knees.
An unknown burden overshadowed me, disturbing my spirit
raising my curiosity, causing me to ponder over unknown mysteries
unexplainable matters that doesn't concern me, yet they troubled me.
I soaked myself in prayer seeking for a plausible answer
And after praying I fell asleep again; a sleep that
I thought would be peaceful but here I am again
on an unannounced journey to the Far East.
I mysteriously found myself on a university campus in the Far East,
no paint, no color, everywhere was deserted, no one was around
except for dry leaves spreading out on the troubled ground
and dull trees astoundingly lingering in the autumn breeze.
I walked propitiously through the front door along a bare corridor
in search of a toilet to ease my body pressure.
A desolated corridor whose hope seemed to be diminished with the passing of time
a million feet must have trodden upon it, feet in search of freedom ,
feet looking for peace, proud feet, dirty feet, bloody feet, stubborn feet.
Feet looking for revenge and feet marching to the destiny of doom.
I moved anxiously from door to door but every door that I opened I saw
Asian toilet embedded deeply in the ground and clean water flooding all around.
I opened another door and found a western bath filled with clean water
I kept walking along the corridor but all the Asian toilets were flood with water.
At the end of the corridor I found one that was completely dry but there was no toilet inside except for PVC pipe fittings planted firmly in the ground.
I tread along the opposite side of the hallway still searching for a toilet
but only rooms whose doors were removed and leaning helplessly
in front of them occupy the other side of the stricken corridor.
I anxiously left the building and a slim young man in his early twenties
wearing shaded glasses ran behind a reception area outside the campus ground
and pretended as if he was at work, but that was only a deception.
As I walked passed him he tried to reached out to me
He complained about someone who has treated him badly
and pointed to a friend who was instrumental in turning his life around.
A sizable crowd gather around him as he illustrates his painful story.
He and his friend took me to the other side of the campus where
a larger crowd of young people had gathered for a wedding
some were sitting under large beach umbrellas
While others congregate in groups all over the campus grounds.
I walked upon a platform where the wedding ceremony
was about to take place but daylight suddenly exploded in my face.
©2014 Christine Phillips
Copyright © Christine Phillips | Year Posted 2014
You can try to catch the drops
Crystal clear and clean
The effect of the figures
In silence they dance
Characterized by joy
The balance, your own values
Fill your silver mug
- Sun :) - A-L Andresen :)
- Copyright © All Rights Reserved
Copyright © Sunshine Smile | Year Posted 2017
Water / Water
New Hamburg, Ontario Rubkuai village, South Sudan
locals rise locals starve
with the river, heed warnings where once there was a river,
to keep from its banks travel along arid banks
thirty thousand gallons a tanker arrives with a few gallons
of unwanted rain rain is worth all limbs
burdens how burdened the village —
storm drains the drought drains life from fields
this summer, filled sport bottles this summer
will be abandoned near will crust tongues
splash pads, as the dying
where saturated children riot tend to the dead
in mist & spray, soak in inconsolable mothers silently
the never-ending fount riot [eyes too dry to mist
until fingers prune, can still spray bullets
until thirst or thirst for just one more look
sends them skipping as irises prune in the sun]
cars gleam and grass grass is a memory
springs underfoot; & graves spring up underfoot
the bridge is power- like emaciated bridges
washed, as though the downpour nothing stops the downpour
hadn’t flooded of diarrhea — the filth binds
spider’s webs cholera’s web
people shower, run half-filled people kneel for droplets
dishwashers & laundry machines, the desert launders
a kettle screams the jawbone
for someone, of the newest ghost who still
anyone to listen listens, waits, for anyone
Copyright © Cyndi MacMillan | Year Posted 2017
I should have gone to work today but
your tongue convinced me to come
inside and play with you…to ride our
red rocket ship to the distant planet of
lust where our sensual sins are instantly
forgiven and celebrated amidst mute pleas for
gentle mercy so rightly ignored as a token gesture to
rationality and begging for more is of course
granted by the Court of No Regrets
You alone have always held the secret
key that released the chastised prisoner of
passion locked deep inside of me your taste
buds have caressed every morsel of my
body as if I were an ice cube wrapped
in honey much like the oyster swallowed
whole to tease our ravaged pendulums whose
demand for thirsty water shall be quenched at
the moment our tongues mysteriously turn ice cold
Note Author Disclaimer: to my fellow poets....these are just words
on a piece of paper and an experiment in new
writing styles/expression for me. Topic is not meant to be
abusive or disrespectful to ANY reader. Please note this poem is categorized
by me in the 'Passion' category of PS.
Copyright © Michael Poyntz | Year Posted 2010