Hear the whispers inside
Chanting from long ago
Echoes come and go
Losing time in a soft eternal glow
A beautiful and delicate autumn mountain scene
Dry blue eyes enchanting melodies!
Voices fall from the sky; -Rising hymns release
-ancient demons that CLING to the soul
Darkness dwells under - gentle moonlight
Ancestors of the Spirit World!
Weaving Native smoke into the barren air
Indian spirits haunt the muddy Earth---
Moccasin makers rise from underneath; While
guardians of dream catchers - print the Universe
Smooth thread from the outer world;
Arrowheads, Ivory gems, feathers, and illusions
I stumble upon a florid kiss....... My veins;
Run Cold, like ice through a desert night.
Winds of enchanted drums - cry out for rain
Hollow chimes mesmerize, my ties, my eyes
An ancient rage begins to flare --- MADNESS!
- takes place among the sanity of who I am
The spear of the perfumed buffalo scrapes my skin
I remove the veil that covers my eyes
The hands that cover my ears
Drying the scalp that bleeds on my face
KINDRED IN EVERY WAY!
Raven silk braids and feathers on my hair
Dancing in a horrid hallucination of Peyote,
Waking up from the “American Dream.”
Holding out my arms, I am free, I can fly.
I AM A BIRD!
Copyright © Poet Destroyer A | Year Posted 2013
Big Girls Do Cry
They expected her to be the jolly fun one.
The one w e a r i n g a smile on her face.
So she became.....who they wanted her to be
She was quick with her wit, telling her practiced fat jokes.
It was a pre-emptive strike of sorts
her attempt to remove the target
from what some thought was her "considerable ass".
Never again wanting to be the "butt" of people's jokes!
She remembers the year she was "Chubby Checker"
the year her parents gave her that checkered jacket
she also remembers how hard she cried.
They laughed and one boy sang
"Big Girls Don't Cry----- they don't cry!"
She vowed to herself on that very day
"I will never ever cry again!"
There were the many diets
the yo yo effect..."Yo big girl, lookin good"
Friends asking her "have you lost weight?"
Those "good for you"s!!!!
The attention felt good in a way
but the weight she'd lose seemed to come back the next day.
Somehow the cursed food felt like her only true friend
the only one on whom she could depend.
The food never judged her
instead it filled the empty sad part
the part that weighed nothing
yet felt like it weighed a thousand pounds!
The part that felt lighter when she was full
it somehow felt like a hug from the inside.
She stopped eating in public
not wanting to hear comments like
"she could do without that ice cream."
There were also the buffet comments
"She's going to get her money's worth!"
Still what hurt even worse
were the nice people
the trying to be kind people
the ones who felt sorry for her people
Saying "all you need to do is lose a few pounds."
or "you have such a pretty face."
Some people would tell her "You're just big boned."
Then there was comment she hated the most
"You have such a great personality!"
For she knew it was all part of the "Fat Girl Show"
the persona she had gifted to them.
Then came the day
that epic day she stopped joking.
When she smiled when she wanted to smile
when she dressed in the ways she wanted to dress.
She embraced the form she was given
she celebrated all of her curves.
She decided to eat when she was hungry
nourishing and loving her body
she allowed colourful foods to occupy her plate.
Strangely, she started losing some weight
but it wasn't her goal
for inside she was becoming whole.
Skinny was not who she needed to be!
When tears came she allowed them to flow free
she was no longer her own enemy
The more she cried
the less she felt her empty.
She learned, everyone
y e s.... everyone,
has some kind of insecurity!
No one is completely who they wish to be
some have hidden bits
others are more obvious,
even if some are somewhat oblivious.
She now has learned to be a compassionate witness
one who is much kinder to herself
she doesn't keep her thoughts on a shelf
So when others make jokes
or give painful pokes...
She tells them "That's hurtful and it's not okay",
"I am who I am and I'm perfect this way!"
Maybe next time they will consider what they say.
For today and tomorrow and every other day forward
she is more than some number on a scale that she weighs
or some joke in an insensitive phrase.
She now can be and see her true self in extrodinary ways
Written March 27th, 2016
Entered into SKAT's Premiere contest.
Copyright © Richard Lamoureux | Year Posted 2016
These thoughts of mine do not behold
Let them soar high like wings befold
Observe them come then watch them go
I ain't nobody 's but my own
These arms of mine not to be bought
These lips of mine not to be sold
Nor is my mind to be possessed
or is this spirit to be undressed
Let me be me Just let me be
I ain't nobody's but my own
Do not preclude raindrops from falling
Through cascade paths I need to walk
I need to rest where children sing
Where gale winds shift against demands
Against each mountain and every glass jar
which traps these butterflies within my heart .
P.S: This is a fiction poem
' Soar Like A Butterfly
without being captured
in the jar of this world 's demands.'
Copyright © Charmaine Chircop | Year Posted 2016
She sings in soft tones,
her magic exists beyond the obvious.
Listen closely to her wanting,
She is wrapped in a trancendent light.
chasing white rabbits.
Grasping for the infinite,
with delicate hands.
Dances within her luminosity.
Flying on yesterday's wings,
carrying smiles that are meant for tommorow.
Witness her as she waits to exhale.
A daisy chain,
tied around her wrist.
A future promise to be kept.
For within her spirit,
exists a burning passion!
She waits for one who is worthy,
of her consuming flame
Although she is unaware,
hers is a temporary sadness.
Happiness flirts at the edge of her dreaming,
waiting for an open window.
His shadow hidden behind frosted glass.
Shades of green,
turn brilliant yellow!
Buttercups dance around her feet.
Her laughter floats across the meadow,
as happiness runs to her open arms.
Together they skip, towards her apple tree.
For hers is a faith that trancends the temple.
Her spirit sought and found salvation.
He had been with her all along,
I can see it in her smile.
The rain has passed and sunshine now resides in her eyes!
Copyright © Richard Lamoureux | Year Posted 2014
And the ladybug placed a caressing whisper into dragonfly’s ear,
“I want to fly again. I crave to flap my tiny wings towards sunset’s crux.
I want to breathe again. I want to be held like winds within canyon’s dialect.”
“But, first, I just need to scream.”
Let me be your breeze.
The power to swim!
The power to grin!
The desire to never, ever fall again!
Let us embrace conundrum’s waterfall to be its resolution!
Let us allow joy to be our bedtime lullabies!
Let us let love IN without full moon’s dependency!
Ride on this impeccable jet stream towards animosity’s downfall!
Look in the face of your beautiful enemies
Daring it to stand above pedestal’s fallacy
Let your radiance be their final intimacy!
Take incipient steps,
Upon mended asphalt wishes
Let them tremble at the sight of your beautifully embattled smile
Knowing they will never reciprocate
Where desert winds kneel in our reflections
For we are an oasis
Forged of blood diamonds; sacrificial memories
Breezes become gusts
Gusts become worshipped exhales
All that I am!
All that you are!
All that they hope to be!
Our Yin & Yang
Will release proverbial boomerangs
Breaking vicious circles upon this genesis
We sway above greener pastures.
Gusts become breezes.
Breaking enigmatic mirrors to see your true colors
With a scream to paint your new canvas
The time is now,
Let your two feet become one.
Rise, my ladybug!
To detrimental trials
And caress newfound trust
Within a gentle
©Drake J. Eszes
Copyright © Drake Eszes | Year Posted 2013
I clasp your hand the moment I realise I will fall alone
You grit your teeth in anger holding me as I dangle there
Your jawline is rock hard, the veins on your head popping out,
You are breathing in and out in desperate fear of losing me
But your lightening, determined eyes shoot through me and say,
"Damn it all!
I love you
I will never let you go"
The mountain's edge falls around me and below us
But I will not look down
Gravity is pissed
With all of my strength I hurl my shoulder upwards so that my other hand clasps your arm
You pull me up to safety and draw me into your fiery embrace
Nothing will take us but each other...
I know this and sob in your arms
I have never fallen so in love with you
In that moment when death was so close
From here, we will rise
Kiss me relentlessly through all destruction,
You have taught me that
Every mountain will fall before us
Copyright © Laura Breidenthal | Year Posted 2016
Hearts ~ Soaring
On Wings ~ of Eagles
Dreams of Freedom ~ Promising Blue Skies
Copyright © Arturo Michael | Year Posted 2018
Through thickening haze,
I hear your voice call my name,
encouraging me, words beating
with my heart, guiding me home
as I stumble and crawl…
lost in a winding maze,
blinded by a smokescreen haze.
My life falls off-course; a sudden struggle,
I am suffocated by my own thoughts,
by perfectly manicured hedges,
by a world of betrayal…a world of deceit.
Yet, I live every moment with hope –
I see filtered rays of light,
feel their warmth on my skin,
a reminder of Heaven when I shiver within.
As I climb my leafy-green, prison walls,
my courage creates new heightened paths.
Like English Ivy weaving
through a garden lattice,
I grow taller, plan my escape,
hear your unwavering voice
drape over me with love and strength…
Your hand, outstretched,
seems just within my reach.
I focus on a life without walls,
a place I can learn and teach,
an open field of tomorrows…
vibrant, full, free.
Every singular cell, every breath I draw,
every soulful feeling…all of me,
with all of my flaws,
reaches out to all of you.
With a touch, I am saved…
I am found.
A new dawn breaks just within my reach.
Copyright © Rhonda Johnson-Saunders | Year Posted 2015
I can't believe he has to be a poet
To tell you how he feels
Maybe he does not know
When words are written on paper
does not mean your wounds
are going to heal properly
To be or not to be?
That is the question you should ask.
The man should never call himself a poet
Unless he has lived, learn, lost, and gained it back
The man who writes good poetry
In my eyes is a man of art
He can paint you anything without a paintbrush
This man I call a poet, with a colorful heart
Using all his manly skills
He is way ahead of the ordinary man
Leaving the imagination, filling the soul with chills
aroused ------- he calls for me
While (I) the woman swims in tears
She finds herself helpless
Without a man, she thinks she is lost, nowhere to be found
The secret of the female
When she is broken
She begins to feel and thinks life is over
Little does she know her time will come
When the time calls
The lady is stronger than ever
One thing I learned about a lady
You better respect her (me)
Don't destroy (my) her better days
She will crumble you
She will crush you where it hurts
This is my demo to all ya poetry freaks
Keep it real!!
Don't steal my words.
I have feelings too:)
Copyright © Poet Destroyer A | Year Posted 2010
Pain had damaged her wings
in her seemingly endless struggles
beating them against the valley walls,
then, in the last days she made haste
and climbed to the mountain’s summit
and flew free.
At first I could not see
that the sun and the moon
were shining on that verdant floor
where she lay still
till her soul opened its wings and ascended to live
far above the clouds.
That bird of her soul encompassed the earth
casting no shadows
in all the six directions, and as I watched her ascent
one falcon feather like a sycamore seed
spiralled down and became entangled
in my hair.
Copyright © Thomas McFerran | Year Posted 2013
Springtime is a chance to start your life anew,
Dust off your pride and change your attitude.
Bring forth the hidden treasures, of your heart,
Don’t worry about the past that tore you apart.
Let the fresh air cleanse your soul, body and mind,
Release the inhibitions that have kept you blind.
Love yourself, for who you are and what you can do,
Never worry about what others think, it all about you.
Embrace the earth elements and the comfort they bring,
Sit back, relax, and enjoy the results, of your spring cleaning.
Written : © 3/21/16
Submitted for: Second Chance #3
Sponsored by: Broken Wings
Copyright © Sarita Milliner | Year Posted 2016
Nineteen twenty-four and the wind was cold,
When men in uniform entered our town;
Forced us to leave in their boxcars,
Made us believe that it was for our own safety.
With no time to fix our things
We hurriedly got in the box.
And when everyone was in,
The doors were locked.
The place was hell
For not even a whisper of wind
Could enter the place,
Nor could a light shine through its walls.
Our eyes were dry and lips cracked
Plead for just a single drop;
As four nights and days we travelled
Inside the cars with no food or water.
The box unimaginable in its very state,
For dung and human liquid fragranced the place.
Weak-hearted both young and old struggled to live
Even the strong wished not to survive.
And on the fourth day, the box went to a halt!
Survivors were singing songs to God;
“Please end this tormented journey,
And deliver us home safely.”
Light shone as the heavy doors were opened!
We dropped to our knees
Hoping the place was Paradise
But Paradise was it not for we were in Hell.
Ironically, the gate held words
Like that as ‘Beware of the Dog.’
Written in frostbitten wood saying:
“ARBEIT MACHT FREI.”
My mind was puzzled upon seeing those,
How could labor set you free,
When labor here meant
Dying in force and agony.
Jew, work or die!
Jew, never complain and lie!
Those were the words
That became music in our ears,
As we bent our bones
Working for freedom that is bound.
Jew, form your lines!
Jew, the choosing has come!
And in this place we call Hell,
An Angel waits for preys.
Not to feed to its cherubim
But to the ovens decay.
Jew, old and sick!
Jew, to the ovens burn!
As the sun paints the sky red,
A gray smoke danced with the setting clouds,
And in the heavens, the old and sick smile
Grateful to be forever free from the Angel.
On and on, the days passed by
Not faster but years it seem.
Millions were killed by the monsters of time,
Feeding them to the hungry gas ovens.
Then one even night,
I dreamt of food, of home,
Of freedom and safety
And a voice calling me to follow.
I had no choice but to obey,
For in that moment I was already tired,
Sick and losing hope that once was mine
But seem to be forever lost.
On the 16th of March,
I lied still in my shelf.
I slept forever smiling,
With my red babushka in hand.
But disappointed and angry was I
To share the very day of my death
To the birth of the Malach-ha-mavis:
The Angel of Death.
Copyright © Joseph Sabido | Year Posted 2011
I am removing the chains that have held me,
Held me prisoner and in fear of change;
Over the years getting just heavier,
It is time to set myself free.
I want freedom and to feel my power burn,
A fire has been lit inside of my soul;
Watch out because here I come,
Free at last of stupid bonds.
I will leave all, the do this people, far behind,
No longer will they control my thoughts;
I will do exactly what I want to do,
Even the mistakes will be mine.
I know what I seek- blessed beauty and tranquility,
And I found it, see, it is was always so near;
It was not that far, it was inside of me,
Now the fire burns and I am soaring.
It is time to be me.
March 22, 2016
Entered in the contest, Screwed XIII
sponsor, Rob Carmack
Entered in the contest, Where Freedom Finds The Fire
sponsor, Justin Bordner
Copyright © Broken Wings | Year Posted 2016
Give me strength and courage
To rise above adversity...
To power past pain and suffering.
Let there be freedom in my breath
That lets me soar to places where
Dreams dwell... unencumbered
By earthly chains that bind me and
Keep me a prisoner in my own land.
They cannot control my spirit that
Roams free as the day I was born.
The freedom that was born with me
Shall remain a sacred secret until I die.
I bow before you with my heart in
My hands, I surrender my soul to you
Knowing one day I will be free physically
And the golden gates will be open to me.
© Connie Marcum Wong
*Dedicated to those who face fear and tyranny
on this planet.
Copyright © Connie Marcum Wong | Year Posted 2017
An indelible blue looking out to you
seducing the pain to wash away
with stolen keyboard strokes
a few extra x's and o's where
decimals move with inapprehension
carrying fantasy dreams offshore
where sandcastles are built with
riches never to be crowned
holding secret keys to happiness
breathless my tomorrows begin
under guise of the salty moon
worries behind,necks entwined
newly discovered swans swoon
Copyright © Tim Smith | Year Posted 2017
We are off the chain,
But we let up the rein.
Endurance flows through our veins,
But we still live in pain and disdain.
We have much,
We gain less.
We hold the torch,
But wriggle in darkness.
Our hands are dry,
And we never stop to try.
Instead of wealth and good health,
All we have is to lick our sweat.
We strive like lions,
And die like ants.
We grow to millions,
Yet we feed on remnants.
We sing songs of freedom,
But we march up to our martyrdom.
Hope we find our saviour,
That will relieve us of these rigours.
Who will free us from the grips of our shadows,
And the thoughts of ours that are shallow.
Everyone wants peace,
And tired of seeing people dying in pieces.
We want pain of life at its bearable minimum,
Not catastrophes and pandemonium.
It is always an easy thought,
To be a leader and be seen as paramount.
But this is all we get,
This is what our being loyal amounts.
Our leaders are whips,
Taking tears from the eyes and cries from the lips.
This is an awesome bitter chronicle,
An ant devours lions,
Elephants are helpless.
This is a song of sorrow,
Only the dead cannot sing.
Our hearts pine for justice,
But our minds betray us.
We are captives of our thoughts,
Our fights are ironies.
We only want the pains to go,
We are used to our nightmares.
We enjoy our sour milk,
We manage our dry breads.
They render us shackles,
We concur with wide grin,
Because we know we will still see another day.
The mistake we all made,
We were deceived by small ropes,
Tied around our legs.
We grow up with it,
But still think we can't be free.
Boom is our hope,
Evaporating into the thin air.
Cries of innocents puddle my mind,
I wish the world does not grow old,
I wish we never discover oil,
I wish we never had the freedom from the whites.
We grow in figure,
But wallow in rigours.
We pay it with our own coin.
Nowhere to run to,
The waves blocked us up,
We are in the dark side of the world,
Where law is impotent.
I miss the time we were happy,
I miss the time the country was young.
I miss the pride of our flag,
I miss the moments there were peace,
When people meet with flashing teeth.
I miss the beauty of our culture.
We are totally lost,
We don't know where we are,
Or where is it we are going.
I love my country,
God bless Nigeria.
Copyright © Jamiu Adegboyega | Year Posted 2017
Never managing to let go
Vicarious pleasure, vicarious pain
Wishing their life were easier
Wishing they could avoid the pitfalls
You see so clearly
The traps that seem so obvious
Wishing solutions were as clear to them
As they are to you
They need to live their own life
As you lived yours
Learn their lessons on their own
They want to express their individuality
They’re not mini versions of you
Or your second chance at life
They need to plough their path
Clear their own way
Create their own world
Responsible for their own consequences
As you yourself had to do
Your hand delivering prepackaged solutions
Cannot help since it’s figuring it all out
That’s the process of growing up
Submitted on February 4, 2018, to contest YOUR BEST POEM IN THE LAST YEAR sponsored by SILENT ONE
Copyright © Line Gauthier | Year Posted 2017
My old daddy use to tell me about the war he had to fight,
He said don’t believe those movies, cause killing ain’t no pretty sight.
He said no one is born a hero you just fight to stay alive,
Cause when those bullets start to flying your only thought is to survive.
No matter what people may say, freedom it don’t come free,
And I pray you never see the things that I had to see.
And he said son the taste of freedom is a taste worth dieing for,
And that should be the only reason to ever fight in those damned old wars.
He talked about his comrades, so many now are gone,
He said I am a lucky one to see my son full grown.
So many young men back then were buried where they fell,
You see son war is not a game it’s a living, breathing hell.
You’re fighting for what you know is right and they are fighting for what they believe,
While mothers on both sides just pray and weep and grieve.
And when they get that letter that says their son will not return,
They say one last prayer for others, Lord will they ever learn.
To say you really hate someone is a truly ruthless thought,
But there are those that feel that way and why these wars are fought.
Son he said I don’t think there will ever be peace as long as men exists,
Freedom is our gift and we must protect no matter how much they persist.
Copyright © Ronald Bingham | Year Posted 2008
I am the loner, the rebel
never the leader, I go my own way.
Never trying to run with the pack,
but ahead of them.
I never go where they go,
or do what they do.
Surviving amongst the solitude
of dense forests and misty fogs.
Living for the moonlit midnight hours.
Running wild and free
with the wind in my hair
and the moon
reflecting in my golden eyes.
My kind is close to extinction.
Only a few others remain
who are trustworthy,
only to them do I remain loyal.
I am unforgiving to those
who would dare to cross my path.
I am never afraid
to speak out into darkness.
My wail fills the night air,
a lone cry
not of sadness, or loneliness,
but of freedom,
to go my own way
and be a loner.
For Just That Archaic Poet's contest - "Personify Any Animal Of Your Choosing"
Copyright © Kelly Deschler | Year Posted 2013
The skies become loud and dark
Raining bombs upon us
May god protect the civilians
Take away the rest in rivers red
Let the devils blood flow far from us
We stare always to the skies
Our own tears falling
Thus we created our own sea of dreams
Here inside our prison city
Laughter is hidden underneath the bed
My pink lip stick and smile
I have only hope to eat
I have only the future to grasp
Because my death shall soon come to be
Death for forgetting the past
All we could do, living in daily fear
Is swim in our sea of dreams
Only to be drowned with our own blood
Here is my Photo, here is my dream
I lie dead, my dream I leave to you
Dedicated to Nisan Ibrahim who reported and wrote under the alias Ruqia Hassan.
She lived in the city of Raqqa in Iraq and was killed by Daesh around July 2015.
Hassan came from a Kurdish family that was originally from the town of Kobane, Syria, on the Turkish border. The family had at some date relocated to Raqqa.
She was never to find that rest and peace. Maybe she didn't expect to. She wrote the same day: "Our biggest mistake was to swim in a sea of dreams... and we dreamt of the next phase and ignored the current phase... we look at the future and forgot the past... #a mistake we regret."
Copyright © arthur vaso | Year Posted 2016
Strolling around town
At prohibited time
Ignoring the church bell sounds
While I see people hurrying
Down the sidewalk
On their way to work
Think maybe I'll find
Pen and paper
And have a coffee somewhere
Or maybe not
Copyright © Steinar Gismeroy Olafsen | Year Posted 2014
My heart aches for
Your hearts that break.
I shed tears mingling with
Yours for the forgotten years;
The tortured monks and nuns…
For your people who suffer still
With no voice to teach
Your hopeless, hungry, young.
Only your elder's tears
Know of the deep sorrow
Of your lost lives, lost culture,
Your sacred Buddhist beliefs,
Your divine history that
Continues to be destroyed.
Even as your dead fall
You do not hate…
You only wish to liberate
Those loving souls who
Remain as strangers in their
Own beloved land.
Let me be your voice
To join with other voices that
Will help you attain freedom.
Copyright © Connie Marcum Wong | Year Posted 2014
The sweetest sounds of burning trees
A gentle stroking in the breeze
The calm has lasted past the storm
Cloudy visions, Satan’s roar
Too many sights have passed my way
A time found only in the haze
The softest screams are running bare
My aching bones creak as I stare
You walk a distance towards me
The fall’s eternal, can’t you see?
I’m a memory in your heart
I whisper to you in the dark
The battle’s started at the end
No one is coming to repent
The sinners grab their wine from prey
No judgment calling here to stay
The sport is reckless to be told
The one is laughing at his souls
It falters nowhere to be sure
The power grows forevermore
Like a spirit in the wind
I have no say in where you’ve been
But cross the line to come to me
And pay the price for ecstasy
You walk a distance towards me
The fall’s eternal, can’t you see?
I’m a memory in your heart
I whisper to you in the dark.
Copyright © John Paluszek | Year Posted 2013
Far away from this bonded crowd,
Far away from these layers of
Oh wings of the air glide me away,
To the world, world above the
To the giant mountains of mist,
Where sparkling houses of rain
World beneath where would be
And sun rays where will be cold
Where I won’t be bound by laws,
And I could speak freely about
things I love aloud,
Yeah to the world with cloud
above the clouds,
Where everything just everything
will be allowed.
Sliding on morning dews that stays
Diving in the night’s sky that looks
like morning light,
With no paths to follow,
I’ll glide free and fast,
Yawing, pitching, bouncing,
Like the endless penumbra it’s
unknown where I’ll last
Yeah endless it is,
And it’s unknown where I’ll last
For Above the CloudsContest
I think I am late :-( posting this
Copyright © Shiraz Iqbal | Year Posted 2013
How long did it take her to be free?
How long did it take
For the wingless dragonfly to finally open her heart to the world
How long did it take for her to overcome Devil’s workshop
Slowly caressing her retinas
With silky daffodils and two-faced tulips
She dives into a glistening pool of complicated risk
Opening her atrium to the masses
Shedding incumbent teardrops
Just for that one standing ovation
It was then
Where pieces of plastic chains fell from demure stratosphere
Dented taps, similar to a shoeless dancer,
Setting off bass tones and low-key monotony
For she was
One cholesterol filled syllable short
To be genuine
One tearful, hyphenated lyric
To be embraced by their “god”
One dilapidated vowel shy
Of being honest
Her diary didn’t have enough pages torn
From emerald sanity
There were too many “Wows”,
Diluting into disingenuous shoulder pats
Her stanza pushed aside
A glorified booty call with no call back number
Leaving messages towards empty dial tones
How long will it take her to be free?
Until she looks up
Knowing she already holds the key
©Drake J. Eszes
Copyright © Drake Eszes | Year Posted 2013
Stuck inside these four walls
Where does one run
Where does one hide
Four walls inside my head
Imprisoned by butterfly wings
Four hours and still counting
Four undertakers, to take me home
Freed from my imagined room
Forewarned robbens' on islands’ understood
Flowers sprout as rain drops fall
Over sunny skies these four walls are tall
Universal is the prison
Ruined when the four walls fly in the sky
Copyright © arthur vaso | Year Posted 2016
A thought of the past flies condemned by the wind.
No more released than held deep within.
Bringing to surface this pain and this guilt,
And so I must now face this bridge I have built.
Regardless of truth, of fact, or of lie.
Its faith that brings light to an old midnight sky.
Awake or asleep, my conscience still follows.
Behind broken dreams, my future scopes hollow.
In time of redemption, of fear, and of hope.
It is truly my chance to tighten the rope.
Hung like a noose, yet closed like a cell.
My feelings of somber reroute me through hell.
Starting to win, or winning to start.
An uncertain heart starts drifting apart.
Put me to sleep, but don't close my eyes,
for i wish to see my thoughts as they fly.
Copyright © Cody Shepherd | Year Posted 2009
Inspired by a Art gallery and a poem by Shelly.
A room full of mottled multicolored butterflies
captured within a creative space
of artful design
to inspire and aspire
Flirt and flutter a delicate ballet
among the pot plants
A splash of color
among a drab row of urban gray
The door is opened
and the butterflies are released to freedom
flying high above
lush green trees
in clear unblemished skies
floating like autumn fallen leaves
in a gentle breeze
that rested on my heart for a while
and made it smile
bringing pleasure to my eye
A symbol of freedom and eternity
filling my dreams
with all the treasures of summer.
Peter Dome.copyright.2013. Sept.
Copyright © Peter Dome | Year Posted 2013
Giving us life
Giving us hope
We were free
Of that kind of
Many of us
To our knees
Even as you
Lay in my arms
While our church
Whispering to me
Be free my love
Lesser men would
Have gone mad
But not I
I would not
That kind of
All rights reserved
Copyright © Tonytocaa Camacho | Year Posted 2015
My hands are shaking,
pen is eager to soar.
Today I'll let my mind
speaks my soul.
I'm a human being...
freedom I have owned.
Piercing lines drown in my head.
Blood of nativity flows in my veins.
Nobody would love to shrink,
When I slash the tip of my ink.
Who would've told me,
I must own a bachelor degree.
In line of procreation,
does it need license to illusion?
Your words may not be mine,
but these hearts can beat as one.
Paint this world with freedom.
Don't be afraid, speak your mind,
Write every pieces with your heart.
Copyright © Aiyah de Torres | Year Posted 2014