This is not a poem about a rose
Nor a poem, about diligence and beauty
Today, I sit and stare at the walls
Walls, that bare the complexity of life
Every breath, every tear I shed in my room
Set out to pollinate every seed, every bud-
Life once - was the perfection of everything
Now, water drops as I drown in my sentiments
--- Sentiments that no longer hold meaning
I feel so empty now that you are gone.
This is not a poem about a rose,
Rather, it may be, I write about death
Death is a man with no face
A man who sits every night
Patiently, he sits on the edge of everything
Waiting and waiting,
For the thorn to prick the stem of who I am,
Who I used to be, in hopes I end the suffering
Every night he sits on the bedside
Watching and waiting
As I gaze deep into the dark watery walls
I lose the strength and resilience in my eyes.
Creating a dormancy, that shuts out the light
In a place where darkness prunes itself another day
There and only there,
I draw the silhouettes where life once bloomed
The echoes of my heart still call out your name
A name that no longer exists by my side
Slowly, the musk withers into the air
In remembrance, you were once here
Perfection Gone, ~And a rose is just a rose~
Copyright © Poet Destroyer A | Year Posted 2016
-Escape of the mountain-
Do you care about my breast?
The new curve - countryside corset.
The beauty of every summer dress
Laying down, wearing out gravity
Embracing the same feeling; Your
hands indulged in. Passion and devotion,
around perfumed scenery...
The perfect pair
Today we will pray,
Counting every second on the clock
No longer the womanly figure before'
I will possess a new battle,
around the virtues of my palace.
-Will you still be there,
when the hump and lump are gone?
-Will I still be the queen of your heart?
Patiently I shall wait and see,
in hopes to gain the time, breast cancer stole
Leaving behind torn tissue, with a daily reminder of;
The one that got away.
A Focus on Breast Cancer
Copyright © Poet Destroyer A | Year Posted 2016
Sorrow flows from the first sunrise
Eyes deeper than winter and rainfall
A painful combination never felt before
At core death awaits
- laughing while she begs for clemency!
In her eyes, fault is found in every sunset
- after coming down from cloud nine.
Impossible to move --- her body stiffen
That very moment, A precious Waltz - Expired!
Coldplay and winter mist set in
Ruins of love clinch an endless echo
- taunting the very merry memory.
The auditory sensation of broken trust
- stride across the way.
Icing every thought in a sullen, cold rink.
She fell - She crumbled
- In a world where hope once existed
Today, she will sway alone without a lullaby
In a room with no warmth
One time a sweet symphony, now a sour moon
At last, a different tune begins to fiddle
As she grooms the icicles in her room.
On every mid-moon, she stares and stares
towards the old shriveled lipstick on his pillow
Unseen coldness, unsatisfied, incomplete tears
She can feel the complete braille of hate
--- cascade around the emptiness
Throughout her poise frostbite travels in
Midnight Summer dreams are near an end
Autumn bones covered by winter sleet
A deadly force condemns all because of one
Lost years crumbled like an avalanche
Way deep down inside.......
She paints the rain like no other heartache
Leaving winter residue behind every step
"Black Ice" sits close to the cold canvas on her pale
If you seek closely, she is there
Immobilized in a waltz, in a waltz, in a waltz
Never to linger or trust
The "HE" that spoke of love, then melted away
Copyright © Poet Destroyer A | Year Posted 2016
Introducing: Carl Fraser & Poet Destroyer
Oh Paint me a far away horizon
Across a tranquil azure sea,
Where sits a peaceful deserted island
Where no one lives but me
Free from prying eyes and greedy lies
Free from scars that never heal
Let me be free to just be me
Instead of someone who isn't real
To live out my days giving thanks and praise
To my creator in heaven above
And leave behind the noise of worldly toys
And just bask daily in his love
To be stripped of pain by the spirits rain
And washed until my robes are clean
For I've had enough of my fellowman's company
And I'm disgusted by what I've seen
So I will step into my painted horizon
Framed in a forever state of bliss
And I turn back only for a fading glimpse
As I blow the world a farewell kiss.
Laced by the seas we see, you beg for a life so far
Far from all I've dreamed of, tranquil and spirit rain
A once false painted paradise,
Bliss, a farewell kiss, drowned by old heartache
Not knowing where it's coming from
Yesterday, I woke up to a new skyline,
The horizon, formed by your eyes,
Across a tranquil azure sea
Far from all existing companies, you stood
In front of the ocean - your ocean!
Sailing on the calm side of the turquoise sea
Stripping back into the innocence you once were
A gentleman, caressing the oats in a peaceful state
The moon breaking your once trusted mind
The silence of heaven heals every scar inside
Redemption is a secret we beg for
It was always you, someone lost, misguided by love
Somebody, I once dreamt of, A dream lost out at sea
Calling out for me --- you chose to pray alone
Repelled by the world so cold, yet here I stand
Alone, on the other side of the farewell kiss
For you, I paint a faraway horizon of bliss, my friend
Waiting -Dreaming -Escaping --- In another lifetime
~A Poet Destroyer Collaboration~
Copyright © Poet Destroyer A | Year Posted 2015
I've never ever seen her face,
but in my mind, she's the color of love
strong like dark coffee
She wakes you up early in the morning,
gives you an energetic taste of loving
to get your day going
passionate fire flows in her veins
She's got crimson lips that blow words of desire,
to keep the flames rising higher and higher,
every time she speaks your name
smile is sunshine bright
She walk towards you in her canary-colored,
polka dot sun dress that accentuate her hips so well
Her graceful charm is so a-maize-ingly pastel
mood indigo can really touch you
She makes you want to love her always,
under ocean lit moonlight and clear cerulean skies
Embark on a passage of endless days
verdant valley of iris flower eyes
She's as a carpet of grass with enfolding arms,
wrapping you in her love
Bury your head in her bosom, safe from harm
sugar is the sweetest heart ever known
She has a boundless supply of caramel happiness,
taste the creamy richness of her sensuality
It's like roasted chestnuts offered to a welcomed guest
visions of a streaming, silky satin dress
She has a winter glow like pure virgin snow,
a gift waiting to be opened by a worthy beau
Beckons you into her ivory tower to rest
Forever gazing into her yet unseen face,
which in my mind is the color of love
Copyright © Freddie Robinson Jr. | Year Posted 2016
"Once upon a midnight Poe"
Underneath the midnight mask, I remove the makeup at last,
The moon is anvil to my mood, mooring along the vacant vast
I lay the Gin and Tonic by the bedside asking for more,
I hear a noise, a lost voice, the echoes of no rejoice,
I couldn't brush the light coming from the cracks under the door
I gave it some thought,
My eyes twinkle, towards the tinsel tiles on the floor
Seemingly the light seemed to be deeming distance of resistance
Curiosity came in crawling and caressing
To sense and taste of sinful skin
Everything then grew thinner than thin
On the spur of the moment, I hear a whisper, my love is near
"Darkness there, and nothing more."
A nerve impulse hits the wall if nothing nary, nevertheless
I sadistically, stagger a sullen movement, even so
In this moment, Edgar Whispered, "nothing more."
Many nights, I dram of demonic demons, demanding answers for
A sad --sadder voice, sits and whines, with the wind
"Merely this and nothing more!"
A notary, nauseate moment, sea sick, shipwreck sensation
Secular suicide spreading like gossip, sailing through my veins
Evilly and twisted, "This it is and nothing more" - that remains
Tweaking and repeating, the speeding of needing
My drugs of pain and passion, to end the delusion
Of the self-inflicted - bruising from the voices of my choices
I hear the whisper, a selfish whisper, asking for Lenore
How many nights, he comes into my room, dress like A Raven
Painted and tainted like the midnight dreary
Reciting the excitement like The Bells, of Annabel, in a rush
Never, never, nameless here forevermore, in my dreams
Under my evil doing skin, like the sum of sin is how it seems
On the nights, my soul mate does not appear,
The anchor drowns and torments me with tears
I travel up in fear, of the fear, when my ghost is not near
Rattling and trembling, by the bedside,
On the grim side of the mental moon, when in gloom
I scrape up my room, screaming to the bleeding,
From my heart, who needs a killing,
From a feeding and the feeling of letting Poe, go!
Inspired by The Raven
Copyright © Poet Destroyer A | Year Posted 2014
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
How can I explain to you,
you a poor mortal,
what a free spirit is?
Consider I have no bounds,
I go just where I fancy.
I relish moments of madness
without ill effects.
Can you see me waltzing
with a fiery tailed comet
that orbits around far off Arcturus,
in the Herdsmen constellation?
Imbibing its bright soft orange light,
enjoying its hard-to-observe buried corona?
Can you imagine me swim amongst
the spiral and elliptical galaxies?
Bask in their dense luminosity,
irrespective of their fluctuating temperatures?
I've kissed so many moons,
and frolicked with Venus,
watched in awe a cataclysmic nuclear explosion,
as some old dwarf star goes nova.
I've seen all this and more,
but rest assured, o miserable mortal,
that I yearn to be substantial like you.
For you can do so much.....
but not I,
no I can never love or be loved
9 December 2015
Entered Screwed XII contest.
Featured on Poetry Soup 13 December 2015
Copyright © 2015
Copyright © Victor Buhagiar | Year Posted 2015
If I were an elephant I’d fly a kite.
I’d send it up high to capture the light
and hang in the air, oh what a sight…
but everyone knows they can’t fly a kite.
If I were an elephant I’d drive a car.
I’d fill it with gas and drive it afar.
People may say, “that’s very bizarre”,
‘cause everyone knows they can’t drive a car.
If I were an elephant I’d fly a plane...
the fun I would have I could never explain.
People may say, “that’s really insane”,
‘cause everyone knows they can’t fly a plane.
If I were an elephant I’d go into space...
oh, just imagine that wonderful place.
Imagine the smile it would put on my face...
everyone knows they can’t go into space.
So I'll go through life doing elephant good,
expressing my girth as all elephants should
and I'll live my life as an elephant would
but... I’d do all those things if an elephant could.
Copyright © Mark Massey | Year Posted 2016
I'm sure this hill is where it stood.
Amazing shapes of stuccoed wood.
A glass-brick, neon stream-lined place.
As if it flew from outer space,
A swing band auditorium,
An Art Deco emporium,
When romance, innocent in pace,
From dancing to a teasing chase.
The town grew west in modern haste
And down it came, without a trace.
The war and culture's change in taste,
Predestined doom, the past erased.
The future sighs, with solemn face
The wrecking ball, the glittered waste
No plaque to read "Historic Sight".
The swirling dust, a dance goodnight.
Copyright © Gene Bourne | Year Posted 2014
Our Human Nature
A real aspect always part of a person’s life;
One that can bear fangs and pangs of strife.
A living barometer replete with its choices;
Leaving each of us puzzled, full of voices.
It prays on our very emotions and naiveté,
Leaving us at times in moments of disarray.
Man by his nature is fickle and imperfect.
God by His nature is divine and perfect.
A person’s decency is so wonderful to tell;
Another’s depravity is so worthy of Hell!
A person’s good deeds mark now his true measure,
Bringing him God’s divine love always to treasure!
Never trust what you can’t feel deep in your heart;
This makes us divine in God’s eyes—sets us apart!
Gary Bateman, Copyright © All Rights Reserved
(January 5, 2016) (Rhymed Couplet)
Copyright © Gary Bateman | Year Posted 2016
~JSLambert does not (currently:) use, or encourage hallucinogenic drug use.
Telepathic psilocybin prescription erasing elastic depression. Competition
wanes, just when nocturnal emission drains. Lifted poetic wing clipping. This
party only makes sense to those encrypted with unconsciousness. Scalpel in
hand, methodical break and entering, break dancing meninges remove
portions of brain doin' the bitchin'. Ah, this immaculate incision!
Lucid dreams vacating turnstile vibrations, deteriorating horrific screams
douching eardrums. Ultraviolet eyes fortified by THREES---Mind-Body-Soul,
rolled up into one huge trinity.
I'm moving asses fantastic. Call me the "Proctologist of Poetry".
Electrify words, regurgitate, choke and vomit the crock of crap-ola. Venture
down butter slides until the sky goes red.
Still too uptight to listen? (don't pretend in comments that you read this
entire poem if ya' didn't) glisten, be kind, rewind, let liquid swords chop away
fat weighing upon your forces. Once doors of perception swing eyes wide
open. Devour the false to magnify hate. I love you the same. I love you, never
in vain. Hearing your verse lifts a heavy curse carried in shame.
As a child, I had no fear of apocalypse, or world hunger. No, phobia meant
running out of words to give, to receive, from lips. It haunts me to this day.
Tho' the bliss of poetic language's kiss, soothes the cries. Altruistic sighs! Now
we dance! Dancing Harmony times three equals harmonize! Tour your Third
Eye, yir' Karma-eyes!
To the heads that said, "NO CAN DO!"- We've weaved advice for you. File
illicit deeds away, for in dreams we are connected, Siamese twins, at the
wrist, spellbound paradise! Let go of doubt, negativity= below zero. Work it
out! Crash whiplash angles 'till friggin' rectangles dangle through
kaleidoscopes of style. Poet trees smear the cosmos. Let go! THREE will never
be alone. Bestow the glow, thorazine vapors escape secret tombs where
peroxide cleans wounds. Fusing two Toots in common with Nefertiti. THREES.
Elicit illicit lucid dreams gushing ejaculatory melodic screams. Orgasmic
spasms...vas deferens between actual sacks and Staff of Ra polluted sticky
streams. Peddle the bicycle high, annihilate attrition, like motivated Mormons,
door to door men, on a worldwide mission. I love you, I miss you...witness the
vision...alive in the schism!
*credit A.Horovitz, A.Yauch, M.Diamond, Billy Corgan
Copyright © JSLambert Mister ROBOTO | Year Posted 2014
Jim, now rich, bought a wee li’l islet;
there he lived, with ten men and a starlet.
Changed his partner each day,
heaved and huffed till they say,
the islet is now, the town named Scarlet.
The story's not over, he's not decadent.
Send away the men, he just simply can’t;
they built the town housing,
the roads and some building
for starlet Scarlet, whom the islet was meant.
21 April 2015
Humorous Poetry Contest - 4th Place
Sponsor : Thomas Martin
Copyright © KP Nunez | Year Posted 2015
Meditating on flowers of my pasture, plucked with my eyes,
Resting…open, like buds blooming, and resting…
“Take me…” he said weakly, so softly in my ear…
I greeted the demon with the warmth in my eyes,
Upon opening them to its crippled form before me,
It was shivering, shackled, face caved in, razor teeth broken
All night I had heard his screaming, his pains, and his revitalizing hurt
As the Devil crouched near,
His hands clenched in the blood of his minion...
He turned his head grimacing,
Shrewdly interested in the exchange
The sad, sniveling creature touched my hand and squeezed it,
His breathing more hoarse and heavy
Bloodied tears and muck falling upon me liberally
“Do not be afraid of the light,
As your brothers hide cries shuffling in their fight,
The touch of deliverance is often strewn with thorns,
And to the onlookers, the dominants, scorned…
Rest your weary head upon my shoulders,
For there I shall sooth your devastating tremors,
Your rough skin upon the softness of sympathy,
Your eyes burning in the pains of my empathy…
Rest on this day from the indulgences you have absorbed,
From the faces of the damned, the bruised, the abhorred,
His antagonism over your life has weakened your will,
Bleeding hearts still beat, as his stubborn mind goes still…
The Sabbath day shines against the garish evil,
To reveal the good that remains in the slaves of suffering…”
Our Prince spat the ground in fury,
Cracking his neck from left to right
“The Sabbath day, resting in lies, rankled in syrupy mess,
Believing is deceiving all this feral trash we call friends,
His happiness upon a time that mocks all those who stray,
Those who dare to bash the head of a pompous, polished day
May I shove each heart into the rash-spent furies of my consternation,
To rest assured, all that the day soon brings is the madness of insanity’s ascension
Never was there one as sickening, as the one who stabs us in foolish hope,
Into nothings who can never attain joy, who only scramble to appease…and mope…”
My eyes, which were so focused on the miserable demon,
Who had finally fallen asleep in my arms,
Color returning to his acquiescent form,
Averted once again to the demoralizing Devil, with severe pain and with severe love
“The sleeper, the slave, his submissive energy you crave,
Though you do not think you deserve the ease of his save,
Rest is in your ability to submit,
Not to prove, or prevalently profit,
Merely to observe where happiness must grow,
The heart recalls the blessings beyond what we think we know…”
And to that, he sang with me, tension and rawness in his bravado…
“We in this realm shall cultivate each other,
In the strange company of one another,
To sing desperately with passions unrest,
So that in separate ways we may perceive our test
This demon sleeps in the arms of love,
It knows not the smiles and cares from above,
Let us be challengers for challenge’s sake,
In secret endeavors, this art supreme we make
Drifting darkness will always subsist and applause,
One who struggles to yield, for the relief of this pause…”
Singing on, he crushed my voice with the deep recesses of his own -
“A war awaits as long as these duets fail to defy…
As long as my meaning is subjective to your flair…”
His dark eyes, like black trenches, impasses of despair
Stayed irrepressibly open, staring into my motionless soul
I breathe…to stay alive . . .
Copyright © Laura Breidenthal | Year Posted 2015
Just Do Not Be
Waves of sadness overflow my heart
I tumble, no care at all for a new start
Buried under autumn leaves
I hug the soil, knowing deeper so much the sweeter to be
I hear a voice over looking me
Don’t be like that!
Get up and carry on
Enough of the silly sadness lets move on…
I am anxious I say
Why they all ask, what’s up your craw?
Not a thing, why nothing at all
Then don’t be like that, DO NOT
I think of ropes, of tall building and fires
I think of ending it all, got no desire
You think I enjoy this feeling that death holds
The answer is always, don’t be like that
How can such educated ones be such fools?
Do they think we choose the sadness, our ugly muse?
Do they think we chose the darkness and always lose?
Shaking with anxiety, I can hardly but move
Don’t be like that echoing in me ears
See a doctor about all these fears?
All I see is the empty glass
Wishing it full, with two more pills to blast
No one really cares about you
I am sure for me this is true
When I was dead, after months I was blue
A year later someone opened the door
I kid you not, they looked and stared
Why did he have to do a thing like that?
From the depths of hell, I laughed and I spat
Before the killing of a thousand deaths
I broke a leg and walked slow at best
They all showed concern, said what can I do?
If they can see the wound
Apparently they may care for you
I replied with a bitter taste in me insides
Don’t be like that
I only wanted someone to care
I pulled the trigger
Cause I followed the dare
Now tiss I, covered on the wall
Hasn’t a care in the world
Why none at all
Copyright © arthur vaso | Year Posted 2016
Crazy wind whispers
Into the ears of ‘champa’
A light scented Indian flower
Trees are full of them now
Your love in each and every bough
The breeze is cool
Because it is spring
Because it is south wind
Because everywhere is hue
Because it is warm with you
Blue hills and green plains
My room at sixes and sevens
Red bellied wood peckers drumming
Rhythm in feet nimble
Your twinkling eyes with dimple
Our roads are tremendously red
Ashok Palash and Gulmohar
They call it flame-of-the-forest
Love in red supreme
With you in extravagant dream
Books in eloquently colorful blurb
Beauty steps in every curve
Invitation in every nerve
The spring below and spring above
Your healing love
Goes away alas the days
Of dance in soul in warm sun rays
Goes away your ocean gaze
Life in a twilight haze
Your beautiful craze
Ah if I could have turned the clock
Holding your hand in a Gulmohar walk
Only our hands and feet would talk
Around the clock arm in arm
In your beauty and charm
Alas that is not to be a thing
Our time is as short as the spring
March 18, 2016
Butea Monosperma or Palash is a species of Butea native to tropical and sub-tropical parts of India and Asia.
Saraca asoca ( the ashoka tree, literally ‘sorrowless’), belongs to the Caesalpinioideae subfamily of legume family, of Indian sub continent.
Gulmohar or Delonix Regia, grown in many tropical parts of the world, called FLAMBOYANT in English, is a striking sight for its vivid red/vermilion/orange/yellow flowers and bright green foliage...Wikipedia
Copyright © Probir Gupta | Year Posted 2016
I flew once in a field, full of flowers,
a field that was kissed by April showers.
I tasted all the jasmines, as sweet as new,
I did bathe on a leaf in a little dew.
I was busy playing till the midnight,
I woke up and I was not sure of my sight.
I was a bird soaring as high as a hawk.
Flying like a wind, with wind had a talk.
I turned into a wind, and then to a cloud,
A dark and dim cloud that thundering loud.
I turned into the rain, after being cloud,
quenching the deserts with silvery shroud.
I turned into river, and then to a sea,
although, I was water, I learned how to see.
I turned into a fish perfectly aware,
knowing that my lover is surely out there.
Swimming like a fish, my world became cold,
I lost my will to live, too soon grown old.
I heard a nightingale calling me at night,
telling me, being a man, it could be alright.
I turned into a man, in search of wisdom,
hoping that love and peace, ruling the kingdom.
A lot of years have passed, with a broken heart,
I could not find the peace, I need a new start.
I will change back again, to look for my love;
maybe a lamb or sheep, maybe a white dove.
I will look everywhere, until it is found.
I know it’s there for me, if I look around.
Until then I’ll become laughter to a child,
or maybe dandelion who grow wild.
Copyright © Pashang Salehi | Year Posted 2016
I sit with the wall against my back. The wall refuses to move despite endless requests.
The door opens and closes its mouth, it wishes to say something, but nothing comes of it, only its letterbox chatters ceaselessly and without any deep meaning to it, drops hints every now and then.
The wall is annoyed with the door, but I am fed up with the noise. I stand to try and look out the window, but...
This place hushed in shadow. If only I can remember where I went this night, they did throw me in, away from light.
I roll up the walls like a Persian rug, smother the clatter of the metallic letterbox that tries to say goodbye in a thousand words. I hear its muffled apologies. I see a hundred neatly white, folded paper sheets fall at my feet, covered in coloured sentences.
I throw shadows at the wall, words at the door, colours at the ceiling; demons increase my estrangement in the small room, then the walls suddenly turn soft and white, my arms are bound behind my back.
Fog dissolves in faithful whispers. Demons grow faces and white clothes. Mouths with broad smiles talk in tongues (heard, understood), carry syringes and multi-coloured pills.
And day begins.
May 1, 2017
Copyright © Darren White
Copyright © Darren White | Year Posted 2017
As you left you stole my book
Before saying goodbye I stole your pen
I know in my book you hug my look
You know in your pen you come back again
March 27, 2016
Copyright © Probir Gupta | Year Posted 2016
I have been erased
I speak yet have no voice
Darkness I embrace
Invisible to the mirror
Into society I peer
no one sees
what does not exist
Asleep or awake
there is no existence to partake
Possessions collecting dust
While what does not exist rusts
Who am I, that never existed
That bleeds but never lived
Murdered by love
I do not exist
Copyright © arthur vaso | Year Posted 2017
Looked out my window,
and saw a wondrous sight
Two cardinals in flight,
Perfect mid-air pirouettes,
spiraling higher and higher
Two winged bodies in motion as one
They reminded me of you and I,
when we danced on the clouds,
among the stars that night
We fell in love that night,
sky dancing with you was sheer delight
We felt light as a feather,
floating above the trees
Our eyes gazing into each other eyes,
falling in love, rising higher
on a summer breeze through the skies
We danced so close together
until the morning sunrise
Night turning into day,
as we danced the night away
I never wanted to come down that night,
wishing with all my might
we could dance in the air again
Today, I looked out my window,
and saw a beautiful sight ...
two love birds sky dancing
in the sunlight
Copyright © Freddie Robinson Jr. | Year Posted 2017
I sat beneath a Veteran-oak,
In awe of His strength—
Here was a solid spirit!
Sympathy you get from Willow,
But stiff upper-lip from old soldiers,
With forged bark —
His limbs flexed, cut, rippled against the wind…
No chinks in this warrior-wood…
“Divide and Conquer!”
Then I thought of my Father—
A cook at the end of the war—The Big One!
You know the One I mean, as if there are small ones—
When the commanders were through eating
He was instructed to toss the leftovers
From the belch of plates—
Trashcans were in the alley,
The steel that seems intrinsic to battles
In one form or another—
The hungry German children
Would sneak pass the guards
My father would sneak pass his superiors
And his honor
To dispense carefully wrapped scraps…
Well, soon the line was out into the street
As my father was compelled to seek food
From wherever he could steal, beg or barter
To procure—This brought attention—the cat-out-of-the-bag,
And all hell down on my father,
As the captain screamed: Gus, these are the enemy (the children in the alley),
What in God’s Name are you doing?
He was forced to stop—no Court Marshal though…
I looked up again at the old oak,
Through the snarled branches
Deep into the staunch soldier,
Where I spied a nest
In a small, compact fork—
Having a canopy of extra leaves
For shade and shelter from the wind—
His bark reddened, but like my father, no apology from this weathered soldier…
Copyright © Joe DiMino | Year Posted 2016
It was getting dark... and cold so
I needed to hurry-up and get there.
I was running late so I took a shortcut
through an alley to get to the other
street before dark. The alley was
very narrow and as I passed a dumpster
I stumbled over a man napping.
It didn’t wake him so I stopped...tapped
his shoulder...he awoke...then spoke;
where have you been?
Sir, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to disturb you.
Sure you did…you tapped me
on the shoulder didn’t you?
Well sir… actually I tripped over your…
- never-mind sir, are you alright?
Sure, I’m alright…I dozed-off waiting?
Waiting...waiting for me?
Sure, you’re Bob aren’t you?
Yes, how did you know?
Well I’m Lucius and you’re dead.
What?…I’m not dead.
Sure you are…walk back and look. You’re still
lying in the street where that car hit you...
you were in too much of a hurry to get
to wherever you were going.
I walked back and there I lay.
I turned back to where he was sitting.
Lucius, I don’t feel dead.
Don’t worry…you will soon enough.
Well, where do I go from here?
You’re not going anywhere Bob…you're there.
But Lucius, it’s really cold out here.
Well Bob, I’ll build a fire...I’m very good at that.
My Best James Tate
Copyright © Mark Massey | Year Posted 2016
Shadows dance behind her silver eyes
The ghost of her beauty struggling to show
A crimson rose amid the rage of thorns
Seemingly pure like the white of snow
Such a stupor of silence hangs above her
But it loses the battle in her mind
The silver key trembling in her ghostly finger
Attempting to lock up the heart inside
Never meant to be open, delicately curled
Her petals shouldn't seem foreign anymore
So she dances, silencing the screaming thorns
Leaving the key, now crimson, on the floor
Copyright © Juli- Michelle | Year Posted 2016
The Pied Piper from New York City – Part Two
This is quite despicable and very inappropriate for someone holding the
“Highest Office in Our Land.” The Pied Piper hides his treachery by
Wrapping himself in the glory of the “Stars and Stripes.” Talk about
True shame! He should look in the mirror!
The “Forgotten Man” who represents those who fell prey to the inflated
Promises and mindless propaganda of The Pied Piper, should not at all
Be surprised later when they suddenly discover—they’ve been “had,”
Sadly, forgotten by their Pied Piper,
Replete with his famous Trademark Attributes:
A shrill-accusatory voice.
The Pied Piper, as new-style politician, is also mired in some other
key controversies with his family that are worth mentioning.
Since coming to Washington, DC and ascending to the White House
on January 20, 2017:
The Pied Piper and his family have viewed the nation’s capital and
the people’s house as,
“Juicy Plums—Ripe for the Picking!”
And, the Pied Piper’s various plans and actions since his ascension
to the presidency are certainly not done necessarily in favor of the
American people—if at all!
Characteristically, he enjoys playing to people’s “Fears,” rather
than taking the higher road that any good leader would do, by
appealing to the “Better Angels of Their Nature.” For sure, an
Abraham Lincoln, he’s not, nor shall he ever be!
Indeed, the Piped Piper has done some very naughty things,
among others, already to his credit and ignominy:
His poorly-conceived and implemented Muslim travel ban.
Playing “Chicken” with the U.S. Congress on the state and
quality of American healthcare.
Using the White House as his own personal ATM machine.
Becoming the “Patron Saint of Nepotism” with the inclusion
of select family members on his staff. (What’s wrong with a
little nepotism, eh?)
Engulfed in multiple business conflicts of interest, both foreign
Revelations of potential collusion with Russia and Russian
surrogates to interfere with the 2016 presidential election.
Blatant violations of the Emoluments Clause of the U.S.
And he’s just now quashed executive branch protection of the
DACA Dreamer Immigrant Program.
All these very naughty things are: tragic, thoughtless, sad, stupid,
and grossly reprehensible!
With all this, I now rest my case!
Yet, I would like to encourage everyone to reflect for a
critical moment on “The Fragile Nature of Democracy.”
“Democracy,” itself, has been viewed and likened to:
“That Most Precious Fabergé Egg.”
We all must devoutly cherish this most precious Fabergé Egg
And protect it always from the unscrupulous actions of the
Pied Pipers of the World!
For us to do otherwise—would be unforgivable!
Need I say more?
Gary Bateman, Copyright © All Rights Reserved
September 7, 2017 (Political Verse)
Copyright © Gary Bateman | Year Posted 2017