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AS IF MY LIFE DEPENDS ON IT by Gauthier, Line
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As if she rose with the sun by Sands, Heidi
As if to remind me by CHOLT, W.A.
As if I had seen the fear in his eyes by Gauthier, Line
Cursed as if Invisible by Koch, Hailey
As If To Find You There by Showalter Swift, Ingrid
Constantly Living days As If They Were Nights by Crisci, Andrew
As If by Levy, Barry
spelling the tree as if it was me by Hester , Savanah

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The Best As If Poems

Details | As If Poem | Create an image from this poem.

Where The Sycamore Grew

The sun-yellow house seems smaller somehow,
regarding it now,  with our time-worn eyes...

The street seems narrower, and the trees are taller..
Where once open fields spanned both sides of the road
there are new tract houses, and fences have bloomed
The neighboring orchards have all been removed

But somehow we knew the house would remain....
As if seen from a distance, ...yet, so much is the same

There's a rusty-red tricycle, and a skate left behind
from someone's small child, that tomorrow will find.
They wait near the pavers that wind to the door
It's a path that we laid on a hot summer day...
in front of this house that sits at the bend
near the end of the road, where the sycamore grew...

As suddenly as wind will spring from the dust
thirty years fell away, and flew into in the past
And quickly alive, all the memories rise, 
     like a whirlwind of leaves, in a springtime of lives.....
_____ 

...Our first Christmas trees,. and our first holidays...
    Anniversaries we spent with just pizza and wine

 The place where I cried long into the night, 
  as the child in me grieved for a mother who died...

 Long, starry nights, I was bathed by the moon
                    rocking my babes to a lullaby tune
_____

Yes....it is all captured there, in the small yellow house
Our very first house, with the snow-white shutters

Strange, it may be, but I'm glad it's still yellow...
Still wearing the face of the warm summer sun 

The sun- yellow house, with a flagstone path
Where old slate stones bring the sun to the door
It's a path we laid on a warm summer day
in a place that we knew as our very first home
 
Just a small yellow house, with snow-white shutters...
that sits 'round the bend, where the sycamore grew...


                                       _________



Copyright © Carrie Richards | Year Posted 2009


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A Cathartic Weave Of Three

Listen to poem:
listen, the whispers of leaves turn colour autumn is here. now that you are gone who will wake every morn to lift the sun unveil the sky etch in the clouds who will paint the rainbow? i had a dream and in the dream i wove you a poem i used the fiber of my character to create spools of silken thread dipped in the juices of my passion i dyed them in the colors of my imagination re-enforced each and every single strand with the strength of my love touch, the echoes of the rain - waters - blossoms spring. now that 'us' is just a word no longer with you as one i alone wind up metal toys cut out paper dolls the beach swept from under my feet the child in me flees. spun spools from the intricacy of my spirit designed a pattern to the rhythm of the music of my inner thoughts enamoured in your vision crystal beads gather on my brow as i toil your finely bred gift as i braid every part of me with every memory into every sliver of fabric taste, uncut snow shapes crisp cold ices the wintertide. instead now rusted a fools gold chain of loneliness hangs around my neck like a noose mourns a union that once had breath a twosome that now is dead. see, the sand sculptures paint rekindle a childhood summer past. sew in the loving glow emits my flawless dreams with my boiling blood initial my woven piece my work at an end i awake you lay there a wingless angel asleep smiling as if you heard a bell ring your boundless warmth embraces me the moon no longer smiles the stars no longer wink smell, seasonal airs stimulates senses memories they deliver. without a touch barely - i kiss you. in this my decade of one hope is a wickless candle the night just day without light in the glee, hopes and dreams, in the human spirit, lives the miracle of life. magnificent voices in every pitch deep and resounding, the melody of echoes and whispers – uncut. Jan 4 2017 With Love Armand


Copyright © Maurice Yvonne | Year Posted 2017


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A Long Loud Sigh

genius?
sometimes you are in its minimal spotted light...sometimes!
other times you just know you've been touched and you freeze,
moved but frozen...like a stranger it moves in, does its work and leaves.

...maybe it's been a while since you two spoke...
when the dead sea still hosted life,
the hanging gardens of babylon grew in sinc with the breath of the planet,
before the tower of pisa started to lean or mayan buildings were in ruin.

so you write words...any words...they might at least soothe your hurt
hold your heart in a protective shield.
you know how crippling unrequited love can be.
do you still dream of its hug...genius?

life and love share more than a first letter
(like the first letter you wrote under the veil of inspiration).
they also share good and evil...it's a flip of the coin.
either way is fine with you. you'd bathe in holy water or sell your soul.
life, love...passion...somewhere in there...it lives, genius.

all of nature a reflection through its transparent figure glows dark 
like the shadows live in the radiant illumination of evening rays.

so let me speak of us!
recently when i tried to hold you...
you were like a ghost in the bright of day,
a phantom out of its element...
there was nothing of you...i could embrace.
when i tried to enter you a freezing cold ran through me like a winter brook.
you exhaled me 
as if i were fog on a deserted country road invisible to absent eyes.
still you were my drug of choice.
addicted, i chased the dragon...you...genius.

memories fill me...
days when we would paint words,
stitch in a metaphor or two,
weave in music, 
write instruments to fill in the spaces,
ordain a voice.

i remember...

you wanted to taste me
i was overwhelmed 
how you put your fingers on my lips 
how you licked them...you...genius.

you were that giant pine i would climb in the dead of winter
(why do they say that "the dead of winter"? winter will die 
when hell freezes over. winter isn't death it's purgatory.)
the one with the needles that punctures human skin.

come to me again and touch me...
like the butterfly does the wind...barely but thoroughly.
(is it true that just a tiny flutter of their wings could be 
the start of a hurricane? are the icebergs melting?)
i didn't just write that out loud...did i...with you I'm shy...genius.

GENIUS?

fine!
hide.
don't show yourself.
don't speak to me.
fine!

don't bother with rising the sun today.
forget those showers you create your magic arc with,
vacuum away all the plants.
lower your wall of blue.
i'm not interested anymore in those pillowy shapes i use to love so.

i've always known it is fire that cleanses, water that burns,
it is the moon that breaks the heart,
the stars that slaps the face...with...i don't know...reality.
i've always known by the time we see a star...
in real time...it's already extinguished...already dead.

it is our friends that will use us...our heroes that will lie to our face...
our blood will betray our trust...our teachers will fail us...
our leaders treat us like just another job...
the devout that will exhibit hatred.

still i believe. no matter what else...the rose will always survive.
the petals deceiving. they will repel all that is unholy.
grab it by the neck and squeeze out its black ooze,
leaving a gentle soul there to admire its adversary.
don't even get me started on the orchid
or even the flowers all...alphabetically.

i dare confront the beauty of nature's art unframed...
canvas loose to admire...genius!

i miss you but i am out of tears.
do drop in though. 
i can offer you a cup of dry warmth...
soothing like burning logs that crackle with laughter.

or 

take you to my secret place.
behind the camouflage of forests dense,
where vines grow through spiral staircases 
made of turtle shells and dressed in discarded snake skins.
green is the theme there. it is everywhere,
unabridged, unabated, unaffected, undisturbed 
with a fuming, burning, yearning to be touched.
so let's...let's grab...hold...squeeze..
feel free from the cheap paradigm offered.

i don't think you know, even while you sleep, i hold your hand, genius.

dream a full rainbow on a fingernail moon night,
feel february twenty ninth its absolute might,
taste fully the slight of a pheasant in flight,
yearn eternal life, wish a vampire's bite,
concoct rhymes nicely fluffed with built in sight.

genius?
on this sombre morning the sun is blinding.
damn my eyes.
there is a negative entity drapes our children's world.
shame on us...shame on you...i need you.
i am reduced to an objective observer.
life glides on the little wings of its carrier,
its final resting point in the hands of the wind.
another life carried away on a worker bee,
busy stealing nectar from a succulent bud.
a stowaway hangs on for dear life to the flyers leg.
gets off at the next flower.
meets up with a companion to create a new life.

genius?,
everything changed when I met you.
was the sun rising or the mountain sinking.
was that an orange globe against a blue sky
or a lit round hole in a sad wisp of air.

i'll play a keyless piano if you'll paint me a horizon I can reach.
i'll sing you a ballad with a single note...

i walked into my life without consideration.
maybe crawled.
all the same...
when do I get a choice.
when will they stop holding death over my head.

if i could direct a few more plays with you as my guide...
my art, my life! genius i long for your influence...
even one last time to see your face, 
unite and give you one last kiss...goodnight.




April 1 2015
Maurice Yvonne
Sponsor: Linda
Contest Name:A Million Dollar Poem








Copyright © Maurice Yvonne | Year Posted 2015


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One Brief Moment

Look...See how long nights are drawing in.
Dreary birdsong gradually abates -
Opaque dusk grows dim;
And just outside the creaky little garden
Gate,
Stood opposite the empty wood
Where the vacant threshold silently awaits,
I pause, when, resonating quietly back...
I now hear...
Far distant echoes of my glorious childhood 
Tugging like a Siren upon my ear.


With a heartfelt pang I turn to move,
Before my staring should offend some 
Old friends ghost
To manifest in vengeful affright,
Towards the comforting sanctuary proffered
By the warm kitchens weak neon light...
That sneaks out from behind the half-shut
Door,
But held - Transfixed! 
Brought from wither-not-where to this one
Small place - Staid...
As if caught in a state of heavenly grace,
Conversing to the soft wind in harmonious 
Angelic rapport:-
Thus soothes like enchantments waves...
Rolling gently up to repeatedly break upon 
Magical banks girdling Nivians lakeshore.


For what be this odd muse 
That upon my aging senses does so readily
Enthuse...
And to my inner soul so inextricably
Implore?
Ahhh...But this much I may be allowed to 
Say,
Before darkly gathering skies extinguish 
Over weak flames of the last spluttering
Ray,
Perhaps it is our inner voice
That seeks out the solitudes of 
Tranquilities choice -
To witness and record and dutifully store...
Those rare and fleeting moments 
We all too briefly adore.



Copyright © john fleming | Year Posted 2016


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Love in the Silence of the Soul




As a young boy
Sitting in a pew
The winter darkness pressing down
Candlelight waves from hidden drafts
Shadows danced on the walls

I heard the words destined to me
“Be still . . . know that I am God”
So I listen  . . . eyes open
“The Passion of Christ”
I was gone . . . 

I saw eyes . . . 
Judas under the olive trees - Gethsemane
His eyes  . . . cold, darting  . . . filled with manic evil
Torchlights hissing  . . . turning eyes yellow
Then a kiss and chaos erupts
I closed my eyes  . . . suddenly afraid

Now I see a set of eyes  . . . filled with burning hate
A High Priest screaming . . .    B-L-A-S-S-P-H-E-M-Y ! ! ! ! !
All around ugly eyes staring with dripping contempt
Old men spitting with bared rotting teeth
Then I noticed . . . and . . . 
And my heart ached . . . 
Jesus . . . standing quietly with closed eyes

Then we were off to Roman authority -- Pontius Pilate
I saw his slanted eyes . . . squinting as if too much sunlight
Loud voices yelling outside . . .  “Crucify him!”
In my heart, I cursed these people – but his eyes
His eyes were dark, soft – forgiving
A hand washing and we are walking . . . 

To a hillside, a place called Golgotha – the skull
Empty eye sockets . . . a place of death
The eyes of soldiers hard, focused  . . . 
Spikes, woods – his sad eyes burning my heart
Closing my eyes, I heard a sharp gasp . . . soldiers yelling
“Lift”

As I opened my eyes – I was looking out with his eyes
We were seeing the same things
Angry faces with eyes of burning ashes
Taunting and jeering – a wave of hysteria hitting us
I heard and felt a deep groan 
Fear gripping me – I knew instantly we needed to go
Now!

Men, women, soldiers, slaves, leaders, teachers 
Eyes filled with blood lust
Evil, hatred . . . . I can’t breath
Death coming with the darkness
Jesus!        Can’t you see . . . 
Then I heard him whisper
 “Father, forgive them, they know not what they do.”

My heart sank realizing with horror
Jesus is staying . . . dying
I felt his purposeful breathing
Muscles, bones, joints aching with a searing pain
My eyes filled with tears

I saw another set of bloodshot eyes
A voice next to me yelling
“If you’re the Christ, get down from the cross
And take me too!  Let’s go!”
NO, NO!!!  . . . What is he saying
Those are my words – I am sick
My stomach seizes  . . . guilt fills me
I close my eyes

Another voice – on our right speaks
“Lord, remember me . . . “
Jesus painfully turns, twisting his body . . . looking . . . 
He sees blue eyes – my eyes
I am hanging next to Jesus
“Today you will be with me in Paradise”

We were one – together . . . one body
Now separate crosses . . . I feel crushed by loneliness
But his words . . . “Paradise” . . . “today”
He loves me – I see him looking at me
His eyes illuminating my soul . . . it hurts
I tried crying out – I love you . . . 
But only a sob squeaks out

Gravity pulling down pulling down
Eyes straining against the pain
Joints and ribs stretching . . .  popping
Chest heaving for each breath
Body convulsing against wood
Head back . . . eyes wide open . . . he screams
“My God! My God! Why have you forsaken me?”

No one answers . . . surprised eyes
In my tears I felt the agony of the cross
The bleakness . . .  hell
Dead eyes

Back in the pew
I heard the preacher 
“He died for you”
What . . . why . . . no . . . 
No, I don’t want you dead
Jesus?

                       .
                       .
                       .

Hey, wait for me – slow down
Running hard, breathing deeply
I stuck my head in empty tomb – hum??? . . . . 
I sat quietly next to Mary Magdalene . . . wondering
The gardener spoke – “Mary”
But he was looking at me – bright eyes
He said . . . “David”
“David, I love you”

Yes!!  Woo Hoo . . . 
Look at me . . . I am dancing
With shinning eyes 
“I love you too”
“I love you”
“Lord Jesus”
“I do”









David Meade
02/22/2015

Love Generously


Copyright © David Meade | Year Posted 2015


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The Ballad of the Poet

*The Dead Poet*

Many blocks along the road, 
Kicking down walls of heavy stones, 
Yet no one could draw through the walls of her lonely bones.
A poet who could not write what's inside. 
Her pen had gone ink dry. 
Her beady eyes lost the feel of an angelic realm.
She tried! 
She tried until she could no longer cry!
A poet who stuttered with the mind and out came no words.
This poet hangs on a mound with a picture that tells a sad tale.
A poem that broke verses in a Carpe diem dream.
She ruffled her arms once more as if she could fly.
Still nothing, 
Everything felt dead inside. 

Trap in a mental state that clots the willing vein.
Isolating her form in a room with no door.
She stays this away from the feel of the marvel pen.
To never go back, and feel again.

In the most ominous way,
She lets out a cry, 
A cry, never heard before. 
Running from this evil, that stain her world. 
 
Words buried deep and behind a new exterior box, 
Her insides grasp all the air of airs once alive. 
A talon drop into the next,
This troublesome poet gave up on everything. 
Had nothing left, but the empty space within. 

Next!
She curls herself into a fetal world.
At last, she closes her eyes, to feel no more.
A poet who died the day, joy wiped the glee from her face.

by;PD


Copyright © Poet Destroyer A | Year Posted 2013


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I want your SEEDS

**"And his name was Jack"**

No one perceives what abides above the clouds. 
A giant, a harp, maybe golden eggs. 
I demand to see and feel before I believe. 
A castle, a dream…. I want the magic beans!!!
~~~

I'm the daughter of a farmer. 
I have a donkey to ride, a story to tell.
“Jack and the Beanstalk” my favorite tale. 
 
Once upon, a morbid dawn. 
I inhale a tiny simple yawn
Like the morning sun levitating over the farm,
I rise towards the village square to sell my ass
Along the open path, my ass and I desired a drink. 
Near the rustic river, 
I'd seen an old Englishman, sitting on a log. 
It looked as if time was approaching his brink. 
In his hand, he had a sack.
A bag, a bag, embroil of ivory and black. 
His eyes were not from this ground. 
His body fragile - it uttered a moaning sound.
He was of dirt. 
I was pure. 
He pledged his life to me. 
I debated .... with many thoughts, 
Although his eyes... 
My eyes... Will never meet again.
"I want what's in the bag!"

In a gasp, he whispers, 
"I'll give you anything for that ass.
my legs and bones can’t hold up on their own!”
I knelt down to where he sat 
Smelling his essence of rot
I reached forward and grabbed his baggage 
He griped, "This bag is all I got!" 
 
I answered, "And this sir is a fine ASS!" 
He replied, "I have no cash." 
Scowling at him, “NO I want your demon seeds!" 
My blood grew thin... 
Inhaling and exhaling  - his sin 
The old man all shriveled and timeworn, 
Proposed the birthright of the seeds. 
"Yes, plant them! Plant them!" 
I cried excitedly! 
He pat the field. 
Said "there I am done, 
now clock as it expands"
 
To breed this story short... 
He dispenses his seeds. 
AND, I GAVE HIM MY ASS. 
 
  BY;PD   


Copyright © Poet Destroyer A | Year Posted 2013


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The Clouds

"HOLDING HIS HAND"

*The Voice*
God, can I hold your hand and follow you?

"Gods voice"
My child, it is I who will walk with you! You walked down my path with and without faith. You took my protection to ease your pain. My shielded wings comfort you during your moments of suffering while your life staggered across earth. Your love and devotion are what made you strong. Every time your dreams were broken. You managed to build more dreams in their place. You called my name during your happiest and saddest moments. You ran to me when you fell behind. Your secrets became our private talks. The key to your heart was always unlocked. I was there during your trials and troubles and tribulations. We could not speak, it was my light that kept you from going weak.

=voice=
God, are you a dream of beauty? The holy book.
My preacher spoke of the afterlife, calling it paradise. 
I remember now, I felt this company once before, this light.
Many times, I forsake the light and still you never left my door.
I felt it on the day I was born, 
the day I became baptized in your holy name. 
I felt this light before, can you explain it once more? 
Lord pleases clarify the day I fell down to my knees, accepted Jesus as my savior? 
On that day, I felt as if you stood away and walked on by, allowing me to face my  failures’.  
Was my life a waste in this impossible world?"

"Gods voice" 
My child, this is the everlasting light you will feel every time your body is re-born onto a new road.  This light never left you. 
My sweet child did you not listen, 
Matthew *19:26* MY SON looked at them and said, "With man this is impossible, but with ME all things are possible. 
My child, you were not searching for the right answers.

=voice= 
My Lord everyone told me if I prayed you would come. Did I not pray enough?

"Gods voice"
My child sometimes your heart asked for more than life itself,  
I always answered even when you shunned heaven away from your eyes?
The obvious question is whether this is the final immersing of your soul's disguises.

=voice= 
Lord, I have other questions to ask. 
What should I expect out of my personal sins? 
My testimonial sits in the palm of your hand
My mind and my heart's inner core have been wicked since- adolescence
How is it that I am in your promise land?

"Gods voice"
Getting right with me has brought you here!

=voice= 
One more question, Heavenly Father
Can I see them,
   My Daughter, Mothers, Sisters, family, and friends?



Copyright © Poet Destroyer A | Year Posted 2012


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PINK LACE

**Every pace change --is the voices of poets sharing his/her Ribbon** 

"PINK LADIES"  
  
The phone rings, 
The clock dings,

I scream, scream, and scream:

I can’t grasp what is real
I can’t inhale the lives you steal
This game is like murder in the first degree,
I can barely feel the words you're expressing.
Your hand, holding on to mine as if it was the last
I crawl I hide behind these moonstone walls
There it stood and stole my Womanhood
Pink is the ointment rubbed inside my diary.
---

I crawl- I remember-
Looking for a dream, where the women wear combat boots
Women ready to kill all confrontation with nukes.
---

I was lost!
Do you know the feeling?
Once you hear, the “C” word your mind starts spinning,
You can’t see what’s going on,
Your smiles soon to be gone,
---

LOOK AT ME!
On this fright night, I bleed
Hold on tight, of the dead of this night
I’m down on my fallen knees,
A secret I can't keep, no longer need
Breaking backs when I mention the word “C.”
It is like getting struck by a freight train
Taking what belong and makes ME me! 
Forgetting the Pink October ribbons, I wore
Taking  time to weave them into the last strand of my red chemo hair.
---

Now here you are,
Standing on the chest
Heavy shoulders a violin press.
No longer needing the little black dress
Skin pink tight leather, now you caress
My eyes are full of tears
Once I discovered the beast came back without fear 
The news blew like a missile in heat
With a fire’s shooting out from the dark
Sweltering me, blazing me,
Leaving the world, all ribbon tied.
Dimples and pretty lips, I drop the world with beauty and tissues. 
Filled with  pink ivory issues 
This is the way that I feel, I am real… 
You are a killer, you are a disease! 
You sit there and shatter our lives,
With many of us, you’ll discover we do not break like glass 
Still, we walk in high heels strolling through pink valley skies.
With a charm called a Pink Ribbon; -I WORE-
---

- A heavy pink scarf now I wear like a noose, 
Remembering my days have been numbered 
---

I PLEAD FOR MY LIFE?
I have no family to lean on
Everybody’s plus my mother is gone
You are the undead: 
Leading some of us into a watery grave
You are like a jack in the box
Hiding until you are found… 
You’re silent until your jobs done...

You made us angry, you made us cry, you killed many…
However, you will never come close to a glorious ~Victory~ 
We are  “PINK LADIES,” who  continue to be strong
I will find a way to sew my chest back to its caressing view!

One day will find the cure,
And, destroy YOU "The miserable ‘Breast Cancer’ Disease" 
"ONCE AND FOR ALL!"


by; PD

Dedicated to all the females of the world. 
((And men whose life touched by this disease))


Copyright © Poet Destroyer A | Year Posted 2012


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NATURES WONDERFUL GARDEN

NATURE’S WONDERFUL GARDEN

Nature’s wonderful garden in display
display of autumn colours in array
array of beauty to share in delight
delight of birds in a picturesque sight.
Sight of swans as they fly above the ground
ground that is covered by leafs as if gowned
gowned by a blanket of colourful hue
hue of earth moistened by a misty dew.
Dew that reflects sunlights shimmering light
light that wakes up into a morning bright
Bright is the dawn as a new day ascends
ascends to where the earth and heaven blends.
Nature and seasons in a divine bliss
bliss of life and beauty to reminisce.

T.J Grén

March 2016
My first attempt at writing a chained sonnet.


Copyright © Teppo Gren | Year Posted 2016


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The End

The End

Seeing through these cold dead eyes now,
This world looks much different.

The scars of one’s life entire,
Appear now for all to see.

What once meant everything,
Really means nothing now.

I still see and sense things mortal,
But the earthly world can’t hear my words. 

Lying on an ice-cold white slab this darkest night,
I see the pale yellow moon’s sad face in the sky.

With visions of people who’ve crossed over before,
I wonder when Charon shall finally appear?

Shall it be him who appears on this new horizon?
Or shall it be someone or something else?

The everyday mortal world moves on as before:
Regardless of one’s wealth, poverty, fame, shame, infamy.

I guess now all the ancient mysteries of the universe,
Shall become obvious and answered in kind.

I wonder what shall be said to me and the reception?
Thumbs up or thumbs down—I guess I shall find out.

The pale yellow moon now appears brighter . . . 
As if a special message cometh soon from a winged angel.

Hope this helps to answer my lingering questions . . .
As the dark void from the mortal world grows greater now.

I feel a gentle tug pulling me upward now from Earth’s grasp,
Into the majestic arms of infinity and into God’s eternal light!        

Gary Bateman, Copyright © All Rights Reserved,
June 12, 2016 (Lyric)


Copyright © Gary Bateman | Year Posted 2016


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Snow -a Sleep

Snow - a sleep descending on the twilight streets; Snow, in silent fields you lie pristine beneath moon’s glow, a blanket shimmering. Oblivion serene! Tranquilly envelop me in Sleep - a snow; the more you fall, the deeper that I go under. Oh, sweet Slumber, suffocate with pearly flakes those of us the weary that repose, long time having waited like the windrows. As Boreas does blow, lull and bury all in drifting, dreamy snow.
Writer's Statement: In this poem, I have gone ahead and given a title that shows both the theme of nature and what it is a metaphor of. I think it just "sounds" better to write "Snow-a sleep" and then in the second half, I reverse it and write "Sleep - a snow." I think of sleep as a wonderful time when we can totally let go of our tensions and relax as if we were beneath "moon's glow" in "a blanket shimmering" We literally are under our blankets when we sleep, and in the same way that snow covers the ground, our dreams are blanketing us in "oblivion serene." In the middle of the poem, I liken "falling to sleep"to when snow keeps falling and falling and we, like falling snow, go "deeper" into slumber. I like the sound of "sweet Slumber" together, and so I address sleep that way toward the end of this poem. In the same way that snow buries the ground, the "pearly flakes" of sleep can "lull and bury all in drifting, dreamy snow."


Copyright © Andrea Dietrich | Year Posted 2015


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If Only I Could Love You

If I could love you, I’d love you strong
with the strength of a million dreams  
my rains would flood you with passion
my storms, blow every leaf from your tree
leaving you bare 
so you’d share your soul with me  

If I could love you the way you deserve 
I’d search you as if searching for answers
to all the questions that are left unasked
I’d pursue you like dawn chases night, 
relentlessly 
reach into your shadows,
explore you completely 

If I could love you, I’d love you so deeply 
your heart would beat wildly with my whispers 
my desires would fill your every need 
your heart would hunger for no one but me  

I’d love you with vigorous colors
of rainbows and sunsets and vivid skies 
My light would bring you to your knees -
then maybe I could show you 
all the beauty in you that I see 

I'd show you how to set that beauty free ~
If only I could love you <3

 


Copyright © Becca Teagan | Year Posted 2018


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The Stone

The Tale below was carved one night,
Upon the Stone, by candlelight
...most won’t believe, but some just might
.........most won’t believe, but some just might



.                         Preface

Well James made Beth his lovely bride
(And angels smiled, though teary eyed)
...their bodies bound, their spirits tied
.........their bodies bound, their spirits tied

Upon her hand, a shimmer shone,
As bright as blood, a ruby Stone 
...and brighter still, as love had grown
.........and brighter still, as love had grown

Soon James was sent to man a sail
So Beth removed her wedding veil
...her eyes were bright, her face was pale
.........her eyes were bright, her face was pale

“Well, I’ll be here when you return”
Said Beth to James, who kissed in turn
...a kiss that made her body burn
.........a kiss that made her body burn



.                         BETH’S TALE

1.              The Dream
One night, within a dream deformed,
The cawing of a Crow informed
“...a Ship was stripped where winter stormed
.........a Ship was stripped where winter stormed

Midst winds and waves the thunder boomed
The Ship of Death was surely doomed
...the sea engulfed, the sea entombed
.........the sea engulfed, the sea entombed

Your James... denied by Davy Jones!
His spirit gone, his flesh and bones
...are resting now amongst the Stones
.........are resting now amongst the Stones”



2.               The Quest

Awoken by the ebon Wight
And beckoned by the baneful bight
...I left before the morning light
.........I left before the morning light

Throughout the realm I rode a roan
Until, in time, I reached the Stone
...where shades and dreams in darkness groan 
.........where shades and dreams in darkness groan 

While skipping up and down the sky
A missing moonbeam mocked my eye
...enough to make a Swallow cry
.........enough to make a Swallow cry

For someone stole a star or two
And something else that fate withdrew –
...my jewel of joy, my James Bijou   
.........my jewel of joy, my James Bijou

The shadows of the evening swelled
Where demons of the dusk had dwelled
...and in the far, a vesper knelled
.........and in the far, a vesper knelled

The Stone, beneath the sky, stood cold –
Between the runes, a vapour strolled
...a cloak of fleecy fog consoled
.........a cloak of fleecy fog consoled

A Raven on a branch, enthroned,
Her wings waved once, a wail intoned
...beyond the bay, a banshee moaned
.........beyond the bay, a banshee moaned

I lay beside the Stone, his bride
I lay beside the Stone and cried
...but were it I, instead, that died
.........but were it I, instead, that died

The rainbow of the moon fell dim
A midnight Swan soon ceased to swim
...as if to hide all hint of him
.........as if to hide all hint of him

Between the willows in the swale
There sang a Bird, a Nightingale
...which left me faint and feeling frail
.........which left me faint and feeling frail



3.              Contact

I felt him breathe within a breeze
Responding to my anguished pleas
...and leaves blew by abandoned trees
.........and leaves blew by abandoned trees

“I miss you too, my darling Beth”
Re-echoed from the Ship of Death
...the future buried in a breath
.........the future buried in a breath
	
The Stone lit up a ruby sheen
And clouds were kindled crystalline
...with consequences, unforeseen
.........with consequences, unforeseen

Above, the wretched Raven soared
To where the Ship of Death lay moored
...beneath, the icy ocean roared
.........beneath, the icy ocean roared



4.               Release

I’m joined with James beneath the Stone,
Though to the Ship my spirit’s flown,
...for nevermore to be alone
.........for nevermore to be alone



.                         Epilogue

That night the wayward winds were weird 
The Ship of Death had disappeared
...coyotes called and mortals feared
.........coyotes called and mortals feared

At dusk, the craven shadows crawled
At dawn, the winds of mourning called
...upon the Stone two names were scrawled
.........upon the Stone two names were scrawled

The Raven sits, with wings outspread,
Atop the Stone which shades the dead
...it sometimes shimmers ruby red
.........it sometimes shimmers ruby red



.                         Epitaph

Between the sounds, where silence seeps,
Their love lives on and never sleeps
...and yet, the weeping willow weeps
.........and yet, the weeping willow weeps



inspired by ~fc~

DEFINITIONS
Wight (obsolete): a supernatural being, creature
Bight: a bay or gulf
Swale: a moist depression in a tract of land


Copyright © Terry O'Leary | Year Posted 2013


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The sacred art of dying

darkness come caress me now
and as I die I weep
my body lies here limp and 
cold 
I prepare myself for eternal 
sleep
a million miles of starry skies 
to me they look like sparkling 
eyes 
that come to watch me die
but then they're blocked from 
my view 
by a deity with soft black wings
i know he's here to comfort 
me
though death is what he brings 
it's odd 
it feels as though he loves me 
he strips my clothes away
his wings caress me now as he 
holds me 
and we begin to sway
he holds me close to his chest
as a mother holds her child
sheltering me as i leave 
the wicked and the wild
and i can succumb 
because now i feel so weak
then i see a tear 
fall from his eyes and wet my 
Cheek
it's over now he kisses me 
he longs to taste my breath
and as if he longed for more 
he sucks it from my chest
his lips linger over mine 
for he knows when he pulls 
away
the fire in me that screamed to 
life 
will not see another day
Darkness come caress me now 
and as i die he weeps
and now that i feel no longer 
scared
he lulls me off to sleep

 


Copyright © joanna smith | Year Posted 2010


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I Think Of You - After The Fall - 5

I could have cried like a bride at a funeral
Bled out, dry. I could have but I was already
dehydrated...I

i think of you

I wish someone could turn the 
moon back on, turn the dimmer back up
on the stars. I can't stand these dark 
black nights void of even one tiny ray 
of light. I am tired of walking blind through
the evenings of my everyday life...I

i think of you

Yesterday I dreamt the night sky exploded.
Bright white pinholes of light appeared .
It was as if an invisible hand was holding a huge 
Fourth of July sparkler against a waterfall of black gold.
I watched the oil well blaze. The whole Earth was on fire.
The world was burning hot. Without fear I walked through 
the flames warm, comforted as if I was being held in his light...I

i think of you

Still in the grip of my sleep suddenly an ocean appears.
its water rises and shapes itself like the head of a dragon.
Its neck is shaped like a Chinese silk fan. At the same time 
it is just a huge wave. The kind surfers expect to find in heaven.
There is nothing threatening about this apparition.
Quite the opposite like the fire it feels as if it is a part of me...I

i think of you

Do I miss you? 
Miss you? I died with you! 
There's a knock at my door but I'm not here.
Life's going to have to wait. I'm in hiding.
I feel safe inside my walls. In reality my bedroom light
is all the outdoors I need. It is my Sun. I hate here without you. 
So I lie in my bed motionless starring into my nothingness and I...

i think of you

(Frozen!)

As time passes...introspective...I begin to understand.
The earth, the air, the fire, the water all the elementals are him. 

(I begin to thaw!)

He is with me even in my ignorance he has never left me. 
You can take the lord into your heart without a word by accepting his light.

(Slightly cold!)

A deeper, purer understanding. A trust that rejects the dark no 
matter how black. I am a part of all, a part of one as you are. A part of me. 

(Warm!)

I open my curtains...watch the dark exit
hurried as love rushes in. Firmly in his hold...I

I think of you...

Once again with you.
Fully! We...the power of one...I 

I think of us.

The Beginning!


March 25 2015
Armand






Copyright © Maurice Yvonne | Year Posted 2015


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An Eulogy Of Sorts, That, Hopefully, Lends Itself To Daver

Do not vainly look in those remote
Places,
That, once, were acquainted with a 
Small part of me;                          
Here I roamed beneath congestion's
Of tumultuous cloud;                        
Happy in idle dalliance; still the
Clouds gather together listlessly          
Above the mauve quilts of purple
Hills...                                   
Lit by that strange half-light that
Thinly spills                              
Through the gloaming of twilight's 
Mesh.
For those that stayed...
They have long since lowered my  
Emptied body down.                                                     


And ponder not, my friends, wherest
I might be?                                  
And think not that I lie mouldering 
And irretrievably dead                                   
For my dimmed eyes have been 
Re-opened...and thus I wander 
Unchecked and free;                        
Though no more to haunt narrowed 
Seclusion of those twisted and 
Meandering lanes,                     
Where, accompanied by untidy verges 
Rich with gaudy coloured Cornflowers... 
Didst contentedly dawdle alongside 
Dusted fields of ripening grains.                                     
For death, in all truth, is just a 
Gentle passing through when 
Everything else is finally done and 
Said.           


And do not listen out for me                
In jostling woods when scrambling up
Gentle slopes of shallow vales;             
Rather, deep inside retreating 
Bowers,
Catch the ever sounding notes of 
Sweetest liquidity!                         
Soon a sharp tinkling of dropping 
And yellowing leaves;                       
And, revealed in all their 
Rudeness,
Stripped bare - gaunt trunks of
Ancient trees!                              
But the shrunken trees shall so 
Prevail...
As my shrunken soul so too prevails.        


And think, if only briefly, of what
Were the living bones                       
As you arise to early dawns newly
Fashioned vibrance and hue;                                       
But those tired bones have long
Since atoned!                                                              
Or, perhaps, when you retire at the 
End of each finished day                                  
You could enrich my memory in some 
Fond, albeit unimportant, enduring,
And a gradual slow-smiling sort of 
Way.                         
For what  is left is nothing but mere 
Residual...
As if a finely carpeted sprinkling of 
Glistening, summer dew.                  


But that immortal residual has 
Now become part of the living 
Currents eternal stream;                             
No longer held within thin bloods
Coursing grey veins;                                      
At odd times, I would hope, 
A sudden flashing recollection, a
Diminished image of a blithe spirit 
That  compels upon you...as does 
A momentarily sparkling glimmer 
Ignited by the brighest glint of a 
Fleeting gleam!                                   
Then let them say only this of me,                 
That, indeed, for him, this is a 
Most fitting eulogy.                      
For I should wish of all there ever
Was...at least this much so
Remains.  



Rest in peace, Daver. 
Your respectful friend 
Through words. john
                                                           




Copyright © john fleming | Year Posted 2017


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Death by Delirium - Poe's Untimely Demise

Listen to poem:
 Come close and learn the mystery
 buried o'er there on yonder hill.
 The truth reveal'd in whisp'ring winds
 was hid these past two centuries-
 the penance paid for wanton sin?
 (To swallow now this bitter pill
 cast down my throat against my will
 hath left me in a ghastly state,
 and yet this tale I must relate).
 An evil gale on that night blew
 and terrors that he never knew
 would visit dark upon that place
 as death pursued and quicken’d pace-
 yea, overtook him in the chase.
 No starry night to light the sky,
 no moon o’er head the sky to ply-
 just blackness thick as London fog
 as darkling creature took to wing-
 his old unearthly mystagogue
 hover’d o’er head - a ghostly thing.

 And the raven flew into the night
 And the raven flew into the night

 A wager made the ante in-
 the loser who for want of heart
 throws in his last remaining coins
 and prays tonight’s the night he’ll win.
 A trembling deep within his loins
 portends his money shall depart
 and ne’er he’ll gain that fresh new start.
 Lo! The deed held in pocket deep
 ensures the promise he will keep.
 And so once more a playing hand
 is dealt before a wretch’d band
 of cons who’d never pray’d to God,
 whose backs had ever felt the rod-
 the holy path they’d never trod.
 But fate once more would him aggrieve,
 no ace to hide under his sleeve-
 without a friend or place to go
 he leaves them now with face aghast
 into the cold, harsh winds a’blow-
 'O that this night might soon be past.'

 And the raven flew toward the east
 And the raven flew toward the east

 The deed a closer look is made
 and ‘fore too long ‘tis evident
 that all is not quite as it seems-
 ‘tis nothing but a grim charade.
 What happens next, as if a dream-
 the guild of men with cruel intent
 on finding Poe are now hell-bent.
 And so into the night they sped,
 a hound from hell inspires dread-
 the rabid beast held fast by chain
 in chilling wind, in blinding rain.
 A movement in the distance seen,
 a man alone or so it seems-
 the hound set loose in low ravine.
 It's prey runs high upon that hill,
 each howl his tingling spine did chill-
 alas, ill fate lays hold on him,
 his future prospects e'er so grim.
 The evil jaw upon him clench’d,
 he screams aloud before the fall,
 the poison in his blood entrench’d-
 delirium soon cast it’s pall.

 And the raven flew toward the light
 And the raven flew toward the light

 There as he lay upon yon hill,
 the chase now o'er, the silence sweet,
 he gazes 'bove into the night
 as clouds departing shew goodwill.
 The vision seen ‘tis nay for fright-
 he hears a steady rhythmic beat,
 so low and calm as if discreet.
 The heavens part to his delight-
 a figure standing in the light
 extends to him an outstretch’d hand
 as speech like waters bids him stand.
 He wonders now if just a dream
 or are things really as they seem-
 a voice or just a nearby stream?
 Quite suddenly he feels no pain
 as wind abates and same the rain-
 The hand then grabs him by the throat,
 another tears his woolen coat-
 his life doth flash before his eyes
 and thro’ the dimly lighten’d sky
 he sees his bride to his surprise
 whose only word to him is, “Why?”

 And the raven flew into the sun
 And the raven flew into the sun

 He breath’d his last then bade goodbye,
 the troubl’d bard who’d gone awry-
 the mystery resolv’d at last
 on how it was that Edgar pass’d.
 And if thou wonder how I know
 these secrets held from long ago-
 although the truth thou surely crave
 I’ll take this knowledge to my grave. 


Copyright © July Morning | Year Posted 2018


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When A Man Cries


No one ever told me that your heart could bleed without a drop that anyone could see. I didn't know your soul could lose weight that your shadow could get thin. I had no idea that there were dry tears that one could shed while sporting a joker’s smile for the crowd.

No one told me you could be naked, closed within yourself, folded and squatting in the black, as your pillow bled white against the dark but I have had those nights.

I know I have walked miles alone left a trail three miles deep in the cement on the street where I reside. I remember and still live moments where everyone talks as if we are in echo chambers and my ears catches every word and my mind never processed even one.

My mother never warned me that love could be so deep. She didn’t tell me that another could own so much of you. I still weep dry ice tears. I still scream in empty fields the wind against my back to mask my wail and hide my pain.

I know I still function perfectly. I still roll the dice , last week I bought Boardwalk and when I crossed Go I collected my two hundred dollars. As far as the board game world knows I’m just quieter than I use to be but fine otherwise maybe even improved.

So in these days of my haze as I function in a fog of loss I replay that moment over and over again. She is gone, she left me in a rage and frankly I was confused because she played the love game until the last moment, until that moment.

I admit I'm ashamed how the crows tear at my flesh just thinking of her with another man. How the sun burns when I see her smile or think of her laugh shared sincerely with another guy. 

Apparently she never gave me that. In my blindness I accepted us as in love but she tells me now so many years later how she despised me but never said a word.

Me the fool I still want her I still yearn for her touch. I would chew on nails just to sit with her. Why is my love so deep, so singular? Other people move on. I’ve seen it. She is gone, she wasn't even here those twenty years plus. She wasn't around when she bred our child. Why won’t I move on?

No one ever told me that losing her would be like this. Told me that you could break every bone in your body and it would hurt less than this less than losing her. When I knew she was gone for good when I finally accepted it, I cried until I couldn't cry another tear and then I cried some more. 

29~12~2014
Armand






Copyright © Maurice Yvonne | Year Posted 2014


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In Strangler's Wood

In forest's night, the trees bend low
beneath a slice of half moon’s glow,
          silent shadows waver there,
          chilled by gusts of autumn air.

Quavering, as if afraid,
they fall on stumps from trees decayed.
     among those stumps the shadows creep
     and shroud a form that seems asleep.

Lightning flashes . . . Thunder peals.
A sight forlorn the light reveals
          a man, quite dead, in woolen coat,
          with scarf of death left on his throat.

The shadows saw, and now they quake,
lone witnesses in murder’s wake.
     They cannot speak, but if they could,
     they’d tell all travelers of the wood:

"We’re not the foe.  It’s one of you
that makes us tremble as we do.
          Although we loom and cause you fear,
          something worse is lurking here."

Then Thunder echoes in accord
as from the sky, cold rain is poured.
     And silent shadows start to shrink
     into a night of blackened ink.











Copyright © Andrea Dietrich | Year Posted 2010


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Belongings

Shadowed in the silent room, the daylight's nearly gone
Dusk climbs in through window glass, with one last ray of sun
I start the task, climb on a chair, reach up to shelves so high
to mother's boxes neatly stacked, and dust gets in my eyes

I take one down, to look inside and sit upon a chair
I find some musty linens, laces needing some repair
Discovering old photographs, the year was '42
Her face was smooth as porcelain, unblemished, young and new

Old documents and letters, a history unveiled
Her letters, torn and yellowed, such stories they would tell
The next box held small china cups, so lovingly embellished
And then I found a book of verse, inscribed with poems she relished

Some dresses stained and wrinkled, their fabric thin and tattered
Were once a thing of beauty, as if they really mattered
Her jewelry, gold and silver, some lovely rings and brooches
A warm sensation circles me, her presence now approaches

I sense a change come over me, and fleeting leave of gloom
The darkness of the evening lifts, as sunlight fills the room
She wraps her warmth around me, her fragrance in the air
My loneliness is free to go, I know that she is there

Among these things, I find the last, the smallest box of all
Inside it are the baby clothes, I wore when I was small
A letter there to tell me that she knows the tears I've cried
Her words of love that never died, they fill me up inside

These treasures speak her words to me, and now that I am grown
She wants to tell her story, those parts I've never known
I've heard her voice, while sitting here, among her china flowers
I"ve found such peace, she's next to me, to spend these quiet hours


____________________________________________________________
Written 6/8/2008
Submitted to Contest:  "Old Jewelry or Just Old Things or Old, 
Old Poems/Poetry Contest "
Sponsor: Broken Wings


Copyright © Carrie Richards | Year Posted 2008


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An Epic Love For Women

Listen to poem:

I know you're not here

but you are in my heart 

so 

you are always with me

i'll just slip into you

with these words.
 
I know 
there are mountains
dwarf the cities below 
peaks that stride above the heavens
attempt to graze the planets if even so lightly.

That
there is a special star that rises daily
against shades of air lit.

They tell me
there is a wide deep void that is grand - a canyon
not too far for any adventurer who dares to look down its throat.

Our world is tightly splattered in miraculous views.

I remember diving through the horizon 
where on the other side
I found intricate scenes

I walked down a dock straight into an orange wine sunset
through to steps led to a bridge 
walked across to an enchanted glitter covered road
to a winding path with a floating pink shaded fog
until I wandered into an explosion of nature.

Once,
alone,
I witnessed a mud escarpment
with splashes of burgundy, shades of maroon,
tones in burnt copper and chestnut browns.
I found a rare waterfall 
rushing down into an inviting pool
a crystal clear deep blue lagoon unused
around it emerald spruces gathered in a cluster of trust.

All in all so alluring I willingly stripped bare and melted into
the refreshing fully chilled basin down to its coral bottom.
I was greeted by an array of tropical aquatic life.
Nude, free, happy
I swam in the simplicity of the moment.

Another time it was
a blinding white wavy desert floor 
totally stripped for miles,
then one 
just one live growing plant 
it looked like tall fanned out verdant fingers.
Remarkable,
however 
what a thin shadow it cast.

A bright blue scrim provided a contrast 
framed for a photographer to snap.
Floats in white, 
scarce 
were frozen in place 
and not a wire was evident,
just motionless etchings.

I sat on the burning sand 
took a position and meditated.
My mantra, 
rebounded off the thickness of the sultry atmosphere 
I heard my own voice return to fill me.
I bathed in the simplicity of the moment.

Yes
I love this world
All its treasures
I swear  

But you,
ah you

Not all of nature 

Not the sun that lights the day
sprinkles the skin in its brilliant sheen
or the moon that with 
its romantic smile
its alluring suggestions 
seduces even the least romantic of us.

Not the miraculous 
vegetation of every kind 
or the moss laden beds where lovers have often laid as one
linked to one another - inspired by natures erotic whisper.

Ah
but you,

I would sacrifice all else,

just to breathe in your love 
just to bathe in you.

You my passionate want.

Our love is my Mecca.

When I hold you softly in the strength of my arms.
Touching your face sends shivers through my consciousness,
holding your hand is like plugging into bliss,
watching your mouth,
the dent above your lips,
you know I overdose ecstatic 
when mine touches yours.

I want to stay - mine on yours,
as we speak, as we dream.
How I love your smile your laugh.

I hold you in the enchantment of my mind.
I caress you in the secret chambers of my dreams.
I cherish your scent - infinite, singular, invigorating.
I roll with you in the autumn leaves of my imagination.

I wish you everything - for you are everything to me.

I would if I could
I would reach beyond my grasp to,

to pull Magic from my hat.
Squeeze a snowball into a skating rink
just to dance on water with you.

I will love you into our after life,
no man as fortunate as me. 

They say reach for the stars 
you may end up with the moon.
I reached.
I got you,
my universe.
No man as fortunate as me.

Let me make every step you take safe, secure, pillowy soft
try not to faint from the sheer fragrance of you.

               Together we are sunset shadows,
shadows that will never fade.
               Imprinted permanently on the iris 
of the early evening sky light.

(pause)

do you remember back when we just met

do you remember when it started to sleet
when we used the bark from trees
to toboggan down the circled path of the mountain

dizzy 
we hit the brakes

brakes crafted
from the branches of a spruce 

but friction 
lit them like matches on kerosene 

and i really think the smoke filled
our lungs
travelled to our heads
because
even before the sleet turned to hail
we slipped under the lawn

spent hours and hours
covered in each other's silky embrace
and i confess i peered at every drop of you
treated my eyes to your 
unveiled 
natural 
naked 
nothing but you 
splendour
i held that moment 
fragile as it was
with the greatest of care
and hold it still with the same reverence

and i really think nothing should feel

that good 

because 

it just led us to lock lips 
and you know i could of kissed you 
an eon 
passed through it
as if it were a fraction of a second

our hearts synced
and i really think that
our breathing
our voices 
melting into the air
playing like music 
is what drove us mad 

and i get very creative 
when i go mad 
the stuff "crazy good" is made of

it must of worked because
we finally reached the peak of our crescendo 
laid in the sublime of one another
i must of loss consciousness 

because

i still don't remember our rendezvous ending

but it must of

because i immediately 
felt your absence 

and i really think that's why 
i wrote you

why i wrote

wanna slip under the lawn

   again

and i really think that's why
we've been 

why we've been 

     together forever

Dec 2015
armand 





Copyright © Maurice Yvonne | Year Posted 2015


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The Ride

The old man looked a little out of place
Astride his pony on the carousel
A smile from yesterday across his face
As if he were entranced in some strange spell

A silver knight upon a silver steed
A cowboy riding herd out on the range
The little boy inside had been set free
Between the up and down, we watched him change

And when it stopped he sat there deep in thought
He pulled the little boy in with a sigh
A memory is what his dollar bought
I'm sure the price was not what made him cry


Copyright © Daniel Turner | Year Posted 2017


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Sweet Violets

                                 Sweet Violets


The path you walk I adore.
                                                   Seeds I’ll scatter around,
Then from earth blooms will pour
                                                   to grace your precious ground.
A highway I shall lay for you.
                                                   Sweet violets I shall sow.
Where blossoms spring into view,
                                                   Darling, sweetly go!
Pretty heads will thickly spread.
                                                   A carpet it will seem
of amesthyst you tread
                                                   as if inside a dream.
Among those flowers we shall meet.
                                                   We’ll lie on that soft path
with happiness replete,
                                                   reveling in love’s aftermath.


Written April 2, 2017 For Brenda Chiri's Any Poem Contest
and inspired by her form of a Poem Within a Poem.
Now for Brian Strand's 'LATE SEPTEMBER STANDARD CONTEST 
any theme, any form,max of 25 lines' Poetry Contest


Copyright © Andrea Dietrich | Year Posted 2017


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Best Man

It has been 9 months since your sudden disappearance.

That Hallowed night when your 5’11” nerd aura
Handed me my early birthday gift
A cold shoulder wrapped in a velvet bow
Made in Sri Lanka, sold exclusively at the Dollar Store

That was your appraised value.

But, today, revival’s whisper enters my gently waxed earlobes.

Candy coated revelations
For my allergic blood

“I said yes!”, as she flashed Cracker Jack ring
Filled with Monopoly dollar signs and “Go directly to Jail” Chance cards

I almost applauded, my hands sarcastically never connected
While my eyeballs rolled in epileptic banter

We scream in misguided nerd joy 
As if we witnessed Monty Python & Darth Vader having a make-out session

Sudden urges to watch movies about Traveling Pants & Sisterhood
And PSing my I Love You
While we eat Dark Chocolate Klondike bars and Chipwich Ice Cream Cookies
My ovaries were bursting with INSANITY’S JOY!

But, WAIT, I quickly realized I didn’t have such parts!

It was then, reality crashed
As if Spider Man ran out of web during mid-air leap

My essence now halts at crossroads’ throat.

To my left, “celebration”
To my right, “other”

I chose to be a human this night.

Current time- 9:15pm
Current location- Reception Hall

A 5 course meal,
Including dinosaur shaped chicken nuggets
Smiley face French fries
And 3 glasses of Tang
Surrounded my space on the dinner table

Heavenly echoes of forks & glass,
Ringing in ignorant unison,
Give birth to Tinnitus in my drums

In their 9 months of togetherness,
They kiss with forcible ease,
Frogs refusing to show their true form

It is then, ignoring listless stares from guests,
I stood up holding my half-empty Tang glass
Which MIGHT have contained a smidge of Grey Goose

At the TOP of my LUNGS,
I whispered.

“Friend, I should be so proud of you. I would. I could. You never responded to my open-hearted palm. You left my vulnerabilities dangling at half-mast, as if I lost our final game of Hang Man. But, TONIGHT, it is I & this delicious Dinosaur nugget that will HAVE a final say! You are impeccably flawed, like I. But, I still wanted you to be a part of my tomorrows. Yet, you turned me into a muted yesterday. So, I will wish congratulations on your new slav…um, husband, Pouring this glass of yummy Tang onto this stapled dance floor in a straight line Each drop will be a symbol of how many tears he will shed, before that line is crossed.”
As silence slapped each other in its face Across candle flame blanketed, marble dance hall, With children pointing & laughing hysterically, “Security” enters the room As I hold hands with Cuban female rent-a-cop, her head warming my shoulder, “Thank you for these 9 months. For now, I have given birth to a new me. The Best Man that you will never hold again.” ©Drake J. Eszes


Copyright © Drake Eszes | Year Posted 2013