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For auld lang syne Blurring, blinding and blending of things by Beam, John
Utter Blinding Darkness by McConnell, Gordon
Blinding Power Of Love by Park , Andrew
Blinding Rain by White, Carrie
Blinding Shackles by Oliver, Jennifer Marie
Blinding Ocean by Rashwan, Ahmed
Blinding Spark by Yeates, Owen
Blinding Fools by Banks, Roxann
Our blinding ways by klein, mandy
Blinding Mirage by Granado, Joey

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The Best Blinding Poems

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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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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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WALLPAPER

WALLPAPER

---------------------
Paper Thin
Cut down to any size,
Crumble, crop me wrong 
Pull the insulation from my heart.
Never will I be "A Paper Doll!"
Thank you for calling me a "Friend!"
Thank you for wasting  my "time!"
Enjoy the WALLPAPER display
---------------------

Layers and layers of lifeless brick
KEEPS EVERYTHING OUT! 
Emotional poster boards of doubt 
Envious fiberglass green never seen
Yuletide Carols warped around my energy
Merry and full of acrylic sh!t-
Hand full of putty maintains the makeup on my face
Arts and crafts display my inner fancy grace
Heavy installed Sheetrock so easily replaced

Tough paint chips away silently through the night
Rigid boards transform into fragile crystal light
The greatest illusion blinding reality 
Smooth Tiger Skin, texture of orange simple peel  
Beautiful mud swirl, L'Oreal.
Gypsum soft enough you want to touch

Dark walls of a thousand words
A plasterboard of discordant grey notes
Blots and clots of ink, enslave my skin  
Colorless drywall, resilient to your charms  

Printed designs of cleverly decorated lipstick 
Morbid shadows underneath the ceiling veil
A double coat of Pacific Waterproof Blue-
Printing bags from -- YESTERDAY!

Plastered wounds of cement dry and roughens along the edge
A human-made barrier, not even God comes in.

by;PD


Copyright © Poet Destroyer A | Year Posted 2013


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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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I Think Of You - Ground Zero - 1

I Think Of You - Ground Zero (Part 1)

Leaving under a blood moon
                in a jet plane rising
  los angeles falls behind me
and I...

You.
Two.

                              Clouds dance
            to the song of the spiders.
Latent sun rays fall on me like rain...I 

...They say third time's the charm.
On planes again.
A sky...endless... and then finally 
from the other end of the world to here.
A continent, an island,
an australian flower drunk on wine.
Her...uniqueness lends to her beauty.
...and I

A fourth night.
A church spire at sunset.
At a distance bats fill the sky,
resemble a smoke plume.
...I 

I plead the fifth.
It's all these moons.
Tonight a hunter's moon.
She's unable to hide 
even with her bowl of clouds.
It's no help.
She has no spoon.
                     Her luminous rays give her up.
Moonshine in the moonlight over the sea.
...I 

I count...five, 
six...on the beach.
A purple nightshade,
a sand flower,
Irish eyes speak uniquely to me.
....I 

I, you...
you can't roll a seven with one die.

Back on a plane.
A snow fog blinding.
From my window seat a one of a kind view.
Alone,
...I

 I eight...ate...need to eat.

Africa...a Safari.
A plant chloroform green
has holes like cheese.
A large swiss leaf.
I laugh and I...I distract myself.

A stitch in time beats nine.
 Back in North America.
A dilapidated fortress stares down 
an overwhelming thunderhead.
...I 

I camp out.
It requires a tenth...tent.
An Eagle never blinks.
No eye lids.
An unimpeded view.

...but I...I surrender.
There is no place in the world
I can escape.
...I 

i think of you.

You are living art.
Here.
Now.
What I perceive 
is what I live.
I perceive us.

I can picture you.
I am photography,
the camera, the lens.
I absorb your image,
process it.
A form of plagiarism

I didn't borrow.
I stole.
Inhaled you but 
...I
I dream
and I...

...i think of you.



Armand
March 11 2015






Copyright © Maurice Yvonne | Year Posted 2015


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WORKSHOP POEM: GRAND TOUR TO FAIRYLAND

WORKSHOP POEM: GRAND TOUR TO FAIRYLAND Sprinkled-rainbow clouds reign above the skies, peeping yellow in-between wrinkled pillars shine like bulbs to crash the net of fog attached to curve hands of green Cathedrals. A carpet of bluebells and daffodils covers the earth below. Creeping slow are mosses and vines hugging the trees. Polka dots of blood rich roses stand out. Festoons of lavanders, garlands of lilacs marched a primrose path for the queen while the fruits from cherries' hush blush; to peaches supple flair winks on mellow pear. Afloat midair are high and low golden notes trembling free upon river runs and bushes land. Snaps and bounds from strums of bumblebees; signal the nightingales to sing their anthem loud; Their thumps of dulcet-sounds shake the hours. Scents pure as Spring May cocoons the fair while all around swirls the dragonflies-- the star dancers of the sun-kissed day. Rushing wind whistles a lullaby to cast a spell of never-never-land, for there live... thumb-size flying creatures of their kind. Regal in blinding white are the fays and fairies. __________________________________________________ NEW TITLE: MY TRIP TO FAIRYLAND Rainbow-sprinkled clouds marching above the skies, Sun's golden rays peek in-between curved hands of lush green Cathedrals crashing the net of fog sleeping on the ground. A carpet of bluebells plus flashing violets exhale scents on the air. Sly-like mosses and vines hug the trunk of trees. Polka dots of blood rich roses pose, standing grand. Festoons of lavanders, garland of lilacs, swelling banana blossoms, cherries hush-rush blushes with peaches winking flair on frowning pears all prod to honor the queen. High and low golden notes tremble free upon river runs to proud bushes land. From strums of bumblebees are leaps and pounds, luring nightingales'anthem on a merry-dancing groove. Thumps of dulcet-sounds shake the passing hours, Rainbow hues cocoons the fair while all around dragonflies twirl and dive- they, the star-dancers of that sun kissed day. Impressed wind whistles the lullaby spelling never-never-land, for there... there live.. thumb-size flying creatures regal in blinding white-- are the fays and fairies. ______________________________________________ POEM OF THE DAY ---April 07, 2015 ©O.E> Guillermo 9:52 pm, April 05, 2015


Copyright © Olive Eloisa Guillermo - Fraser | Year Posted 2015


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kaleidoscope

through a tiny lens
held firmly with hands
eyes gaze in awe..

with a simple twist
colours explode harmoniously
bright, sparkling,blinding..

the colours are stunning
so vivid, so alive
with truth as in life..

this ever changing vision
is but broken glass shards
not whole, not complete..

simple, plain, tiny pieces
they don't fit, they don't belong
different shades, different sizes..

fragmented, swirling on command
no direction,they stop; at one's touch
and through this seemingly disconnect..

therin lies their beauty
for these tiny glistening pieces
imperfect jewel tone shades, dance; together..

revealing the essence of life,
humanity and all who breathe
for they gloriously join; naturally..

to inspire joy, excitement, wonderment
the green piece could be a used wine bottle
tiny violet piece from a castaway vase..

regardless of their origin
these magnificant, illuminating pieces
unite as one and magically dance..

with truth as in life
beauty is as beauty does
fusing together, naturally, effortlessly..

kaleidoscope..

broken shards now glistening jewels
the spirit of every man, woman and child
is part of this most magical creation..

for every size, shape and gorgeous hue
is us; in every race, age & size
coming together, to create, to inspire..

tunnel vision seamlessly vanishes
as eyes are opened; captivated
at the wonderment, joy and harmony of..

becoming one; beautifully and with faith..

kaleidoscope.


Copyright © Lynn Marie | Year Posted 2006


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A Letter Home To Rome'

My dearest Claudia, 

     For eighteen months, I've been at this Jerusalem outpost.
     "Tis you and young Julius that I miss the most.
     This wasn't the adventure I set out to seek-
     At least, not until this past week'
     
     A local rabbi rode a donkey into town,
     While people were throwing palm branches down.
     Many proclaimed Him to be their "King."
     The Jewish leaders vehemently denied such a thing'

     They arrested Him and a riot ensued;
     My squad was called in to get the masses subdued.
     Back and forth, they sent Him- through several mock trials.
     The prisoner maintained His silence all the while.

     "He's a traitor to Rome," the priest and leaders cried.
     And the crowd wanted Him crucified'
     A "Royal robe" they made Him wear
     Then His own cross He was forced to bear.

     With a thorny crown jammed down upon His head,
     It was off to Golgotha He was led.
     Lifted up between two thieves,
     The day turned black and I wanted to leave'

     Then I heard my Centurion say something very odd:
     "Truly this is the Son of God'"
     Buried in a borrowed grave- as if in a womb-
     I and my men guarded that tomb.

     Then some time during the middle of the night,
     The rock was rolled back 'midst a blinding light'
     

     In the morning some woman came to that "prison,"
     But two beings inside said "He has Risen'"
     This week's events have so drastically changed my life.
     That I was compelled to tell you of them, my beloved wife.
     
                                                                                           Your Husband Octavius




                                                                                     Arthur Ball (h.S.L.P.)
                                                                                     April 16, 2006


Copyright © Robert Ball | Year Posted 2009


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Painting With Stardust

From night to night I searched in a distant sky To catch a falling star To collect its silver dust which fell ever so slow upon the life-lines of my hand-palm. From night to night I searched with these ardent eyes for ways to paint you a dream made from diamond shards of a glistening beam. But from night to night the moon in it's grandeur would show filtering its opalescent glow through the bedroom blinds reflecting its amorous lights Outwashing every short-lived star I ever yearned to seek Obscuring other sparkles with its lucent shine. Blinding me in hundred ways Holding me captive in his embrace. But tonight,is a different night Tonight its lunar limbs are cloaked with a mourning veil. Tonight I dance without its shadows and in its darkness I exhale . Tonight I paint with stardust I sprinkle kisses from coppered-flames Forgetting all about the moonrise while I think only about your face.


Copyright © Charmaine Chircop | Year Posted 2017


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Creative Inspiration

Creative Inspiration Inspiration where do you go when you leave and your dry, barren riverbed causes blinding dust storms in my mind? Do you evaporate into mist, become a gray dense fog lying heavily in the air, intangible… floating like a cloud, ever changing shapes? Are you carried by the wind, held hostage to feed another storm when lightening strikes and your deluge once again swells the river to overflowing, racing free and wild, reaching out beyond all boundaries? If so, storm of inspiration, please deliver unto me your monster category five hurricane! Sandra M. Haight ~1st Place Contest: Take The Dagger From My Heart, Please - 2 Sponsor: Broken Wings Judged: 10/14/2016 ~1st Place~ Contest: “I Do Not Know” Sponsor: Andrea Dietrich Judged: 10/25/2014 Rules for original contest: First Stanza, 6 Words per line; Second Stanza, 5 Words per line; 3rd Stanza, 4 words per line; Fourth Stanza, 3 Words per line; Fifth Stanza, two Words per line; Sixth Stanza, one Word


Copyright © Sandra Haight | Year Posted 2014


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September

Trees reach like glowing embers
to singe the autumn skies.
Leaves burst with blinding colour
like sparks that spin and rise
Then a breath of weightless fog
moves across the silent lake
where trails of molten clouds
fill the sunset's smoky wake.
The harvest moon emerges
like a second burning sun
to fill the sky with button-stars
that morning pulls undone. 
Sunlight floods the gardens
to melt the morning dew.
This is where my heart resides
since September gave me you.


Copyright © Heather Ober | Year Posted 2015


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I Think Of You - A Horrendous Night - 0


I Think Of You - A Horrendous Night (Part 0)

Two a.m....
I open my window 

...a crack,

the dark is blinding.

It is a severe cold outside 
a stream of freezing air seeps in.

Two fifteen a.m....
I open my window another crack,

struggling to sleep...!

Eyes closed, 
I count from one thousand to one
it might as well be ten thousand.

Still not use to a lonely bed
six of my senses explode like
a dandelion globe in a tornado...I 

i think of you.

Raise the white flag,
wait the sunrise.
Wasn't it an eon ago 
I drank the sunset?

It's never lost on me 
I always ingest miracles slowly.

It's freezing cold now in my room...I think!
I feel everything...I feel nothing.

My face buried in both my hands...I

i think of you...









Copyright © Maurice Yvonne | Year Posted 2015


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Before the Rain is Gone

She kept it all inside her
and never spoke a word,
though her thoughts flew and darted
like a trapped and frantic bird.

Inside her was a garden
that was hung with Spanish moss,
like the massive oaks were weeping
to remind her of her loss..

The spider wove at breakneck speed,
a perfect work of art,
watching it, she had her doubts
that humans were so smart.

The southern air was sultry
and the sea salt cloyed the skin,
 the yard dogs dug depressions
and the alley cats grew thin.

The black top roads got sticky
when the southern sun beat down
and the heat forever rises
forming monstrous thunderclouds.

When the blue sky rolls and blackens
soon the thunder shakes the ground
and the southern landscape flattens
as the blinding rain pours down.

Nostrils flared, she filled her lungs
with the dank and heady scent
of peat-rich soil, decay and loam,
of lavender and mint.

And in her secret garden,
reptiles raised their faces high,
and blessed the cooling water
that came pouring from the sky.

She loved the iridescence
of the blue-green dragonflies
and marveled at their flying skills
as they went whirring by.

The rain soon turned magnolia leaves
into miniature garden ponds,
there the dragonflies must lay their eggs
before the rain is gone.

Wrens and sparrows chirped and chattered,
they enjoyed the cooling rain,
but the squirrels were wet and grumpy
and the jays were raising Cain.

The girl did not seek cover
and the rain ran down her face,
on her lashes rain drops trembled,
much like crystals gently placed.

The thunder never frightened her
nor did the lightning scare,
to nature she was connected,
to living things, aware.

She lived in every moment,
soon the thunderstorm would end
and the dark earth would start steaming,
then the heat would come again.

Suddenly all fell silent
in her garden of delights,
all living things were quiet
as the steam began to rise.

The gray squirrel broke the silence
and if squirrels could really speak,
she knew he would be cursing,
surely swearing a blue streak.

And then she saw the blue jay
madly pumping out his call,
his angry face was comical
Mohawk feathers standing tall.

She swam the Sea of Apathy
and the Ocean of Ennui,
there the waves upheld her gently,
washing over memories.

And the earthworms turned the soil
in the garden of her mind
and the trees again were weeping
from the echoes left behind.


Copyright © Danielle White | Year Posted 2008


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Darkest Destiny

Out of hell’s breath the Devil’s Coachman comes and turns
around the tale to woe twists as the world creeps backwards
underneath the clay slithering sacrificial savagery begins
 
Ghastly ghostly spectres watch on with soulless glee
under laid this icy moon the toxic evil venom spews
within hideous precision it claw’s innocent victims prey
 
Fiercely gnashing jaws instinctively in this fiendish predator of night shades
dark striking off balance this stead of hell delivers his deadliest of blows
disturbingly the pungent smell permeates this surrounding sphere

Paralyzing unwary sufferers arching like a scorpion ready to strike
acrimony spreads stealthily through the shadowy invasion within the beast’s bite
suffering of hades destructive force inflicts a prelude to the apparitions
 
Awakening within this lair of madness an unsuspecting sacrifice
blinding under tombstones creeping slowly chill’s out
through one veil of darkened soil a nocturnal predator comes to feed                                                                                   
 
Liquefying resistant victim within the glaze of ebony eyes
mystic powers claiming to be magic crushing the core of Eve’s apple
emerging covered with its sclerotized plates the Coachman devours

Repast of putrid skin the last victim lies rotten
one captured soul sinks into the river of Acheron
final reward for the unwitting wounded prey

Begins eternal downward descent
drawn up and treasured by this hungry decedent of a Rove
carried away into hidden hollows of the dead roaring
 
Fiercely jealous of it’s captive trophy
sector’s remain vigilant to guard such treasured stored
this Coachman’s rightly domain claims a legion to an underworld
 
The deepest and darkest secrets expelled unrighteous  
this scarabaeus reaper as black inside with a rapier blade and sickle 
condemned are the two faced between thee jaws of this deadly fiend locked on
 
 
A co-written piece by Liam Mcdaid & Donna Loughman 


Copyright © Donna Loughman | Year Posted 2017


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- Wings Of Deep Beauty -


One floating away into the stars 
magically opening up windows 
a fairy princess flies royal
in a realm crowning regal kingdom 

Dazzling beautiful moonbeam's 
sparkling dew petal soft starlight 
touching moments gleam diamond 
caressing thoughts sweetest heart tenderly
 
Magic weaving ribbons spell
in desire softness shining warm light 
stroking warm dusting angel feathers 
enchanting lips under spell 
falling kissing beauty
 
Sweetly waves dance 
sure as the moon reflection rises 
a fairy tale dream begins gleaming
She stands there motionless form 
sparkling jewels spell bound blinding grace 

Sweetly filled by waves emotions pop from his kiss 
Pink champagne bubbles bursting flavors and roars in her blood 
Sensitive skin like a stormy sea crawling warmly underneath 
silver glittering dazzling in moon light reflections 

A golden rain with white water lilies 
Romeo and Juliet at the Opera - to be or not to be 
all waves crash and land on shores 
A beautiful love story under the moonlight 

Paddling lonely on his lily leaf 
he tasted lips the frog 
But this is something bigger ... 
touches heart and soul walking hand in hand 
paradise a droplet of dew falls spiritually 

Spiraling rippling fingers of energy 
a really beautiful adventure begins 
four chambers magically open up 
Touching warm caressing emotions softly 
inside an unknown world redeemed in light 

Time has shown me this simple truth 
That the light that shines from high above 
makes the whole world bright 
Here is the deepest secret nobody knows 
Waiting to blossom at the bright coming morn 

So true even in the darkest pits walking towards destiny 
eternally shining forever in the house of beauty 
Always warm miracle embracing 
rays flutter warmly angel feathers 
wings touching inside feathers of soft satin silk 
Dewdrops rainbow bouquet color sun shining gold 
brightly glimmering with hope 





  A co write written by Liam Mcdaid and 
  Anne-Lise Andresen :) - 30.12.2014 -
  Copyright © All Rights Reserved 


Copyright © Sunshine Smile | Year Posted 2014


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A Flame Once Burned

A flame once burned so brightly everything in sight seemed quite beautiful in its blinding light. Everything I took for truth once upon a time seemed to me more glorious; love seemed more sublime. Then the fire began to die. Every little flaw I began to clearly see till I’d seen it all. Half a lifetime and the flame still is burning out. As it dims, I am learning what life is about. But the happy medium I had come upon soon will flicker less and less. Going….. Going…. Gone. When my flame goes nearly out, will there come a pall? In the darkness that will come - will I see at all? How I miss those days of yore - passion of my youth - when a flame once burned, and I thought I knew of truth.


Copyright © Andrea Dietrich | Year Posted 2012


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The Rail Ties That Bind

A little girl
She comes to a land of ghosts
Almost empty streets
She wonders
Where are all the people
No one here looks like her
Within her heart
Emotions stir

It is so cold
Foreign 
Lonely
Where oh where, is the mountain of gold
Her mom and dad they are so bold
Pioneers
Adventures
People of action
Not of words

Hong Kong 
Left behind
A new future to find
They endured the sad
A world not kind

Their crowded apartment
A benevolent uncle stole
To leave the country they paid a toll
Plane tickets in her fathers hand
Brought his family to a new land
The little girl did not understand

The language she knew
Was Chinese
She spoke it with such ease
She thought, she must throw it away
The bits of her culture slowly stripped day by day

Forced to grow up, with blinding speed
She looks after, siblings needs
No time for her
She couldn't play
Duty and honour
The Chinese way

Mom and dad, working night and day
They do so much, for little pay
Food on the table
Their sacrifice
A warm home 
Within a land of ice

Through the years
A life is built
Yet the little girl, she is filled with guilt
She knows, there's been a sacrifice
Beneath the surface, of all that's nice

Many, many, years ago
Her grandfather was here
Away from her dad, for many years
Cooking for men, who worked the rail line
A small comfort when they would dine

Disposable humans
They took the risk
The horrors so many
To long too list
They needed their families
So far away
Yet the politicians, turned them away

The abuse he suffered
With all his friends
It seems now the Government 
wants to make amends
The past and future, are combined
You can't move forward
Without looking behind

The little girl, now grown up
For the past, she gives her thanks
Dreams from ties
She rides their rails
Blood and sweat 
from hammering nails
She hears echoes, from the past
It seems their gifts, were forged to last



My wife went to a forum where the government 
apologized for the awful things that were done
to the Chinese people who came to work in
Canada. So many Chinese men left their homes
in search of a better life for their families. They
were forced into slave like labour to build our
cross country railway. Many of them lost their 
lives in the process. They were not allowed to
bring their families. When the earlier generations 
came they were charged a head tax to move to Canada.
This discrimination was exclusive to Asian people.
This is a sad chapter in our Canadian History.















Copyright © Richard Lamoureux | Year Posted 2014


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Snow White

Oh darling you have become an angel sweetheart blossoming regal crowns
one flake unique floating into dreams so beautiful they sing only you

Pure petal wings flutter dressed in the color of snow purest kiss of beauty
They dance particles ice inside warm love melts shining into the purest thoughts

A faraway star winking in the night sky neon grasps breathless 
Confetti crystals falling sprinkles gently laying a carpet upon the ground 

Whom embraces the outer body sweetly enchants I open four chambers 
holding all keys out applauding flutters skipping echo pops each beat

My queen warmly holds hands with the soul grace of a thousand swans in flight
Once bitten twice shy one kiss from you smitten I would say smiling overjoyed 

I will always smile in loves amazing grace in soft gentle tenderness the joy it brings
Wishing that one was holding you right now footsteps in deep sand begins touching 

Wow mirror, mirror what a dream baby who blew one out off this world spinning 
you're so beautiful smiling these eyes dazzling mirror reflections blinding


Copyright © liam mcdaid | Year Posted 2015


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My lacking

I laughed and the world was silent
For it seemed the joke was me
I wished to be a comfort
Yet, it was not meant to be

I stood upon the broadest shoulders
and still in the end I felt quite short
I couldn't see past lonely mountains
What goodly news could I report?

Those things I saw off in the distance
Raced towards me with a blinding speed
I dreamt of how they'd satisfy me
Yet sadly they did not meet my need

Within broken mind, I searched for justice
The lady outpaced by quite a bit
She said "If you really want to catch me,
You have to do oh so much more than sit!"

I chose to climb, the highest of mountains
Surveyed the majestic valleys below
Expected I'd be warmed by the sunshine
But Instead, I felt the fridgid winds blow

I shifted my gaze towards the heavens
Wondered deep down, why I felt all alone
As I sat cross legged I tried to listen
Felt a deep aching within tired bone

My greatest lacking was understanding
Until God's Mercy allowed me to cry
Temporary would lead to forever
The cycles of life connected to why

So my tears flowed into rivers
Down the tall mountain into the sea
It seems, I was always connected
Yes, the whole world was crying with me











Copyright © Richard Lamoureux | Year Posted 2015


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Winters end

Hereabouts the thinning glades
Of sparse grey Birches:
Brackens crisp copper tresses 
All aglow;
Gently waking Snowdrops
Lift their sleepy heads
From leafy beds of woodland moil,
When tucked snugly up,
Out of intrusive sight and just 
Below.

Fondly the slowing bend
Hugs upon the river...
Banked heavily with frosted 
Bulrushes
That shifting breezes once did so 
Stiffly blow;
The faltering current, 
That sped the pied Dipper,
Patiently seeks out the quiet
Devotions 
Of her beguiling flow.

When the drawing Moonlight
Gives way to purple Twilight
In the gloaming
Of Winters sharp days;
When the yellowy willows
Weep watery glints
Lingering and loitering...
Pining for long Summers slanted 
Rays.

For far, far, high above
Over the old red-bricked mill...
Whose creaking sluice gurgles
With long melancholy sighs:
Heavens twinkling stars,
Held briefly in abeyance,
Partially obscured by thin veils of 
Dull-leaden, magenta tinged skies.

Where the low horizons fall
And briefly meet the mornings
On heathered moor, open field,
And inland shore:-
Here beached boats dreaming
Of white crested waves;
Soon the keen plough will make 
Ready
To score the deep furrows once
More.

Now our Lady Skadi,
Purest and resplendent,
Through driving sleet
And blinding blizzards will ascend -
Returning to aged fortress
Of eternal Utgard
Leaving her thawing snows
To dispel long Winters End!




Copyright © john fleming | Year Posted 2015


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ACTING OUT

.            Acting Out

Standing, lying, falling, crawling, I keep trying, crying, lying, rhyming, love is blinding
I play, obey, eat, -I digest, caress the softness, when I'm blinking, I'm found sinking 
I find myself thinking, walking, talking, mocking, craving, misbehaving, and dreaming
Shake, break, my heart can't take, I smile, in style, small thoughts, are all I got
I'm lazy, hazy, I get crazy, I shout, when in doubt, Acting Out, that's what I'm all about

By:) 


Copyright © Poet Destroyer A | Year Posted 2010


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Feather in my hand, ink in my heart.

Trickling over my mind
Came scampering the question
This dilemma of a heart
Come running into my embrace
Stricken with fright

It asked me
Father, why do we write
And so I dipped my feather in the darkness of my mind
And brought forth my answer 

I wrote of fear and the love that comes at a dreadful cost
Of meaning and of the fight for knowledge 
I wrote for voices unheard
I cried for emotions long forgotten
And the answer came to me as the tears wrote their own tale
Painted in pain was the image of a long forgotten glory
Of emotions left unstirred
Come to see what these words have conspired 
Come to see how these words have called them from their sleep
To ensue in them an undaunted hunger

Well my dear son
Here comes my answer to you
I write not for you
Nor for me
I write for what is within you
What has bubbled forth within me
I write to stir the masses
Unchained, unhindered
Willful subjects of our being
They huddle in wait
The towering limestones of their cave grow eon by eon
As they rot away, moment by moment
I write for them
We write for the grim
The unnoticed prestige
We write for what you have neglected to see
To bring it forth before your eyes
To fix your head with an iron collar
To make you a slave of our direction
We write to be your masters, when you need one most
We write to fix your gaze on what you have never lost
We write to drag forth from the depths of your inky heart

We are the harbingers of emotion
Be it hate or lust
The unseen veil of ignorance, or to shatter the blinding globe of pride
We are the harbingers of sight
With our binding collars, our guiding feathers, dripping the black sweat of our labored toil
You will come to see
What has not been seen before
We are
Fathers of a relationship sown by words, sealed by the dawning of the sun, the dawning of 
realization
We are 
Your feathers, to your wings or to your ink

And feathers will flutter
Bearing you into the frigid embrace of the skies
And when the winds will them no more
We will descend upon the ground
And speak to the earth as we are reclaimed in its rough embrace
We will write to the trees, when we cannot write to the birds, the sun, and the sky
And through the trees we will see the stars
And to them we will write about the shade
Harbingers indeed.

© Samir Georges
2010

Edited for Deb's Free Verse Contest on why we write.


Copyright © Samir Georges | Year Posted 2010


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Percivals Promise!

The soul is but a vast ocean of vigilance

Streaming with incresent colours towards life

Infinite within its parhelion possibilities

Relentlessly searching, betwixt the everflowing tides

Whereupon all things approach these providential probabilities

Of endlessly prolific visions thus beheld

Within the grasp of pristine pictures brushed and painted

Afore the overtures tubular bells; now sounding

Strewn, beneath the curatives silverish moon

Sirventes tunes, born, within fascinations bloom

These meant to be rhymes, amid Dorothy Gales times

Over somewheres prized amphoric rainbow

Arched imaginations, of fantasias floriferous creations

Breathing their pollinating light, within every breath that they breathe

Escaping the carcinogen caverns through torchbeared passages

Beyond the flesh rent falls and encumbering shawls

Carved crude, these animus meshed jackets

Encased within the chamber once laced

Unto broken bricks of concretes chained

Like Percivals plight....

Unmentioned between the lores, this wondering upon metaphoric shores

While barricaded by the calibrated stone engraved

Until antinomy could devise no more; yet

"If all we see or seem, is but a dream within a dream?"

Scream, and shatter these williwaws window panes

Awakening, beyond their oblique orbs of obscurities, void

To find 'The Holy Grail,' amid incarnadines blinding night

This veil removed, as clarity becomes now focused

Stepping from the shadows of the corners once webbed

Crossing, these sunsoaked sands of sunrises preached

With reaching hands, to touch the braille upon windings trails

Which only led back to the same gruesome pangs

Of a souls once upon a times, bound in maimed

Reading the writings on the wall, as cascading waters broke

The pinnacle of lost, tumbling and crashing to the reef

Belief, of a life breaking free from the dampened day

When faith became submerged beneath the assailant currents of

Hopes castaway possibilities....

Branded into their eyes, by the father of disguise

But no more as the clock struck three, and inversion, began to flee

Awakening from a dream, where nothing, was what it seemed

Dorothy Gales amphoric rainbow, draped upon a cross ~

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Percivals Promise!?


Copyright © John Rhinem | Year Posted 2010


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End Of Days

 
...inspired by 'The Salamander' by C.S. Lewis
 
 
The sun bore down with blinding rays,
the oceans boiled and came to nought,
it was withal the end of days
with every living creature caught,
when from the rocks, agile, adept,
a tiny lizard meekly crept.
 
With roughened skin and beady eye
he reconnoitered through the haze,
no stranger to a blazing sky
it lay in shade, at last to laze,
it raised his head, albeit weak,
and rallied, then began to speak.
 
"The Future of Mankind is sealed,
the devil's bell has tolled and won,
no recompense, no last appeal,
eclipsed before you have begun
to fight disease and lawlessness,
the hallmarks of your wickedness.
 
No light will break from yonder stars
to help you in your hour of need,
your destiny these blighted scars
that seal your folly and your greed,
alone with your predicament,
God's only live experiment.
 
To mess with Nature to your shame,
to disregard His Holy Name,
to vilify the Golden Rule
will label you the Biggest Fool,
death comes quick as you will see,
the bell has tolled, and tolled for thee."


Copyright © Keith Bickerstaffe | Year Posted 2016


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We danced in the downpour


We danced in the downpour

The rains falls
not hard, more of a drizzle
this late Winter night
leaning on the light post
across the street,
watching the light in your window,
glowing slats through mini blinds,
outlines of your silhouette,
damp steel seeping my jacket,
cars pass, wipers waving, 
splashing in circular patterns,
glistening tire tracks,
straight lines on the damp asphalt

Staring up, dreaming,
still feeling your good night kiss,
wondering if you know
I am nothing without you,
my life is because of you
So many years spent floating,
blurs in lingering dark shadows
curbs to sleep in, yesterday's news,
broken bleachers where others met,
and I watched, fearing never me,
darkness would be my hand to hold,
lunchtime falterings on tuna salad wishes, 
a clean plate in line for desert,
they just ran out, 
vanilla pudding disappointment, 
and it was...

I flick the ashes from my damp Marlboro light,
as I notice the lamp in your room is out,
when did that happen, where was I, 
and the drizzle coats my glasses
A chill claims me as the street light flickers
and I suppose it's time to go
in these saturated high tops 
squishing as I pace this sidewalk
of smeared chalk masterpieces

My heart aches again, my life, this night,
every night on an avenue to the border,
is truly nothing without you,
an empty hull hauling cargo of the past,
an existence worth the lint in my pocket,
a poem folded and kept,
written for you in dreams pasted 
on walls of off-white,
in a hallway of desire with your name
layered in patterns that mirror my heartbeat
and I wonder if you know...there is no other, 
none that can compare, 
none that could ever be,
no one will ever touch me, thrill me or
love me like you do and I will not be...
I will not be, I can not be without you

Turning to leave these clinging shadows,
sighing I want you but the hour is now late,
you’re probably in bed, but 
any time away from you is lonely
The rains fall harder now, a liquid curtain
all but blocking my view, blinding me,
when a hand on my arm spins me,  
it is you, drenched, smiling brown eyes 
on this dreary night as you tell me
you know,  you know and it is me
and you mean it, I can tell

We dance in the downpour,
it is us and we are in love, 
to the melody of the rain,
our song, they are all our songs, 
kicking puddles and laughing 
with wet eye lashes, kissing,
soaked with love, 
with devotion and sunny days,
moonlit nights and a lifetime with each other
on a sidewalk, a rainy night, a street light
and forever...you and me


Good night Soupers


Copyright © Chris Green | Year Posted 2017