Inspired by Andrew Wyeth Watercolor Painting -- Wind From the Sea, 1947
Standing in the old house
A strange mixture of feelings erupt within me
My roommates Depression, Loneliness, and Hopelessness
Greet me with strangling arms and leering grins
I don’t fight them anymore – somehow they are a part me
So together, in this house, in this room
We endure the somber solitude of the day
A sudden chill fills the room
Death enters – its foul breath chokes me
My three companions prostrate themselves
Pressure builds in my bowels
Bile rises in my throat
A heavy weariness fills my bones
He’s calling – hissing my name
I can’t breath
Death surrounds my soul – crushing me
I hear groaning . . .
Strange guttural sound -- it’s coming from me
Deep painful darkness fills me
I beg Death to take me . . .
Through the open window
A gush of wind enters
A sheer curtain hanging comes to life
It’s spirit lifts inwards and up beckoning me to dance
What is this wonder?
A limp ragged curtain – faded, stained, frail -- has life
Reaching toward me . . . frayed fingers of thread motioning
Old friends rush to me – Joy, Hope, Love
Death’s grip slips – I gasp a breath
Looking up I see the open window
Boarded by old bare wood, hard with age
I realize it’s daylight now – soft shadows
A curving road leading to the water
I can taste the saltiness in the wind
Trees in the distance
A calling from the sea
Seagulls, waves, laughter
Joy breaths into my nostrils
Leave this place – Depression cannot hold you
Simple pleasures I will give you
Cool breeze on a summer afternoon
Laughter of friends
A walk in the garden
The Sea . . .
Depression laughs in my ears
Through that window lies heartache, treachery, poverty, misery
It will chew your insides up – blood will pour from your lips
Pain and suffering awaits if you leave this house
Death waits to take you home
An end to this constant noise – the peace of total emptiness
Another breeze and Hope fills my eyes with light
I see colors – vibrant alive filling me with warmth
Leave this place, take a journey to the sea
Let light fill you and be your guide . . . see -- opportunities abound
For laughter, love, forgiveness . . . for life – abundant life
See the rainbow upon the Sea
Hopelessness rushes toward me
Kisses my lips and whispers
Light burns and blinds
They will see clearly your secrets
Spotlight focus – ridicule scorn . . . ugly disgust . . . self-hatred
Love rushes in and embraces me
Light, fresh, empowering
My heart leaps with pleasure
Arm and arm she leads me to the window
Much pain and sorrow – yes . . . also Love
A powerful love that transforms, refreshes . . . frees
Breathe deeply of the Sea air – fill your lungs
Go – you are loved deeply and completely
Looking out Looking in
Copyright © David Meade | Year Posted 2015
I am working with an off-site poetry/prose
publishing project and would like to have you
involved with submissions and subscription.
If interested, contact email@example.com
for details. Simply type "About Info" in your e-mail
subject field (for initial contact, info within the body
of the e-mail is not required, though the magazine's
editors will answer inquiries), and the editorial staff
will get back to you (usually within less than a day).
If you do not want to submit any poetry/prose at
the moment, but would like to subscribe, free of
charge—especially if you would like to read the
published work of some of your fellow Soupers
in future issues of SWITCH magazine; fresh
pieces that are not posted on poetrysoup.com—
type "Subscription" in the e-mail subject field
(aside from selecting the work of people who are
members of poetrysoup.com, SWITCH is not
affiliated with—and transcends—poetrysoup.com;
SWITCH will also be selecting authors who have
no affiliation with poetrysoup.com).
Anyone is welcome to join; to join, one does not
need to receive an invitation.
I vouch for the editorial staff 100%. Information
is dealt with in a secure and professional manner.
If so inclined, one can check for updates at
Edinburgh (the poem that this post used to be)
Sweeping through your scotch broom,
weeping over your cobblestones,
lilting around the columns of Calton Hill,
is an Age of Reason so brilliantly brooding,
some nights I am kept awake
listening to Pendragon's breath caress Arthur's Seat,
and whispers drip from sills on St. Giles Street.
Though roots may drink from a sleepless night,
when morning light creeps through the curtains,
my love for you is renewed.
Copyright © Chris D. Aechtner | Year Posted 2013
The sky resembles the robin's eggshells
scattered across the ground,
a blue so seemingly infinite yet fragile,
cracks running between understanding and madness
complementing each other
as divine truths in their own right
to conquer my mind,
to unhinge the doors,
making it unnecessary to pick rusted locks
letting thoughts fly free,
releasing love out into the horizon.
If frozen within caged snapshots of mildewed expectations,
it will surely die,
but even so,
I was willing to strangle it by holding on too tightly.
Until I saw the sky and eggshells today
Peppered clouds reflected on the water,
paralleling speckles on the eggshells,
remind me of the freckles on your face.
We need to be wide-open-free,
we need to fly,
without focusing too hard on shells of yesterdays.
We need to unclench our fists,
unclench our tongues,
explore the vast blue peppered sky
on wings of letting go....
so that we can once again feel with purity,
so that we can hold each other ever closer.
Copyright © Chris D. Aechtner | Year Posted 2012
“Peace I leave with you
my peace I give you
I do not give to you as the world gives
Do not let your hearts be troubled
do not be afraid” (John 14:27)
But I am scared
Blood runs down streets
Hatred, rage, violence dance
In a chaotic frenzy performance
of evil malice . . .
What do your words mean?
Are they void – empty promises?
Where is the peace in deafening explosions?
In the cacophony of rapid gun fire?
Screams of horror?
Tears of death???
“I am the resurrection and the life
The one who believes in me will live
even though they die
and whoever lives by believing in me will never die
Do you believe this?” John 25:26
Yes, I want too . . .
But fear creeps around my heart
Its cancerous fibers sinking deep – choking me
Doubts greet me in the morning
Panic sleeps in my bed
I am weak
Hear my cries of desperation
“Be strong and courageous
Do not be afraid
do not be discouraged
for the Lord your God will be with you
wherever you go” (Joshua 1:9)
Stay close – fill me
I cannot see –
Darkness surrounds me
Death, destruction, desecration, depression
Blood, bitterness, bile, blight
“I have come into the world as a light
so that no one who believes in me
should stay in darkness
If anyone hears my words but does not keep them
I do not judge that person
For I did not come to judge the world
but to save the world” (John 12:46-47)
I cannot begin to fathom this
How great is this love
Forgiveness over revenge
Peace over violence
Life over death
Love over hate
Help me I pray
“A new command I give you
Love one another
As I have loved you
so you must love one another” (John 13:34)
Love one another . . .
Copyright © David Meade | Year Posted 2015
What's a best friend,
But the smell before rain?
The hand that we give,
When a friend is in pain
It's the things that we do,
The words that we say
That pulls a friend through,
When their heart's torn away
It's the steps that we take,
The songs that we sing
It's the choices we make,
And the hope that we bring
I'm here through the tears,
I'm here through the laughter,
I'll always be here
Until death, and after
It's the things we give up;
The things we give in
When our heart's full of love,
And selfless begins
It's the hearts that we touch,
The things that we won't
We never give up,
We could, but we don't
It's the people we save,
With the hands that we give
When we're lost, we still say,
You're my reason to live
I'm here through the tears,
I'm here through the laughter
I'll always be here,
Until death, and after
Copyright © Dana Smith | Year Posted 2010
I'm still alive and I don't know why?
My heart survived falling from the butterfly sky
Caught by the hands of destiny
With visions only I can see!
My love I heard your call
Wings of a butterfly broke my fall
Love motion is in the air, a love no one can compare
Indulging a look-a-stare- that we both share
Reminiscing our love made out of stolen hope
Awe~:*! To them butterfly kisses that felt so real
Flowing like Amazing Grace,
A shining light upon my face.
I traveled fast and far, longing to be in your arms
I desire, the warm sensation of your charms
Your safe love will help me carry on,
With the strength and bond~the love you set upon
Nothing is better than a sensual butterfly kiss
Beyond the sensation of heaven's pure bliss
Fluttering in the clouds aiming for the moon
A dream of reality, out of my cocoon I bloom!
Valued by the art of true beauty and its rarity
True love flapping in the midst of clarity
I entwine that I am yours and you are mine
Bonded together till the end of time
With the vision, my heart is no longer blind
Two broken hearts at last combined
I glide below to touch your lip.
Our lashes touch from tip to tip.
Caressing each other as our wings expand
Two hearts- kisses collide and land
Holding your hand reaching to the rainbow sky.
Kisses:*kisses:* like the butterfly!
Dedicated to *My Babe*
Copyright © Poet Destroyer A | Year Posted 2010
~Sand Castle De Mal~
Beauty sails along the shores of life
Out there broken dreams form above sand dunes
Silent, God listens to the triumph of his creation
3 line verse
Copyright © SKAT A | Year Posted 2015
Close your eyes and forget the rain
Dream about the sun and heat
a sunny summer day
Dream of waves who sigh
so quiet on the beach
Swimming naked with the one you love
The dream of happiness
is more than the dream
A dream about strawberries with cream on
Do not forget the roses and violets
that smells so good
Running barefoot in the freshly cut grass
Close your eyes and dream your dreams
Daydreaming as sweet and good
they are secret, I will not share them with anyone
Imagine if life was a dream .....
A wonderful dream
and the world was full of love
and intimacy between all the people on earth
My dreams are made of
hope, faith and love
Anne-Lise Andresen :)
Copyright © All Rights Reserved
Copyright © Sunshine Smile | Year Posted 2012
Long before Horus' exposure on its trunk
and the nailing of Jesus upon its grain,
rings have been added within the Tree
while people proclaim to hold the key
of salvation: a continually borrowed mythology
swallowed; an extra-strength sleeping pill
pulling the masses into slumber,
and away from the awakened truth
that such supposed salvation
is an illusory ticket far too easy to obtain
for it to be real—
a discriminatory, fairy tale-damnation
that multiplies the division
of "Us and Them."
Too many people hand out the easy tickets,
then cut and light the tree:
a hypodermic injection of selfish memories
mixed into the mortar of temples designated as sacred,
while dogmatic shears amputate roots from the sky.
Too many people preach
about a cheap, polystyrene heaven,
while only a few walk the narrow path
that leads towards the kingdom within,
and live the sacrifice because it feels right.
Again and again,
the ticket isn't so easy.
We must put aside our slumber-crutches,
stop watching the few carry the rest
upon their backs, until bones creak and groan
from the weight of people waiting for salvation
to be handed to them.
For 27 years, 46664 was etched into the bark
of a branch in the road.
When forked doors opened,
a living, breathing gospel
brought down fences,
and even then, the wood was made into crutches
for people to say,
"M will fix it; M will do this, M will do that;
M will save us, just wait and see."
M is finally free. Yes, he is free!
Free, but not lost to us;
he survives as spirit-seeds.
We must cease to lean upon crutches;
we must purge the pill from our blood,
and awaken into gardeners who water the seeds
within the soil of our hearts,
before the vision withers completely,
and we remain only as husks
waiting to be hydrated by watering cans;
weakened hands and arms unable to lift their weight
held in our own hands all along,
held in our hands all along.
December 7th/8th, 2013
Copyright © Chris D. Aechtner | Year Posted 2013
Listen to poem:
Friends, do not forget: there is still beauty
When the darkness comes and shadows fall,
Music, Art, and nature, gentle comforts
When despair is deep and hope is small.
Friends, do not forget: there is still laughter
When we’ve finished choking down our tears,
When the world seems full of desolation
And we grit our teeth and face our fears.
Friends, do not forget: they have not taken
Kindness, love and friendship from our hearts.
If we can resist the hate and anger,
Maybe we can be where healing starts.
We will rise again tomorrow morning,
Sunshine follows even darkest night.
Think of this when you feel close to breaking
As we walk the long road to the light.
Copyright © Agnes Krampe | Year Posted 2016
When I lay me down to sleep,
And cry the tears that sinners weep;
To speak the words of a contrite prayer,
And know that someone listens there.
He cares for sheep that have gone astray,
Who willfully wander their own way;
They vex the pride that hides within,
And drink the bitter cup of sin.
The web of lies and dark deception,
Lie in defeat of Light’s conception;
To capture all and destroy life,
With passion’s fire and human strife
We need to plant the gospel vine,
Where evil rules and saints repine.
While martyrs lead with ransomed prayer,
With hope for life that tarries there.
Blood that was shed on Calvary,
Set slaves of transgression wholly free.
So we rise from the grave to seek reward,
Giving praise to our risen Lord.
Copyright © elizabeth wesley | Year Posted 2012
I shall resolve to leave this
And steadfastly search out,
Nestling between ridge and bluff
Amidst the folds of a foreign
Several acres of unkempt ground
Fallow and rough;
Upon which stands...
Crumbled stone walls
With an exposed slate roof in
Some state of disrepair,
And a rounded brough
Complete with smooth,
Well trodden steps
Twisting around a narrow stair.
An Inglenook, therein,
Will I construct,
With deep reveals to cheer me
In my idling days,
And wide spanning arch
To sit before and stay the onset
Of this old age...
And all its creeping ills;
While in all the subtle crafts
In which I was taught
to be so ably Skilled:
Rebuild this castle
Inside the wistful echos
Of these deeply-spilling
And far resounding hills.
Then, with mind well set,
complete with muscles willing
And perspirations honest sweat,
I shall toil upon this task;
For a little more precious time,
Coupled with fortitude and
In truth, is all one my humbly
And by my will...
And by my command -
Raise up these fallen blocks
Upon this goodly land.
For could it happen that
Before I gladly retire,
I glimpse a trace of those whose
Haunt the hot flames of my steady
Disregarding manifested nightly
That, in their lonely spectral
Creep across old squeaking boards...
Lain at right angles
Over the creaking joists
Hidden under ingrained,
Dusty, oaken floors.
And placing down my thick and
Red leather-bound book
I reach across for thread,
Sharp needle and hook;
When picking up the threadbare
I stitch in the bright silvery stars
We once eagerly reached for,
But did not quite grasp,
In our younger days as lustier
Perhaps pausing in mid-motion,
With a rueful look,
To pensively consider of that
One lone stray drummer,
Still steadily drumming -
Consider! Accession is but a
The anointed destiny of all
And all earthly prizes pale asides
Whatever riches accumulated
Wisdom gradually brings:
Born of labor,
Born of non-compromise...
Gently resigned, nodding sighs.
Rising now on upright stiffening
Listening to the dark hours
Rise over the laments
Of the Lime-torched rafters
And, plodding slowly upwards
Of my bell-less tower -
Seek out welcome sleep
Within my shaking, wind swept
Slung low under the eastern
Of a sharp crested Moon...
The radiant Dog-Star
Floods its rainbow colours through
Of the high turreted room.
Port-side lies my yawing bed
Rigged-out in white linen sheets;
Amidships my mattress spread -
Two firm pillows serve as cabin
To plunge about my weary head!
Storm rages down...
And storm blows below -
Redoubtable little boat
Swung back and fro!
Tossed and tipped from trough
Resolute timbers - Lashed afloat
This angry ditch!
Caught in the deep channel
Of my chaotic bind...
To seek safe haven I do
Endeavour to find:
A safe harbour on some newly
Formed virgin shore;
Along whose gentle currents
My sturdy tiller swings...
And now steers for -
Upon the white spumes
Of a steady bore.
Far, far, far above,
Past where Andromeda yields,
And Hercules, who upon the head
Of Draco kneels;
And far, far, far beyond
Interstellar dust -
Adorned the blazing Constellations
I walk between the milky-ways
Of sunlit nights and shinning
Which relentlessly spiral
Aboard boundless rays.
For, it seems, that a man can
voyage over the unfathomable
To chase his elusive dreams
Among the crowded stars;
Where, cutting the black voids
With heavens lights:
Hissing crystal tails of vaporous
Condense within the blazing trails
Of burning meteorites!
Indeed! Men may sail on celestial
As they traverse the showering
Exploding forth in grandest
In golden realms of the Gods
Seek their solace upon Eternities
Unending oceans -
Their fortunes blown by solar winds:
Mortal souls searching in perpetuity
Until the dawning revelry then
Answering the call to old Gabriels
As dappling sunlight creeps across
My undaunted little tower,
I open my eyes to the new born
When summoned to the beckoning
Descending from my fortified
Reinforced with new found zeal,
I reflect upon this newly provoked
As the happy chapel bell begins
To joyously peel!
So awaken, Herald!
And usher in ennobled thoughts,
For enlightenment sought,
Inside where aspirations deem
Just as the planted seeds,
Of much great nourished deeds,
Do so germinate - all naysayers to
As all lofty creeds,
Must at some point,
Readily concede, in time,
To the bleak tolling
Of the cruel fates final knell!
Therefore, put yourself to the
Against all obstacles however
Mean or extreme,
Whilst upon the faithful handle
Of worn tools whose blades are
Worthy and keen.
When bending your strong back
To take the strain,
Denying any quarter or appeals
To moderate refrain,
Over adversity you justifiably
Your laudable goals,
Thus, to surely attain.
Hear me then!
Build tall your Broughs,
Withstanding fancies flight,
Disregarding all those
Who may well try:
Seek to disparage, ridicule and
Suffer not scoffers, knaves
And braying fools
But raise up your proud
Wherever you should most joyfully
For in among the ruins where
So prevails triumph -
To forever chase his grim presence
From your low-rubbled fields!
My gratitude to my good friend Mr George Dee Vuy for inspiring me to conceive these
last three verses with the beautiful word..."Ennobled"!!
Many thanks, George!
Copyright © john fleming | Year Posted 2015
* ~Dark Silver Haze~ *
(side#1) (side #2)
come taste life ---------- Heart-warming wine
old and stale, ---------- Jot down a line
unflavored, unpolished, --------- Mood changes hue
A sour, dim shade --------- To sweet silver blue
the lowest feeling ---------- How high the cost
eternal gray sky ---------- How much is lost
hollow memories ---------- Back payment due
A sour, dim shade --------- To sweet silver blue
weak limbs, overpower ------- Head shake and sigh
moments of lights -------- None left to deny
everything ends -------- Insight in view
A sour, dim shade -------- To sweet silver blue
torn from reality -------- Somehow I gain
low spirits of sorrow -------- Beauty from pain
bitter and dull, --------- As thoughts turn to you
A sour, dim shade -------- To sweet silver blue
**A deep Look Into The eyes of the Poet Destroyer**
~A Tim Ryerson Collaboration~
Copyright © Poet Destroyer A | Year Posted 2013
An old man
A Grumpy bitter old man
Wrinkled beady eyes
Scruffy clothes his best attire
Life has not been kind
So his bitter words bite those around
He lived alone, inside his madness
Leave me be and go to hell
His favorite expressions
The phone rang one night late
This is the Court sir, your brother’s son and family
Have been in a terrible accident
Only your niece of four survived
When can you pick her up?
The old man was in a daze
What the hell was he being punished for now
Keeping care of a dam kid
What the bloody hell did he know about that?
"Well sir, we will be expecting you tomorrow, 9am prompt please"
Walking back to his flat, with a 4 year old girl in tow
Well the neighbors gawked to say the least
The poor little girl, tears and teddy, trying to keep up with grumpy
Once inside his flat, he looked at her with disdain
Said "Guess you be expecting some food or some such"
She nodded, as sad as she was, she was indeed hungry
He showed her the cupboard and fridge, milk and cereal in there
Help yourself, and wash the dam dishes afterwards
Don’t got no extra bed, so you sleep here on the couch
She nodded silently, thinking the world truly must have ended
Days, turned into weeks, turned into months
This little girl complained not once
All she could think of was her pain
Mummy and daddy were in heaven where ever that was
Why they left her was truly confusing
Friday was her birthday
She was sad and missing her family
Getting ready, she went to the cupboard for dinner
The old man said what the hell you doing that for?
She shivered in fear, he was always so so so mad
She apologies, sorry uncle Pete
He replied you sit your self down right there
And you be quiet you here?
Then the lights all of sudden went out
Bright tiny candles burned in the night
The old man, said, is your birthday after all
Hope you don’t mind these little cupcakes I got us here
She looked at him with new eyes
He turned, not quite smiling, no miracles just yet
They ate in silence after which, he said good night and happy birthday
The next morning even they really never talked
Other than who does what chores
Or how expensive she was to care for
She asked out of the blue
"Uncle, why do angels have wings?"
In his usual grumpy way, he replied
"So they get the hell away from us as fast as they can is why
This world is no place for happiness or angels get used to that"
She was taken back by his bitterness, still………
She replied, “but I dream on them looking over me uncle"
Well he looked at her, and somewhat softly and with unusual kindness
He answered her "that’s because you are one of them, a sweet little angel"
She ran into his arms and gave him a big hug
This was a very good thing.
For then she could not see the single tear the dropped to the floor
He actually hugged her back and with all of his heart
That day, a day for most people that was a normal day
Was for him and his little charge, a miracle
A small loving child, held that secret key
To opening an old mans heart
Copyright © arthur vaso | Year Posted 2015
An ancient river, centuries-old shops and restaurants steeped in a 2000-year history and
culture set the scene. The ambiance seemed divinely contrived to facilitate the purposes of
our meeting and the very fodder from which the greatest poets are sustained.
Not newcomers to the area, Kay P. and I were assigned to the Army Security Agency Field
Station in Augsburg, Germany in 1974. We were colleagues in the intelligence community
with no romantic overtures to our relationship, save an appreciation of poetry and profound
philosophical discussions. Kay wanted to spend the evening with a poet, so we planned the
evening to be appropriate for the purpose.
At the time and place, we quickly found ourselves hopelessly immersed in the philosophical
foundations of my writings throughout the evening. It was the first time since Vietnam that
I'd felt worthy as a person. I still recall sipping the red wine and feeling the warmth of the
large hearth inside the Balkan eatery. I still see the swans gliding by on the Lech flowing by
When windowpanes begin to weep with autumn's chilly dew,
I'm taken back through seasons passed to one delight held true,
A rendezvous that time allowed, a gentle evening spent
Amid a time of long discord when days were dreary bent.
I feel the stretch upon my lips, the smile returns once more.
Again, I smell the Balkan fare prepared on Lech's old shore,
The mood is cast in high regard, the wine is tart and dry,
As Augsburg ripples in the wake when swans go gliding by.
The ancient windows frame our view and day begins to wane
As rivulets meander down and streak the dampened panes.
The ambiance of ages passed beseeched us not to leave
And held us in its warm embrace throughout the ebbing eve.
My heart was scarred, without regard and hardened by the war
But her esteem unveiled its worth, while nothing had before.
She saw the child that once was me, I'd long since cast aside,
And bade he climb astride his mount, engage his life and ride.
Now, she is but a memory, whose kindness soothed my heart,
For we embarked upon our lives on paths ordained to part.
Her subtle way escaped my eye till time had made it clear
That her esteem had set me free, that night I hold so dear.
The poetry that filled my soul remains these many years,
Impassioned in my warmest thoughts when autumn first appears,
When windowpanes begin to weep, a-glisten with the dew,
And I return to seasons passed, to one delight held true.
Copyright © Jim Fish | Year Posted 2009
An infinite door of midnight blue;
glowing peephole that is the moon.
Dare I look before turned to dust?
Yes, dear friend, I surely must.
In the midst, a city of finest gold,
large as the earth; immense and bold.
Quoins of pearl, this must be known,
the lusture seemed a life, it's own.
Rising from it, a mountainous temple;
whisps of prayers escape the steeple.
Without the city, fields of crystal flowers,
and trees more akin to wind chime towers.
Platinum trunks doning metalic leaves.
Angelic music when brushed with their wings.
Out from all this, layers of various planes
seemingly worlds of their own, yet all of the same.
Once starving children and homeless ones too,
with comforts of home; endless tables of food.
One plane of great sports, children running free;
prosthetics and wheelchairs, now trophies and glee.
Another, Indian braves running with buffalo,
women laughing carefree with children in tow.
Serene planes of beaches and tropical breezes.
On none was found pain, lameness or diseases.
Thousands of planes, but my favorite to view;
families and the ancients with no need of adieu.
So euphoric, this sight, but there is more to tell,
as three glorious chimes of the great temple bell.
All froze still as beams of golden light
transported them to the temple in quiet.
The most beautiful prayers and songs arose.
From within the city; pure love aglow.
Three bells again and all were beamed out;
some to the same planes, some different routes.
I wanted so badly, to open the door
and be in this place forever more,
but the door was locked and I had no key,
then an angel turned and flew towards me.
Approaching the peephole, that is the moon,
It said, "Don't worry, you'll be here soon."
I have need of a key, I began to implore,
and it slipped a note neath the midnight door.
I unfolded the note; three lines within,
and three nails fell out; payment of sin.
The first line proclaimed, the door was faith.
The second; the beams are God's loving grace.
Overcome by peace as I read the third line.
Jesus is the way, the truth and the light,
and I remembered a scripture that so sweetly states;
"For by grace, through faith, are ye saved."
Copyright © Arlene Smith | Year Posted 2015
When did a bed become your prison
I see your strength absorbed
Absorbed by the mattress
I turn you
Trying to prevent sores
Who would have thought soft sheets
Could cut like glass
I hold on to you
The younger you
Remembering your smile
I had thought you to be
The most beautiful woman in the world
It is said that boys fall in love with their mothers
What I miss most
Yes most of all is laughter
Those times no one else existed
The moments when we were the best of us
Before life became real
Chasing of dreams
I thank you for my humor
These were not accidents
They sprouted from the ground you nurtured
The time you spent
The cheering I heard as I lived my journey
I knew I could always come home
Now you are home
Let me read to you my stories
We still have smiles to share
You who I love
Who cared for me
I will not abandon you to a strangers care
I will usher you to your beginning
This bed can't hold one as strong as you
One day soon
You will skip into paradise
You will pick daisies
You will place them in your long flowing hair
When the time is right I will join you
When I have accomplished all that I need to do
I will miss you
I will cry for myself
Not for you
Because I know
You live beyond this room
I will once again
You are the most beautiful
Woman in the world!
Dedicated to my Friend Armand.
Copyright © Richard Lamoureux | Year Posted 2015
(For my friend Aisling: da'iman 'amal)
In the night that runs on fear, smile at me.
When nightmares haunt, laugh at me.
When demons show their ugly masks, beam at me.
And always, ever have hope.
When your head is so full it cascades, stare at stars.
As thoughts spill ferociously, softly seek them.
Forget thousands of misplaced words, see glimmers
Of hope, always have hope.
Days where you can't hear your thoughts, listen to music.
Minutes failing to making sense, immerse in singing.
'Seconds' a word without meaning, tune in harmony.
Believe in hope, there always is hope.
When nothing rhymes, you almost lose it,
In darker days, you cannot meet it,
In doubt, despair, or anger, it will elope,
But it will return, not ever lose hope!
January 21, 2017
Copyright © Darren White | Year Posted 2017
Living amid the blurred lines of my reflections
Stark cold fears snow me blanket my resolve
Nestled my leafless core begging for rebirth
Patches of life clumped to the reality of what is what was
Soul penetrating every doubt of self worth
Raw exposure of glory days forgone
Dreams engulf the rapture of greener pastures
Revealed in roots embedded firmly in my foundation
Seeds flourish branches extend and trunks stand firm
Copyright © Carol B. | Year Posted 2016
through a tiny lens
held firmly with hands
eyes gaze in awe..
with a simple twist
colours explode harmoniously
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..
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..
Copyright © Lynn Marie | Year Posted 2006
While you sleep
Lady dressed in white
And melt your cold heart made of ice
High into the sky
And fall as raindrops from God’s eyes
Where now you will grow
With me - in the bloom of a rose
Author: Elaine George
* Note: This poem is a Personification as well as a triple Fibonacci
Brian Strand's 'Image Contest': First Place
John Heck's '12-in-one' Contest: First Place
Copyright © Elaine George | Year Posted 2008
Things that seemed poetic were always sad,
though I yearned for sparkle
and my dad's guffaw, which never came.
Familiar things were always drear --
repeated motions in the same old game.
There were only distant glimpses
of budding spring, fleeting views
of daffodils. The strongest
poems dealt me death and dying.
Yet I always hoped, never went under
to gray despair, always dreaming
of a garden of love that we could share.
But those forbidden delights faded
quickly away; the only reality
I understand is the ever-looming
and final one. Nothing's changed.
The strongest poems deal death and dying.
Copyright © Leo Larry Amadore | Year Posted 2011
The flower that is given little light
tastes not enough of joy and cannot thrive -
then fades away like dusk into the night.
The soul who struggles just to stay alive -
much like the flower wilting in the dark -
tastes not enough of joy and cannot thrive.
How can a fire be lit if there’s no spark?
Without hope’s gleam, the soul will waste away -
much like the flower wilting in the dark.
This is the plight of one whose world is grey:
Though others say a paradise exists -
without hopes gleam, the soul will waste away.
A man upon this earth who tastes no bliss
is like a soul brought low who droops his head
though others say a paradise exists.
How sad that someone rather would be dead!
The flower that is given little light
is like a soul brought low who droops his head,
then fades away . . . like dusk into the night.
For the "Hope" Poetry Contest of Craig Cornish
and now for the contest of Nathan A
Copyright © Andrea Dietrich | Year Posted 2012
I shall meet thee in the summer of thy heart,
where we once walked head to each
elegant upon the world....
And had not a care but for little winds of love
winking there in the dreams of trees,
laying upon me to so delicately,
tickle with your autumn hair,
always so soap-scented you
Touch me where I had not known
the ease of such wonder in your eyes,
splendor only for a great king ----
but I a hopeless romantic muse,
with little empty pockets blessed
with thy precious petal,
am richer than any lord!
I shall wait for thee in our golden glade,
the heart which flows the waterfall....
by the dawn of your sweet embrace,
in the summer of thy heart,
I shall wait....
Copyright © Keith O.J. Hunt | Year Posted 2014
Waiting to be free
I am dying, but not like anybody who died.
I am living, but in the rainbow I do reside.
How much longer I will go until secrets unveil?
My mind cannot comprehend but my heart will decide.
My problems are too simple, my remedy complex;
Love is my medicine, which I have identified.
Destination is unknown; the journey is too short,
My vehicle is broken, our driver is mystified.
My body is a cage, my soul is shackled inside.
Speak not of troubles, my pain will be justified.
The door is half open; I can see the ray of love,
My heart will take over until we’re all unified.
Tomorrow, I will fly with swallows, they know the path.
Who can you trust “Haloo”? There is no one to confide.
March 1st 2016 Haloo
I dedicate this poem to Daniel Turner, for all his love and friendship.
Copyright © Pashang Salehi | Year Posted 2016