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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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One leaf fell from a tall, tall tree
and subtly kissed gnarled roots beneath;
a lover’s kiss below sunned-sheath
of greenest leaves, a jubilee.
One spiraling leaf brought playful mirth
to sullen earth of trodden dirt.
A flight of hopeful shades of spring,
for hard, hard ground, an offering
One leaf dressed in a sparkling jade
glided with grace to green grass blades
and rested near a bubbling brook,
then waited for warm breeze that shook
its flirty skirt on green, green glade.
An arc of bright green canopy
warmed my heart in bluest mood,
and one leaf blew a kiss from you.
It twirled and pranced and floated by,
then with a touch it came to lie
green in my hand, a dear surprise.
Like emerald hills of Irish tales,
I marveled at how one leaf sailed
green In my hand that blue, blue day,
a kiss from you on Patty’s Day -
The gray clouds parted shining green,
a beauty like I’d never seen.
for Francine's Show Me the Green Contest, 3/18/15
Copyright © Rhonda Johnson-Saunders | Year Posted 2015
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To appreciate planet Earth
start with its snow capped mountains,
where sunbeams morph crystals of ice
into gems of glistening light.
Witness clouds traverse its skies,
floating on a vista of blue,
or a setting sun smear scarlet
onto puffs of marshmallow white.
See jungles at its equator,
create a sash of vibrant green,
and burnt sands ripple its deserts
with shifting dunes of tans and creams.
See its leafy forests change from
deciduous to evergreen,
and tundra pitted with blue lakes
fade to stretches of virgin snow.
Watch volcanoes erupt in flame
spewing plumes of ebony smoke,
and lava bleed from gaping wounds
while giving birth to molten earth.
See azure and aquamarine
waves, crested with white foamy froth,
or tilted poles capped in ice
sparkling like crystalline jewels.
View it from afar, as it spins
in the vacuum of space, like
a phantasmagorical
glossy cerulean marble.
Written 02/02/2016
Copyright © Emile Pinet | Year Posted 2016
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The wonder of nature you describe with the color of feelings
that even the blind sees the beauty, for you anoint with your sight.
From my forgotten core, words you inspire gush forth in indignant prose
like the lion who protects her young, who roars in warning lest she devour.
You lend me insight from your wisdom and give me laughter with your wit,
you pump the pulse in my veins when passion and sensuality is lit.
You kindle the fire in this heart when love is found
and collect the ash from the burnt cinder that haunts, when love is lost.
You hold my breath in exhilaration when I soar to triumphant heights,
the balm that soothes my pain when I’m down, your song remains
the solace I have found when life is hard, and the one profound
expression of the myriad emotions that defy words of common use.
O Poetry, you bring tears to my eyes, when in your lines I feel God cries
as I endure and withstand the ugliness, the haughtiness, of someone’s pride.
Yet with the turn of page and time, you coax from my lips such radiant smile
for with each stage in this life of mine, a poem is birthed, flutters, and flies.
24 May 2015
Poem of the Week - 31 May to 06 June 2015
Awarded 1st Place for both A Poets's Worth Contest and My Favorite Poem Contest
Copyright © KP Nunez | Year Posted 2015
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I be a common salty, once,
No captain's bars, did bear,
Yet blessed was I to venture,
Where few a skipper dared.
From steadfast crow's high perch
I watched the bright coast beacons wink,
Through a biting spray's December gale,
What goring shoals would sink.
For untold days I rocked atop
An oaken spar at length,
While wake and skies conveyed my eyes,
Lord Neptune's sullen strength.
Busy dogs, the mates and jacks
Bent hard to tasks below,
While toward the sky, with glass to eye,
My post waved to-and-fro.
First was I to e'er spot land,
My voice the first to yell,
Aye, first to sight the skull and bone,
And raise the warning bell.
"Thar she blows!" was oft my call
If viewed a breach, had I,
And "Friend or foe?!?" the question barked,
If strange sails split the sky.
But the moments that becalmed my soul,
As the swells ticked off my time,
Were star-filled nights, a bullion moon,
And the phosphorescent brine.
The darkest times were battlements,
When the ship groaned in its might,
But never dark, the eventide,
Sea and sky awash with light!
So rare, it was, to find this tar
On deck or down below,
And rarer still, did I abdicate,
My nest there in the crow.
Well, I'm adrift on shore now,
With brittle bones and gray,
Yet still my mind climbs up the mast,
To man my post and sway.
And when the angels task me,
To a new and heavenly crow,
I'll bend my gaze to the looking glass,
And give a hearty "Tally-ho!"
** This poem won 2nd place in the "Best Rhyming Poem This Year" Poetry Contest, John Hamilton, Sponsor, and was chosen for "Poem of the Day". **
Copyright © Greg Barden | Year Posted 2017
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Sunday Morning
Piano intro:
Verse:
Can you see the sun is shining down
On Sunday Morning, on Sunday morning
Can you feel the rain upon the ground
On Sunday Morning, on Sunday morning
Can you feel the wind upon you face
Did you know that time is not to waste anymore
Verse:
Can you hear the trees the wind is swaying
On Sunday Morning, on Sunday morning
Can you hear the song the birds are saying
On Sunday Morning, on Sunday morning
Can you feel the wind upon you face
Did you know that time is not to waste anymore
Chorus:
There is so much out there waiting for you
Take a breath of fresh air deep inside
All the things provided by the father
No sense for you to run and hide.
Can you feel the wind upon you face
Did you know that time is not to waste anymore
Verse:
Can you hear he’s calling out to you
On Sunday Morning, on Sunday morning
There is so much more that you can do
On Sunday Morning, on Sunday morning
Can you feel the wind upon you face
Did you know that time is not to waste anymore
Chorus:
There is so much out there waiting for you
Take a breath of fresh air deep inside
All the things provided by the father
No sense for you to run and hide.
Verse:
Can you hear the little children crying
On Sunday Morning, on Sunday morning
Can feel the flowers are you trying
On Sunday Morning, on Sunday morning
Can you feel the wind upon you face
Did you know that time is not to waste anymore
On Sunday morning, on Sunday morning (Repeat)
Copyright © Chris Green | Year Posted 2017
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Betrayal has devastated your heart,
blocking love’s magic before it can start.
And depression's quagmire, entraps your soul,
as disparaging lies exact their toll.
Chameleon clouds change, to match your mood,
releasing teardrops emotions have brewed.
And your heart breaks from the weight of the pain,
as monsters hide in the thoughts of the sane.
A fickle sun no longer shares its light,
sulking within shadows, gathered by night.
And feigning feelings, you struggle to cope,
for counterfeit smiles, leave no room for hope.
The specter of fear that penetrates dreams,
fuels frightening bouts of silent screams.
And exiting the tunnel, there’s no light,
for the future’s foggy, obscured by fright.
The promise of tomorrow made to youth,
was written on yesterday’s fragile truth.
For happiness, is a word without weight,
it's simply a moment devoid of hate.
Copyright © Emile Pinet | Year Posted 2017
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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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TO THE FLOWER
Your scent beckoned my weeping heart to painless flight;
amidst a garden where God dusts His pretty love.
Spring tints are pure and fragrant, free of guilt
Your hues painted another sunrise for my eyes;
when once I failed to catch the pledge of morn.
A seed of hope was born to white petals blush.
Though there are silhouettes of bitter yesterdays
must all the phantoms of illusions fade and leave...?
Your floating aroma stirred and shot my nerves;
inspiring a nightingale to sing some joyous laments;
It swayed with grace to dance on wind's despotic beat.
among the rustling leaves which hug the earth below;
So like the sun, which from distant horizon smiles;
it roused the sleepy world to begin the pen of baby prose.
The unfolding mystery of your petals brought
my bewildered mind to peacock's reflection.
Alas! All was transient. These eyes probe beneath
but were blinded by the intrusion of some stray shine;
Ambitions which from afar are building sprout;
t'is that which let this self to irksome doubt.
Lovely blossom of the wild, this sojourner nigh
to tame your perfume's sweet stinging scent.
A restless soul by some wicked, destiny pokes;
someone called--- but pity, I couldn't tell a note.
If by magic, a butterfly I could become;
Let it be over my being slowly span.
Then with you
(though the specters in our midst are fierce),
I could jet fly though miseries without fear.
But am just a mortal of faith that blows this wish
for only covenants call for my journey still?
I cannot be forever the one who would share your sweetness;
(Harken, fairies of blooms, this wilderness is not my lair.)
I shall not want to witness you wilt as no time left to stay.
Never again will you see me at day-break's bloom,
save something special for others to experience you.
This fleeting apparition I so adored;
promised me burgeoning petals.
"Be not afraid as seasons change,
beyond today, I won't be here to see that no harm
be done with all intentions to your sacred charm.
As today,
I leave you to Mother's Nature tender care,
for I must go to some greater musing-- heaven's ground.
Wilt not, as soon the rain will dash, refreshing you my dear.
If I return someday--
will your sublime scent still be here?"
__________________________________________________________
Your Best Poem - Poetry Contest
Sponsor Shadow Hamilton
~~3rd place~~
Free Verse, Prose Poetry, haibun - Poetry Contest
Sponsor Debbie Guzzi
~~2nd Place~~
POEM OF THE DAY: October 21, 2015
Inspired by Susan Seddon Boulet's painting:
-----http://media-cache-cd0.pinimg.com/236x/1d/c4/37/1dc437f88c0cfb2fbcc9333bd35bb8c3.jpg
©Olive Eloisa Guillermo
October 20, 2014, 10:19 pm
Copyright © Olive Eloisa Guillermo - Fraser | Year Posted 2014
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My heart skips a beat my love each and every time
I’m with you my dearest sweet and lovely Darling
Since the passions and feelings you stir in me
Touch the very depth of my inner being and soul
And render themselves not to mere words only
Suitable for depiction, exhibition, understanding
Rather to the image and strength of your beauty
And your rapturous desire and feeling as they
Defy rational attempts at any simple description
For you are the most radiant beyond all compare
My heart skips a beat my love when we lie together
Locked in a most enchanting embrace and kissing
So deeply, palpably that we run out of breath and pant
Anxiously at what comes next in our mutual longing
And crescendo as our passions explode and express
Themselves in a most hungry trail of urges and desires
Which makes finding love for us all the more magical
Pairing us together like a couple of star-struck kids
Lost impossibly in moments of hope and imagination
In a timeless world of love, desire, emotion, and oneness
My heart skips a beat my love when we walk so closely
Hand-in-hand talking, laughing, and living our dreams
Confronting the world and taking on whatever comes
Next as we steer our ship of destiny on a true course
Where our like-thoughts and deep love for each other
Mean something quite special that only Dreamers and
Poets can imagine and set to melody and harmony in perfect
Verses of sheer passion and delight painted onto a canvas
Of unending happiness where Heaven and Earth are one
My heart skips a beat my love when we’re forever one
Gary Bateman, Copyright © All Rights Reserved
(November 5, 2014) (Free Verse)
Copyright © Gary Bateman | Year Posted 2014
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A scarlet sun singes the edge of earth,
as darkness swiftly spreads over the ground.
And its receding rays, give shadows girth,
swallowing the last lingering light found.
Twilight fades as shadows begin to creep,
loosely leashed to an ebony tether.
And from the undergrowth, there's not a peep,
as dusk gathers them tightly together.
When the day shuts down, stars begin to show,
glittering against a backdrop of black.
And tides of darkness start to ebb and flow,
as dusk welcomes their flickering lights back.
Shadows shackle silhouettes to the night,
awaiting dawn, and the first rays of light.
Copyright © Emile Pinet | Year Posted 2017
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What goes up must come down.
No colors can define who you are.
You may own a cart or limousine.
We'll still reach the end when it is near.
I may be poor today and eat from trash.
Tomorrow, you can't tell. I'll earn some cash.
The bed where you lie is soft and wide.
I sleep at a sidewalk and the stars are my lamp.
You wake up each morn' with a feast on your table
While we are scavenging to fill stomachs when we're able.
Our destiny isn't written in the stars.
We work for a living to thrive in this life.
Be thankful every morning you witness the sun
And pray tonight that no one lives same as I.
Wheels come in full circle,rolling round and round.
Today you'll be on top,
I am watching from the ground.
Let us bear in our minds that we are better than birds.
Our loving Father ensures each mouth is fed.
Not even the smallest details can pass by His eyes.
So plant a seed of kindness and reap a better life.
sponsor:FRANK H.
name of
contest: SHAKESPEARE
*5th Place winner
Copyright © Aiyah de Torres | Year Posted 2014
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Starlight pierces ebony,
above sculpted shades of white.
And moonbeams soften the scene,
gilding night with golden light.
Donning a crystalline dress,
Nature's a picture of grace.
And draped in feathery down,
stands frozen in time and space.
Billions of flakes gathering
on the branches, slowly freeze.
And subtle features are carved,
by the breath of a sharp breeze.
The wind doesn't blow enough,
to dislodge the sticky snow.
And the laden branches bend,
bowing impossibly low.
Cold casts an enchanted spell,
in the throes of arctic chill.
And silence imbues magic,
to winter's artistic skill.
Copyright © Emile Pinet | Year Posted 2015
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I watch this world pass by,
miracle after miracle,
overcome with thoughts
of life and death -
heated in a buttery sky;
the air melts into far corners,
farther than my eyes can see.
Faster, this world spins into
eternity, faith, and possibilities.
An open window becomes a gate
to step through, a starting place -
as a bluebird dips in the birdbath,
squirrels scurry across green grass,
a blue horizon darkens like a memory.
Those who hurriedly pass by feign contentment
with plastic smiles, earbuds, cell phones,
a false sense of purpose.
I feel content, at peace, and yet, I ache for more -
a yearning from deep within.
I feel it wash over my skin.
Cars drive by, everyone’s going somewhere,
but not I. I sit here…I watch.
I whisper a short prayer for a friend,
I remain silent with His answer –
patience…all will work out in time;
head bowed, I pray for His healing hands
to touch me. In my father’s arms,
I am comforted and whole.
I am who He sees…
sunlight traces storm clouds
painting rainbows over shadowed trees,
a beautiful canopy.
His love flows through me,
pouring out at Calvary.
In the afternoon rain,
I see each drop of blood.
A choir of clouds congregate.
I hear their worship song.
I see a crown of thorns around them.
I feel the weight of the cross
He struggles to carry.
Mangos fall with the rain
from a shaken tree,
then lay bruised on limp, wet leaves;
flies begin to swarm around them;
following the clouds trajectory,
I envision more than I can bear -
His slashed skin and mangled bones
flash before my eyes.
With hands nailed, He's hung
on the cross in shame and suffering;
every labored breath taken
until death for an ungrateful world…
my soul seems to understand
what I cannot grasp…all of this,
He did for me….and you.
Love becomes more than a word,
a blessing becomes more than a concept.
I sit at my window unnoticed;
I watch the world pass by -
every leaf, pebble, bird, raindrop
and new life, I see,
like a child with a loving father,
a miracle…
Copyright © Rhonda Johnson-Saunders | Year Posted 2015
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Two statues of stone
On pedestals in the park
One male
One female
White objects of a perfections beauty
Yet they stood erect and alone
When the rain fell
This was their tears
The stared at each other with longing
The trees grew tall
Season by season the flowers bloomed
Two statues standing erect in the prison of life's hold
A poet walked in the park
Glancing at lovers, kisses at dusk
He stared at the statues above his head
He knew, with dread, the loneliness of stone maidens
He waited for the park to become enclosed in the twilight
With toil and sweat he did succeed on his lark
Pushing the statues close rather than apart
As one statue danced and the other one sang
They kissed the sweetness of night and felt the tears of joy
All because a poet
Wished them a lovers embrace
He knew them like they were his children
For here he was as well
A statue
In love
Copyright © arthur vaso | Year Posted 2015
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Leaves of the Dead
Les feuilles mortes
They fall like dead soldiers
Dreams knifed in the dead of night
It is as yesterday
Once more
Where love was kissing my cheek
Where hopes had dreams
One could see the blossom of loves desires
Leaves falling in the park
Autumn coldness brings the dark
Death marching towards winters fate
Young love broken at the graveyard gates
Ah now I am holding a cane
I have all but forgotten yesterday
I have no lovers
My friends have all but gone
To their designated places in the ground
Piano keys in soft lit lounges
I remember the vodka stingers and sultry singers
Telling me life was jolie oh so jolie
If only there was love…
Leaves falling in the park
Autumn coldness brings the dark
Death marching towards winters fate
Young love broken at the graveyard gates
At 3am, with burnt cigarette butts
If only there was love
When the metro finds it’s unwitting end
Reality and cubes make ugly paintings
There are only drunks
Dreamers and bums
Thief’s picking pockets of your final instructions
Leaves falling in the park
Autumn coldness brings the dark
Death marching towards winters fate
Young love broken at the graveyard gates
If you can sober up and face the poverty
Of your empty aspirations of hope
Come to the bois de Vincennes
Where Kings and Queens danced and dined
What better place
To splay the butter
So that the knife slides smooth
Whilst the sun fades kissing the seine
Autumn leaves will fall
Dead again
Leaves falling in the park
Autumn coldness brings the dark
Death marching towards winters fate
Young love broken at the graveyard gates
Copyright © arthur vaso | Year Posted 2016
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For I am death, the personification of pure evil,
The grand godfather, of legions of unnumbered generations.
Behold thy disciples, baptized beneath my crimson waters,
Of blood.
Then reanimated as the living undead, in mine own image,
These are my forsaken children of the Night.
Kissed by the angel of death, I'm resurrections insurrection,
Spawned in hell a creature devoid of heart or soul, yet do I
Exist, biting at the exposed throat of humanity, leaving it
Drained completely dry.
Does not the white lily turn ember red, within this the
Valley of damnation.
My throne is a black coffin gilded in golden refinement,
Residing beneath the wooden lid, the beast sleeps,
Waiting to be embraced by the darkness of night.
Slowly, emerging from mine cryptic mausoleum,
I'm famished for the taste of the living essence
Of mankind.
A gentlemen reaper of the fallen, deeply do these
Fangs penetrate into the soft flesh of humanity,
Tis a dark blessing's supernatural gift, have I been
So given, to take life then to restore it.
Raw beasts of instinct, clinging to the ethereal
Moon, that hangs above illuminating this,
Our unholy abyss.
Welcome to a shadow nation of the unseen,
Whose roots extend backwards, to an older country’s
Unconsecrated soil, called Transylvania.
On mine legacies crest, a red dragon with talons
Extended reaches out, grappling for powers control.
For I am Dracula, born of royal blood in life,
But in death I am a king, let these castle walls
Bleed on forever, and the hounds of hell,
Sing outside my rod iron gates.
But beware mortal flesh if you so enter,
For I will enjoy every trespasser,
Whom dares to venture within my
Sacred territory, with a fiendish smile
Upon my hungering face.
BY: CHERYL ANNA DUNN
Copyright © cherl dunn | Year Posted 2014
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Madame Mistress, ebonies princess,
Southern comforts golden jewel,
A golden beauty down south does dwell.
She hides many secrets beneath her,
Glittering mask of mystery's mystic spells.
A dark priestess is this Cajun queen,
Black widows magic women,
Known as Ms. New Orleans.
In her crimson gown, trimmed by
Velvet's purple hues, she smiles
Behind her white lace fan.
A beguiling angel is she the devils
Own kindred.
The voodoo queen of the swampy delta,
Ruling over the shadow demons,
Whom guard the everglades.
Underneath fancy face and social grace,
Lies the misbegotten heart of a
Witches soul.
Here the trumpets sound at,
La Carnival as minstrels stroll,
Down Bourbon Street with rhythmic,
Precision's precise step.
Come join in celebrations grand parade,
The Maude Gra. Where anything goes,
Here things are forgotten as the sun rises,
This grand lady of beauty's legacy's charm.
Presses one finger to her redden lips,
Speaking not more than a hushed whispers
Sigh carried across bayou.
Thus does the Spanish moss weep, for
Those lost souls swallowed whole,
Beneath nights dark covenant of death.
Ghostly images walk the muddy side shores,
Phantom spectators existing as prisoners,
Trapped in limbos web, a thin fine line
Between the living and the dead.
Beware lone travelers, those for whom,
Seek mysteries glamor and mystic,
Of the southern by ways.
All are welcome to taste our spicy
Hospitality.
Yet beware pay homages respect,
To Mz. New Orleans, she after all takes
Great care of her own.
BY: CHERYL ANNA DUNN
Copyright © cherl dunn | Year Posted 2015
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Love’s only an illusion,
in the hearts of naive youth.
And non-responsive to dreams,
or expectations of truth.
Through anguish and frustration,
bravado falters and slips.
And yet, within fantasies,
passion drips from cherry lips.
Hope courts imagination,
summoning a dreamy smile.
And you find your private place,
where you go once in a while.
You yearn for a true soul mate,
who will share your existence.
And you continue to look,
with undying persistence.
You fall in and out of love,
with the ghosts of yesterday.
And feigning your happiness,
pretend everything's okay.
Copyright © Emile Pinet | Year Posted 2015
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Shadow to shadow, shade to shade
In youth the Eden where you played
was left bereft, destroyed, decayed,
by trusts malignant masquerade
Shadow to shadow, shade to shade
Sweet crops die in your fallow glade
as opportunist needs invade
and bleed the life from every blade
Shadow to shadow, shade to shade
First, victims surging song is brayed,
but dirges of the wronged soon fade
as urges pant their serenade
Shadow to shadow, shade to shade
Agendas you've arranged cascade
to keep your motives undisplayed
and cover cracks in your charade
Shadow to shadow, shade to shade
You've planted with your soiled spade
these rancid seeds in hopes that they'd
conceal the putrid plots you've laid
Shadow to shadow, shade to shade
Your blighted past will be replayed
and every bloom on whom you've preyed
must lie now in the beds you've made
Copyright © Lycia Harding | Year Posted 2015
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Imagery Poem
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Callused fingers press vibrating strings,
drawing passion from a violin.
And with burnished wood snug to his cheek,
the violinist plays from its heart.
Subtle vibes saturate my being,
as crying strings elicit feelings.
And expounding on love’s betrayal,
music stirs the imagination.
His bow hangs like a lingering kiss,
savoring the taste of ecstasy.
And then with tears trickling down his cheek,
he unleashes unbridled fervor.
Experiencing pangs of rapture,
sound slips the bonds of reality.
And as each note penetrates my heart,
it ignites flames of fire and passion.
Copyright © Emile Pinet | Year Posted 2015
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Periodic table of elements
Periodic table of elements,
the true heart of chemistry,
Law of periodicity clements,
Mendeleev is not a history !
Bonding between two hearts,
ignoring all the negatives,
When breaks and rips apart,
defying the electro positives,
Atoms randomly disperse,
Directionless, blinded and betrayed,
Valencies in their course traverse,
Swaying in the numbers brigade !
Written January 2nd, 2015
For contest "Periodic table of elements" by Anthony Slausen
Copyright © Dr. Upma A. Sharma | Year Posted 2015
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Imagery Poem
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The Moon, The Swan, The Rose
I see an enchanted image that you’ve never dreamed of
With reflections twinkling while dancing on wave drops
Of a dreamy blue lake that is a mirror of one white swan
A dancing beauty with a pureness that blesses this water
She floats like a princess with such an elegance and grace
As splendor ripples through a lens of her divine existence
A canvas painting as one masterpiece beyond compare
As the moonlight manifests a sweet rose in my dreams
Beautiful to desire now that nothing shall be disturbed
Within a frozen memory a brilliant diamond illuminates
As the full moon’s image enters the depths of her soul
And a sad, certain loneliness leaves her spirit exhausted
Arising before my eyes on the wings of angels I see all
Clearly now with an excited, fluttering magical heartbeat
Believe me—that this eternal blue sky is incredibly real
With a golden orb of light colors reflecting so exquisitely
Now as majestic images of God’s Heaven appear above
I see His very image of the Moon, the Swan, and the Rose
Anne-Lise Andresen, Gary Bateman, and Liam McDaid
A Collaborated Poem, Copyright © All Rights Reserved
September 2, 2015 (Unrhymed Tercet)
Copyright © Gary Bateman | Year Posted 2015
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Imagery Poem
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Falling in love is magic,
it feels like your heart's on fire.
And your ears hear only hope,
not the words of a liar.
When trust begins to weaken,
your heart shores it up with lies.
And an outpouring of pain,
replaces truth as it dies.
Fear gathers, like nagging doubts,
that morph into last goodbyes.
And shared dreams discreetly drown,
as tears spill from crying eyes.
Let time’s current carry you
to where hope, outweighs sorrow.
For like a river, it flows
blindly towards tomorrow.
Copyright © Emile Pinet | Year Posted 2015
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Imagery Poem
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Sol squints His blazing crimson eye,
clinging to the edge of the earth.
And as scarlet smears a teal sky,
dusk dies, awaiting dawn's rebirth.
Vermilion clouds float overhead,
hovering, just above the ground.
And as the horizon bleeds red,
darkness descends, without a sound.
Shades of charcoal, dappled on blue,
merge in the creases of the night.
And a lone owl bids day adieu,
silhouetted against last light.
Shadows flow like rivers of black,
as twilight succumbs to the dark.
And daylight slips into a crack,
abandoning a landscape stark.
Copyright © Emile Pinet | Year Posted 2015
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