Best Market Poems

When my fatigued pen,
succumbed to a sleepy state of silence

in the market place of silent poets,
I searched for a tea room to stimulate my mind

my...

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What softness in silence amidst the cacophony of a spin cycle world war.
Lying next to your glow in sleep's stillness, careful of your bandaged hand.
Watching...

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The story behind this poem
The curiosity of many of my readers (many of them women) was excited in my previous poem ‘Passion in Black and...

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Each day dawns laden with secrets.

The morning dews are crystal balls, 
each holding a secret trailer of 
a fragment of day.    

The...

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as the PROPHETS of profits, WE lead and WE’re fair
while WE’re living the life of the poor BILLIONAIRE
– silver yachts, pearly castles, cash (plenty to...

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Robins sing joyfully to the morning sun,

hidden behind the pale white summer flowers,

up in that old basswood tree out back

Splish splash splish 

 sounds of...

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Atrocious affliction trembles voices of anguish 
Brewing vile horror in death of tomorrow
Fearing for the newborn, women, and children
For yesterday’s massacre killed her husband
And the...

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Mara- Collateral damage

Hi, my name is Mara, I'm six years old, I have brown hair and brown eyes. People say I'm pretty like my mom,...

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During a bad storm one night I turned on my television
Grey and black flickering lines appeared, obscuring my vision
I went outside and saw the aerial...

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~Do you Believe~ 

Here's the little twist in my parents home
Spreading fairy dust since I was 3 years old
The prancing and dancing before Christmas Eve
Made...

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As biology goes, I'm surviving,
a few aches and pains and a cough
and I check every morning when in the bathroom
to see if my bits have...

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I just got to the grave today, death was given to you by my infidelity.

Along the way alive, my soul was given death.

Thy Ishq ruined...

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THE SOUL FISH

Down onto the sunny - but windless beach - one dayMy grandfather and I on the water’s edge - we stayed

The gentle ebb...

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Poets
Why is it poetry, is a like dirty word and talked of in undertones?
It’s like a naughty postcard, more flesh than there are bones.
Poets tend...

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I went to visit Farmer Fred
Found him out in his wood shed
He was splitting up some oak
As I approached, he paused and spoke

“When I was...

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