The Scarlet Letter H
Two Windows The Bridge Thomas Gordon
You could tell, He was an older man
You knew, With a nice smile.
One beside the other. He was always
They were, dressed Impeccably dressed,
In sheer outfits... Impeccably groomed.
One beige, One tan So when it happened,
Both stripped When everyone
identically. Heard it happened,
They had, they have, They were shocked.
Identical panes. His peers liked him,
Every moment His peers respected
Of every day Him. His demeanour
They looked at, Never changed.
The same identical The company was
Outdoor scene. Downsizing.
Every moment Thomas Gordon was
Of every day Deemed redundant.
They looked at, He gathered
The same identical His belongings
Indoor scene. Left immediately,
I suppose Without a word to
one could say Anyone. thirty five
At least one was, Years of his life
It takes a clear thought - a 360% forensic inspection
A battle well fought, to get to an accurate conclusion
At least one is, Ended abruptly. The
Redundant. But, Next day everyone
If you looked deeper Read about him on
These two identical The front page of the
Windows Newspaper. He was
Were, are far from, Trending on the
Redundant. Internet. so when it
When you opened Happened when
Both windows Everyone heard...
And only when He did not go
BOTH were opened Directly home.
An amazing On that fateful day
phenomenon occurred Thomas Gordon ran
A natural, soothing, Into a burning home.
Refreshing, necessary, He saved two lives
Breeze, filled the room. Without a thought
Oxygen to breathe For his own welfare.
They were, They are Apparently
Two windows. Mr. Gordon
Identical?- Yes! Was anything
But redundant?..., BUT redundant.
September 4 2015
Copyright © Maurice Yvonne | Year Posted 2015
Can love then, be based
on an index of elements
from which one joyfully tumbles,
or drifts into equations, as we wander
toward a rush of serendipity ...
a metaphysical merging of ardor
writhing in a shared communion
like tuneful whispers in breaths of helium,
unabbreviated oxygen rhapsodies
from unbidden laughter,
invigorating the warmth of co-owned stars
on heaven’s destined oracle?
Love transcends chemical derivatives
of fractals or measurement,
between our atoms, relaxed
in the shuffle of emotional electrons
as we quiver weightless...
the heart’s embrace suspended together
in the affectionate cosmos
of a deep kiss.
“How on earth can you explain in terms
of chemistry and physics so important
a ...phenomenon as first love? “-- Albert Einstein
Anthony Slausen’s Periodic Table Of Elements
Copyright © nette onclaud | Year Posted 2015
Psycho-logical phenomenon, perhaps?
A little dubious, yes, still enigmatic, you know
Rare stimulus through our enthusiastic eyes
Eyes and ears that brings awe and fear: it rhymes!
Images in abstract forms. We believe in patterns and norms!
Designs could be figures born in lazy clouds
Or mysterious shapes, or illusions, or visions
Lying on ground, marks or impressions...lying?
Intimidating or inspiring? ...I think that the Sphinx Head on Mars
At night, only at night...it looks just like aunt Beth.
World English Dictionary
Pareidolia: the imagined perception of a pattern or meaning where it does not actually exist, as in considering the moon to have human features, or religious images in windows and walls or in clouds resembling animals or faces.
Copyright © Ruben O. | Year Posted 2010
B illions of years ago the universe was born
R evealing a resplendent beauty that was and is
E verything and more one could expect from
A n amazing designer and architect and
T imekeeper, beyond all human understanding
H eavenly bodies and beings, celestial phenomenon
T hat is incomprehensible in it´s complexity
A nd simplicity in syncronicity with heavenly
K indness and grace towards the human race
I gniting within us a humility of heart and spirit
N ever negating in our minds eye the unimaginable
G lory that is to be revealed for our eternal blessing.
John Derek Hamilton
Copyright © John Hamilton | Year Posted 2016
Soaring Hawk poised high
Back drop a deep sapphire sky
Winds in attendance
Mighty wings unfold
Caressing the Wind Spirits
They lift and support
Circling Hawk perceives
Rainbow circle on a cloud
Framed is his shadow
On oceans of blue
Snow hills of clouds seem to float
On silvered ripples
Waves swell as they curl
White manes gracefully flow
Rolling to the shore
Higher still soars Hawk
Wind Spirits on either side
Carry him upwards
Land and mountains meld
Lofty mountains crown the land
Hawk gracefully glides
Towards the shore he observes
His island in bloom
Festooned in colour
Hibiscus - Red, Gold and Pink
In leafy bouquets
Flowers - Pale yellow
Their sweet perfume exuding
Riding on the Winds
Romance in the air
Couples hold hands and frolic
An Island in love
Hawaiian Hawk proud
Sees everything - land and sea
Wind voices whisper
Of Rebirth, Growth and Culture
Hawaii has heard
We recently visited Hawaii, one of our favorite holiday destinations, once again we were carried away with the ambience and peacefulness of this Island Paradise.
In collaboration with my Husband Ron, our inspiration came while viewing the breath taking panorama from the 16th floor of the Hilton Hawaiian Village Waikiki Beach Resort. The Waikiki beach, the beautiful gardens and the mountains all formed the picture. But we needed a story and the Spirit legends supplied the theme.
All this got put together on the aircraft on our way back home to Australia.
We have tried to capture and share some of the essence which is the Spirit of this beautiful island, its rebirth of culture that’s embroidered in the legends of a traditional Hula dance.
The Red Hibiscus (koki'o'ula) is the flower of the big island, while the Gold flower mentioned - The vibrant, sunshine-hued Yellow Hibiscus (ma'o hau hele) is Hawaii's official National flower. In Hawaiian culture, Hibiscus is a symbol of old royalty & communicates power and respect.
The Hawk Kaha Ka ‘lo - the highest Chiefs where often called ‘lo – ‘Hawk with eyes that can see everywhere’
Ku Mahani ‘Rising Wind’ has a position of power grace and motion.
Ka Leo O Haukine ‘The voice of the Wind’, is so named.
The two Winds according to the legend, are the voices of ancestors who listen and speak through the winds. Together they are the Spirits that uplift the mighty ‘Lo – The Hawaiian hawk.
Some of the imagery described is seen from the aircraft as it would be seen through the eyes of the Hawaiian Hawk.
The circular rainbow, for those who have not been fortunate to have witnessed this rare phenomenon, it actually does exist.
POTD 14th April 2017
Copyright © Maria Williams | Year Posted 2017
Each Friday recedes in burgundy
Bathed ardently in Luna’s kiss
But, Sunday will dawn cerulean
With dulcet tones of lovers’ bliss
Bearing flavors wantonly consumed
I greet each hue voraciously
I taste the spectrum more than I see
My senses piqued peculiarly
As kaleidoscopic concertos
Obscure my sight in grand array
Each blending shade completes the phrasing;
Brilliantly, prism love songs play
*For Brian Strand's "Intervals" contest.
Note: The concept for this piece was inspired by those who experience a phenomenon called
Copyright © Donna Golden | Year Posted 2009
Its universe drapes time in buoyancy
Where endless space binds law of attraction
Atoms merging, clasped by human light
An energy wheeling freely, unseen;
‘Til moonlight climbs inside lovers’ halo.
Exploring their path, frenzy unlike space
Through quantum leaps weightless among new stars
Ascending on scales of breaths without measure,
Like passion heating a current; two mouths press.
Dazed by such fusion, wheel of Physics nods
To bring glow, showing what it's always known
Soul's beauty, radiating love unbound;
As dusk explodes to bless fluid motion.
With gentle fire, night sky dare not question
A universe lost in a trance of love’s spark;
There is no logic to explain,when
Affection blends cosmos of a kiss.
"Gravitation cannot be held responsible for people
falling in love. How on earth can you explain
in terms of chemistry and physics so important
a biological phenomenon as first love?
Put your hand on a stove for a minute and it seems
like an hour. Sit with that special girl for an hour
and it seems like a minute. That's relativity.”
Personifying Science Contest, Sheri Fresonke Harper
by nette onclaud
Copyright © nette onclaud | Year Posted 2013
Tragedy is never a sentiment for Time
For it is a phenomenon she merely sees
She pours forth abundance for all that behold her
Even for those of us that scold her
And for naught she was cursed from the beginning
There she is—interminable Time at the fullest!
And we all envy her ever-ringing constancy
She rules over our hearts
Keeping stress in our spirits
Not once does she feel sorry for us
Nor is she indifferent of our failures
She begs not for gratefulness
And accepts who she is with joy!
How ample we would be if we
Like she—were free of trepidation
If only we be like her waters—clear and visible from top to bottom
Filled with untainted approval
What fools we must seem to such a pure jewel as Time
But ah, she is both heartless and kind
And though we hate her peculiar aura
Oh how hard it is do tear her from our minds!
How stressfully beautiful Time is!
Like a wink of venerated bliss
She smiles and smiles
And our ironical faces feel like grime
Still she laughs in mirth
While the world becomes a ball of putrid hatred
Wanting more and more of her
And positively hating her
We that cannot see her began to hate
For we are as visible and low as can be
And we acknowledge her merely to insult her
Though she takes no pang to the chest
For the only gifts we give in return for herself are pangs
That she simply returns to each sender
Hidden is our pride
But ever placed
Is our inscrutable mortality
And this humiliation of our unchangeable fates
Makes us want to humiliate the more fortunate
Thus we regard her only as a concept
As a fraction of a belief—a bellowing ideal
For of course Time cannot in our honey-glazed eyes
Think, eat, drink or feel
We use her—yes! Even abuse her
Not once will she complain
For her gift is everlastingness
Copyright © Laura Breidenthal | Year Posted 2013
Just the thought of you
inspires me to heights
of grandiosity and elegance
You coerce me to create
writings, poems of distinction
How does this entrancing
energy transpose into art,
permutations of heights
drifting through ions
of transposition, toughness
It's a mystical phenomenon
that's existed for ages,
from the inception
of humanity's ineptness
through the age of technology
bolstered by craters
of existential drifting
parallel to the Muse.
Copyright © Frank Sheehan | Year Posted 2016
I was born in a time
When the thrills of a thriller
Did move the bricks
Of the thickest of walls.
I grew in an era
When the dynasty of an empire
Did expand to farthest of lands.
I adapted to a phenomenon
When the existence of a legend
Did drown the fame of mortals.
A fame in immortality
Bearing the impenetrability
Of Achilles himself,
Destined to march
Through the walls of Troy.
I twisted to the strings
Of a guitar, twanging
Spontaneously in my head,
In moves of invisibility.
I was opportune to appear
In a time, when the conquest
Of one king, did crest
Long lasting tattoos
In the hearts of many.
I was fascinated in a time
When the life within a man
Did blossom young,
As he lived unaffected
By the fading of time.
I lingered in an era
When the voice of one man
Could unify the sections
In a complex world.
I flowed in his guidance,
Dined in his glory
As though I existed
In his peak of enthronement,
His conferment of Grammies.
Bedazzled by his flexibility,
I was blessed by his power
To rein in anointed glory,
I was born in an empire
Governed by a king;
The king of pop,
A king in the world,
Father of offspring
As multiple as stars.
Electrified by a star,
There shall never be another;
Another motion slider,
Another shining star.
And though he passes on,
I shall live to declare
That I was born in a time
Ruled by a legend,
Guided by an immortal,
A world of Michael Jackson.
Copyright © Dowell Oba | Year Posted 2009
Listen to poem:
look a rain drop see
falling from the sky
it'll hit the ground
wave your hand buh-bye
up there in the sky
right now it's high
falling from above
is it going to die?
when angels cry
sometimes in july
like people in a way
it's easy to see why
i need more time
today it rains again
i have to say more
its almost six a.m.
soul mind and flow
your heart will race
while rain drops fall
in a glorious dance
so many of them
we call it bad weather
weak on their own
a strong force together
a waterfall of thoughts
something to ponder
back to the story
bright light and thunder
this drop is me
that one is you
came out from a cloud
from an ocean of blue
form an allegiance
create a cirlce of life
two drops of water
we are falling in love
rain drops fall over and over
come down go up no end to this story
rain drops fall over and over
phenomenon i call free falling
Copyright © Pavel Popov | Year Posted 2016
Truth is a feather
pushed off to the other side.
Truths are a body of feathers
within which our bodies reside.
OK, students of life’s healthiest purposes and meanings,
it’s time to regather, if you would be so kind.
[My EcoTherapist is trying to recall our bicameral minds with ecological bodies.]
[More kinda creepy silence.]
[I wonder if I have time for a cigarette.]
How do you understand “mind” as other than “body”?
[OK, she leads with a dualist assumption
for a session advertised as nondualist,
so the correct answer must be,
Which, mind or body, do you believe came first,
or do you believe,
as I do,
consciousness and biosystems co-arise nondually?
[I knew it!
Biosystems are self-identifying consciousness-rememory
DNA-encoded systems, or RNA, if you’re a tree or something green,
from before the time when physical root systems
transubstantiated into metaphysical regenerate root bilateral,
then bicamerally balancing,
I remember our history of biological evolution co-mentoring sessions,
out on the coral reefs of time’s surfing copresence.]
If mind emerges from reiterative and redundant and resonant neural-cellular development,
in these, and probably other, senses co-arising nondually,
then what do you think could survive of your Ego identity
upon total biosystemic flatline demise of your natural-chemically elementary cellular body?
From where would sensory consciousness and memory emerge?
From when, and for how long?
[Hang on there now. I’m stuck back on the where question,
which I think should probably default as Nowhere,
Ego emerges from nowhere?
No, no, If dead,
then Ego as sensory consciousness and memory is nowhere
at that time, and on into the future of EarthTribal evolutionary history.
No such phenomenon.
No such experience within continuous Earth-spinning Time.
But only as long as I dance this Ego-consciousness string
As your mindbody decomposes,
is this really still your Ego’s story?
In that future time of opportunities for health and relationship
capacities for ongoing communication,
you struggle to face their mortal loss now, projecting forward,
we struggle together to find faith
these lost opportunities are not your post-critical event
of loss, decay, absence, inevitable physical and mental defeat.
[I don’t even have faith that anyone will think that day
has come even one day too soon.
Nor would I care to invest in such an unwise faith.]
in the face of this inevitable termination of Ego’s mindbody story,
as unfolding conscious memory-string of continuous information,
transform into your nutritionally reiterating responses and contributions
yet reverberating within EarthTribe’s ReGeneration Story?
Is your Ego expanding out toward Earth’s Story?
pregnant pregenetic, nearly timeless Creation Story,
out and yet deeply into this Elder (0)Riginal Intent.
Body memory transforming within ecopolitical truths of post-taoist beauty,
ecologic of Ego/Eco balancing
dipolar cognitive/affective neural emergence
(0) CommonsCentered DNA/RNA code—syntax
healthy reverse development instructions
for normative natural/spiritual
mind/body elational resonant resolutions
giving oneself birth into this body’s time
as giving ourselves freedom
for time’s codependent love of light ourselves.
[My self-image emerges rather far toward the depressive side
of love as ecoconscious light myselves.
Oh, wait, maybe that connection between agape as Basic Attendance,
understory of all those relational dramas, and nonrelational boredoms,
dissonance and dismay,
feelings of elation and relation,
love and hate,
anger and fear,
all Ego’s products,
as Ego, in turn, is produced
by unfolding DNA instructions
within a nurturing DNA-developed warm embryonic pronoic womb
living in this specific time
within Earth’s evolution of continuing ecosystemic health-consciousness.
[Oh, I get it, health as therapy-consciousness.
Puts a postmillennial twist on post-doctoral medicinal sciences.
Kind of self-serving, though,
unless all humane-nature is for ecotherapeutic vocations,
in dying as in living,
in living as optimally visible through mortality’s timeless lens.]
What we inherited from Elder wombs of Time’s incarnation
is what Ego becomes
to cherish as responsible authority
rooted within teleologically exegetical historic evidence
unveiling regenerative evolutions as cooperative nested-networks,
and to let go free as a last pay-it-forward gift
to nurture future healthy regenerations of time
[Why do I feel like I could use a bath
more than a cigarette?]
deepdense Ego-Ecohypnotic co-elational learning bright,
white octaving night,
protons merging eco-lateral binomial electronically issuing waves
as Yes! reweaves notnot
[I’m wondering if there is something in Taoist water
that regenerates this wu wei balance
spinning through my bicamerally revolving mind
Could you become as curious about other’s Ego development stories
as you have obsessed about your own?
[Wait a minute,
when did I give you the OK to label me as self-obsessed?
Or maybe the balance point here
invites comparisons between obsessive curiosities,
in which case
perhaps my own Ego health constant revival
does indeed lie most mortally on my failing mind.]
please note differences
but memorize Earth’s natural systemic similarities,
especially about what we all want our end to say
one day's capacities for love as peace,
about gradually subsiding incapacities of anger Ego losses
and fear of/for future Earth as sacred compost,
transubstantiating post-climatic residency.
was I supposed to write that out loud?]
Copyright © Gerald Dillenbeck | Year Posted 2016
It's like getting your leg amputated
For a while the phantom limb throbs and aches
Until you recognize and accept the fact
That it's just a ghost playing evil pranks
A phenomenon occurs in the morning
That will forever remain a mystery
Those few seconds between waking and sleeping
When you don't yet realize who or where you are
You get a short reprieve until
"Oh yeah, I don't have a leg anymore"
For HGarvey Daniel Esquire's contest
Copyright © Tim Ryerson | Year Posted 2012
From what she was in high school
to what she is right now
Some may consider a phenomenon
while other marvel how
I remember the face of the cool cool girl
in the class before me
Vanilla chocolate was her flavor
a favorite for sure I've seen
Though thirty years has past
there was still something to see
She was the woman I always knew from a child
the woman with ageless beauty
You know the color of her lips
and the mascara around her eyes
you know the shape of her cheek bones
her boney fingers and perfect smile
There is a beauty that we call elegant
often found on wedding days
but rarely doe's this elegance
grace our wrinkles and grays
Yet I still wondered where she came from
this woman of grey delight
Always high maintainence
always someone's wife
But how shall I describe her
this woman that I know
The immortal beauty that took others places
Others that were there before she showed
Destiny is a force that cannot be stopped
The place where she is that awe and shocked
time is a blessing depending on how it's spent
But beauty is a lesson testing the bearer
and the one to whom beauty was sent
Though I speak of thousands of women
there is one that looks the best
The queen of all the goddesses
for whom there is no contest
The woman I see is timeless
she hasn't always been the rage
But now that she's past fifty
she wears the beauty of that age
But looking past the beauty
is the life you may not see
The horrors of real life
hidden by ones fantasies
When makeup is mostly for mirrors
and not the world outside
Beauty is only a mask
and compliments sooth the pride
The shell of forbidden beauty
hidden by an unattainable goal
And yet this untamed beauty
may posess a lonely soul
And life may hold larger things
than we could ever imagine
But what can be more beautiful
than this wonderful distraction.
Copyright © john loving iii | Year Posted 2015
China Tour Diary Moment #3
Paradise on earth: Himalayan range;
A phenomenon carved by elements;
Here magic gives birth to ways that seem strange;
A place where lessons of soul mark movement.
Our tour coach winds round the mountain terrain;
Drive on man-made roads and excitement here;
High above the ground, feel Spirit's refrain;
See wonder purge loads as soul knows fond cheer.
Feel the calm ambience on this grand vista;
Our tour group enroute with highway mileage;
Notice a radiance beyond agenda;
Shangri-la calls out in hidden lineage.
Four hours on-the-road with punctuated stops:
And then our eyes sight the Himalayas;
Cold air sifts heat load as bones feel cold mop;
There's a mystic light that comes in layers.
I feel the splendour of an unseen touch;
There is a measure of peace that surrounds;
I sense a grandeur, an aura as such;
There is calm treasure in Tibetian grounds.
Now I start to know why I've always felt
The allure that calls me to this strange place;
No logic can show the knowing that melts;
Understanding frees reason with sure grace.
Mister Mao's China annexed old Tibet;
The surge of new change has come to this land;
Modern agendas have altered mindsets;
Now ancient and strange meet a reformed blend.
Here, the ancient lores permeate the culture;
Ways of new and old mix and mingle free;
Yet yarns from before linger to nurture;
The life streams unfold in primal beauty.
There is a certain atmosphere serene;
An unspoken feel, an unseen presence;
How can I contain what words find extreme;
Beyond mere goodwill, a visage transient.
Perhaps my musings are self-engendered;
Still, I sense a touch beyond description;
I wrestle feelings to learn things tender;
A pulse and a nudge hints contemplation.
Herein I realise a man's life reveals
Moments and outcomes as change casts a light;
Heed glimpse beyond eyes that grace now fulfills;
A certain light sums splendour beyond sight.
Tibet weaves a charm with calm caresses;
The land breathes and tells in soul vibrations;
Grazing grounds and farms, and homestead houses;
On stillness I dwell in meditation.
We check a road map that cites agenda;
Stroll through ancient grounds to match new-found sights;
Climb a hundred steps to a pagoda;
We greet lost and found in the midday light.
Capture a brief stay with silent prayer;
Walk through temple hall as icons preside;
Allow heart to stray with true wayfarer;
Feel calmness mingle as silence provides.
The day follows swift in twists and turns here;
A sojourn that sends us deeper within;
Here we turn the cliff and help our hearts steer;
The bold homeward trend to moments unseen.
Mountains and valleys loom in pleasant sight;
A personal space between man and grace;
Joy fills the alleys with spring time delights;
Notice time and place reveal a sure pace.
The song of the wind can be heard howling;
No human voice can imitate this poise;
It comes yet unseen to groom brief stirrings;
Touch can thus rejoice with soul's preferred choice.
In the new dawning, we tour the vast park;
Take a coach upwards, climb the mountain road;
Then hike surroundings to sightsee our marks;
We circle towards where the end unloads.
Yet, brisk as we come, too soon we depart;
The sun plunges slow as coach speeds away;
Awareness now sums in soul, mind and heart;
No words can frame glow that settles our stay.
As our day retires, we find fruitful rest;
There is a feeling of a day well-spent;
Gratitude fuels fire as sleep cultures fest;
Sunset concealing as cold winds attend.
Tomorrow we take the road somewhere far;
This feeling of calm will bless our journey;
Movement surely makes spring time moments star;
Spirit's healing balm soothes pulse and sets free.
Beyond time and space, a continuum strange;
Know then that love dwells within and around;
Greet soul face-to-face in full depth and range;
Allow poise to tell fond joy that peace grounds.
28 May 2014
(Note: Written in China, Shangri-la, Tibet on Monday 26 May.)
Copyright © Leon Enriquez | Year Posted 2014
Gone with the Wind
I've seen this movie before,
and I know how it ends
First we start off slow,
then become Best Friends
That's when the Love Story begins
We have ourselves a True Romance
which brings us skin to skin
And the way we are now
is The Way We Were then
We created the Perfect Storm,
our love has no Misery
You're my African Queen
and I'm your Lion King
We're on a Streetcar Named Desire
that feels like a Ring of Fire
Kate & Leopold
This love was Too Hot to Handle,
but we couldn't let it go
We found a way to hold on tight
because we were both Spellbound
Now it's A Wonderful Life,
our love is such a Phenomenon
The Baker Boys
These are just a few
of the movies I see
whenever I'm loving you,
and you're loving me
A Star is Born
A Place in the Sun
The Best Years of Our Lives
These are just a few
of the many movie scenes
that always let me know
what our love truly means
These are just a few
of the movies I see,
once I fell in love with you,
and you fell in love with me
It Happened One Night
These are just a few
of the many movie scenes
I always see you
when I'm looking at the screen
Gone with the Wind
I've seen this movie before,
and I love how it ends
Copyright © Freddie Robinson Jr. | Year Posted 2016
I awoke one morning
It was incredibly bright
I drew back the curtains
To a most amazing sight
It was like we had two suns
Orange orbs, floating in the sky
The heat that was being emitted
I felt the atmosphere dry
I turned on the TV
It must be on the news
From where i stand
Surely I'm not the only view
Is it a phenomenon
Or nature playing her tricks
The camera crews are at NASA
Lets see what they make of it
Deep in outer space
An explosion we can't comprehend
Has sent a massive meteor
To our moon it's journey ends
Our world is now in peril
The Moon held us stable
Can us scientists do something
I'm not sure we are able
There will never be many times
When the whole world stopped and stared
But this is one of those times
We have every right to be scared
Copyright © James Fraser | Year Posted 2009
Physics of the moon
I feel the lunar ecstasy in your heart
Connecting our vibes from over 1500 miles apart
With every swing of my mood ring, my sensational heart will sing
An out of this world phenomenon tune, "you are my everything!"
Absorbing every phase the moon goes threw
Sending energy between me and you
When our eyes meet on the darkest side of the moon
Your body mass rotates like a cyclone hitting my land like a typhoon
Like the gravity that bonds the earth and moon together
Our souls will collide with a massive force of forever
The image of you appears at all times like a moon cycle
Like a cascade running all around my mind, like a halo circle
Our love and vision orbits through every star
Giving us light no matter how near or far
The stars throb around the moon like a secret signal in the night
While you inhale my energy that exceeds into the morning light
Like a rainbow that enters and vanishes into the twilight of our sky
Our first kiss under the moon beam will twist our tongues into a tie
A sweet magnetic shadow will remain under the half moon
Sweeping our love above the clouds to float like a balloon
Holding a reflection with the moon's tide
Our journey continued, side by side
Emerging our love to find its way soon
Like a love mirage with the physics of the moon
Copyright © Poet Destroyer A | Year Posted 2010
One morning Dee woke to find the most unusual toad
Perched o’er the water line in the “bowels” of her commode
She put on gloves and sought to catch the elusive creature
But no matter how hard Dee tried, she just couldn’t reach her
So to the local newspaper, Dee wrote for assistance
A letter to the editor described Dee’s persistence
To her shock, the letter appeared the very next day
With her email below it for helpful hints to convey
Nearly seventy emails made their way to Dee’s inbox
Suggestions aplenty on how this critter to outfox
Some offered to come to Dee’s house and catch the motley toad
A biologist warned, “It can’t swim; don’t flush the commode!”
Dee lived very privately and wanted no strange house guests
So she declined “in-person” offers to pursue this quest
By day the toad managed to slip out of Dee’s gentle grasp
At night Dee reached for a toothbrush, felt a slithery clasp
The toad she called Todd was quickly escorted out the door
Although the potential for warts, Dee certainly abhorred
Newspaper staff got a kick out of Dee’s predicament
They called the next day to find out how her efforts had went
To all of the kind emailers Dee wrote of her success
But the public’s interest Dee was unable to suppress
So she wrote another letter, proclaiming, “The toad’s gone”
Concern for this toad was a noteworthy phenomenon
Beneath Dee’s letter describing Todd’s new outdoor abode
Was a cartoon and an ode to the toad in her commode
*Believe it or not, this is true!!! Happened to me when I lived in a wooded area.
A helpful biologist said it was a "tree toad" and couldn't swim.
Copyright © Carolyn Devonshire | Year Posted 2011
Heavily Damaged: 10,000 feared dead,
cadavers of ripped children litter on the streets,
Totally Devastated: People are desperate,
the streets are infested with terrible hunger,
looting is everywhere,
The whole city: State with anarchy,
Most of the communities on the coastal areas around the Visayas region: Literally wiped out,
defaced from the map in a blink of an eye,
washed away into the ocean by tsunamis of 15 feet higher,
After the apocalyptic deluge of super typhoon Yolanda,
sufferings plagued with painful sadness reign,
dead mothers hugged by crying children still wet with gushing blood,
a confused father carrying the cadaver of his young daughter,
whole families uprooted,
died in a split second,
an old woman eternally searching for her dead sons and daughters,
the old man shedding tears before the church's sacred altar,
his mind could not imagine the magnitude of the devastation,
an unthinkable natural calamity,
such a tragic phenomenon he just experienced in his lifetime.
My heart bleeds while watching these heart breaking news flashed
in every corner of the victims' eyes are unimaginable sufferings beyond human comprehension,
not even a poetic thought could find a word to describe the sorrow they are going through,
even an artist's passionate hand finds it hard to portray on canvass the agonies of homelessness,
worst than nightmare is that their dreams are swept away by heavy flooding.
how depressing to see them trembling under the bitter coldness without clothes.
Even the wrath of nature is terrible,
the very nature that we abused for so long,
but never loose hope,
there will always be calm after the storm,
as beautiful rainbow appears after the rain,
you'll never walk alone through your endeavor towards rehabilitation and restoration,
in spite of the political scandal of corruption that afflicts our country,
the politicians that put us in global shame,
the disease that we are trying to cure day by day,
but always remember,
we are filipinos born with a spoon of resiliency,
deep in our hearts are true compassion for others,
the spirit of bayanihan still dwells within us,
hand in hand we help each other like a one big family,
together we stand united,
this tragedy will be overcame,
and realize that this enemy is just but a small problem to beat.
Copyright © gianni pansensoy | Year Posted 2013
TO SPEECH PATHOLOGY
A voice is something to treasure.
An expression is nothing without this.
You can feel the deep suppression when possessed by another human being.
Speaking out and it becomes dubbed.
No, you are not a mute.
You do have a voice.
To the speech pathologist, I ask can you explain this phenomenon.
When pure thoughts are taken before they leave the mouth.
Heard is the individual speaker but he or she is not saying the words.
It is a crime for a voice to be stolen.
It is a felony when the individual speaker is the victim of something so palpable.
Once you begin to speak, you have learned the course.
The passageway that enables it to not be your voice.
Why, is asked.
Is it because you are being robbed of fame and success.
Or, is it because your physicality is being disesteemed...
Especially when you are a poet that brings the tangibles of life unambiguousness.
Why, therefore, is your voice being suppressed?
To the speech pathologist, I ask can you explain these occurrences.
That is when pure thoughts are being dispossessed.
You are the writer of your prolific verse.
However, speaking out and the words becomes dubbed.
Therefore, your poetic style is not heard.
How is a self-image without being expressed?
As the poet or (poetess), gender is non-bias.
But, when it comes to voice, you are your gestures.
Intonation is, thus, your metaphorical expression.
I ask the speech pathologist what is his or her call in this.
I am a student from United States public schools that speech had to be assisted.
I had a problem with the blend of consonants.
I overcame this hindrance.
Yet today there is a different kind of interference.
Technology is everywhere.
A vocal environment is what we have.
I can see the cubicle I am within.
As I speak, I see a domineering essence.
How do I remove this from my presence?
Phantasm is the word that is applied.
I am my voice profound by pure thought.
Is this an airborne disease of some sort?
What is it like to be a poet without a voice?
I will tell you this - it is no search entity which can capture a voice esteemed.
I am the writer that intonation well surpass the eidolon of others' activism.
As a political powerhouse, scrupulous and intact.
The vision of divinity has manifested.
Both together, but the same in separate places, a voice is a voice in the eminence of what is being aforesaid.
Speech pathology should investigate this singularity to the point that it informs individuality!
Penned June 14, 2015!
Copyright © Verlena S. Walker | Year Posted 2015
SUNSET vs' SUNRISE
** Sunset **
The afterglow flame
Creeping under the cold creek
Daylight, gone again
** Soap Dish **
Daytime TV blues
Tune in tomorrows soap box
Dramatic, dusk wind
** Evening Star **
Tired sound waves
Waiting for eventfulness
Hour of the beast
** Atmospheric **
Under the zodiacal night
Kisses and shivers
** Twilight **
Locked in my slumber
Vampire face awaken
Thirst like no other
** Sundown **
What goes up, has to come down
crowfeet, black and white
~~ Tequila Sunrise ~~
Break of day, snooze
Cockcrow without a whisper
~~ DAWN ~~
Sunny side egg twist
~~ New Moon ~~
beautiful sun rays
Sun awaits for ebony
~~ Adjust the Setting ~~
Beyond the horizon sky
Sherbert colored beach
~~ Skipping Rocks ~~
Glitter dusk on lids
Birds sing me a lullaby
Kids playing by lake
~~ Sunrise Industry ~~
Golden streets with no stop sign
Lunch time draws nearer
Copyright © Poet Destroyer A | Year Posted 2011
The autumn sky attunes itself to hearts,
a sour grey murky wash where lost eyes tire.
with insubstantial dust it affects so,
that vision blurs and minds retreat to when
those aged weary organs last supped hope;
and still they seek to quaff before it fades.
Mere dregs they hunger as the last joy fades
to quench beyond their volume broken hearts
and rehydrate that desiccated hope,
rejuvenate the goals before lives tire,
that minds may ponder not upon the “When?”
but concentrate on “What next?” and “How so?”
To take uncertain step, and take it so
as not to fear the fall if stair it fades,
would stir adrenalin so’s not to tire
the fragile confidence of tender hearts,
that they might respond quickly, those doves, when
presented opportunity to hope.
This then the grace of God, the wisp that’s hope,
which we in arrogance might dismiss so
upon our slightest whim and if and when:
an employee who on our command fades.
this grace exists beyond the grasp, the hearts:
phenomenon which will not doze nor tire.
See now how eyes do genuinely tire
as surcease emanates from new-found hope,
providing respite for those weary hearts:
hammock of restful sleep delivered so
the love embattled souls may rally when
their combined lumen some dark agent fades.
Thus through harsh winter flare as daylight fades
with fuel of ‘the multiverse’ entire,
the essence of which Lazarus lit when
his sisters had begged balm of Only Hope.
Such embers must be stoked to fierce blaze so
The Darkness may not touch creations’ hearts.
Faith should not tire when allocated hope.
Our God heeds not the ‘when’ of our say-so,
but stokes each heart with love that never fades.
Copyright © Perry McDaid | Year Posted 2014
Two magnets on the table lying cold and still,
Having much potential, doing good or ill.
When magnets attract each other, posts tightly bond.
Reversed, repel by the same phenomenon.
We too have potential; our influence reaching out
To our needy neighbors, suffering from doubt.
We also have ability, by equal force betray,
Our closed hearts repelling, turning them away.
By casual observation, persons looking on,
May miss the great sensation of reaching far beyond.
May our vast potential be magnetized for good,
Using our abilities that all good neighbors should.
"Thou shalt love thy neighbor as thyself.
Love worketh no ill to his neighbor." Romans 13:9,10 KJV
Copyright © James Tate | Year Posted 2011
The Iris - the spectrum in my glistening eyes
Beauty be that of rainbow hues on my face
Pigments painting mental images in my brain
Bewitching in art- coloring this my world
Enchanting creating the beauteous hues , I trace
I conclude - the beaming shades of awe
What a beauteous phenomenon perplexed wondering why?
The wonder amazed in the pupil of my eye
Visions - seeing the glamorous trees
I paint the birch flows with the black and white beauty
Thus I also see shades and the bark so prominent
Luscious the white - the ivory embedded in my mind
And the branches of the willow also flowing with the wind
With the breeze on my face - and the autumn leaves we find
Ah - gardens - flowers prominent too of hue
Bouquets of roses reflecting on you
I see the mountains - I see the waters
Still tracing the reflections in my id - my mind
Mentally I see blossoms - I see a solid rock
Of which to stand - God bless our land
May we walk paths feeding our eyes with colors
Predominant - Imagery now , I see the light
Painting the pictures in the beauty of daylight
In my world thus I appreciate and this I love
With the sunrise too in my eyes , from skies above
I am walking in life with God side by side
Instilling thoughts in my mind inside and outside
And may the world be always glistening
With thoughts in mind that God is always listening!
Copyright © stacey law | Year Posted 2013