Best We Poems
Some of us are secretive at first. We hide our poetry’s soul self,
gently letting her peep out; sometimes regretting it immediately.
Fearful of critiques from people who do not understand that poetry
is something we are compelled and born to do with our feelings.
Your diary entries may form themselves into goodness or badness
before you realize your calling as a poet.
Truths shockingly ooze out, surprising you.
Feelings creep out onto a page, in loud angry letters,
or romantic feelings daintily brush onto a crisp lined page
in the form of sweetness and light.
You are a word player, because you cannot
stop this obsession, but it does not define you.
This poetry gig is but a glimmer of a glimpse of yourself.
You might be a caregiver, or a wonderful friend.
People who count on your smile every day may not realize
you have a love affair with words, and an obsession to write them.
We are each a unique jewel, mined from God’s mind.
Poetry may initiate a whisper of a tiny facet of ourselves,
but our secrets are safe. We not merely poets. We are lovers
of life, and words. Most importantly, we remain gloriously hidden
and unknown to most.
Written 12-20-18 Contest: You Are Not Defined by Poetry
Sponsor: John Hamilton
sometimes
we don't get a chance
to say goodbye
you sit there
tears in your eyes
wondering why
and
it don't make sense
to be strong
because it stings
you can't explain
the pain each
memory brings
and
the guilt
of stupidity
leads to regret
images
in your mind
mean you can't forget
sadly
stubborn to reach out
means feelings
are not heard
spite leads to
unanswered questions
no last word
and
its not them
knocking at the door
they can't call
there is no point
saying sorry
to the wall
because
sometimes
we don't get a chance
to say goodbye
you sit there
tears in your eyes
wondering why
Simple Musings
Silent One
18 September 2017
sometimes
we are afraid to jump
but we take the leap
sometimes
when we fall deeply
it's not our limbs injured
sometimes
what is meant for us
hurts too much
sometimes
nothing makes sense
confusion reigns supreme
sometimes
we only have tears
to express emotions
sometimes
some see the facade
only a few see reality
sometimes
our heart breaks
but we love again
sometimes
we die inside
but we still breathe
sometimes
we become machines
but we are still human
sometimes
we see the stars
but not the moon
sometimes
when we follow the moon
we forget the stars
sometimes
we look back in regret
but we move on
sometimes
in metaphorical storms
we have poetry
always
when we are silent
we have our words
When we were young we loved our fairy tales
A frog could be a prince with just one kiss
Each cloud, a boat where dreamers could set sail
Imagination was the great abyss
Too soon we grew and lost our innocence
Found out that swords are never pulled from stones
That dreams come true but only with expense
And happy ever after's come and gone
Yet some of us still wish upon a star
Believe that rainbows come with pots of gold
Reality is life for most comes hard
And love like water runs both hot and cold
Like you I wish that fairy tales came true
But grown ups know they very seldom do
by Daniel Turner
Ink of life cannot bleed for eternity,
so I place dried petals in between,
crucial chapters of my memoirs.
When we stop breathing poetry,
our crestfallen pen, left in silence -
where do we poets go?
Is there a special place,
where the ink flows forever,
like waterfalls of mercy -
where thirst quenches
through poetic potions.
Releasing unspoken words -
can you hear the messages?
Floating in the tepid breeze,
brushing against your face,
forming goose pimples.
When our spirits make love to poetry,
we radiate like rays of sunshine
warming the world.
We do not speak poetry,
it whispers to us,
like spotlights in the sky,
soothing scars upon the moon.
When we cry poetic tears,
we pour like raindrops,
refreshing seasonal blossoms.
Our muse battles storms,
like lilac lilies in the snow.
We illuminate like a timeless rainbow,
absorbing all spectrum of vibrancy.
Glistening after clouds clear,
from red to yellow to green.
We the word collectors,
soul connectors,
forever weaving like
spiders spinning cobwebs.
What becomes of us
when our pen's shadow
no longer appears.
We may never write the perfect poem,
but poetry reminds us we are alive -
as our words become immortal.
Simple Musing
Silent One
25 November 2020
Homo-Sapiens we call ourselves, rulers of this Earth.
Intelligent and civilized, but what is all this worth?
We're working hard to conquer space...we landed on the Moon.
We'd better solve our problems here, or soon we will face doom.
New industries and factories, constructed every day,
And poisoning the air we breathe...is this the price to pay?
Energy sources are shrinking...what happens when there's none?
Will we, as Earthlings, ever learn to work with Nature as one?
Some in this world still starve each day, while others hoard their gold.
Intelligent and civilized; at least, that's what we're told.
We cure disease with drugs that may cause sickness, the result!
How many dearly paid for this ‘experimental cult’?
We have become a plastic world where everything is fake,
From what we eat to how we look...when will we all awake?
We're civilized, we tell ourselves, but fight our fellow man.
If only we could solve world stresses through a better plan.
With government corruption, morality trending low…
The price of progress we may say...is this the way to grow?
We have upset Earth’s balanced ways, destroying Nature’s scheme...
We’re intelligent and civilized...is it all a dream?
Will we ever walk on Nature's path, take her by the hand,
Restore the beauty meant to be on Earth, our dying land?
Homo-Sapiens we call ourselves, rulers of this Earth...
Intelligent and civilized...but what is all this worth?
We Are One
Dear Ancient Sister
I hear your distant calls finding me on a gentle breeze
You have lived in my dreams for many seasons
My voice
Your voice
My soul
Your soul
And our Coming of Age
I have always known you...
I have heard your
Quiet whispers echoing in
The night coming close to me
I call to you ...
Let me be a part of your breath
I have always known your wounds and sorrow
I see the light and magic in your eyes...
The pain you carry so eloquently
I see your reflection in the clouds above
Carrying your soul wound on your sleeve
I see the deep crevasses and lines
In your grandmother’s hands
I hear the secrets beneath the earth of
Your grandfather’s footsteps
I see your reflection in the twilight
Of the evening... against pink watermelon hills
Your voice beckoning me onward closer to you
I see you in the moon and stars
Your buckskin dress adorned with
Ceremonial beads
Abalone shell against your forehead
The dirt beneath your moccasins
Grateful for the kiss of your dancing feet
I hear the echo in the distance of songs
The Elders sang...
During their passage here
You are born into a woman
Before my eyes and heart
Before your tribe
Before nature
A wise new feline
A mystical power with endless allure
A force that lifts and unites us all
As one
Your rays blessing us and leaving
A welcome imprint on our hearts
My Ancient sister
I drink in your wisdom and grace
I fly on your wings
You have shown me your world
Watching you dance
Becoming you for moments in time
Your silhouette etched by
The wild flames behind you
A glow radiating into
The night sky
The stories of your Ancestors
Filling the air with
Words and lessons and song
Notes sung into clenched fists
With bloodstained hands
The children and animals
Sensing all that was
And all that will ever be...
The call of a distant bird
The thumping of your cane on
The hungry earth
Keeping time with
The movements of your body
You will look back on this
Day as you walk with the
Same cane down the path of
Old Age...
Your wisdom
Cupping your heart gently
Ancient Sister of mine
I am in gratitude for
Your strength and courage
The kiss of your words and
The teardrops of your loss
Susan Lawrence
Copyright 2020
Original Artwork
Susan Lawrence
Leaning against the warmth of old oak,
I recall your sun burnt skin that summer.
As I let my fingers linger on the side of the bench where you used to sit,
a memory - like noon day’s sun light, seeps into my senses.
A light wind ruffles my hair at the nape of my neck,
that same spot you liked to kiss.
You said we were royals as we scattered bread crumbs for our loyal subjects.
Where have those pigeons gone?
I lift my face to sky and close my eyes,
breathing in the scent of nearby roses;
suddenly something tickles my cheek! I open my eyes to see a butterfly,
its color that of your sun burnt skin.
When Again We Meet
Softly he says, "Should I die do not wait for me." She smiles,
"Just as the moon exhales no light without first a breath from the sun,
without you I'd be in darkness; what is paradise without light?"
04/17/2018
Remembering when
Perched high above on rocky crags
Cliffs weathered by times handprints
I saw far and wide to distant shores
Tendrils of desire radiating outwards
Riding the briny mist
Being carried by the breath of the ocean, my constant companion
Hearing the distant voices, the silent tears
The bursts of passion ~ love and loss
I ride the wings of hope and change
Towards the beckoning landscape of
Creation, mystery, and nuance
A vibration fills the air
The quiet chanting of our ancient brothers and sisters
Their words floating in effervescent bubbles
Tinged with melodies so clear
We are one ~ We are here
Let us bathe you in light
Let us heal your wounds
Let us give you hope
We are all mirrors of one another
We share one breath
We are connected like the mycelium under the ground
Our journey is peaceful
Come to us with your pain, your heartache,
Your fear and your loss
We are here to listen
Our ears and hearts are open
You have come to a safe sanctuary to reveal your secrets
Your darkness, your desires, and your bliss
Without judgement
This is a time of renewal
Tiny green hummingbird lays lifeless on the ground
Surrounded by new life
Glittering musical notes sound as
Pink butterflies gather
Gentle wind of wings bringing change
Warm rain falls as we make our way
Through the kaleidoscopes of turquoise, teal, lime and chartreuse
Sunlight reflections
Moss, furry seedlings, and ferns
Intertwine dancing in the shafts of light
A steady illuminated procession
Sweat running down our bodies
We are a train of humanity pushing forward
Through the dense moist jungle
Coming upon a clearing to witness
The newborn baby girl wrapped in velvet greenery
A majestic glowing beacon shining her light
On all of us
Howling
The chatter of monkeys as they scramble down limbs to join us
We feel her heartbeat
We meld into one another seamlessly
Swaying gently in unison
To honor, rejoice and celebrate
Receiving the gift of what it is to be human
Slowly the child is lifted into the air
Aloft on fingertips of joy
The Circle of Life begins
And we return to the simple act
Of loving and giving to one another
Into eternity
Yes, life is tough!
I know there are struggles in life that we all go through.
Sometimes we secretly hide them away,
some for fear and others just because
they have no one who cares for them.
But you my dear,
I know you do not ask for much,
but I see sadness in your beautiful eyes.
I can feel your heartache
and those tears leaving trails down your cheeks.
You may not realise it,
but your pain becomes mine...
I ache for you too!
I'm here for you always.
Let me hold you awhile!
I want to wipe your tears away,
place the brightest star in your heart.
If pain can be transferred,
I would gladly take them from you,
carry the burden for you.
You are so dear to me,
I love you with all my heart.
You know I'll do anything for you,
I'll drive many miles to get you -
~ anytime ~ anywhere.
So head up baby!
Quit sitting still and letting sadness seep
its way deep into your heart and soul.
Come rest your head on my shoulder,
I will hold you close,
promise to never let go.
Dry those tears and let's start a new day.
Together we are strong
For contest: Togetger we are strong
Sponsor: Silent One
3-14-18
when you let go of my hand
you let go of my heart
as I stumbled and crumbled
life seemed to have paused
silent screams
raged inside
but I was just numb
heart beating in slow motion
life became strange
and
i thought it would make sense
when the pain subsided
but there is no limit
to how long we grieve
and they say
don't let them in
those crazy thoughts
but they echoed and echoed
until i lost my mind
and its worse
when alone
haunted by
profound whispers
and
all I wanted
was an angel
to find me
to not give up on me
but nothing
and now
ive lost all faith
in humanity
and
still im alone
but now drifitng
to a place
i don't want to be
yearning for oxygen
and
no one can catch me
because
when you let go of my hand
you let go of my heart
Simple Musings
Silent One
15 September 2017
I hear the howling at the moon
as nightbirds then begin to croon
The cricket’s dance invades my ear
all creatures of the night I hear
So why then with this shrouded din
should I be in the mood I’m in
Perhaps I feel I dance alone
to claim no nightsong of my own
Yet when the morning dove arrives
to brighten all the mourning lives
And when the butterflies appear
the sounds of happiness I hear
The loneliness that once took hold
now banished, hearts to be consoled
The doves fly off and say goodbye
elated as we see them fly
Where on Earth or far beyond do we poets go, you ask.
My thoughts willingly stretch my imagination with this task.
I would reply...in any direction our ink chooses to flow.
To the light of dawn or to dark telltale shadows of Poe
There are no boundaries that could rein in a poet's mind,
even if we have the mournful misfortune of going blind.
A poet is not harnessed by sight like a horse to a carriage.
From memory our vision serves us in a sort of marriage,
a bond without rings and vows that gives us wings to fly
among stars, or to realms a common man cannot descry.
To know sin's sorrow, we would walk through a fiery hell
if it would give us the insight that living could not quell.
Inspiration is our weapon, feathered arrows we shoot,
aiming for the rhyming words and chasing in hot pursuit.
Though our muse flees, and crumbled pages lie at our feet,
our mind struggles in unrest but will not concede defeat.
On ventured missions, traveling where our hearts will lead.
Among distant galaxies, where we collect poetic seed
to plant in fertile delta land or in sandy deserts on Earth,
cultivating cogent lines, to which our scribing gives birth.
Fathering or mothering verses from infancy to fruition.
Editing until at last, our brainchild is worthy of submission.
We see far beyond mundane realities of life and reason.
Writing from the heart, rebuking the penalty of treason.
We wind through mazes of each personal poetic anecdote.
Exposed is our nakedness in each lyrical line we ever wrote.
June 20, 2022
2022 Marathon Mile 4 Poetry Contest
Sponsored by Mark Toney.
We the People
Will disagree
On taxation and prosperity
On liberty and duty
We the People
Are every color of Christianity
Every Jewish prayer, every song of Islam
The puritans, the atheists and the Amish
Are neighbors here
We the People
Are Jamaican and Japanese
Swedish and Samoan
Cuban and Cherokee
Moroccan and Mexican
The Irish and the Inuit
And all shades of Africa
We are country hills and cityscapes
Suburban parks and downtown fire escapes
We are singers and stutterers
Daredevils and diplomats
Renegades and redeemers
The leaders and the lone wolves
The suits and the sarongs
We are the gun owners for gun control
The justice for unjust loopholes
We are the hands that struck the iron
And the backs that laid the tracks
Of trails of rails connecting
Sea to shining Sea
We are protesters and poets
The soldiers without peace
The nurses without sleep
We are the straight arrows and the skeptics
The gay and the god-fearing
We are Black Lives Matter
And we are the badges in blue
We the People
Are complicit and complicated
No freedom gave
To chains of slaves
We have conquered and colonized
Sacrificed and stolen
Pillaged and planted
To naturalize a nation
We are teachers of tenacity
Prophicies of pioneers
And the children of second chances
We the People
Speak for our land’s legacy
In every tongue, from every rung
On each stumbled stair, each crumbled chair
We demand democracy.
8/21/20
Poem of the Day
August 23, 2020