Long poem by
A. Kathy Moss | Details
Up before dawn, a feeling has drawn
You into the mountain and trees.
Till the silence within, upon the whispering wind
A chime of bugles tease the breeze.
That majestic call, that is heard each fall
Since before our forefathers birth
And for those who take time, through rim rocks and pine
Listen and value their worth.
Each note high and low as each bugle ballad goes,
No two ever the same
They are all unique and if a chance to critique
Upon our hearts they claim.
We are put into state and can hardly wait
For the dawn of the upcoming morn
To glimpse hoof print in stride or a patch of hide
Or a tip of antler horn.
Just out of reach, lessons he’ll teach to those who play the game,
The tension and pull of a phantom bull, a soul never to tame.
While waiting and yearning, eyes straining, ears burning,
Ringing till you can’t hear a thing,
To early to late, can’t hardly wait,
Patience like a bee sting.
Like a ghost in the night they filter through site
They tease and bugle and brag,
As tell tale sign, weave and wind
Through timber, rocks and crags
Where a sapling tree, used to be
Now a twig broke scarred and torn
Velvet left there and shed of hair
To tell the rut has been born.
Strong elk scent, down wind is sent
From their bedded layer
They are up once again and start to transcend
Letting us know they were there.
A little to late can change a state
Hopes almost fell,
But all rise again when a bugle begins
For among elk, we dwell.
Copyright © A. Kathy Moss | Year Posted 2005
Long poem by
Elizabeth San Miguel | Details
People say that love never fails,
That all is fair in love and war,
But really, how do you know,
What love can or can not do?
And if all is fair in love and war, then
Why does someone always end up getting hurt?
I know my love will never fail,
Because I love you with all my heart and soul,
Because I would give my life for you,
And everything I am or have just to be with you.
However, I can not be fair to all
Because all is not fair in love and war.
I wish to hurt no one, so I don't,
But by doing so, I hurt myself.
My heart wants to be with you so much
And yet I wish to hurt no one.
So I don't, I don't confess my love for you,
I keep it locked inside,
And as a friend I stay by your side.
My love for you remains forever pure and unchanged.
I love you, Yes, I do, with all my heart and soul,
With all that I am and hope to be just for you.
My heart untamed and wild, dreaming of what if,
But it's cut in half by the love I feel for both.
My heart belongs to you but only half,
Because I gave the other half away to him.
Now I suffer for my love, for both are great,
But only one, I wish I could be with forever.
All is not fair in love and war,
So I love you both and suffer much,
Because my heart is wounded, torn in half.
I can not speak of my deep love for you,
I can not confess my feelings to you.
So I go on with my life pretending nothing's wrong.
Why must I go on without your love?
It's faith, I guess, that I suffer so.
It's destiny to love you so.
Copyright © Elizabeth San Miguel | Year Posted 2006
Long poem by
Carrie Richards | Details
I meant to do my work today
Instead I spied a nest among the maple leaves
where birds were singing in the trees
and others splashing soft brown wings
in the birdbath by the old porch swing
I meant to do my chores today
But clear blue skies, a soft spring breeze
This cloudless day, and blooming trees...they filled me with distraction...
I had my rusty rake in hand, some ground to till
a hedge to trim, some weeds to pull....but clouds above the rolling hills
all led me to distraction....
A butterfly, all black and gold, flitted soon across the field
And once again, it took my eyes yet further still...
The garden hose, curled sleeping by, in noon day sun, awaiting me
instead I sigh, and
once again my wandering eye,
among tall grass, some bugs I spied,
I must explore the whole outdoors before this lovely day has died
I hesitate, ....my chores can wait,
it seems that fate says "Work can wait!!
Enjoy!! It says, this splendid day!!
These most worthy, so pleasing, never bothersome, soul satisflying, quite heavenly
Copyright © Carrie Richards | Year Posted 2009
Long poem by
Dane Ann Smith-Johnsen | Details
An Ode to Turkeys
By Dane Smith-Johnsen
There was a time, year one thousand A.D
U.S. turkeys faced a brand new plight.
Native American's hunting delight.
The white meat of a turkey is quite lean.
So much healthier than man knew before,
Nothing one ever could say,
In any way,
Would make Americans free turkeys anymore.
Thanksgiving comes and goes.
Wild turkey gobbling slows.
Ben Franklin watched their plight.
Nominated, though laughter did flare.
Turkeys beneath the moonlight
Were beautiful out there.
Ben suggested, turks as the nation's bird.
But eagles know, it was not so.
And turks in history endured this nations birth.
Although wild turkeys can run fast and fly,
Toms might in spring be found.
Fluffing, dancing around.
Caruncle and waddle shiny, bright red
Courting the hens, showing off, prancing, not dead.
Although turkeys fly strong,
The hunters by day kept watch in the fields.
Until, Old Tom, no more sang passion's song
And hens under bushes sat on eggs long.
When chicks hatched out and played their mother shields.
But on Thanksgiving Day...
Note: Carolyn, thanks for the video suggestion. It is very funny. I decided to post the link
here. The HISTORICAL one is found at http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=w1213z9KHNs
(TIME HEALS ALL: We do LOVE you, MOTHER ENGLAND... from you we were BORN.)
The HYSTERICAL one is found at http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=JnLyqBtU_F8
ENJOY the FUN!
Copyright © Dane Ann Smith-Johnsen | Year Posted 2009
Long poem by
Sidney Beck | Details
AUTUMN IN UDELNAYA WOODS
The smoke from the shashlik fires made us hungry
So that we could have eaten the falling golden manna from the trees
Offered to two wanderers in this sylvan wilderness.
Not forty years, but forty minutes in which life changed for us.
It was only a field trip she said, to study the socio-environmental
Arrangement, the attitudes, of couples in the autumnal picnic grounds.
She needed the truth for her dissertation, she needed my help.
Knight errant in the pursuit of knowledge, that’s me.
In pursuit of her, if the simple truth be known.
She gave me the golden opportunity I had been seeking all summer:
Now the harvest was at hand, and the reaper all too ready.
She needed photos to show the attitudes of the couples
No photos were needed to show our attitudes.
We were clearly a couple with attitude, and my socio-environmental
Score matched hers exactly: that’s scientific for “we fell in love”.
Look up! Such a glorious afternoon of yellows, and a blue sky.
Look down! The lake reflecting our faces filled with smiling delight,
Gold underfoot, and her lustrous flaxen hair draped over my shoulder.
The field trip showed the truth, she knew it and so did I.
It was forty years ago : we still remember it, tell our kids about it,
Especially on fall days like today.
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .. . . . . . . . . .
Written by Sydney Peck 2 October 2011, and
Entered in Francine Roberts’s Contest “A Nature Tale”
Copyright © Sidney Beck | Year Posted 2011
Long poem by
Robert Ball | Details
Many people in this world love their animals.
From cats, dogs, birds, all imprisoned in kennels.
To own one they pay for shots, and adopt.
The pay for licenses, fees, finally they are bought.
Now we as animal lovers care immensely for them.
Making them part of the family, like next of kin.
Sadly they care only for pets, not humans.
Plenty of children need adoption, left alone among men.
People all over the world are starving and dying.
Little children go hungry, many are weak and crying.
Did you ever have to go to bed sick or hungry?
Wondering where your next meal will be, it’s not funny.
In Africa, Libya, Sudan, Ethiopia, children are suffering.
Many nations try to help; many don’t try, not caring.
The Lord says “let the children come to me.”
His children are important, he wants them spiritually.
Children go hungry, one in five in the USA.
Inner City, our Cities, feel the crunch everyday.
As parents, desperation and panic set in.
So crime rates soar, as they try to feed their children.
Something is sadly wrong when pets are fed and children suffer.
Caring for animals, while children go hungry, Sisters and Brothers.
Desperately they turn to crime, drugs, robbery, is an epidemic.
Animals over humans, something is definitely wrong;
While humans suffer pandemics.
A new world, with Jesus at the helm.
Will bring an end to suffering, we will overcome.
A new thought “Love” will appear on earth.
It’s been promised by God what before our birth.
Copyright © Robert Ball | Year Posted 2012
Long poem by
Tammy Flanagan | Details
The rythme progresses through me
Reaching to depths unknown
Leading me to another realm
Only I have ever gone
A place of solitude
Where I can be free
For my soul is the melody
To which I shall dance alone
And the beat is my life walk
Opening the walls that have never been shown
Oh how I love to sing
Especially when I hear that old familiar
That takes me back to the day
That I could just proceed along
No cares, no worries, just me and the world
Being free...... to my song
How many memories are wrapped up within tones
That have touched our lives
How many people can we recall
With just one sharp# climb
Or with just one flat fall
The power of our melody is our own
No one can hum it
No one can take it
Because our life walk is our song
We can take this empowerment as high as we want
Or we can take it to the lows
No matter how we play it
It still grows
With each and every encounter
Down our blessed path
The music follows
With our every step
So embrace your sharps and flats
Knowing that it is helping you
Through this turbulent ride
Sing it loud and don't be ashamed
For your song knows you are doing your best
Don't let the bar line tell your ending
Keep the melody flowing
Continue your lines without cares
And when your curtain rides low
And the rythmes come to a sway
Just look at the pages before
To where you started from
And to how you have become so much more today
Keep the music alive....even with a hummm
Copyright © Tammy Flanagan | Year Posted 2012
Long poem by
Mark Vander Poppen | Details
Life as understood by many resembles a journey traveled in a daze.
yet you feel lost, we can't help but carry on.
As we travel up the hill not knowing whats on the other side,
where the next curve begins, when to speed up,
or when to slow our pace.
Even as it seems at times we are blindfolded at very least,
human nature tells us to keep pushing through.
our best interest at that time is to put the path of life on hold,
and asses our situation. Even if common sense makes you believe it would be difficult
or even impossible to resume the path started so long ago.
When it all seems impossible or hopelessness stares you in the eye.
Now is the time to grasp our greatest tool in life, just as God said let their be light.
let our light be the knowledge and support of your friends & family.
Use this and not even the devil himself can use his power and influence to corrupt us.
When we have 100% faith in ourselves combined with love for all that is good and pure.
And the hope that our destiny is not being pursued in vain.
Only positive results are to be found.
If u reach hard towards your soul and gather the will to strike down all that is negative.
Then and only then do the clouds disperse the sun becomes radiant
and all becomes clear. And the realization that our goal is in our grasp once again.
so before i put this pen down and carry on with my quest of surprises
and not knowing whats to come.
a prayer has been said guidance has been asked,
and a sense of relief is then achieved.
Copyright © Mark Vander Poppen | Year Posted 2013
Long poem by
Olive Eloisa Guillermo - Fraser | Details
the sun smiles
spanning wide her
golden yellow teeth
blowing wind is shadow quiet
she is waiting waiting waiting....
Waiting and feeling..
slowly the stillness trembles!
It is disturbed...
little waves begin to creep and crawl..
Unabash! She goes!
Brave and graceful to take the ride...
Daring and excited to play with the waves...
Up. Down. Left. and right sways...
A rollercoaster along the foamy surface of sea
She was not taken aback by what she lacks...
An arm bitten by a stark sharp shark long ago
She pursues the waves
Fearless to stand - tango with the wave curves!
a ballerina with a surf board moving ahead..
ahead each tunnel wave...
balancing on side and top of the wave..
power hugging made by the currents..
mind blowing love affair with the tides!!!
her missing arm not forgotten
a precious welcoming history
in embracing the world
with her inspiring story
of not ever ever quitting!
of keeping the faith afire with each rough tough situation!
of trusting Gods' reasons and purposes to everything..
of making the most even when something is lacking!!!
a conqueror of weaknesses!
a wave dancer of water tides and beyond!
She is BETHANY HAMILTON!!
Best free verse poem - Poetry Contest
Sponsor SKAT A
Olive Eloisa Guillermo
3:04 am, July 18, 2014
Copyright © Olive Eloisa Guillermo - Fraser | Year Posted 2014
Long poem by
Seren Roberts | Details
Santas little helpers were busy having fun
Wrapping and labelling the presents ready for the Xmas run
The reindeer had their coats washed smelt of lavender and things
The sleigh had been revarnished was now bright and glowing.
The reigns were now polished as a surprise for Santa Claus
So he would look the kiddy not a drab old droopy drawers
The presents were in the sack, in house order for delivery
Santa admired his reigns not realising they were slippery.
He jerked the reigns as a nod for the reindeers"
To start their pulling then it happened, oh dear
The reigns slipped through Santa's fingers reindeer were off at speed
Luckily thomas was out with his tank engine knew he had to try and stop the steeds
He puffed along the track shouting at Santa to hang on tight
Then disappeared into a tunnel giving Santa such a fright
The minions were out in their millions pulling on the reigns to stop the race
While batman flew in voicing his opinion that a race at Xmas wasn't the place
Said to the minions you want to help, Santa is exhausted not in the mood to yo ho ho ho
Deliver these presents off you go but be quiet those children mustn't know
But if you peeped and saw yellow Santas Instead of the usual red one
It's the minions helping out until the presents are all gone.
Santa is snoring now he has had a stressful day
Think before you do more than help it sometimes doesn't pay .
Penned 26 November 2014
Copyright © Seren Roberts | Year Posted 2014
Long poem by
liam mcdaid | Details
Upon the winds whispering so gently a love story unfolds
Under soft beautiful clouds with rainfalls splashing love
With two lovers holding, caressing, and kissing one another
The radiant azure sky fresh with recent rain and a rainbow
Gives way toward evening to a cold moon face wishing to
Take the two lovers to a faraway special place full of sunshine
This magical place is where the sun shines forever beautiful
And the feelings, desires, passions, and emotions of love are
Always together true as ONE of a much bigger love portrait
This young man and woman walk hand-in-hand very much in
Love while listening to the far distant echoes thundering from
Surrounding cliffs while near the ocean dream seagulls cry aloud
As the man opens the gates of this paradise with his special lady
They both experience at once blinding tears of warm joy, and he
Just wants to fulfill immediately her every wish to be happy in love
The young man tells his sweetheart with a most earnest passion:
“Dearest One, I want so much to make you happy my precious love!”
Our love My Sweet unites our bodies and souls so complete and whole
These two lovers have found their paradise fulfilling their dream of being
Together always walking under a wonderful star-filled sky dazzling pure
Sharing their love and seizing their very destiny now—Two now as ONE
Gary Bateman and Liam McDaid – A Collaborated Poem, Copyright ©
All Rights Reserved (January 11, 2015) (Unrhymed Tercet)
Copyright © liam mcdaid | Year Posted 2015
Long poem by
Funom Makama | Details
Self knowledge equated to the encyclopedia
and perceived facts, products of personal reasoning
the efficacy of thoughts should not be questioned
and assumptions simply made real and absolute
Typical of such a thought stamps on convictions that
the banana and plantain are the same
a superior race surely exist
leg size has a great correlation with the male’s genital
the measure of one’s success is solely factored
in his accumulation of wealth
and money is the root of all evil.
This mindset can walk on hot coal just to prove these points
Columbus was the first European to visit the Americas
bulls are colour blind and bats are completely blind
women are subordinates to men
and a pure heart is one which covers its body from head to toe
This mind can even tear its clothes to rags
in displeasure to your opposition to issues such as
Sydney is Australia’s capital
the earth’s evolution is the cause of day and night
Africa is a country and its inhabitants exchange
morning greetings with the Lion and the Chimpanzee
and Neil Armstrong is the first human to journey into out space
Despite carrying the internet even to the dreams
and having global captions mixed with daily breath
assumptions such as these are nurtured
religiously, with rigidity and military acceptance
the biggest illiterate of the 21st century is one
who cannot learn, unlearn and relearn
so said Alvin Toffler, the Australian Educationist.
Oh sorry! The American futurist
Copyright © Funom Makama | Year Posted 2015
Long poem by
ezer agyin | Details
Did I tell you the story of my mystical black rose?
Well let me
In my troubled nights I took comfort in the scenery of my old window
One tiny sparkle always shone its way through the darkness, embracing my sorrow
Till the night I decided to visit my sorrow's whisker in the belly of midnight
I wrestled through the bushes sacrificing my blood on the alter of their sharp leaves and thorns
Till my eyes was paralyzed on this black rose that collected drops of dew in its petals and lightened them with the moonlight; that mysterious sparkle now lay bare in my eyes and in my reach for the first time.
I'd never seen black so beautiful, but as much as I wanted to pluck it for myself my heart wouldn't let me, for I was not in love with just a black rose but everything else that made it sparkle my sorrows away; the moon and the dew.
As I left with doubt clouding my mind, I saw its sparkling drops trickle down its petals.
Can a rose cry?
For I live now never to see it sparkle again ever since that night.
I'm different now, beyond need of sparkles for my nights but I always walk to that old window waiting for my mystical black rose to reach my heart again. Even though I might see myself a gray haired man starring in my old window, I'll wait, just patiently wait, for my black rose to come alive again. And this time, just this time I will not think twice.
Read more poems and short stories by The Writer, ezer agyin, here http://ezeragyin.wix.com/the-writer
Copyright © ezer agyin | Year Posted 2015
Long poem by
Geraldine Douglas | Details
Jewels of Africa.
The saffron Queen spins the lilac sky,
her rays flick crimson cinders into Royal Blue Oceans.
Submerge, sizzle, frizzle...going, going, gone! ...But Not.
Cumulus clouds drizzle pepper fog over pink Flamingos, homeward bound.
Tea-green Botswana bush,
teeny, tiny Hummingbirds hover over brink-pink Balsams,
feast on elixir of nectar.
Royal Albatross rides the last whip of wind.
Sulking Stork swoops through veiled mists above marshy meadow ponds.
Sword sunbeams lash chrome, coppery twilight.
Mooned dusks, a violet cape cloaks bathing blooms.
Nightscape sky sparks, preparing morning’s thin blue...aurora hue.
Camouflaged branches stretch, tickle studded clouds
as ribboned roots cling to crevice homes.
A spook- silver ring appears from nowhere, pearling ripples aluminium.
Beams spill across the sea like lines of glittering fire.
Ethiopian wolves howl composed solos,
phantom echoes shudder Tarantula’s lair
as Flax Lily spurts scent...Frankincense and Lime.
Sultry Savannah’s secrets passed on by rhythmic lip-smacking Baboons,
cracking jokes in the knitted canopy,
teasing and tickling clowning Hyena’s below as
a blinkered platoon of Jet Wood Ants march to their Majesty.
Dawn draws indigo voiles over Nephthys, Goddess of Night
slashes of Sunrise surge shadows as the Bush Lark spangles jewels in the air.
The Alize wind dies in respect to heavenly panorama...
Mountains reflected, seen to be varnished into still, smalt-blue sea.
Copyright © Geraldine Douglas | Year Posted 2016
Long poem by
Edward Ibeh | Details
A love so true burns deep
Deep down to the bone
A love that is real
And unforced will last
For all eternity
Love truly and flowers of spring
Will blossom bountifully
Unconditional love shines
Than the afternoon sun
And burns hotter
Than a smoldering ember
Love freely and the meaning of life
Will become unequivocally clear
Just love and your heart will flow
Like a peaceful river
Immerse in love
And blissfully trap yourself
In love's undertow
A love so true burns deep
Deep down to the bone
Free Verse on Love Poetry Contest/Winner(1st Place)
Sponsored by: Laura Loo
Date written and posted: 04/09/2017
Copyright © Edward Ibeh | Year Posted 2017
Long poem by
cs parker | Details
Perfection is put off
have been emptied out
memories of a love
all past tenses
blank name tag,
blank face serves
On a personal note 4/10/01 my first birthday out of prison and my dreams are being realized…
Furthermore I have completed my first painting and have plans for two more my life as an artist is beginning to flourish and my hard work is starting to pay off and the lone thought resonates…
Two poems for mom---01
[snakeskin/ picture of fall]
As ancient time is not anxious
Of humanities youthful squabbling
You permitted my discourse
Allowing for the conclusion
(Mothers are wonderful in that way)
all the while operating
under the assumption
that serpents molt and
trees shed leaves to grow
How many shells
Has this hermit
Growth is deemed necessity
And the shells,
Of who I used to be
Litter the beach behind me.
Close to each other
While I have grown fat
And my Coffee time-thick
The complements we have are each other
Pine needles whir
Like birds in a thistle
Words flow from my tongue
Like the whir of a whistle
With spring warming
Blowing white caps
On my skin
Sundays about to begin
Copyright © cs parker | Year Posted 2017
Long poem by
Chris Green | Details
Winter's Perfect Heat
“Snowflakes gather in crystalline drfitings”
Lifting your hair, kissing the nape of your neck
Warm flesh waits on tippy toe desires
Lips brush skin, lower beyond silver chain clasp
Sighs slip past moon shadow echoes
“Frost bitten warnings fuel whistling winds”
Candlelight flickers in illumined frenzy
Strong hands caress velvet curves, moving
Satin petals excite at the touch, firming
Mouths meet across milky shoulders
“Chilly coatings mingle, drafty windows squeal”
Reaching behind delicate fingers guide, slowly
Passion emanates from quivered partings
Honey drippings moisten, sticky, sweet
Whispered moans tantalize, moments ignite
“Wind chimes sing frantically behind icicle curtains”
Down pillow yearnings, grasped, held
Eyes look back, smiles meet motions
Held closer, breathless exhales on dreams exposed
Deeper finds the pristine moment
“Algid gusts wail through frigid echoed alleyways”
Names loudly called, enchanted nirvana
Faster still, bodies in charged friction
Two become one, senses explode, flooding oasis
Eruptions quake bodies in perspired heap
“Arctic blast pierces sweltering pleasures”
Ecstasy sings in midnight harmonies
Melodic as the polar pulsations beyond
Numbed in devotion’s destinations
Wondrous snowy white blankets chill the world
“As our love provides winter’s perfect heat”
Good night Soupers
Copyright © Chris Green | Year Posted 2018
Long poem by
Monica Contreras | Details
I noticed the uniform, and the heavy soled shinny black boots
Not the man within it, I apologized.
I remember the clean fresh smell of maleness, as they stormed into the house,
Broken glass, ripped down hangings, a slashed sofa, a pulled curtain,
A sudden maneuver to throw my brother’s bear across the yard,
Such military worries, hidden bombs in a child’s best friend.
Your broken cross I buried in our garden after they left.God, come back to my house, I am
All I saw were figures painted the colour of grass and bark,
with gilded edges traced by some crazed church painter's brush,
faceless with pockets full of bullets and chords,
Their arms intertwined with red eyes and swollen hands of my teachers,
Stiff figures against the soft jeans, sweaters, and knitted hats below.
Standing witness in the yard above watching, I waited for her to die.
Shinny black like the dirt dug from the mass grave,
Full of crumbled human bits, decaying coloured cloth,
while the sun scorched the group sorting the cellular samples
I saw the black boots etched into the bone fragments.
Lost bones of lost loved ones from empty families,
Standing in the desert, I wait for a name.
No, I do not see you the man, just the uniform.
I see the butt of the gun, the dent of the boot, the slickness in the air,
the cruel power of the swirl jungle green print with gold trim.
As a witness God left me, and I was waiting.
Change, let me meet the man,
maybe the waiting is over.
Copyright © Monica Contreras | Year Posted 2010
Long poem by
Jim Pemberton | Details
Our Country’s Soul Is Being “Torn Apart”
The very soul of America is being “torn apart.”
It’s a problem that’s striking at our very heart.
There’s a “blowing wind.” A “time for change.”
As the country’s moral fabric is being “rearranged.”
As many question what the true meaning of life is for…
Many don’t seem to know what’s wrong or right anymore!
As so much pornography is allowed into our homes…
The moral decay is “eating” right at “the bones.”
Many have a hard time “defining what marriage is.”
So many are really “messed up” in how they live!
The news seems to be “fascinated” by man’s depravity…
Leaving a huge vacuum of a monstrous “moral cavity.”
Many who attend church want what’s
“soothing to their ears.”
A God of holiness and righteousness
is what they “fear!”
As we look around as to what our society is becoming…
God’s judgement is soon! It is surely coming!
We must come back and leave all of our “false idols!”
We must come back to the God of the Bible!
Jesus must be our cord of love the forever binds!
It’s only in him can we find true love for our minds!
It’s only in Jesus that we can find a purpose and meaning!
It’s only in him that we need to put our
trust and start believing!
He is and always will be the right choice to be taken…
Without him, our country’s is “doomed and forsaken.”
He brings healing and righteousness
“beneath his wings…
He is what we truly need!
He is our EVERYTHING!
By Jim Pemberton
Copyright © Jim Pemberton | Year Posted 2012
Long poem by
Odin Roark | Details
Energy’s Suffocating Gallop
by Odin Roark
Ancient blood soaked sand
Plumes its sticky residue
Beneath rapacious hooves
Dust storms of evil stampeding beside pipelines
Goad flow to tankers
Where ubiquitous black gold addiction
Steers toward pervasive profit-docks
Behind sweat lathered greed
Winds of historic baggage
Tether their historic words and song
Blessings and curses
Exciting swirling vortexes
Windmills of molten fire
Entitlement’s rape and pillage of breath
Of pores once absorbing purity
Evil’s global bubble
Appearing as mankind'
Robed in white zealotry
The blinded hawk-minds
Embrace the Middle East predatory contaminant
Wallowing in solipsistic riches forgotten
Awake only to pick tomorrow’s gluttonous prey
The world turns on turbine propulsion
With oceans bowing to its slavery
Delivering liquid smokestack suffocation
Silent killers preparing ghosts
Of time’s new-century-plague
As oil gorged tankers find port
Release their pandemic sleight of hand
A destruction as innocent as rabbits from a hat
Charms the ignorant
Beguiles the wannabes
Delivers the demise of children’s hearts
Left to take a number
Unaware there is no lottery
Adult indulgence clinging desperately
To evil’s mane and tail
As it whips gullible eyes
Into cataract submission
Alien life hovers above
Grieving the minions destined
To find black energy’s ashen dust
Sprinkling its fool’s gold
Upon a barren planet
Copyright © Odin Roark | Year Posted 2013
Long poem by
Sierra Cowan | Details
The world keeps spinning on,
but I wish it could go backward instead.
Who have I become, where have I gone?
I don't even know what goes on inside my own head.
I am not this person I have become,
I never was and thought I never would be.
This is someone else,
This is not me.
My priorities have shifted,
I value things that once meant very little.
I search for things to fill the gap,
but only find things that are noncommittal.
Happiness in one night packages,
is what fills my life now.
I'm not sure why,
I'm not sure how.
I want more,
but do I deserve it?
This battle is repeated inside my head,
but I will never truly admit it.
I know I could do more
I know I could be greater.
But in my own head,
I am a master debater.
I'm so afraid of failing,
that while I hide that's exactly what I'm doing.
I have so many hopes and dreams,
but are any of them even worth pursuing?
What if I fall flat on my face?
In front of everyone I know and love?
But then again I could be better than I expect,
go beyond and above.
You never know what the future holds,
only what has happened in the past.
In order to make your future what you want,
you better live in the present while it lasts.
Seize each day,
and do what makes you happy.
For no one can see what lays ahead,
whether it be great or crappy.
I may not know who I have become,
but I do know who I want to be.
I want to be present in my life,
no more being an absentee.
The past is the past,
and the future lays before us.
The old me,
I will repossess.
Copyright © Sierra Cowan | Year Posted 2013
Long poem by
MaryEllen Gozzo | Details
On a river bank and holding a flower,
Plucking the petals one by one,
There I am
Standing amiss behind a tree,
Staring at me as if I don’t see you
There you are.
I ask you a simple question
Why is life so complicated?
And you walked out slyly
Because you didn’t know I knew you were there
And you answered
If it weren’t, there would be no love
But I don’t have that anyway
And in your head I know you’re thinking
Oh but you do,
You have it from me
But I sat there so obliviously
I didn’t ever tell you
But I loved you too
That was the only secret
That I ever kept from you
And when we chased
Each other in the creek
You didn’t ever tell
That you were falling in love with me
And we were just children
They would always say
But children are the wisest
In a special kind of way
They see people for who they are
And they don’t know corruption
As personally as they will grow up to
But for now they look into each other’s souls
And choose their friends for life
You see it all started as children
When we all had our sight
But now we are blind
To the untruthful ones
We could sense it
Like we could sense that winter was here
And that a big snow was coming
But now we are so desperate
For love because it’s not so easy anymore
And we forget the simplicity of the emotion
If you love someone, let the love grow
Let it blossom like it knows no limits
And indulge in life on that feeling
That you were a child again in love
Copyright © MaryEllen Gozzo | Year Posted 2014
Long poem by
Robert Lindley | Details
Lonely Death, Fate Of A Lost Soul
Ron sat in the dark alley with urined soaked pants
muttering in a drunken stupor one of his many rants
Facial scars told of falls, beatings from being robbed
misery and blues broke him down into shrieking sobs
Once he had a wife and three precious little pearls
heart pains tore him up when he lost those girls
Now a defeated and broken soul without a home
the dark streets and drunkard's alley he roams
Realizing that his days are now so sadly numbered
he slumps back into a deep whiskey induced slumber
Waking hours later with those agonising chest pains
the cold numbing from the falling freezing rains
Moving over to hide beneath a huge dumpster lid
he thought yet again of his beautiful lost kids
No good to weep about the mess in the here and now
blue pain ripped into his heart like a cutting plow
That night he dreamt of love, life and family before
Sun rose that morning , Ron slept on, forever more
Robet J. Lindley 07-23-2014
Note : This based upon the real life story of my brother's
good friend. His friend 7 years older than he , that died
in 1997. My brother the drunkard that has never stopped
drinking in 38 years. Himself not long for this world!
And has not seen his own beautiful daughter nor his grand
children in over 34 years, since 1980!
I wrote a poem, title, A Drunk's Prison, back on 5-5 2014 here.
It was about my alcoholic younger brother.
This one is about his alcoholic friend that died!
Copyright © Robert Lindley | Year Posted 2014
Long poem by
Gail Foster | Details
They never went to war; they stayed at home
The young, the old, the unwell and the dead
The women who were not allowed to roam
The men who tilled the fields and baked the bread
Some sat in darkness waiting for the rap
Of letterbox, and soft white feather fall
The silence broken by a dripping tap
Dark shadows cast by street lamps on the wall
The little lads who ran behind the train
That took their fathers off to certain death
Who waved until their arms ached in the rain
Who ran until their lungs ran out of breath
Old men who yearned for youth; just one more chance
To feel the blood flow, hear the battle cry
To wear the uniform and take a stance
To stand with other men, to fight and die
The crippled and the mad, the deaf, the blind
Escaped the fate of many thousand men
Some angry that they had been left behind
Some thankful that they’d never fight again
Women, who with their sleeves rolled ploughed the land
Lit candles, raised the children, hid their tears
Made ammunitions with a careful hand
Kept watch and saved the night time for their fears
So many stayed at home, and stayed alive
And suffered pain and loss, regret and guilt
That they were left, that they were to survive
Within the house such sacrifice had built
Their many names are not inscribed on stone
Those sorrowed souls, so haunted by war’s ghost
Were left to stand and mourn the dead alone
Listening to the trumpet sound the post
Copyright © Gail Foster | Year Posted 2015
Long poem by
Kennedy Staton | Details
My mama once told me that everywhere I go
There's an opportunity it flies in the air
Waiting for me to reach it
That was seven years ago
Seven years ago, I was ten years old
I was young enough that mama was my hero
I saw her death bed in the hospital
I was old enough to understand
She was fast asleep, IVs in her arm
February 21st, 2007, mama took her last breath,
And along with it, my opportunities
Six years ago,
I was still dealing with the pain
There was chaos at the dinner table
My father was shutting down
Hatred was our motive
Five years ago,
The pain was still immense
Got put up for adoption
Tears came down like rain
Depression hit my heart
Four years ago,
Phyllis came into play
Adopted seven out of ten
Her heart was kind
But I didn't seen it
Three years ago,
Placement was my life
Time flew by
It was only a year
Depression hit me harder
Two years ago,
Placement and depression became normal
February 21st, 2007,
Still can't find
The love from Phyllis
A year ago,
Fixing everything I could
Fighting through depression
Found the love from Phyllis
I can see these opportunities now
Just waiting for me to catch them
I can see mama everywhere I go
But I just can't be happy about it
Opportunities are everywhere
They can be at the tips of our fingers
It could be a job offer
But we've just need to find the correct ones
I've learned from my experience
And it’s my turn to grab
The correct ones
That will fit me.
Copyright © Kennedy Staton | Year Posted 2016