Long St johns Poems

Mark Hurlin Shelton is a Poet from Cape Town South Africa, born in October 1967. He was raised by his grandparents in Three Anchor Bay, near Sea Point, where he attended his first schools: Ellerton...

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I am a high school graduate and a former college student
I have no children
No drug or alcohol addiction
nor do I have a home
I am one of Brick City's homeless
Many of the faces I've seen downtown...

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Just a Thought......20 below can be a temp......20 below can also " tempt"

Sometimes we have a life long dream...

but not sure where to start....

and sometimes we must go to the extreme..

with a thought that's not...

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MY THOUGHTS ON LIFE
 
IF I WERE TO TELL YOU NOW THAT I WAS A HAPPY PERSON ALL THROUGH MY LIFE,I WOULD 
BE LYING.I WONT GO BACK TO MY CHILDHOOD DAYS,SOME PEOPLE DONT LIKE LONG...

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In Pleasure          
By Nate Spears
Published 2013 in “Death OF A Rose” By Nate Spears


White suit, top hat, pride feeling higher than spectacular 
The ugly duckling has...

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Wet skies
Grey dawn 
Blankets the coast.
Black rocks
Sea foam 
Triggers the most
Atlantic applause,
An encore to those
Just hearty enough
To make a life on The Rock.

And to answer the call,
Between stone cracks,
Moss roots, 
And squalls,
A garden was planted...

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Such a beautiful building
Airy and spacy and light
Just off Hesse Road, a place,
For that occasion, just right.
One of the trawlermens’ churches
A community now scattered and gone
But thanks to these old photos
It's memory will live on...

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HOLLYWOOD BEACH GULLS
Regrettably the sun was setting low
on wings of gulls all red and fiery eyed
they plucked the popcorn from our waiting hand
as if we  had a dream to give to them
or sang a...

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Jacksonville, at this hour, tell me
Do you miss me where the river flows
Through Florida's tangled history
Where the Mocama cotton grows

Do you see me driving early
To teach where the clansman name holds
Such reverence in history
For black...

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My Saint John flow on
Through forest, marsh and town's spread
Tablecloth of stars

Conquistadors gone
The blue herons walk alone
In moonlight's silence

River and lone night
Memory is a wind's hope
Rustling swamps for gold

Let us keep our thoughts
In slow meandering...

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AN OLD BUILDING BY THE ST. JOHNS

Prose and fingers lingering to the North arise!
On this day 25 degrees North of the Sun
Venus and the moon shall collide and dance
Chance!

The St. Johns and a ripple to...

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Streaking, dashing, breaking away
Up, up the tempo the McClendon way

Getting wide and filling the lanes
Assisting the open man with two points to gain

Upbeat, back and forth, fast, and then faster
Sitting and watching, a spectator's delight,...

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Standing under St Johns Bridge, 
ships and boats hauling in, 
red and green lead the drive, 
dusk has framed another day. 
Gentle ripples,
hide Willamette's gold.
Pilgrims dreams are seen,
yet stay untold. 
Tales of expeditions past,
echo through this...

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Sprouted from the depth and leapt for the height
Tremendous epoch-making in sight

Just like a raw gem that transforms on motion
Our imaginations are like the ocean
Her noble mind in noble thoughts we see
Now, see hordes of...

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when once my clay hands began to harden
 under the potters wheeled sun 
 i turned to reach for my shadow 
 but found only a basket of dried
 yesterdays and tomorrows.

 when once my...

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