Short Plain As Day Poems

Beauty you can't cloak,
Your Kindness as plain as day,
My love, your treasure
...

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A feeble excuse that's plain as day,
given in the forlorn hope 
it evokes forgiveness and pity, 
with a lame witty ditty tale,
about what the dog ate,
is demacing, defacing, emacing and demurring.
It voids the hope of mercy, pardon and exoneration
that the dog ate as well....

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love is a whisper
waiting to be heard
but only listening hearts
know the meaning of its words 

love is a whisper
oft times hard to hear
but if the heart is truly listening
the words are very clear 

love is but a whisper
yet i hear it plain as day
for my heart is now listening
to the words love has to say...

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I know inside myself
That Every Heart Must Bleed
But when I'm sobbing all alone
I still ask, why me? 
I still want to know how come
I hurt the way I do
When the answer is plain as day
And remains ever true
Without pain there can be no joy
And joy is a human need
That is why I know its true
That Every Heart Must Bleed...

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My Friend.

I dreamt I saw you
Ignored you at first
Then I hugged you
My old friend
I wouldn’t let you go
As in real life I did
I want to reconcile
Take back the words
But what difference would it make?
None so I’ve heard
You were here
Plain as day
Your old self
I wish only good for you
I hope you know
I wish you luck 
And now I’ll go.

David Cox 31/01/24
...

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My passion is animals for sure,

You'll see it plain as dAY,

Putting my thoughts into words is a cure,

And a very sane way for me to play,

Spelling is a must,

So I check it once then twice,

In lots of my poems, is a dog that I trust,

Or sometimes it's just a roll of the dice,

Nice poets read my poems each day,

So at the Poetry Soup site, is where I will stay....

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Listen to poem:

The Looney Toon August Moon
David J Walker

Blame it on the moon 

The monthly insanities 
The nightly vanities 

The comings
The going 

the longings 
In lonely mornings 

The Moon is to blame 
For all of the insane 

Things I can name and
It is as plain as day that

The night might 
Or might not sway things

Another way
In the light 

	Of a harvest moon
Setting south of August 

The sweet scent of 
Cooler air 

Is on its way...

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Get Up Poet 

Sick to death of adjectives
The poet died in boredom 
Trying to fit railway ties
Neatly between tracks without
Any texture or color.

The rails were smooth and he
Couldn’t speak of their gleam in the sun 
And the ties, brown and splintering.
Poor bard, he couldn’t say that either.
Ah! his tongue was tied to the tracks.

There they lay – the train tracks,
Plain as day, and he on them, dead
By a train of no particular description.

©Kathryn McL. Collins
April 16, 2004...

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Listen to poem:

Shadows are unforgiving,
stark in relief,
dark in infill. 
These stiff hollow silhouettes
of gutted entrails
follow us around,
lacking the detachment
to avoid being brutally honest
about our outline shape and
where we've been and why.
We avoid looking back at
the shadowy dark-side behind us
that is plain as day
to those who watch our
tell-tale umbras
that trail behind
as tails
as wagging truth sayers,
dark, stark, stiff
unforgiving naked, 
rear-view selfee cut-outs....

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