Thinking for a While
Feeling All Alone
Thinking I Want to Die
No Mom, No Dad, No Home
Nobody Will Understand
Anyone Who Cares
Just Sit & I Cry
Too Much to Bare
Keeping it to Myself
Forced to Hide Pain
Nobody Will Ever Help
Without Something to Gain
Remember Life is Tough
Be the One Who'll Strive
Too Many We Love
Choosing Suicide
Ask for Forgiveness
Not Reep What You Sew
Everyone Sins so
Give Everyone Hope
Some Gone Forever
Without a Ribbon
Without any Trophy
Without Even a Prize
Too Much Has Been Done
They've No Friends
They've No Love &
They've No Life
Just Making a Joke &
Spreading a Lie
Can Destroy Someone
Can Make Them Cry
Just Having Cruel Fun if You
Know What They Hide
Unbearable to Some &
Others May Try
Destroying Their Pain &
Feelings Inside
Too Many Young Lives
Say a Final Goodbye
Taking Their Own Life
Their Peace is Suicide
In this, the death-prone winter of our discontent,
the world lay languishing from mitotic chaos
and malignant uncertainty---spreading a pandemic
cancer of destruction over the body of our moral humanity.
Infected rebirth cells of ancient crusade history
scatter world wide---blown like dry leaves
in chilling winds of cold war seasons.
Here, in the frozen season of time, Armageddon
stalks democracy in the chilled midnight hour;
while in the twilight of the eve of destruction,
world watchers waddle the time away: constructively
engaged in spotlight moments of warming scenes.
With a bloody but unbowed head, let not our world wallow wearily
in the mirage of winter’s defeat; nor allow her frigid blast
to shatter the bruised reed of hope or out the burning wick of love.
Let us stare adversity in the eye, rekindling the spirit of unity;
let us refashion the crumbled, rejected stones of our moral society;
we building a new and better world where we hold it to be self evident:
peace---perfect peace, is the dominant ethos of our recaptured humanity.
Of the evidence -
Oh the preponderance of tabulated facts
If for not the days accumulated notes
Might the proceedings be held of lack
Perhaps a pensive notion
Deep within the womb
Leading to retraction before the ultimate impact
Spreading a distant plume
A scavenger of such
Gathering and forging on
To find a key of existence
To find the truth in this mysterious life
I weigh all that was ingested
A judge and jury perhaps
Searching for knowledge and wisdom
A book
Of life itself
It's an impossibility,
all things have an identity,
even poor John Doe is now known
by that simplest of nom de plume.
Meanwhile on the news over there
the suspect it's said has gray hair,
with a purple shirt and red hat;
what kind of fashion sense is that?!
Rain is the rain; sun is the sun,
the tallest tales are often spun
by one who has nothing but fear
and feels safe when spreading a smear.
And, so, for your information
I'm just a conglomeration
The Bald Eagle circled above the crowd
They gathered for an eclipse party!
People set up their chairs outside
as they waited for a special solar eclipse
Slowly, the moon moved into the light
as the sun played peekaboo from behind it
The moon continued to hide the sun from us
A breeze started to blow, temperature dropped
Then it was like dusk all around at 98 percent
A rare occurrence at 3:30 in the afternoon!
Bright light reached outward, upon sun's return
It's face spreading a smile straight from the sky
While the moon left its meeting, it said, goodbye!
Heidi Sands
1/9/24
(C)opyright
That rambling castle across the landscape bewitched my heart
As though divinity has signed, gorgeous is its art.
Are the cherubims relaxing, spreading out their legs and hands?
Are these archaic, ornate boulders on mountainous strands?
Cave-like, carved curvy corridors crookedly coil around
Vertical and horizontal length, width, and depth rebound
Celestially thrill-filled, airy arrays in sunlit style
Are Hephaestus and Athena spreading a sapphire smile?
Points, lines, planes, volumes, and magnitude speak tonnes of volumes.
Are these flawless frills and folds parts of angelic costumes?
Gloriously intricate, cosy carvings, and wide wings
Brim-fill with cosmically grace-filled mimetic mouldings
These sprawling, spreading, sturdy structures seem to symbolise
Incomprehensibly divine marvels that synthesise
Short, long, sharp, and blunt; straight and twisted mortal existence
That draws, from the spiritual source, its soul sustenance.
The rain is singing
Soaking the leafy terrain
With splashy songs of puddles
The sun is smiling
Spreading a golden kindness
Through its glazed misty snuggles
A
heart
in you so red
beats in twos, so fed.
Keeping all other hearts so warm.
Morning and night, you bring no harm.
Spreading a happy face, not blue.
Smile from your heart I keep
lingers my heart so deep.
Your heart in me
that speaks
always
U
Think of me today
If you do I will feel you
A feeling in back of my mind
coming forward
Spreading a smile on my face
leaving a warm memory
And a hope and desire
for our next meeting
I will know the touch
of your mind on mine
Come to me today
in your thoughts
Then I will send you mine
*THE ELO’S POETRY EMPIRE*
The Elo's Poetry Empire, with power so great,
Uprooting the weeds that were once so sedate.
Their words like a plow, tearing through the ground,
Their rhymes like a rain, making the wit abound.
Their verse, like a fire, igniting the mind,
Bringing new life to ideas once confined.
Their tales, like a breeze, lifting up the soul,
Making us feel, making us whole.
With each line they write, they bring growth and might,
To a world in need of some poetic light.
Their empire rising, spreading far and wide,
Bringing inspiration to those it might abide.
So let's raise a glass to this poetry crew,
Their Empire, so strong, a sight to view.
Their words, like a seed, sowing hope in the earth,
Their poetry, a gift, a celebration of worth.
So here's to The Elo's Poetry Empire,
Their influence spreading, a never-ending fire.
Their words, a beacon, in a world so dark,
A bright shining light, a poetic mark.
By Otieno Elvis Gikoi
THE ELO’S POETRY
Take a walk in love
showing it along the road
spreading a lovely fragrance
assing your own love code
Remember all of Calvary
there Christ showed real love
taking our sin on His body
proving His grace is enough
On the cross, Jesus died
His body a sacrificial offering
which God receives as perfect
being His righteous sin-offering
The magnitude of God's love
took Jesus to achieve our salvation
shows a sweet-smelling savor
bringing about your transformation
God's love is the fullest
man can know being divine
what love is this? merciful!
walk in God's love, His sure sign
("And walk in love, as Christ also hath loved us, and hath given himself for us an offering and a sacrifice to God for a sweetsmelling savor.")
Ephesians 5: 2 (KJV)
Though the oceans are but a tide
That ebbs and flows
like all those thoughts
Her words of wisdom forge past
The banks of her now silent beaches
Spreading a cool breeze to those
Corners of her darkest nights
Rivers of love flowing within
She beckons me within myself
Looking into the mirror of reflection
That thirsty soul diving deep in
Her water shines in glimmering splendor
As she flows in feelings to re-engage
Gusts of emotions blowing about
Waves rising and ending in calm
Tranquil heart within us dwells
Like a pearl sacred in its shell
22.9.2021
Sponsor: Constance La France
Contest Name: ‘O’ Contest New Poem
Six legs, a pair of wings,
a million eyes,
an insect malign.
See,
there it rests upon my naked knee,
its proboscis pumping,
sucking up my precious blood,
and spreading a thousand micro-organisms
that feed upon our fair and sunny isle.
How I loathe and detest your very sight.
There you are,
flying around,
hovering
landing,
tickling,
teasing.
A slap,
but craftily you fly away.
Once such a slap had found its mark,
and Blake saw
life's uselessness
without the reassuring force of worthwhile thought.
A brush and your ancestor died.
Oh, would that fate befall you too,
that you would die,
so I'll find peace...
and calm.
Note: The reference to Blake is another poem by the same name, naturally much better than mine, written by William Blake, English poet and published in 1794 in a book entitled "Songs of Experience".
you don't hear much about sleeper cells anymore
no whispers of
elevating or lowering
the terror alert...
we've lost the rippled art of vigilance i suspect
but you can bet the ghosts of the pentagon,
twin towers and Shanksville haven't.
The creepers will certainly crawl
up from the steps of hades-
about every seventeen years..
so willing to toss fire around
my abacus clicks that they're way overdue
ready to go another deadly round or two.
Yes they're alive and thriving alright..
some are more of the subtle type
they do damage with lye tongues.
they've infiltrated grade schools
imbedded fetid stingers into campuses
spreading a special blend of hateful cancer...
one devil even married kin
to slithered their way
into our most sacred places
reaping the rewards of our nation
while constantly race baiting
vomiting an endless torrent of baseless complaints-
We've left porches unlit - screen doors unlocked
now cicadas are emerging from fiery cribs
harassing the stillness of our windchimes -
The world of our ancestors
keeps rolling around.
I watched it on an old globe
bought from a pawn shop.
The front lines, though faint,
led to blood-red delineations.
The glob made me dream.
I was spreading a map
over a wide table
I could see minuscule life
running forward or retreating.
I saw armies charging here and there
body parts everywhere.
Back in the wide-awake world
some old warriors ended up in Florida
tanned but terribly wounded
they send me pleading letters
not to say another word.
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