Modernity’s Muse:http://dasuntoucha.blogspot.com/2010/09/her-return.html
*****
A. B. Thomas: http://abthomas.wordpress.com/2010/08/30/come-into-my-darkness-2/
*****
700 Miles:http://700miles.wordpress.com/2010/08/31/5bythemoonlight/
five by the moonlight out by our sea
take my hand baby, come sit with me
ONE moment of pause, eyes captivate
consumed by desire and auspicious fate
TWO hands unite, sensual allusion
tangible heat is not an illusion
THREE words spoken, sweet harmony
heart singing out a special delivery
FOUR legs intertwined, vigor increased
summit the peak of passion’s release
FIVE moments to reflect, fortunate delight
together complete forever tonight
*****
Amanda: http://buttercup600.wordpress.com/2010/09/08/musings/
Mystifying love
choices made
her enticing soul
in monologue
a confusing mind
tearing golden threads
from her puzzled heart
pondering when
she’d be filled with glee
time to lift
her lonely spirit
and fill her beating heart
with whispers of hope
waiting
in absence
to a cosmos of life
*****
Willie:http://williewizzy.wordpress.com/2010/09/10/26-hours/
You want me?!
Come get me!
We shout
Who’s loud?
Listen to me,
Not hump on me,
Shout out?
Shut up!
Oh, orgasmic ?
Yeah, wargasmic!
*****
Tasithoughts:https://tasithoughts.wordpress.com/2010/09/04/the-light-through-the-window/
The light through the window
lands on my hands as
words pour into the bright screen
where my feelings seem to move
from my heart out of my fingernails
simply to prove that I am alive
not only from oxygen but from
the drama of life with its ups and downs
and the yearnings of my soul to be held
not only by adoring arms but by one
who sees me for who I am and needs me to
complete his life’s journey .
I look out the window and the light continues
to come in not only to lay rest upon my hands
but now I feel it inside me filling
me with illumination.
*****
Heartspell:http://heartspell.wordpress.com/2010/09/09/the-course-of-a-day/
In a day
we go from
awake, present, cheerful
to a place
busy, active, thought-filled
to deep within
overwhelmed, distracted, contemplative
then nowhere
tired, unfocused, zombie
ending up somewhere
unwinding, relaxed, peaceful
in to night
*****
Cindy:http://brokenpenwriter.wordpress.com/2010/05/15/across-the-breakfast-table/
You sit, absorbed in another thick spy intrigue murder mystery political uprising story with just enough sex in it to keep you checking the this-has-all-the-right-ingredients tick box, designating the author as a best seller, stellar tale-teller who makes lots of money writing. His books fill your shelves to prove it. We had to get rid of some last year to just make room for more.
Meanwhile I reside here on my chair with a fifty-page volume, so slender it could be mistaken for a magazine - if only it was taller, wider and the cover more flimsy than it is now. My book is one of only two that the poet ever published before he died. I need never worry about running out of room for his books or becoming bored with the same shape, plot and characters that, reworked one hundred and one different ways, receive new names and settings in each predictable story.
There you, enmeshed with the pages of your New York Times book-of-the-week, engaged with fast-paced heroes and caricatured characters – thinner than the paper that holds their names - eat cereal and read, oblivious of my thoughts or even aware that I share the table with you, along with the salt, napkins and sugar bowl. I bet my poet would have written about the bowl; how the lid always drops sweet crumbs on the table; how I carefully wipe them up, look at you and smile.
*****
Carolina: http://unprecedentedintellectual.wordpress.com/2010/06/14/my-backyard/
The world is fascinated by my backyard
The hot springs that warm my hot tubs
The Rift Valley my landscape
Mountains galore with and some without caps
Craters with Lakes
The Nile, my aisle
Carries me to Majestic Victoria
Sahara, a desert so vast, to visit is a must
My property line the equator
My household pets, The Big Five
Ellie the elephant, whose majesty is all i want
Simba the lion, who stands for more than Zion
Ray the rhino, looks as if to ask what we know
Hannah the hippo, her swagger stating she knows what we know
Gerald the giraffe, always proper, nature’s butler
Yes I am bragging
Watching your smug air sagging
All the weapons, computers, cars and oil spills galore
Cannot get you my backyard
*****
Imagina:: http://imagina1.wordpress.com/2010/08/30/the-muse-and-the-messenger/
I nearly got accustomed to your sudden visits,
at such odd hours, between waking and dreaming,
In fleeting thoughts, or at the rare moments
When I feel most alive, saturated with life.
I recognize you, Goddess, although you are plainly
Cloaked in a commoner’s robe. You came to me in
Unremarkable things, like the sound of children’s
Laughter, a warm heart of an old friend, kind words
Uttered by strangers, or the cool scented breeze that
Escaped the scorching sun through my window.
At these times, the words flow through me, guided
With the brilliant light of the patron’s torch,
Effortlessly finding their sanctuary in my pages.
At other times, mercilessly you confront me in
Your worst effronteries. You use the not so random
Tragedies: the death of an estranged neighbor, of love
Found and lost, or of halted personal dreams. Sometimes
You took in a colossal scale: the slow annihilation
Of a nation, natural disasters that wiped out an entire
Island, humans crushed by their own frailties into pain
And loss. At unfortunate times like this, I stuttered,
Finding words utterly useless: metaphors inadequate, similes
Contrasted, empty and barren to convey the melancholy
Of life, of the curse of being human, the sheer tragedy of it.
The crushing magnitude of it is paralyzing, while still
I wrestle with the shattering affairs in my own small
Misshapen life, with my own personal trials.
A mere vessel I am,
interpreter of joy and sorrow, a messenger
At best. Ultimately, it is the words that chose me, bound me, and
Dutifully, I surrender to your will, my soul torn with every
Sorrow I echoed, then roughly patched up with brief humble raptures,
And torn all over again.
*****
Dakshima: http://loveamongotherthings.wordpress.com/2010/09/09/voice-of-the-dead/
And what is done is done
You wanted me to resurrect from dead
You wanted to wipe blood from your hands
My blood
Warm, moist my blood
Blood will have blood,
No matter what we want,
And I am among the dead still,
How can I come back?
You stabbed mercilessly
You buried me and sealed my coffin
Sealed it with your own hand
And you ‘looked like the innocent flower’
But inside your head, you may hear my wail,
Its not that I’m afraid to live among dead,
Dead are far better than those who are alive,
They won’t harm you, or make your life miserable,
Life is so strange, to be killed by the hand once you held,
It’s my fate, to be killed by you,
Do not remember me, for I am among the dead now
But my blood is in your hand.
*****
Anky0112: http://makeachange1.wordpress.com/2010/08/04/2611-mumbai-terror-attack-memories/
Blood, blitz everywhere,
Fire fumes high in the air,
But do they care??
The gunshots, the slaughtering,
The chaos, the howling,
Mumbai streets full of light
In a blink,
is turned into crimson sight.
Is it right??
So many kind of people,
each different at their birth
yet all now are joined in death and love
leaving behind their shadows.
’cause,
they came to kill, to hurt,
to cause mayhem for 59 hours,
but they failed, like they should be.
*
Now, the flames are silent,
peace is violent,
tears are frozen
’cause massacre was chosen.
*
yet the pain, the tear
still etched into our head.
The heroes, the martyrs
will always be in our memories
who fought against ‘TEN’.
*
stand all together to pray
for freshness
A life without a shed of tear,
A life without an iota of pain.
stop this killing,
on name of religion,
stop allegations,
stop making political expressions.
and justify the situation.
Can you??
*****
C.: http://darkestdivide.wordpress.com/2010/09/10/ashes-of-my-fears/
Reality can’t see
What fantasy hides
I get lost in the truth
Find myself in a lie
You were but a dream
Now I’m not so sure
I used to be innocent
I’ve forgotten what’s pure
You were an illusion
A dream I dared to dream
Fading in to darkness
In the shadows of my whims
Until all that remained was
The ghost of a flickering flame
Fighting a losing battle
Against the winds of change
*****
JP: http://jpbeaty.blogspot.com/2010/09/guides-window.html
(Poets Rally and Magpie Tale)
The forest morning was crisp. I walked alone with the leaves cracking under my feet. I clutched my coat closer against the chilling fall winds. The trees looked almost skeletal against the clear air. Up ahead along the trail — leaning against a fallen tree — was the person I had come to meet. He was my good friend and today we intended to wander the woods for the day with his acquaintance, a guide who knew the area quite well.
When I arrived the guide shook my hand. For a split second it seemed like the wind suddenly got colder, but the feeling soon passed. Then, for the next several hours we were shown all there was to see in the acres of wilderness. After this time we came upon a house in the woods sticking out like a sore thumb. Our guide strode confidently toward it. I stood hesitantly until something caught my eye. In the window was a transparent figure looking out the window. I ran away back to my car screaming.
The two remaining men look at each other for a second. The guide looked over to my friend and asked “Did you tell him about my wife and me by chance?” The friend replied “no, it must have slipped my mind.” The guide simply replied “Oh well, lets go see what’s for lunch”. With that the friend walked around to the door as the guide turned transparent and went through the wall.
*****
D-:http://dcec.wordpress.com/2010/09/11/todays-weather/
Tears fall like drizzles,
Thoughts as grey as nimbus,
Cold air like winter,
That’s exactly how I feel.
Got to put on that mask,
Wear that smile,
Hug optimism,
And inwardly sigh.
*****
Mangoesntangoes:http://mangoesntangoes.wordpress.com/2010/09/08/mangoes-mansions-monkeys-music/
Come with me
To the land of the gods
As we go into the City of Joy
You will see the busy roads
Full of vendors and animals
And the monkeys stealing the natives’ foods
Skip through the market place
See the colorful Punjabis
Be mesmerized by the snake charmers
Yes, you need to come
Taste the dal and the hot curry
Swallow it down with Mango Juice
Feel the heat
Feel the drum beat
Dance with me
We will go into the citadels
See the mansions
Of the Greatest Emperors that have lived
Walk through the festivities
Get caught up in the spirit
Of Krishna’s love for us
Smell the aroma
Of spices and incense
And find relics that are told in the famous legends
We will hear the laughter of children everywhere
Be part of a fisherman’s tale
Learn the history of an ancient world
Stick with me
We will ride in the man-made rickshawalla
Walk through shrines and temples
Be part of history
Stretch your arm
Expand your mind
Get dirty
Embrace the jewel towers
Wade through the holy waters
You will not forget
The memories you have made
The picturesque details of another life
Don’t let it go
Breathe it in
Let it expand your horizon
*****
Bill Cook: http://beginningpoetry.wordpress.com/2010/09/10/intruders/
Of course resentment is the thing I feel,
Anger too; they should not allow them here.
These piles of rags. Ugly eyes that sow
Seeds of guilt, and of course the open hands.
The day was perfect. Sun thorough trees. The shops:
Attractive, quaint. Awnings: green and blue.
Then there she was. How dare she intrude!
I was determined not to stop.
As quickly as I could I hurried by
Then looking back I saw her unfurl wings, and fly.
*****
Kavita:http://kavisionz.wordpress.com/2010/09/09/trust-me-it-said/
I leaned against the wall
Tried to hear what it said
Its silence, hard as lead
Making all my spirits fall
I stared at the ceiling
Knowing not what to do
Your games of peekaboo
Playing at my feeling
I tried to smell the air
For traces of your scent
To me, no clue it lent
I thought this wasn’t fair
I touched the floor ‘beneath me
Hoped for your footsteps near
These tiles evoked a fear
And I wished I could flee
I stood by French windows
Tasted the finest scape
And let my thoughts escape
To the weeping willows
I let my senses drain
For sixth to run this show
And now I simply know
That hurt shall not remain
This torch lit in my core
I let its embers burn
A click and then a turn
And you walk in through that door.
*****
Riikainfinityy:http://riikainfinityy.com/2010/09/09/perugia
Perugia
a city I will never forget as it is a
famous artistic center
of the beautiful
Italy
The remains of Rocca Paolina
reside underneath of Perugia
is one of my favorite places
which led you to a street of
Medieval arts and culture
in the daylight
Cathedral of San Lorenzo
the unusual and unique layout
with Loggia di Braccio on the left
and Fontana Maggiore on the foreground
It is as if they were all made for each other
as the whole picture fit in perfectly
Beautiful streetscapes that bound to mesmerize you eyes
as you stroll down the Corso
from those steps of the Cathedral
looking over the lovely hills of Umbria
as the sun sets
A city that I will always remember
with the arts and the mouth-watering pizzas
that took my stomach on
a wonderful journey
*****
Diamondsanddogs:http://randomthoughtsandmusings.wordpress.com/2010/09/10/falling-in-love/
Falling in love
is hard
to do
when you
know every
flaw
When
the scars
run deep
and wounds
are still
raw
When
looking yourself
in the
eye
makes you
cry out
WHY?
When
the memories
that haunt
your mind
are so
completely
unkind
How do
you find
love
when
another’s pain
fits you
like a glove
And all
you see
is their
misery
Oh, yes …
Loving me
is hard
to do
It’s far
easier
to love
you
Your
empathy
and grace
Your
beautiful,
smiling
face
It’s your
love
I cherish
as I hopefully
watch
my identity
perish
So that
one day
I too
can see
enough reason
to love
me.
*****
W:http://wiserskydiver.wordpress.com/2010/09/11/iam-not-afraid/
three is the rule to not rhyme
here its well defined
mom dad and a child
*****
Noha:http://nohaemile.wordpress.com/2010/09/12/the-handsome-loner/
He is not one of them
He knows he is different
He belongs to far beyond their bare minds
To far beyond their deaf hearts
Perhaps he is a lie he told himself
And once had faith in his lie
Perhaps he is the one to blame
So many possibilities
As far as the horizon stretched in front of him
And he is convinced with them all
But he still embraces the fact
That he is a sole creature
Who passionately glance the oceans
Nostalgic to someone he can observe
And knows well his features
Although they are engraved in his heart
Those particular and exceptional features
He feels them
His soul touches that face
Looks quietly to those rebelled eyes
Black as his endless night of silence
Or perhaps as blue as the sea that runs deep his soul
But whenever he opens his eyes
Those features drift away
And he only sees his skin and numb senses
O, how much he hated those dull eyes
O, how much he hated those lifeless features
Reflected on the glass he’s holding
Where the waves collide and fight
Rise up and anchor
Till they finally rest to the glass walls peacefully
That was his destiny
To live his life embracing his death
Like two facing blank white papers
What is written on one
Is soon reflected on the other
That is his destiny
To live on the outside dead and soulless
No name
No age
No identity
Just different
His anger leans on the walls of his silence
Glimpsing at his ocean
As wide as his imagination
As clogged as a tight rope
Choking his free soul
He tries desperately to breathe
Through the tiny holes of his tight cocoon
Tighter and tighter
Till it stick to the miserable soul living within
His depressed soul
He is yearning to escape
To feel those unfolded colorful wings of freedom
No matter how tight his cocoon is
He suddenly feels the space
And slowly opens his eyes
Glimpsing back at the horizon
Somewhere where Heaven touches the sea
He raises his only question:
“Can I leave now?”
Eventually, came some tears
To wash the lifeless features
Of a Handsome Loner
*****
Julie:http://juliejordanscott.typepad.com/jjspoetry/2010/09/that-way-.html
A wise poet once surmised
“Fallen leaves will climb back into trees.”
I quickly dismissed such malarkey.
Fallen leaves can not climb back into trees
It is an impossibility. It is.
An impossibility.
They age: the leaves do. They turn brown
and get tired. They fall off the tree.
They return to the soil if they are lucky
or they get blown or raked and gathered
up and taken away to rot and decay
and they never I repeat never
reattach themselves to
the trees which once
loved them enough
to nourish them.
They.
Don’t.
Re.
Attach.
It.
Doesn’t.
Work.
That.
Way.
And what, what, what if leaves did,
one day, find their way back to the
branches?
They don’t.
They won’t.
Do.
That.
*****
Owen: http://creativemotive.wordpress.com/2010/08/16/zephyr/
It is delightful,
Seeing your name pass by.
Not because it’s love,
but because the previous is a lie.
It is most phonic,
Seeing your gates open.
Not because your chords are sweet,
but because I didn’t notice.
It is the ergonomics,
Seeing the cubicle in your bosom.
Not because I’d be willing,
but because I can’t consider such an offer.
It is a sunny morning,
Seeing you in my thoughts.
Not because I long for you,
but because I remember your zephyr; now deceased.
*****
Alethea: http://asmiworld.wordpress.com/2010/09/12/lost/
In a city that never sleeps,
I walked, lost in my thoughts so deep,
Oblivious to the crowd and the buildings,
Or to the rally of vehicles and their beeps
The streets look new; never seen before,
With their lights and turns and department stores,
Was this the place I grew up in,
played and laughed? ; not familiar anymore.
Gone is the playground and in it the ice-cream stall
On its place lies a mega mall……..
The sky no more sees the ascend of colorful kites
It has ended up being a vast empty wall
The pavement lined with trees, now left only with one or two
No one recalls that, or cares about it; just too many things to do
That banyan tree where we played hide and seek is no more there
Like the city and me, it must have got lost too….
*****
ThedarkJasmine: http://newtha.wordpress.com/2008/08/03/i-name-it-flame/
going through the darkness,,
finding something that really pensioning,,
keep running and don’t turning back,,
running,,
running,,
faster,,
faster,,
until u find that u’ll never be there,,
unless U make a fire,,
flaming under ur desire,,
going through the blankness,,
with the eyes shut and the ears hear nothing,,
walking inside the path and beyond the line which is black,,
screaming,,
yelling,,
rolling like a monster,,
rubbing like a gangster,,
Never though that u’ll ever back there,,
unLess U wanna Make another fire,,
Running inside of your Flaming desire,
*****
Robin:http://robinelizabeth58.wordpress.com/2010/08/05/falling-august-5-2010/
It was quiet outside,
No echo through the woods.
Though the wind blew,
And it pushed,
It hadn’t made a sound.
Her body burned inside,
No love for her at all.
She never knew,
How to smile,
How to lift her feet from the ground.
The rain fell patiently,
Then slowly starting to rage.
Thrashing the ground and it’s decor,
Destroying any castles,
Any sculptures made of sand.
Her thoughts paced absently,
Until she heard their taunts.
Their words swept in to make her sore,
Breaking her heart,
As well as the bones that let her stand.
Lightning sped across the sky,
Thunder roared too loudly.
Shaking the ground at it’s impact,
Shattering every child’s sleep,
And causing critters small and large to hide.
Starting only now to cry,
Her broken whimpers filled the room.
She had managed to keep her hope intact,
Until this very pressing moment,
When she let it start to slide.
*****
Amanda: http://www.blogginwithamanda.com/2010/09/01/thursdays-poet-rally/
I am inviting, and my path is worn
Wooden planks creak with excitement
As salt kissed waves lap the shore.
*
Giggles become laughter, louder, stronger
Spirits are high, the tide is low
A fisherman casts out just a wee bit longer
*
Hot dogs, popcorn you can buy anything
Short shorts and small tops, oh and flip flops
And a ride on the merry-go-round might be the thing
*
There’s pushing and shoving but nobody cares
Everyone looks to the horizon
While ivory whites sails command stares
*
Out to the west the sun starts to dip
The shore line is caressed in pink
And an Ice cold Coke is on the last sip
*
Neon lights cut through the dark
A summer evening casts out a breeze
A flash from a BBQ sends out a spark
*
All good things end at the last of the day
The pier has to close
Till the next summer day
*****
Jingle:http://thursdaypoetsrallypoetry.wordpress.com/2010/09/07/september-thursday-poets-rally-week-28/
Besides December,
U shall remember
September:
A time everything changes,
A season position switches.
As poets go through the mill,
Pumpkins dominate the marketplace in town,
U sense the winds chill,
And eyewitness the leaves turning brown.
September is a magical season,
Your mood goes cheery for many a reason:
The ocean waves rising,
The orchards ripening,
The barns haunting,
The romance happening.
The baby sleeping,
The mother smiling…
*****
Hindawy: http://hindawy.wordpress.com/2010/09/07/a-better-me-for-you/
In another deadly place
Locked within a maze
I could only care more not less
Than I should yet each day
I reach beyond whats me
Fulfilling every dream
I ever had one day
Perfection is not seen
Lest the eyes have been
In a darker phase
Comfort you’ll never feel
Utopia is not real
My promise comes today
I can do my best I say
I can stretch the rules & play
As if it were a game
*
Its a better me for you
Consummation due
From a different view
All you see is new
It can’t be true?
Till my life is through
Live & die for you
I thought I knew
Now its up to you
*
You close the door
Arms open wide
Opposing every might
What can I say?
We serve what we can’t see
Pleading not guilty
To a bloody crime
The stain won’t be erased
Soaking wet make haste
To leave the storm
Far beyond the road
You chose for you
A path to what you want
A path to what you need
Deserting those who bleed
What can I say?
Its just another test for me
To be the best that I can be
*
Its a better me for you
Consummation due
From a different view
All you see is new
It can’t be true?
Till my life is through
Live & die for you
I thought I knew
Now its up to you
*
The river rises now
Full of corpses, how?
Could we tolerate?
The hurt & the pain
This is genocide
Has the world gone blind?
As not to see
The rockets & the F-16′s
Apaches only in your dream
Yes its war again
Against every Muslim
In life you’re only free to sin
Pray in defeat again
Surrender to your fate & then
When comes your day?
Not far away
You’d be stupid not to see
All the signs pointing to thee
*
Its a better me for you
Consummation due
From a different view
All you see is new
It can’t be true?
Till my life is through
Live & die for you
I thought I said
Resurrection straight ahead
Cause the road left behind
Is the one that saves mankind.
*****
Kyoichi: http://kyogakura.wordpress.com/2010/08/15/does-it-mean-that-im-indispensable/#comment-251
Here I thought I was an unessential,
Not more than a passing breeze to lighten
The harshness of this wounding heat,
Not more than a passing smile and nod,
Another count for approval
That soon, too, will be forgotten.
Here I thought I was an uncertainty,
An existence that would not be
Seen as more than what it presents;
Not that it is unknowable
But because it is not worth knowing.
But now, here I wonder why
Amidst all that I am not,
And all that I can no longer be,
He misses me.
*****
Love, Life, & Misery:http://lifeloveandmisery.wordpress.com/2010/09/12/collapse/
red bricks tumbling,
wasting away
this wall of cracked plaster,
crumbling, carried away on winds afar
graffiti rainbow
seen by all, hidden by one
with thoughts of her leaving,
hollow footfalls upon aged wood floors,
the very floor he meant to replace,
never did,
now couldn’t
as he watches his firstborn daughter
run naked, mother in tow
a faded mirage;
a howling swirl,
wind chimes wailing sirens call,
protesting the storm where doors slam
glass explodes,
glinting
a myriad reflection, setting summer sun
the color of fire, bombs fall upon
weakened base, last defense;
my wall collapses,
dust and debris scatter,
guillotine cleaves my bleeding heart
I cry
*****
Amrita:http://amritaghosh.wordpress.com/2010/09/14/little-boxes/
Small boxes, lovingly gathered over the years,
And, stored with great hopes for future shares,
Only to be dusted off of big upsets in the now and here.
What could have been done,
What she wanted to do,
What was done instead.
Fingers curling, then unfurling,
Raveled by the weight of unspoken things.
Much mulling later, realization strikes her!
The boxed in cans of worms have festered all their fears,
She could hear the ram shackled emotions wringing out the last of their tears,
Trapped inside the boxes unwittingly, for no fault of theirs,
They were pleading their case, ‘hear, hear, liberation day is near’.
It’s easy enough to get trapped and cower,
Not so easy to let go,
But, exceedingly liberating to finally have the power
To stop, and, say, ‘No’.
*****
A Poem A Day 2010:http://mstevensson.wordpress.com/2010/09/09/passion-found/
Passion found
Hidden under ground
So Profound.
*****
Celebrating A Year:http://mairmusic.wordpress.com/
an interesting change
in the light here today
clouds drift and rearrange
and old ideas won’t stay
in the light here today
I read my discontent
and old ideas won’t stay
my happiness is spent
I read my discontent
in every passing breeze
my happiness is spent
its got me on my knees
in every passing breeze
my dreams sing azure blue
its got me on my knees
and I hope to slide through
my dreams sing azure blue
clouds drift and rearrange
and I hope to slide through
an interesting change
*****
Senderupwords:http://senderupwords.wordpress.com/2010/09/07/im-no-john-nash/
I’m no John Nash,
Though certainly this is a beautiful mind,
And how do I relate,
To men in black suits,
And secret missions,
My rationality working overtime,
To avoid what seemed inevitable,
Though,
I’ve learned it is not.
This beautiful mind,
Flows words mightier than the Nile,
More life affirming than the Amazon,
More wayward than the Mississippi,
The beauty,
In the lack of understanding where from the ether they come.
I’m no John Nash,
Clearly,
As at the first stroke of appearing demons,
My lover,
Kicked me while I was down,
Leaving me behind,
Troubled and menaced,
By this beautiful mind.
This beautiful mind,
Accepts the fate before me,
Though I and I do not,
I and I will kick, fight, punch and drag down,
Any that try to belittle what is so obvious,
Except to me,
Save that I improve daily.
I’m no John Nash,
No Nobel,
(Yet)
No magical theory,
Or office at Princeton,
Though,
I do have friends and interlocutors,
Who keep this mind alive,
Thriving,
Driving,
Searching for the answer…
That perfect sentence.
This beautiful mind,
At times seems ugly,
Seems determined to have me fragment,
Hell bent on throwing me over that line,
Never to return,
But in the days between that day and this,
These words will filter out my anxieties,
Quash my angst,
Reveal the inner workings,
Of a beautiful mind.
*****
Joanny: http://thedowsersdaughter.blogspot.com/2010/09/haunting-beauty.html
Come evening, my silent rendezvous,
raising my eyes toward the celestial sky,
I gaze into the night, to find the moon
encased in sublime velvet
silently moving across the heavens,
that I be intrepid to wonder in awe.
Deeper into the night,
the moon lights up half the room,
while a soundless whisper from the wind
dances with the candle
casting deep shadows on the wall.
In their simplicity,
with every passing breeze,
the leaves swirl and dance about
in the garden and back again
and all along the road.
The blueness of the winds sharp breath
enters my chamber
without permission and penetrates
the deep strata of my soul exposing
the naked and raw fastened from a fragile fabric
ephemeral -the fear -the loneliness -the pain,
shielding the beauty that hides inside.
The aroma of the night air fills me
with a compelling desire suddenly
I give way to the seduction that
surrounds and sequester my senses.
Alive with pulsing energy through my veins,
I sway to breath’s rhythm and dance
to the beat of my heart,
racing through the woods,
upon entering holy ground,
I take off my shoes,
and enter the autumn water!
Stars float in infinite space
and my thoughts
collide into the one universe
where dreams meet reality,
tears of joy pour forth
falling like mighty rain
as kindling unleashed
bursting open the petals.
the water and the soul,
exuding ecstasy within
explodes in liquid brilliance.
Blessings pour forth
from a celestial mind, gone now,
are the endless dust-storm of troubles,
and the peccadilloes of my soul.
Fin
In Immortal Beloved,1994,
the film about Ludwig van Beethoven,
there is one scene of such power
and haunting beauty,
it captured my imagination,
and spoke to my soul.
I promise you it will stay
with you forever.
While you are watching
this short 4 minute clip,
it is art at its most dynamic,
invites us to dream,
to live outside ourselves,
and go beyond and dream even greater
*****
Patrice Berry:http://pdotberry.wordpress.com/2010/09/09/i-have-found-a-tailor/
your thread is closing
my seams – i’m used to holding
myself together,
used to sewing my
own tears, hemming my own pants -
but these new clothes fit
perfectly.
just like you do.
*****
Artwebshow:http://artswebshow.com/2010/09/09/free-style-poetry-titled-freestylin/
Folks all across the world.
Put yo’ hands up if you want to be heard.
Let the wave ripple across the nations.
Come on, forget about your play stations.
It’s the time to shout out in unity.
Forget about the quest for your purity.
And let’s celebrate the fact that we are all flawed.
The pain, it needs to be out poured.
.
I am not kidding’, i am here chilling’
For the first time in over a year.
Enjoying’ the fruits of my labor.
Giving’ my life a bloody great cheer.
If ya dig it, i sure fill feel it.
And raise my hands up into the air
If you know it, come on and show it.
Give me a hell yeah!
*****
Liz: http://lizbethsgarden.wordpress.com/2010/09/09/in-rome/
Silent columns and benches rise
Around the deserted oval
Echoing the ancient cheers and screams.
Death once stalked this coliseum
Evil lurked in the arched doorways
Silent columns and benches rise
Testimony to time’s passage
The cheering men and women are dust
Around the deserted oval
Listen to the whispering breeze
Telling of men who fought and died
Echoing ancient cheers and screams
*****
Lynn:http://lynnlivelaughlove.wordpress.com/2010/09/09/goodbye/
last week your were my inspiration
this week, freedom from thoughts of you
is my final destination
i’ve wanted to be free from you for a while now
but i’m always met with some hesitation
fate and truth told me you were mine
i can’t believe they lied to me
i can’t believe i made it all up in my mind
i can’t believe i was so fucking blind
it wasn’t meant to be
i can finally clearly see
there will never be a you and me
we will never be a we
you want things i no longer want
like kids and dicks
and a white picket fence made of sticks
you want to be stuck with mens pricks
when we were together we both liked chicks
you hold on to your own sadness
you wear that crown of thorns with pride
but i know what you are doing
you are just trying to hide
from yourself
your pain
the wicked thoughts in your mind
it’s much easier to blame me
than it is to look deep inside
your perception is flawed, my dear
a million monks could yell it from the rooftop
but you wouldn’t hear
because all you do is live in fear
you put down your guitar
you stopped playing your song
but it’s your purpose god admit
you’re not happy
you’re just wrong
you’re heading away from the light of day
you’re headed into the dark
shit man, darkness really calls to you huh?
it sings to you like a lark
lies have become your disguise
and i don’t want to a part of it
i hope this poem is the very last
of all my goodbyes
*****
Heart:http://aconnectiontomyheart.wordpress.com/2009/11/05/vultures-dont-soar-high/
I pick up the pieces of the broken glass picture frame with my hands, vary of every piece left behind on the floor..
Tears run down my cheeks and there is only one thought in my head.. !
One by one I collect them nervously, this is my one year old’s favorite place to play in the entire house..
Right behind the TV stand, next to the dusty fire place.. this is his corner..
But, again, there is only one thought in my head..
“The vultures hover above their tiny heads..
The wind here has never stood still.. the putrid smell of decay fills the air..
Their dirty hands, the sewer nearby and the food crumbs tell an endless tale of survival..
There is no healing except from the spit of the child-bearer..
A life’s worth of lessons learnt, but there is no classroom in sight..
The friends are also here hunting for any pieces of metal or glass that they might stumble upon..
In the moonlight, the yellow teeth smile where a good catch for the day is an old ring on the finger..”
*****
Josiah:http://libertyerosion.wordpress.com/2010/08/03/a-life/
Incense burns for you here,
without implied ill-feeling.
Buried hero with such strong convictions,
it is not for I – no – not for I to salute
your memory in worship,
or some individualistic hypocrisy
or drag up grudges old
and amuse my muse with the stories you told:
Because, frankly, they weren’t for me.
And at the rallies miners cheer
and at the marches traitors fear
and at the demos far and near
you kept the red flag flying here.
But by many you were castigated
Opponents of progress and principle
and though I claim to stand by your side,
I never knew the pioneers we should sing for.
Who waved the scarlet banner higher than
it had been in this land before.
And we romanticize the gruel
of lectures to weary crowds,
in battered town-halls,
in battered donkey-jackets,
flinging once-gloried names
from roof to floor
in Byronic mode,
with a zeal all
orators would die for.
The difficulties you faced
will soon be faced again
to join the warring sides
and appreciate instead the greater goal.
Of an end! An end to the tyranny
of bourgeois capital and
proverbial class walls.
But it is worthless,
to talk of historical necessity:
If we seek to create change,
then that change we must ourselves be.
*****
Vivinfrance:http://vivinfrance.wordpress.com/2010/09/09/villanelle-for-thursday-poets-rally/
I heard a footstep at my gate
and raised my eyes to see
the postman was, as usual, late.
My steps went to investigate
what news it brought to me,
that postman’s visit to my gate:
a symbol of the world so great,
words from across the sea.
The postman was, as usual, late.
Today a stranger at the gate
knocked and asked for me.
Bad news came through my gate:
so sad, you will appreciate,
he’s gone, too soon, you see.
I know now postman is ‘the late’.
I turn away, disconsolate
then back again to see,
as steps recede outside the gate,
the widow of the postman, late.
*****
Christine:http://ibrewhaiku.blogspot.com/2010/09/you-could-rest.html
You
Could
Rest in
Sheltering
Sweet room after room
Of my tender feelings for you!
*****
Pink Lady: http://pinklady-bing.blogspot.com/2010/09/what-life-is-all-about.html
life is not about accumulating wealth
but about making one’s own dreams come true and
having a clean bill of health…
life is not about the mistakes you made
but the lessons you have learned along the way
and the strength you have gained…
life is not about disappointments
it’s just that some things are not meant to be
and there is such a thing called patience…
life is not about the people who put you down,
wait for you to stumble or don’t have anything nice to say
neither is it about those who wish for you to drown …
life is about the relationships you have built
and the people who truly care
and those who encourage you to live to the hilt…
life is about faith
when things go wrong and you’ve got nothing else left
you know that God is all you need…
life is about being free to live, love and laugh
anyone who tramples on that basic right
does not deserve to stay in your life…
life is about rising above any adversity,
picking up the pieces and moving on graciously
after all, you’ve got only one life to live…
life is about learning how to count your blessings
and the true meaning of contentment
gratitude is the key to happiness- one that’s real and permanent…
*****
AS:http://hummingwords.blogspot.com/2010/08/unleash.html
On my way to my rainbow
That is but in my mind,
I raced as always and met a spider
“You are mad” I said
Your web is nothing but a mirage
For you rule here alone
Unheard of, in a kingdom unknown
Too proud of your imaginary throne
Nay… friend, you are a like fellow too, said he
I live in my kingdom and you in your perception
That being but a faint shadow of reality
You erect huge walls and let not the ideas in
Stagnant frame rots and you dance in the sweet scent
Shunned ideas lay like dead and your merry your win
Are you not living in your own world?
My kingdom still is better for it is real and stout
And yours, made up of imperious walls
That keeps all new change far and out
In shame hung my head
How exact was each word he said!
I pondered and the spider was true
I am a criminal, the victim being my soul
As I broke the walls, like a bird it flew!
*****
Blueplatypus:http://blueplatypus.wordpress.com/2010/09/08/the-commute
I migrate through the multitude.
Pushing through the pack, mile by mile,
I near my quest’s end with each advance.
Steel jaguars prowl and pursue through the
Concrete and metal metropolitan jungle.
Like an intrepid impala, I brave the wilderness
To reach the peaceful oasis on the other side.
*****
Dennis: http://dennisgopoems.blogspot.com/2010/09/wandering-spirit_07.html
I came not for food
But for urges of the stomach;
Nor the clothing,
But for skins to cover souls;
Not for shelter,
But for thresholds to separate fear;
Nor the love,
But seams to shield away scars.
The soul desires only a dream:
An existence that paves the road
Of a wandering spirit
Roving undisturbed
Through time, space
And millenniums.
*****
Megzone:http://megzone.wordpress.com/2010/09/09/why/
Why do I do this to myself? Why?
When I know the answer, why?
.
Keeping the hopes of flame burning?
Leaving my poor heart yearning..
Why do I look for every hint?
That can set my eyes at glint
Every minutiae that I can sift
To give my spirits a lift
Why do I do this to myself? Why?
When I know the answer, why?
.
Moments of Togetherness regaling
Relics of optimism still unfailing
A flickering prospect looms at large
Insanity seems to have taken charge
Albeit ruthless truth lashes out
Callous destiny I can’t flout
Why do I do this to myself? Why?
When I know the answer, Why?
*****
Fantastic Minds:http://luisydomonique.wordpress.com/2010/09/08/guilt/
I will not try and dignify
The abuse of substance; outer stimuli
Sometimes the soul needs a jump start
To create that which is pegged as art
Really all I do is fantasize
About a better life as mine withers away
And then myself I victimize,
When I’m the only one to blame
Meandering through life I continue to stumble
Furthermore, try to project myself as decent – being humble
When in reality that which is base, is base
All that echoes are undeserved hymns of false praise
Even that is too much; it’ll actually enthuse –
My own guilt, which I had thereby tried to effuse.
A reversal, overbearing malfeasance I become engrossed;
A devastating state of depression from the world’s riposte
A new meaning to killing with kindness.
*****
River: http://adventuresinpoesy.wordpress.com/2010/09/08/traps-of-diversion/
“The door has opened for us R…
So as before, you and I can dream of being together,
Or try to make that a reality….” DL
We walk parallel paths
Watching one another
Heading to our destiny.
As we round a corner
I see! our paths
Fork to one another
The distance is shrinking
Soon you will be my lover
You mouth the words
I long to kiss
Reminding me of our love
But your movement slows down
As diversion sets traps
I hold my breath at the test
Placed in your way
Of strength and faith
You stop to face your path of guilt
Unable to look back
You start down the way
Leaving me standing all alone
I turn and begin to trudge home…
“My heart cries for you R…..
Take care my sweetest lover” DL
You are held back by the chains of choice.
I begin building a wall of protection.
*****
Gray words:http://notjeffery1.wordpress.com/2010/08/18/silence/
If the world could keep quiet for a minute, would you embrace the overwhelming silence or begin to feel uncomfortable because all you know is noise? Would you embrace the crashing of the waves of the ocean against the rocks outside your house as you sit and sip your wine? Would you, as a caregiver, see the beauty of the children before you and forget about the emotional tension that they cause you each day? Would you reach a deep state of enlightenment, perhaps a new state of philosophical or religious awakening? Would you embrace yourself?
If the world could keep quiet for an hour, would you feel a sense of inner devastation because you nearly suffocated in the first minute of silence? Would you find your inner peace and figure out a way to save the Middle East? Would you learn to appreciate the magnificence of your spouse, life partner, best friend, soul-mate, brother, sister, next door neighbor? Would your inner enlightenment turn to a deep understanding of the eternal love that is God? Would you experience the universe in all its glory? Would you embrace another second?
If the world could keep quite for a day, would you begin to relate to the deaf and the mute? Would you see that words hold little importance in communication? Would you begin to understand the essence of love, peace, and joy? Would your period of reflection harness an answer to all the trials and tribulations that you have had to face throughout your life? How much of it is pragmatic? How much of it is yours? How much have you created? How much have you destroyed? If we had a day of absolute silence flood its way throughout the world, would you learn to love me? Would you learn to love yourself? Would you learn at all?
*****
Wiserskydive’s Blog:http://wiserskydiver.wordpress.com/2010/09/09/words-are-defined/
words that define
words that rhyme
words those are mine
words i am saying
words i have said
words that will be uttered
if they are shaped by my lips
then they are my predomination
when said for me
deciphers my head with verbs
for not always words follow with actions
words that hurt
words that care
words i use to pray
words i use to betray
words so blunt that make dents
if they shaped by my lips
then its my punishments
when said by me
hearts cry out abstracts
for they are hurt just wish i had a prayer
words for love
words for care
words i hear
words i need to hear
words so beautiful that make me gay
if they shaped by her lips
then its my divine plan
when said to me
pulse race to a beat
for her rhythmic divine fills my life with every chord to note
words make words but its us who define them.
*****
The 10th Muse: http://arspoetica.wordpress.com/2010/09/08/awens-footprint/
i am a blade of grass
bent into muddied waters;
i am gravel displaced
by the pressure of loss;
i am glass become sand
become glass again:
the injunction of a clear singer,
the wisdom of the sea.
…..
Follow me uphill;
roll aside
the Sarsen stone set
over my
soul, unearthing
the well of stale
passion that
expires breath-
wise under damp
breasts and dry heat.
Find me a new
shrine to an old
desperation buried in clouds
of molded hope, somewhere
deep and high where i
can claw out and
lay down with pride
the four bloodied
chambers of this broken
faith.
*****
Tolle Lege: http://walker287.wordpress.com/view-my-recent-work-2009-present/heartbreak/
The tears roll
Down my face
Like a river
Down a mountain.
The pain sears
Through my body
Like voltage
Through a plug.
My heart shatters
Into ten pieces
Like a stone
Into a window.
*****
Angela: http://angelacohan321.wordpress.com/2010/04/27/the-thief-of-time/
He smiles his weak smile
as he reclines on his favorite chair
His receding white hair is a symbol of a long life
and every wrinkle on his kind face tells a different story
But at time his memory fails him
He forgets names and dates
Yet he is an eternal optimist
and my favorite person in the world
I sit next to him and stare into his wise brown eyes
“I remember you. You’re my oldest grandchild”
he says to me
“Yes grandpa.
Tell the thief of time to stay away from you
Tell it to give us more time together
I want to hear more stories about your life
I long to hear you recount the stories of
Moses and Joseph again
Please stay with me grandpa
Our family will fall apart if you go away
Grandma will fall into a deep despair
and your grandchildren will slowly but surely
forget your stories
Grandpa–stay with me.”
It breaks my heart when he turns to me and asks
“Who are you?”
*****
Wondrinsoul: http://everwondrinsoul.wordpress.com/2010/09/08/thursday-poets-rally-week-28-poem-post-perfect-poet-award-acceptance/
A single flower
bends with the wind in a field
A perfect pairing
I need attention
I need attention
I need to be heard and seen and felt
I need to be loved and cherished and held
Without this attention I am like a
flower left without water and
a child locked in a dark room
all shriveled, emaciated and reaching
I need to know I matter
I need to know I matter
and that I matter to you.
I want to be counted
relied on, thought of,
longed for, and to know that whatever I do
I have your support.
I hope this is a wake up call, I hope you read this
I hope you absorb it and realize that I need you
just as much as you need me and without us
working together
my back can only bend so far
until it breaks.
*****
Chris G.: http://cianphelan.wordpress.com/2010/09/08/deception/
The fire dips beneath the azure sea;
All eyes turn to their own hands.
No one spies the serpents slithering
From the long stretched shadows
Of a garden ripe with glistening fruit.
Demons whisper in the peoples’ ears—
The straw cast down,
The crows descend.
Fruit rots and garden fades—
Ravens circle high above
The corpses of the fools.
Old men stir within their ancient tombs—
The dream is dead,
Another Rome, decayed.
*****
83October: http://83october.wordpress.com/2010/09/09/i-cannot-write-another-poem-gaia/
For you are not you
again,
i breathe you like a thousand years before
your sweet scent of lilac gone
you smell of prostitute–
nicotine, smoke and sweat
used times too many
i stare into you like a thousand years before
your eyes of cobalt spheres depthless
mirroring a hippie child—
drugged, oiled and greased
beyond help
My fingers remember your honey brown skin
moist, supple, and smooth
i touch you again, like i did eons ago
and find it dry, ashen and barren
an old abandoned woman’s landscape
a war veteran in drought
your hair of soft strands
like grass in early morning
linger but in memory
long forgotten in the ages that passed
For the meadows have gone empty
and your crown of curls
limp in its unnatural light
and the kiss, so soft
wet, but wanted,
has gone acidic,
burning no more in passion, but in pain
hard to the lips, urgent in thirst
black in intention
I cannot write another poem
for You
are gone
you are no longer you
you are gray, cynical and bleak
and i blame myself
for i turned my back on you—
Gaia
*****
Live2write2day:http://liv2write2day.wordpress.com/2010/09/09/jingles-poetry-rally-hope/
Hope
A stretch of white.
You scrape a knife
through black, then indigo,
layer darkness,
across the horizon.
Reach for a tube of
chestnut brown,
squeeze the contents
onto the lower half
and smear.
Payne’s grey sky.
A slash of crimson,
a miniscule orb
in orange.
*****
Raven: http://autumnraven.wordpress.com/2010/09/08/thursday-poets-rally-land-of-the-broken-heart/
Welcome to the land of the broken heart To your left you’ll see regret Blocked to this day by tears unshed Up ahead an endless road Covered in darkness and always cold To your right a river of tears It hasn’t been dry for many years Move on and a bridge that burns Appears as the road sharply turns It once led, it seems To a house of innocent dreams We pass the hills of despair The sun no longer rises there And now to our final destination A plot of land of sad creation A dark and lonely cemetery Where this broken heart lies buried The light that shined is no more Locked behind an iron door All around are broken stones Resting quiet shattered bones The walls meant to save Became the grave Here a door, locked and bound An ancient passage to a world unsound Where hope and fear are leery partners A shaky union of uncanny gardeners Now leaving the land of the broken heart*****
Shoelessboywonder:http://shoelessboywonder.wordpress.com/2010/09/01/fire-of-roses/
The sweet female fragrance
Fills my unworthy nose
Followed by flames of arrogance
Sparks the fire of the rose
Every rose is covered in thorns
Protecting itself from others
As each devil masks its horns
Every demon has a mother
Rose’s colors do vary
As do the sins each comment
Every beauty has something scary
With dangerously hidden content
Roses know their own game
Hate watching others gain
What they believe is their fame
Till each rose lives in vain
The fire of roses will always burn
For each are selfish with their desire
None of which they can ever earn
As each calls the other a liar
Using their beauty and scent
To destroy a rival’s hope
Never to feel bad or repent
As they tighten the emotional rope
The fire of roses can only end
When one is finally plucked
Once they have lost their only friend
Will they realize all was fucked.
*****
Raj:http://thepoetrywagon.blogspot.com/2010/09/thursday-poets-rally-beautiful-morn.html
Dews
shimmer
as sunbeams
sprinkle warmth on
sleepy canvas of
tangerine horizon;
blinking, yawning milieu wakes,
feathers flutter higher, chirping
a song of life, dancing to the tune
that embraces another beautiful morn.
*****
Frayed Edges:http://frayedges.wordpress.com/2010/09/08/loxahatchee-3-oclock/
Loxahatchee, 3 o’clock
My father’s anger whips around the room
With unrelenting verbal blows
And angry hands.
I glance outside the window
At the storm thundering its rage,
Lashing through the trees
Which offer no protection to the birds
That seek asylum within their leafy arms.
They get no reprieve
Until the storm is spent
And my daddy passes out
Upon the couch.
Loxahatchee, 5 o’clock
The walking catfish emerge from canals
To skip among puddles dotting the dirt road
Delighting in their new-found freedom
Basking in the sunshine.
I step outside
Into the oppressive humidity that threatens
To steal my breath,
Glad to be free, at least for now.
I play among the pine trees
Wishing I were someone else,
Somewhere else
Because I know,
Like the birds and the catfish know,
That tomorrow the storm will come again.
*****
Thoughts Not Lost:http://thoughtsnotlost.wordpress.com/2010/09/08/passing-by/
Shred, shave time.
Time when life was mine, world’s promise.
Premise–wonders of mind.
Now so hard to find..
place where hope does dwell…
far from depths of sea delve.
Brighten path’s potential–release past’s grip.
Plant seeds ripe, resilient soul.
Time adores as it falls.
Life passing by.
Tied together tender shavings, shreds.
Some say it’s in the head. The heart. Or the art.
Dart together, mind the time passing by.
*****
Ibok:http://lordemmanuel.wordpress.com/2010/09/09/rock-me-like-no-tomorrow/
is the fact that
there’s no tomorrow
and what is “us”?
if tomorrow isn’t guaranteed.
I love us
and each minute
makes me love us more;
But on what foundation
does love stand
if there’s no tomorrow.
I want to keep us
Longer than you’d expect
But there is no tomorrow
how long can I get?
So Just rock me baby, today
Let your soul
meet mine at the junction
where we’ll get soaked
in the rain of pleasure;
enjoying every jiffy
we have to share.
Don’t think of the damages
because there wont be any.
Just me and you
Just us
Building memories,
memories we’ll keep in our archive;
memories we’ll cherish tomorrow.
****
Ms. Peaches:http://peachpitproduction.wordpress.com/
Gloriously wonderful I stare at you
in awe of all your hues of blues and
greens seemingly sees of beautiful
mountains, BlUe rIDgeS cascading
across the sky speaking volumes
of hi…tongues of hello, chills of
wisdom strewn from here to there
creating this sea of mountains
right here, RIGHT HERE I’m telling
you, right here in front of me…
Inhaling I try to suck it all in but
only I remain calm with excitement
and glee because all things are
beautiful that I see before me
my eyes are caught up in all
the wondrous glory that
natures soul has laid before
me…calming ur heart, leaving
you peace opening up your
heavens…
well maybe…if you
can feel me…?
*****
Oliva:http://oliviasmindlymatters.wordpress.com/2010/08/29/start-of-my-travel-through-the-virtual-world/
Sitting in Solitude, whispering to myself,
Often I have dreamt of Becoming Divine.
To achieve a status Of super- conscience-
Gaining ability to travel through timelines..
Raising myself above the mundane;
Sit, stoned, watch and laugh from within..!!
*****
Afternoon Tea:http://madisonreece.blogspot.com/2010/09/there-is-pair-of-mooncalves-blue-and.html
There is a pair of mooncalves,
blue and stagnant on the wall,
and the window traffic slurs
and the legs begin to crawl.
Their cold protruding caps
are enticing like the tides
and my sweet Achilles gills
are all sputtering in stride.
The water here is murky
as my chest compresses bones
and I’m thirsty for escaping
and not for casting stones.
*****
Woih:http://woih.wordpress.com/2010/09/08/time-to-go/
His father spoke;
“It’s the deadliest creature in the world.”
But it gave water grace simply by its presence
His mind melted towards her
He tried to turn it away
Again and again, he tried to turn his mind away
She’s the loveliest creature I have ever encountered
Never could I have dreamt of such a creation as you
For you, life leaves it slumber and resumes it’s dance
These were his thoughts
But she was gone
He now felt the reality of his fathers’ words
*****
Lovelyannie:http://lovelyannie79.wordpress.com/2010/09/08/patriarch-thursday-poets-rally/
The chair rocks
with an imperial creak
as father tells his stories.
The children listen
with jellied brains
melting into cracked
and faded molds.
Father spins tales
with well designed lies
woven together through sparkling
bits of indefinable truth.
They lap at his words
with pink tongues.
slurping stories into
tiny cavernous tummies.
The sovereign chair sways
creaking across small fingers
crushing tiny, little bones
into a dismissed reality
that father calls a lie.
*****
Dancing Freak:http://harshikaram.wordpress.com/2010/09/08/a-rainbow-thursday-poets-rally-week-28/
The colourful rainbow shining in the sky,
Seven lovely colors combined.
Forming the first arc of rainbow , a clue ,
It’s violet – A divine color so true.
The second is unique and rare in a way,
It’s Indigo – nearly everyone’s fav.
A smooth color , so beautiful and nice
It’s Blue – the sea it symbolize.
It’s a part of the scenery everywhere ,
It’s Green – the nature’s lair.
It’s so indescribable , related to so many things,
It’s Yellow – the sun behind the sea sinks.
It stands out no matter what the crowd,
It’s Orange – the day is out.
The final arc making the scene,
It’s Red in - so light in color , beautiful and serene.
*****
Someone Is Special:http://pendownmythought.blogspot.com/2010/09/sweet-dish.html
Tastes good, perhaps, an easy success
But, one that finds you not so soon,
After hard lessons of corrections and try
That instills a passion to prove a thing,
With a brave heart, enduring pains,
And the best wishes of dear and near;
One that is meant this way,
With his choicest blessings!
That is True Success!
It does vanish in time, but leaves its trails;
Adds more meaning to the journey
Than boast of the momentary destination.
Invites real joy and content like no other
And lifts your life to another level!
Wish you such a delicious success
Believe me; it tastes sweeter than the old!
*****
Leo:http://leonnyes.wordpress.com/2010/07/16/white-beauty/
White beauty
Life within
White beauty
Naked still
In wind, flies
White beauty
Quickly dies
Yet wind tries
Gives it life
Phoenix like
Now reborn
Another
White beauty
*****
Katherine: http://kashaw.wordpress.com/2010/08/27/casino-jinks/
I walk into the casino, it is loud, and it is busy
I am feeling rather lucky; I am all in a tizzy
The music I hear helps me remain calm
As others rush about like cows in a cattle farm
I hum to the music playing in the back ground
I can see a roulette wheel spin around and around
Every machine is colored, either red, green or gold
Everything seems bright, enchanting and bold
Four pillars in the centre, holding up the ceiling
They need to be repainted, as the old paint is peeling
The carpet is a deep, maroon red
Across the vast floor it does spread
The whole casino is very well lit
Although it has a strange odor, I have to admit
I make my way to the bar and order myself a drink
The odor is getting stronger here, it really does stink
All I can smell is sweat and stale beer
Think I’ll sit else where, I don’t fancy sitting here
I go to the cashier’s desk, exchange my cash for chips
A few hundred for gaming and twenty quid for tips
I go over to a fruit machine
At least this area is kept somewhat clean
I try to insert a green plastic token
But the machine appears lifeless and broken
I make my way over to another one
Token accepted, now it is time for some fun!
It costs me a pound a shot
Blooming heck that is a lot
The four wheels finish spinning around
I win nothing; that just cost me a pound!
But I am not one to be outdone
So I insert another green one
The four wheels spin around
Then I hear a ringing sound
Oh my god I have just won the jack pot
Oh my word it is rather a lot
The manager comes over and gives me a small case
I wonder if I now should leave this place
It is just not right to leave without putting on a bet
So I decide to have a flutter on roulette
I take myself and my wine to the table
My hands and legs are shaking, I feel unstable
I put all my chips on number nine
I sit back and gulp nearly half my wine
The ball span around and then it stopped
And from their head my eyes almost popped
The ball has landed on number nine
That’s two big wins in a line
I think I am on a winning streak
And I do not even have a technique
I put a grand on number ten
And guess what? I win again
The manager swapped my small case
For another one with more space
I am in a good mood, I feel like a joker
And because I’m on a winning spree, I have a game of poker
The cards get dealt, the river comes out
I am finding it hard not to shout
I am trying to read the punters faces
Because I have just pulled, Quad Aces!
Everyone turns there cards, sit with their fingers crossed
Well guess what you guys? You have all just lost.
*****
Jamie Dedes:http://musingbymoonlight.com/2010/09/08/baruch-the-baker/
Your heart is smarter, my Baruch,
then your head,
which is smart indeed -
and your hands and gnarly fingers
are smarter still.
They fashion bread from
cream-colored flours,
silky to the touch.
Kneading the dough
patiently, patiently
letting it rise
while I sleep -
safe, untouched in my little bed
with a soft pink woolly for comfort.
Up at six a.m. we walk sleepily
down our lavender-gray street
an apricot sun peaking at us
and, rising higher in the sky,
it seemingly follows us to you.
·
Cheer-filled arrival with greetings
and smiles from dear Baruch and
warm sugar smells, yeasty scents
and the sight of golden loaves,
some voluptuous rounds and
others sturdy rectangular.
You have baked cinnamon rolls,
a child’s dear delight, pies and
sticky buns too…and cookies!
Mom takes off her frayed gloves
and opens her worn purse -
“We’ll take a French bread” she says
pointing to a crispy brown baguette.
“And a raisin bread.”
She adds …
“We’ll need that sliced.”
·
I watch your hands flit gracefully
like butterflies in a green valley
stopping here and then there
to pull fragrant loaves from display
and slicing them, neatly packaging,
then reaching down over the counter
you hand me a little bag of rugelach,
knowing Mom can’t pay.
As I look up, reaching for your gift
my breath catches, arrested -
by a wisp of blue on your forearm.
I am studious, a reader, dear Baruch,
I know what that tattoo* means …
Looking down, with a whisper I choke
“Thank you, Baruch!”
swallowing that lump of sadness,
trying not to show my tears.
What right have I to tears?
But then you, dear Baruch, come
bounding round the counter
with warm hugs and soft tissues -
as though I was the one hurt.
From that day forever more,
you wore long sleeves.
·
At lunchtime, I demanded -
“Mom, tell me about Baruch.”
And she does.
I am pensive over our meal -
canned marinara and slices of
of your baguette.
Dear Baruch, with each salty bite
I eat your tears and
the blood of your child.
Nights she stares at me from that
sepia photo behind your register.
Baruch, did she, like me, assume
a grown-up life
of school and jobs,
marriage and children?
And you! You must have assumed
the tender comfort of
her love in your old age.
Do you hold the vision of her
young and happy in your
brave, kindly old heart?
Does your ear still play back
her childish laughter,
the sound of her voice
begging for a story?
Do your warm brown eyes still hold
her smile in remembrance?
When you see little girls at play,
does your anguish grow?
Dear Baruch, our dear Baruch -
how will you set your child free
from that faraway land and
cold, unmarked mass grave?
*****
Inelle: http://inellezshayra.wordpress.com/2010/09/04/save-the-planet-earth/
Save the planet Earth!
‘Cause we’re not too late.
Save the planet Earth!
It is the only planet with chocolates.
Save the planet Earth!
Can you breathe oxygen in Neptune?
Save the planet Earth!
Can you now hear the tune?
Save the planet Earth!
‘Cause this is where we play.
Save the planet Earth!
‘Cause this is where we learned about cathode rays.
Save the planet Earth!
Can you understand the language in Mars?
Save the planet Earth!
‘Cause this planet is ours.
Save the planet Earth!
This is where we learn Chemistry.
Save the planet Earth!
Can a Venusians teach you Histology?
Save the planet Earth!
‘Cause I believe we can.
Save the planet Earth!
Let’s just stick to this plan.
Save the planet Earth!
‘Cause life here is so great!
Save the planet Earth!
We can ’cause we’re more than thousands of eight.
Save the planet Earth!
Let’s unite and keep the faith.
Save the planet Earth!
As long as we can fight with fate.
Save the planet Earth!
It is the only place with rainbows and hues.
Save the planet Earth!
‘Cause it’s the only place where I can be with you.
*****
Deadpoet88:http://deadpoet88.wordpress.com/2010/09/08/lapse/
The harmony of these illusions dissolve,
Under the influence of unfathomable pain.
Oh, ’twas but the death of a dream.
Did you hear the silence overwhelm?
All that remains is this path of annihilation,
Holding back the recesses of life.
The valley of solitude darkens,
As the sun hides behind the shadow of the Moon.
Lost is the path to salvation,
The path once lit with the echo of laughter.
Forever remains this broken land,
Cracked and forsaken,
Under the reign of the Moon.
And a solitary thought crosses
The fields of this mind.
A lone splinter of wood burns,
Under the intensity of your gaze.
A silent whisper traverses
The depths of space and time,
Only to fall upon this moment,
With a splash of expression.
These words writ in stone,
Wash over the singularity of this existence,
With an absolution so far unknown.
And the world lets out a sigh,
A single slip of emotion,
A single flash of weakness,
And the chaos softly sets in.
It took only one infinitesimal mistake,
One momentary lapse of reason.
*****
Caty: http://fools-heart.blogspot.com/2010/09/hobbies-of-apple.html
A hypocrite of sorts,
you play both sides.
Your outer beauty
will lure anyone in.
and you know it
in the vain way you
hang around.
The delicious scent
you drown yourself in
and your promise
of fulfillment
is too much temptation
for any hungry soul.
You say you will
keep the doctor away
but you’ve spent
your time
poisoning princesses
and tempting Eve
into sin against
her own father.
you remind me
of someone I know.
*****
Lest I Smite Thee: http://lestismitethee.wordpress.com/2010/07/31/writing-rape/
They laughed.
Sat there and laughed.
I struggled
to keep in tears
as fears resurfaced
and they laughed.
“I’d rape that meal!”
“I raped him in that game!”
“I’ll rape you in the face!”
Men joking around me
so casually,
so oblivious,
so apathetic
to the real nightmares
haunting countless women
every night
in every city
in every country.
Nightmare Corporeal,
a shadow lurking,
a beast stalking,
ravenous and waiting
as I walked
from car to apartment.
No one answered my screams
as he grabbed me
and gagged me
and dragged me
into his dark lair.
Slammed onto the floor
like a bitch dog,
hair entwined in his greedy grip
like a tangled leash
ripping out of my skull,
cracking under his heavy body.
I kicked and moaned
until he beat me into obedience
with club-like fists
and razor knuckles.
Blood, sweat, tears
trailing down the chain
choking my frail neck,
constricting twisted wrists
as he grabbed my jaw
and squeezed tight, tighter,
thick, bony, calloused fingers
pressing, bruising, crushing
as he whispered,
“Shut up
or I’ll slit your throat.”
Stripped,
bound,
and spread open,
I could only watch
as he took off his pants,
panting with anticipation,
his barbed wire uncoiling
and then
cut
slice slice slice
sinking, searing
like a white-hot poker
burning my womb to ashes,
like demon claws burrowing,
carving trenches deep
into my most sacred secret
I had kept to one day share
with my true love.
Defiler, Impeller, Executioner.
I died inside that night
subdued
and drowned in the filthy spawn of hate.
A devil’s horn
tearing me asunder
from the inside out
as I laid quaking with pain,
shivering with shame,
quivering with all-consuming fear.
And how they laughed
as they brought memories back
of my torture,
my degradation,
my relentless rapist
with one simple, careless word.
*****
Hello, everyone!
Promising Poets Parking Lot is excited to publish the 5h poetry journal of the week-Sept 9-15 celebrating remarkable ending of Thursday Poets Rally week 28 All our poets are brilliant artists who have been excellent writers and poetry promotion leaders…We are proud that we have about more than a dozen FRESH talents coming in this past week.
Let me know if I have overlooked your work or you have found errors in the work being represented here.
Thursday Poets Rally Week 29
Will
take place during the week
September 23-29
A post about the detailed information of the Rally will be up on
September 22,
2010 at
http://www.jingleyanqiu.wordpress.com…
More than 80 poets
are represented, Many thanks to all of you4 the outstanding contributions…
