Tenderly stepping on the last snow
The first of March is coming.
Spring will release the love arrow,
Beautiful songs of love humming.
The feeling of spring is known to all,
It happens every coming year.
My loving spring has no wall,
Its sounds I can clearly hear.
March is a harbinger of changes.
It smiles happily together with me.
Its grace has the wid...
Tuesday 3rd March 2015 8:54 pm
'Thats one small step for man
one giant leap for mankind'
Should lunar inhabitance
will she also
receive the same damage as Earth?
Man needs to deal
with the far more important conquest first.
That of his self.
His REAL self.
© Stef Wilde 2015
Tuesday 3rd March 2015 12:51 pm
Also by Patricia and Stefan Wilde:Every days dying menu | Settled |
Shorter and shorter
my poems fall out
less obviously nowadays
spelling out their messages
and less obvious
looking back at things
Tuesday 3rd March 2015 12:46 pm
Fat raindrops tumbling into slate-slick puddles
like dropped pennies, splashing.
Holding out your hat, upside down
the tartan beret,
you comically try to catch them
laughing, as if you could win a prize,
before emptying them out with a flippant shake,
all interest gone.
I watch you as your body floats,
perfectly, a sculpture brought to life,
moving through my astonish...
Tuesday 3rd March 2015 12:03 pm
Early Morning Sonnet
Woke up at four, no moon or stars, stygian the night.
I switched on the tablet to read the papers, but
the light disturbed my wife who objected, I switched
it off. Then I thought about sex and if there was
a position i had never tried....could not think of any.
And what should I do if i met a woman who showed
sexual interest in me? I could carry an artifi...
Tuesday 3rd March 2015 10:58 am
Also by jan oskar hansen :Not a sonnet is | house ants |
Will it ever be revealed
for all time?
This 'what else'
I know it does exist somewhere
I hear it
constantly seizing my attention away
Searching for it is'nt neccessary.
It seems not wanting to hide
or at the same time be seen too early
or be heard more voluminous
than a whisper
but certainly needs listening out ...
Tuesday 3rd March 2015 9:56 am
Also by Rose Casserley:Hara-kiri | Illicit (extended) |
Monday 2nd March 2015 11:50 pm
What flights of fancy
Captivate my reverie.
Fathomless blue, etched
With lines, straight as arrows,
Criss-crossing as if fired
In a frenzy.
Blaze their path in silence,
Trailing fragile lifelines
Insubstantial as vapour;
Whilst clouds obey the wind,
And build castles.
Monday 2nd March 2015 10:12 pm
Also by Tilly:Success |
Monday 2nd March 2015 7:36 pm
Also by giovannie:stranger | just for you and i | just craziness | the best of me |
seeing him that way,
but there is a failing,
something not the same,
although in looks
we are so similar.
The Prodigal returns
and sees his father,
straight of back
and stern of countenance,
falling to pieces.
The once proud frame -
as beautiful as always,
Monday 2nd March 2015 7:12 pm
Tags: declining health,dementia,father,favourite chair,prodigal son,richpix,right hand of the father
I think I know you, you was their plaything
for too long you coped alone with the pain
they'd only hurt you more if you spoke out...
Never invited to parties or their camping trips
for hours you would sit alone in your room,
your safe haven where nobody could harm you
You tried so hard to fit in, changing yourself
only to be hurt more, to be abused constantly,
You wanted to be part ...
Monday 2nd March 2015 3:10 pm
Also by Tony Kasazkaja:Through The Eyes Of Innocence | Next Year Will Be Different |
-Caught in vague phobias
of all future may present
Riddled with ambiguity
it might never represent
A fear of ensuing failure
logic gets to wear a veil
Inhibiting valid outcome
it otherwise would entail
Unless strange tried out
not known if be achieved
Nothing stays impossible
what’s earnestly believed
However much be darkest...
Monday 2nd March 2015 2:04 pm
Trapped in a small cocoon,
Long have I been waiting
During many a moon
For this second coming.
I was wrapped up all warm
In a shroud of cotton
I was merely a worm,
In a land all forgotten,
A changeling, in this hold,
The cosiest of jails.
My wings were in a fold,
A mesh of tangled sails,
Hidden from all to see,
Colours of vibrant blue.
Now is the time for me
To arise and be true.
Monday 2nd March 2015 11:27 am
Also by Marie-Anne:RSVP |
This poem today is a tribute to my late departed father, whom left this world 18 year ago.
a lifetime of tears shed for a controversial hero, now
reduced to a photo on marble stone
here in the cemetery
you can't be alone
surrounded by others
taken before their time
some young, some old, and some new
but in this place of rest
all that matters to me is you
a faded ...
Monday 2nd March 2015 11:05 am
Tags: death,memories,poetry,unwanted day and month
Random access memory is my good and my bad,
Random access memory is my launching pad.
It makes me smile at the oddest of times,
Then at the worst moment tells me of my past crimes.
Hiding my words when I need them the most,
Throwing me glimpses of unlooked for ghosts.
Telling me truths’,
Random access memory, my life, my demise.
Monday 2nd March 2015 10:32 am
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There’s one word that everyone should know and treasure
Hold in reverence for life long companionship and pleasure
Even on the darkest days when pain and distress abound
Family is the one word that can bring a comforting sound
All can benefit if they simply recall their sister & brother
Maybe they are distant people they have yet to discover
In this world there is but o...
Sunday 1st March 2015 9:08 pm
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(a jaunty form called an anacreontic)
Raise your voices; sisters speak!
International Women’s Week.
Banish weakness. Let’s be strong.
Time to right what has been wrong.
Linking arms in sisterhood,
Pledged to Justice, pledged to Good.
Standing proud and standing tall,
The worth of one the strength of all
Yellow, brown or black or white
Joined together in the figh...
Sunday 1st March 2015 6:11 pm
Last day of summer
and our golden nearly-double-digits fairy flute child
is giggling with her almost-first-best-friend
sharing silly secrets
in amongst the branches of the tree house,
whilst beneath them
our deep dark ancient little man
is lurking in the shadows, as he does,
revelling in the role of villain,
plotting their demise.
On days like this I have to shad...
Sunday 1st March 2015 10:27 am
>drank way way way way
>not right now
Sunday 1st March 2015 9:19 am
Tags: does this count as found poetry?
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