Poetry Blogs (2019)

Popular last 30 days



I like breasts in my infancy I didn’t get

To cling them, the mother was ill and I was sent

To home run by the salvation army.

I stretched my tiny arms up to touch them

But they hastily withdrew.

In my young years, I suckled man abrest

Some of them liked it.

I was never a pussy man for me it was just

A damp hole to discharge my desire.

Big bums are nice too esp...

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Also by jan oskar hansen:

shoplifting | living forever | the lonely years | abortion law | who is? | Alfred getting old | to a friend | the eagle | old dogs and so on | a rare moment | freak of nature | headless | a woman's revenge | the nature of love |




This pale replica of status,

denied the the fame that was assumed,

has stretched the yarn to breaking point.

Disciples, carefully chosen,

carefully groomed

make their rehearsed response.


Inhibitions fall from grace

unnerving exhibitions

fill their space,

hurling banshee screams

at supremacy's retreat.

A demonstration of defience

by an infamous all...

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Also by Dorothy Webb:


Nurse Caroline on Patient Don

Been asked to tell you my story

Of how I pampered Don, made him well

How he lapped up as patient my offerings

How I ran whenever he rang his bell


The He's now become one of my favourites 

I hang by the door, wait his call

Then quick as a flash I do enter

To massage pelvic bones (and enthrall)


He can now walk two-legged to the toilet

(But little bit wobbly to be...

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Also by Don Matthews:

Nursie Caroline | Orangutan | Shit! I've Lost My Privacy | Hospital | Do you? I do | Mute | My Ladder Doesn't Like Me |


Outcasted From Light Into The Caves
To Hibernate.
The 2-D Slave.
Thy Kingdom Come Of A Spastic Land.
I Smell The Blood Of An Irish Man.
A Sadist Creature Always Fated Insane
And Only The Gods
 Could Know Of My Pain.

Out-Casted, Natural Light.
Mutated Freak Of Nature.
My Eyes……..The Secrets Of Hell, Captured.
I Fell In Love
 With The Death Of A Galaxy.
A Burning Heart Frozen
 By M...

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Also by The Black Bile:

Chlorine | Tribe | Blew Away | Old Soul | One Day Jester | In The Sand | Prom | Flat Water | In Threes | Rosemary | Lake Insomnia | Parking Lot | Old | Another | Ferris Wheel | Fur | Plastic Devils | Death, Like Wax | Brutal Fable | Some Glow | Candle Maker | X | Eternal Bruise | Town of Grey | Scavengers | Pretty Girls and Serial Killers | Eyeliner | Withdrawn | Macabre Theater | Hidden | Blasphemy | The Pearl | A Week From 21 | Dorment | Albino | Peaceful Death | Crow Fossils | Fragile Wizard |

Cannibal JonesComics

Mickey Cupples

It was a rain soaked afternoon in the early 80’s

me and a bunch of disgruntled grunts got bored


We lifted a bomb maker called Mickey Cupples

he was a gimp who’d blown himself up once too often


We just wanted to get out of the Belfast rain

an afternoon at the search cell in Long Kesh was always a good option


I sat with Mickey in the back of the pig I just stared at ...

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Also by Wolfgar:

Burning in and burning out | Gone from me and you | Oblivioni traditæ | Babel-buzz | Toward the Bliss |

Motherhood, A Poem About Mothers

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A Mother's Day Poem for that Special Woman in your life. Enjoy!

Like Cheryl "Pepsi" Riley,

I will sing, "Thanks for My Child,"

to Heaven's Divine vast skies;

for the praises of my heart

flows within each verse I pen,

to etch the love that we share.


Being "Mother" is a gift-

not a luxury some claim;

children are precious-not pawns!


No matter where we maybe,


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Also by Poetikaly Anointed:

Human Writes, A Poem About Protecting Human Rights |

Mother & ChildMother's DayMother's LovePoetry


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Thirty pieces of silver

paid for nothing but his own death


the ensuing trial, the washing of hands,

the twelve stations, the crucifixion


were, part of a journey of suffering

for the sake of love for mankind


but the tree, the rope

and the unspent coins of deceit

were I hope part of a journey

of treading a path to the darkest corner of hell.

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Also by Rose Casserley:

beach tenant |


THE MEANING OF BIRDSONG                                                       

Warm May morning, pink azaleas alight,

never been so bright before, so

fiery so soon after winter’s wake

(quite late this year). I toast my feet beneath

a dodging sun, soaking up essential D, and

settle on a garden seat to listen to what I

cannot see: a tree-top high cacophony

of birdsong, every ...

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Also by Peter Taylor:


Hazelnut Cakes

You made me feel like death was a better answer!

So tell me where your empathy is?
You're a nightmare I can't seem to get away from
I might be addicted to the abuse you give to me

Your love is like spoiled milk
I keep sipping because 
I like the taste of sickness
I bet you never thought I would be like this
You made me wish for death 
Baby kill me and all your new ways
I want to cut ...

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Also by Damon Blackery:

Unholy | Jukebox Kid | Chemicals | Sulphur | The Monster of Ingolstadt | Grave of the Fireflies |


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Poem 95 of 230: A GOOD LIFE 

For fauna,
Falconry -
Starve or free?
Sheep for wool -
Fed till full.
Chooks for eggs -
Free-range legs.
Milk from cows -
Should well house:
Better grade
Can be made.
Fish for game -
Cut the pain.
Kosher and
Halal band.
Dogs for pets -
No regrets.
And question

This does say
Buddha’s way,
And Blake’s way:
A good life -

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A Fond Farewell !

A Fond Farewell ! 


For thirty, long years he’d delivered the post.

The community all knew Ben well. 

His retiring had come as a ‘shocker’ to most.

-  He’d be sorely missed. (You could tell!) 


And so, on the day of his very last shift, 

(where, really to no-one’s surprise) 

each household met Ben with a suitable gift.

Wrapped in ‘hugs’ and some ‘dewing-up’ eyes! 


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Also by John Andrew Nield:

'Caravan Man' | 'Hairstray'! |

Life goes on...

There were times of splendor, times of fun.. 
Yet now faraway,dying and listless ones..
And the life still goes on...

Meeting and growing each day in love.. 
Yet now a silent song of melody fading off.
And the life still goes on....

Inseparable minds, inseparable bonds.. 
Yet now a pining soul  crying from distance far beyond
And the life still goes on...

Days and years spent weavin...

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Also by mona s:

Center of Universe | Sleep | A Limerick | Locked | Encounter -A Haiku | Dear Tagore | Creature | Anxious |


I am listening to you, all of you.

I can hear your cries for help.

I am so in tune to your screeches that I have forgotten the static of my own.

I will tell you goodnight and silent my whimpers in order to keep your mind at peace.

It is me, it is us.

We bleed the most because we would rather be killed than kill. 

I do not think it is possible for you to bury me like I bury me.


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The Wasp

She is dead already,

those eyes have murdered her.

They shut her inside jars,

scream their pain, projection.

She needs not to sting humans

but she is overwhelmed.

Searching for open windows,

A chance to kill herself. 

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bullyingfearsuicide awarenesstrapped

Planet Earth

This Planet Earth of ours cries in pain.
Perhaps because we take her in vain.
Who's to say how long she'll keep
Sadly true, her wounds run deep
Where will the children of tomorrow be?
No animals, water or even a tree
Innocent animals we know and love
are going extinct - no hope from above
Contaminated waters - pollution and more
the damage is done straight down to the core
Evergreen tree...

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Also by Jane Briganti:

The Beach | A Second Heart | Words On A Page | True Love | Why We Write | Be Whole |

People & Pets



We cannot help but wonder

in watching people and

their pets


how it is that

we have so much in common

are they copying us

or we them


they live in our houses

eat the same food

at times use the same toilet

watch TV by our side


pets ask for nothing in return

but pats on the head

an occasional treat


the oddest thing is

that afte...

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Also by d.knape:

Car Company | Ditz, The Dog | BENT | Who You Gonna Call? | A Sign Of God | How Many Kisses | How To Win A Poetry Contest | Non-Fat Poem | The Vacant Lot | Getting Out From Under | sorry | I CAN STILL DO MANLY THINGS | Who We Were | All Rights Reserved | Mother's Sewing Machine | Oh O |

Laurence Olivier


Laurence Olivier

classical thespian

and that’s a fact


forcefully starring in


movies and theatre

boy, could he act

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Also by Trevor Alexander:

Spellbound |

Double Dactyl

A Poem for Jezabiel, Confessions from a Wonderland

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A poem for Jezabiel

Confessions from a wonderland

Jezabiel, my dearest Jezabiel,
Oh the hell I feel when you are no longer around.
My world spins up side down and the wrong way round and I don't know which way to go.
Breathing is hard and thinking is painful and the memories ache deep inside my soul.
Oh how I wish you would know,
How I wish you would wake up and open your eyes once...

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An Ode to The Puppiteers

An Ode to The Puppeteers

Your marionettes, so nimble, so well known.
The show's real cool when that fat lady sings
Those moody blues to mellow toned trombones.
But tell us, who is it who pulls the strings?
The Quiz-Master with twinkling eyes, smiles sweet.
He tells us, we could win the million prize.
That honey coloured blond is baking cakes.
The treacle tart looks good enough to eat.

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Also by afishamongmany:

An Amazonian Proverb | Home is ....? | Ding! Dong! |

deceptiongrapes of wrathpuppet masterspuppets

Raison D'Etre

I live for the dream of hell to pay

and better words to arraign each thought;

alas, Dunning-Kruger bars my way

and up my tongue gets tied. Options float -


teasingly, playing peek-a-boo-you,

buckling swash through my jaded mind's eye,

first dancing into, then out of view -

leaving me clutching as straws flit by.


It's like the end of the Crystal Maze

where bankno...

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Also by Richie Muster:


Void Brooding.

I wish the abyss would stop looking back at me.
I look in the mirror and I swear that's all I see.
Not a monster but a void I cant escape.
I was born with a heart but it seems mishaped.

Someday I swear I'm going to leave this place.
Find my way to the light that people praise.
But for now I think it's better if I hang my head.
Bite my tongue and drink until I just forget.

I don't know how ...

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The little tea plucker

The cold breeze brushed my cheek,
The cold wind brushed my hair,
The air was filled with the aroma of
Sweet flowers,
I saw her..

A girl of eight years (close to.my age)
stood in front of me.
So close, yet, so far..
We stared at each other dumbstruck .
She was wearing a ragged dress with darts everywhere (where I wore jeans)
with tangled hair,
she stood there..

She was small, ...

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Also by Miyurangi:

The wait |



to go
dog without
a bone
not here
or there
not at
if i
would they look
for me here
what would
they find
would they read
between the lines
see me on
a page
or throw
it away
would my
come through
the blind
would i vanish
like night
in morrning
would it be
as if
i never
did exist
if th...

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Also by cindylee loucks:





I’ve done my part

in keeping up this charade

when it was our turn

I kept on the party face


as the night went by 

in a dylanesque parade

I stayed true  

to our agreement


tried the conversation 

and failed 

looks suggested 

something else in the air 


now I gotta say 

it’s getting late

time to make a move

or we’ll get sucked in 



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Also by Robert C Gaulke:

Staring at the son | Hyenas | his secret word | The Wait | Thursdays at the expensive cafe |

Divide and conquer

Lines that tie us, lines drawn, lines before us,

Dark nights, dark days, conscience twisted, tested

No words spoke, no hard choke, you’d missed the bus

I said yes; the easy choice would have festered


Blood, water, which to choose, which my anchor?

Turn you away, and say nay, me your son?

You gave me life; it eats me this anger

Off you stride, toward divide, bread to be wo...

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Also by Graham Parker and his musings:

Sulphur Flame | On her mother's step |

Humid nightmare lute musik

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A flinger of Plurabilly Teas

Came twice upon a time

Good times it was two

A goblin was a-coming downa road

An dis goblin that was a-coming downa road

Bet a nice-alittle boy name Baby Buckoo.

Her mother sneaked him dat story.

Her rather had a leery face:

Sin, sin, Jesuit-sin

Nothin quite like it f makin ya fin.

Threw the grass darkly 

Fat, thin, fat, thin, sin,sin


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Also by John E Marks:

The beautiful, sublime | Shut your eyes and see | Chasing the butterfly, catching the lion | Tràighean | A moment of vision | An Irish Halloween | Our endless, numbered days | Mediterranean | The merry, merry month of May | Seeing things | A Litany for the Living | Sketches in a minor key | Diagnosis | KINVARA ROAD 1986 | Seppuku* | Mondays on the Moon | KEEPING THE FAITH | BITE YOUR TONGUE | A re-creation | Go tell the Riverman | Moses Maimonides 1135 - 1204 |




I fell off the chair 

Bloody thing

wasn’t strong enough 

To hold the weight of my

broken heart


I picked myself up

Cleaned the blood

from the floor

Put my smile back on


No more chairs for me

From now on

I’m standing


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Also by Julia G:

Me |


The doctor told me frankly:

said i'd had issues

leading to an event

which turned into an episode.


Well I didn't know what he meant.

I 'ad been feeling dicky,

quite icky from time to time


so I put meself in 'is 'ands, as you do.

Five days in orspital,

the works, the full monty.

Orders to cut out smoking,


I thought: you must be joking.

Now there's f...

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Also by ray pool:


I loved you

I loved you 

From the moment I saw you

Black beanie 


Cigarette hanging from the side of your mouth

Dripping in hurt and cynicism


My imperfect reflection


We spent days in bed

Hid from the world

Made our own


You were the light in my darkness

The first to really see me

The first to truly love me

What you gave me I'd never had before


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Also by Brandi:

A Letter |

divorceheartacheLove lost


Came from the motherland of Jamaica
To a country that at the time celebrated the phrase "no blacks no dogs no Irish"
A once proud lion of Queens road's concrete jungle
Now reduced to a skeletal wreck of a man

Lavish clothes and trademark smile
Dented by the plight of dementia and illness 
Now changed for a walking stick
A scowl
And yesterday's clothes

30 years alone
Underneath your e...

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Frees tream: once




Frees tream: once

On other planets where lost howls are heard
There are places far beyond 
The teary shrieks wails and of course the silence
Patterns unforgot but misremembered
Hollowed haloed hurry hurry
The past is almost here
Evernow and always
Just around the 
As the chariot    flie  S . S







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Also by Kealan Coady:

Picking At Stitches With Long Nails | Popadantsy | Take A Deep Breath And Count Backwards From Thirteen | The Good Guy In The Garden | Slanger Man | forever a mirror |

2019 Trev goes to...... yes Texas again. Part 10 The Journey Home

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Image: Circuit of the Americas, home of the U.S. Grand Prix, besides which this 3.4-mile racetrack hosts concerts in its Austin 360 Amphitheater. I always wondered where it was. As it turns out it is South of the airport, this is the first time I have seen it.


30.4.19 - 192) Rose to face departure day, sad heart, sky of grey

To reception bound, coffee to bring me round

Hoping today t...

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Also by Trev the Road Poet::

2019 Trev goes to...... yes Texas again. Part 9 McAllen to Austin | 2019 Trev goes to...... yes Texas again. Part 8 McAllen | 2019 Trev goes to...... yes Texas again. Part 7 Kerrville to McAllen | 2019 Trev goes to...... yes Texas again. Part 6 Lamesa to Kerrville | 2019 Trev goes to...... yes Texas again. Part 5 Lamesa | 2019 Trev goes to...... yes Texas again. Part 4 Austin to Lamesa | 2019 Trev goes to...... yes Texas again. Part 3 Austin |

IMOGEN - 10 months old

IMOGEN – 10 months old


I stand with my back to the sink

While your grandmother rummages

In cupboards below. Gazing up,

She meets your expectant face

Seemingly suspended in mid air.

You are bent almost backwards;

Determined to know what world of wonder

Exists on those shelves.

I fear to move, so like a little bird you were,

Nestling into the crook of my neck,


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Also by trevor homer:



Forgive me, for not 
being the mother 
you needed me to be.

For being too busy,
too naive to see 
what was happening 
in front of me.

For being silent
when your father 
screamed and demeaned.

For when I thought it
was sweet that your 
boyfriend carried you
to your room when you 
"fell asleep".

For not enough hugs
and too many lectures.

For not seeing the signs
of addict...

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Also by Vautaw:

Mother | Moral Abyss | Twisted Love |

addictionconnectiondaughterfaithfamilyforgivenesshealinghellhero's journeyloverecoveryrelationships

Little Monarch

entry picture

Deeply within am I struck!

watching the shimmering flightof this gaudy projectile, iridescent diver

speed fishing, flashing by O! so majestically!


No sooner returned to perch

on the wispiest of branches, than in a trice

having contemplated his next targetted plunge-is gone!

spear shaping his miraculously plumed body

he pierces the rivers undulating face

in a dart-like ...

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Also by Patricia and Stefan Wilde:

Bloodiest flower |


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I’ve been reading a lot about this lately.  It seems today’s youngsters are beset from every corner with trauma.  Not the small stuff our forebears experienced, blitzkrieg, the Great Depression, the trenches et al but far more damaging daemons.

But let a sufferer tell you first hand.

Rhian, aged 28, (a little old to be a millennial I felt) explained that she couldn’t remember the last time s...

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Also by John Coopey:


Sub Rosa

Where once her warm and sanguine heart

fell ashen grey to rest in cold base dirt

high over the familiar bush and shrub

proud crimson blooms pine for love  


Where their sacred beauty sings to my heart

they call forth the lovely nightingale

high in their cloudless summer sky

to sweetly sing their longing song


There, I too confess a secret yearning

silent hidden d...

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boxcar merlot (05/15/2019)

trains crossing blacked out streets 
mournful howls , stark in the slick obsidian
of deadened stories, and hardened hearts
a thousand miles of ire cast in cooling: 
the warmth of bodies wistful for sleep backed 
by a hapless sliver of ivory 
mists roiling up and up like a damp collective sigh
frozen by shock
in time. 

and in time all things lose their pallor 
their color 
desaturated ...

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Also by Zach Dafoe:

everyone can agree a relationship is a compromise but recently mine hasn't been very equal -- no, in fact it's like my pain is not allowed to exist and every concession must be made to accommodate the other (05/03/2018) |

Though I've never been much for wine


My lungs suffocating,

with the absence of you

Something in my throat,

that goes by afternoon 

In morning,

As I morn for you,

I die peacefully in my mind.

As I drift into the air,

I act like nothing,

I act like you would.


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If beauty be a tingling taste of terror -

drink not too deep; for he who tempted delves

in the beyond - may see a place in error

where unimagined horrors find themselves.

A statue once there was – serene its face,

though round it one traced pain - the eyes

were fixed and riveted – a dreadful place

they spoke of - where the weight of ages lies.

His soul was a mosaic incomple...

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Also by Chris Laverty:

Poem | The Pillar Of Tears | The Trophy | On the UK leaving the EU |

poem by chris laverty

The folly of lust

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As a teen, my mam used to put the mockers on my Friday nights out by saying “If you meet any girls treat them with respect, they are someone’s daughter or sister, don’t be having any casual sex or one-night stands”



Last Saturday night I was out with my mate

He is meeting his bird, I am on a blind date

He’d said she was fit but from what I could see

She looks like ...

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Also by John McDonough:

Going back on my roots | Mr Robinson |

Lustone night stand

Life And Death

What is this life? 

Is there anyone who questions? 

When I dream, I dream world as real as this.

Who is in me speaking?

Who is in me creating? 

Why am I able to go anywhere I please? 

What is truth? 

Does it lie in me? 

Can I become who I wish to be? 

If I were to become whoever I desire, will this set me free? 

Does this lead to a trap where nothing can satisfy me? 


Read and leave comments (0)

Also by Andres Arias:

Mystery |


It is the many years passed that cause a man to age

it's not the minutes' quantity

but it's the moments' quality

that make the man a sage.

Read and leave comments (4)

Also by Mae Foreman:

Girl's Letter to Shakespeare | Will | Dread of the Dream | Note with Note |

Bossy Boots!

'Never step on a cow pat because it looks hard.

It might be just crusty with poo-soup inside.'

I warned my younger sister

As we crossed Grandpa's pasture.


She scowled, and ran ahead

Looking back with disdain.

'You think you know everything!



'I TOLD you!

I'm NOT laughing!'

And I really wasn't.

She expected me to clean her up.


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Also by Cynthia Buell Thomas:

STICKS | Playing On The River Promenade |

Donegal Eden (revised)

an island Eden

cut off whenever high tide

covered the causeway.

Caz saw it, loved it, ‘we’ll camp

here, where no one can see us.’


as the tide went out

she drove across the wet strand

and parked in the dunes.

the van got stuck axle-deep

we tried, but couldn’t budge it.


Caz laughed. we cracked a

a bottle of Captain Morgan.

watching the sun set

over Ár...

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Also by Rick:

a random revison from new book 'chatting with Saoirse' | Tulaigh Ua Thiomain (November 8 1987) (revision for next book) | A Tower in Silence (revised) |

Only a woman on

entry picture

Only a woman

Thursday,16th May 2019


No woman shall ever spoil

the family life and fail

you in all the respects

it is always her generous act


we all owe kind regard

and can't be substantiated with words

she may never go out of the way

and spend in a lavish way


in the initial day, she may concede

to your way and decide

but she may try to look every ...

Read and leave comments (1)

Also by Hasmukh Mehta:

Of new trust | On different track | Prefer to be quiet | So difficult | For the falsedhood | The falsehood | Deep impression | It is the reality | No sign | With then word | Life may go on | Smile only if | Nights look | What a way to feel? | Constant fear | the only love | Writng fraternity | Fast without food/water | Use words | Enormous strength | Each day and | Lovely desire and | Not survive either | Bring in | The poetry | Happy Ramadan and | Terrorist gamble | My own kingdom | Rose is rose | Only love and | Never to find her | Magical moment | Don't leave God | With the peace | So much of | The garden of | The divine tolerance power | Use the heart |


A Pattern of Substance Misuse in Rural Texas

You were always object lesson,
Never role model, and I only knew
I should never be like you.
Your death was early and tragic,
As expected, your last conscious
Moments spent reaching for the door
Of a home engulfed in flame.

Through tear-filled eyes,
Those who had nothing but
Criticism for you when alive
Expressed their own shock and
Grief with a final tinge of judgment.
“If it had an...

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Also by Randy Horton:

A Belabored Gardening Metaphor | Whistling in the Dark | Meandering Metaphors as Rivers | Climate Catastrophe: Pandemic and Pestilence | Climate Catastrophe: The Reckoning | A Bifurcated Analysis of Overly Indulgent Self-Reference and Metacriticism |

addictiongriefsubstance abusesubstance misuse

Through Van Gogh's eyes

Through Vincent's eyes

the sunflowers radiant and mellow

shine through the murkiness

of the temporal world

his spirit rises above the earthly plane

beyond where the prosaic lies,

into a world of the sublime

where the heavenly riches

of bountiful dreams meet the

reality of the canvas.

A beautiful scene from

a mind so clear its visions

stretch beyond the limits


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Also by Jon Stainsby:

Dancing shadows | The drunk and the priest |

Vincent Van Gogh


Slated as such 

But not for much

A never ending battle

Do or die

Without a cry 

And no one there to tattle

If one day 

It come what may

Without so much a warning

Fight to defend

Until the end

Amidst the grief and mourning

For naught is fair

And none will care

With nothing more to folllow

So it may be

To never see 

Thee dawning of tomorrow



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Also by Lisa C Bassignani:

Clickety Clique | Your Vagueness Is | Kentucky Derby 2019 | Procrastinator's Perplexity | Carnival |

Another Poem for Today.

Here’s my poem for you, my today.


You are my sunlight squeezed shut eyelids in the morning.

My mellow, midday sadness like breathing in heaviness.

My shivering fingertips, quivering lips as what used to be my favorite,

falls white and blinding like loudness expressed in cold.


You are my warm days turned to exhaustion,

beating on me like anger and a sickness for home.


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Also by Sarah Mae:

An Absence In Me |

Show more entries …

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