Make as you feel it
In the sense of your feel
Without forgetting sense
Fais comme tu le sens
Dans le sens de tes sens
Sans oublier le sens
Aby M.
Copyright © Aby M'Baye | Year Posted 2022
White lightening conjures magical spells,
As you feel binding thoughts from her mind’s wishing well ,
You’re most precious held dreams spin in her wake,
As you breathe in & out to rewrite your fate ,
Now open your eyes to hear whispers ring true ,
A menu of lavender lights up for you ,
As you honor the past in your deepest held trance ,
Remember the scent of your sweetest romance,
As your mind drifts to read what’s next on the page ,
Remember the scent of rosemary & sage ,
So take what you can & honor her heart ,
As the light in her eyes reflects love from the start ,
So listen deeply & imagine the cast ,
As gifted actors pretend from your past .
©2023 AlanShapiro
Copyright © Alan Shapiro | Year Posted 2023
Stars will guide you
Hide you
Find you
Mind you
Stars will glisten
Listen fall
At a mark
For a hark
To call
Stars are ready
Reach to dream
Leave or listen
Part and seem
Stars to find you
Lose to see
Stars are ready
Next to be
Stars will settle
Aim to fall
Stars to find you
Next to stall
Miss and being
Clear to free
Stop to glisten
Near to see
Stars will find you
Guide you
Mind you
Stars will listen
Glisten fall
Copyright © Alex Nelson | Year Posted 2020
Built by the tired hands
Many from far off lands
Taken away from farm and spouse
Yet they built the sacred House
A house leased for 4-year terms
Unique privilege to be confirmed
To an American deemed fit
Compassionate, patriot and have wit
Tradition is the code here
Simple decent and austere
Wisdom learnt from many battles
And a constitution sound and moral
Enshrined we were born free
It was the heartbeat of democracy
There were periods of stress
Staunchly addressed by the noblesse
Fiercely defended by the have-nots
I implore everyone to see the plots
In a national cemetery
And behold what it means to be free
Copyright © Amanullah Khan | Year Posted 2021
Love doesn't dash, it loiters -
with repeated movements like music
and beautifully crude endearments.
Love does't dash, it lingers
with rhythms like dance
and boastfully rude aphorisms.
So dally my love - lollygag,
lounge and we'll share breaths
and mess about.
Copyright © Anais Vionet | Year Posted 2020
It’s just a tiny village, a wide place in the road
The pace where life is steady and it’s slow
You find your comfort zone, no matter what the load
Campbellsville is the place I know
Brighter lights can call me, and travel makes me smile
And city life can seem like such a thrill
But nothing feels so easy, just like a country mile
As coming to my home in Campbellsville
When you find you’ve lost your way, and don’t know what to do
When everything is headed straight downhill
Think about the place you love, where everything was true
And come on home again - to Campbellsville
A little town in Tennessee, with history through the years
The Campbell home, the Springs, and the hills
The high school that so many loved, the victories of the Bears
I’m going home again to Campbellsville
Copyright © Andy Chunn | Year Posted 2021
A Picture Of Oneself contains not too much to tell,
Except the package showing that in which they dwell.
This is the only purpose a picture has and does,
Telling nothing about the person who is or was.
A Picture Of Oneself shows nothing that's inside.
Who is the real character that within does reside?
Are they a soul with compassion, full of empathy
Or are they all about themselves with only apathy?
How much do they care? How much do they Love?
Are they ego driven with pride derived of?
What character traits does the picture of possess,
One of integrity, virtue, along with humbleness?
Do they seek and tell the truth or do they lie?
Do they have a code of ethics they only live by?
What do they aspire for in life and/or hope to gain?
Do they care how or if it's by causing others pain?
What are they feeling, happy with joy in their heart
Or are they battling pain in their deepest, inner part?
What have they been through; what have they endured?
Have they overcome with an outlook, healthy and secured?
All the aspects of a person are left unaddressed
In a Picture Of Oneself, the real is oppressed.
The packaging is glorified, says nothing of its host;
Though appearance is deceptive, it tends to matter most.
Technology would surpass itself and be truly smart,
If there was a camera that could capture one's heart.
All the devious hearts wouldn't have invisibility
And all the hearts of beauty would shine then brilliantly.
A Picture Of Oneself may preserve one's appearance;
May be used to con others and to run interference.
But a Picture Of Oneself, nothing does it tell.
It's just a package picture, a picture of one's shell.
Written by Artsieladie/Sharon Donnelly
©2018-04-13 08:55:00 (EDT) All rights reserved.
Copyright © Artsieladie Sharon Donnelly | Year Posted 2018
When
azaleas spread
their deep pink cups
I hold my breath
and hope for form
to hold an hour
before
they begin their
twisting dance
to dust.
O beauties,
did my touch
bruise the space
about your faltering
grace?
Copyright © Bill Keen | Year Posted 2019
My Handicap Beach
As I lay here and look out the window from our hotel at the absolutely amazing view..
It makes me wonder how something so simple creates such beauty and always seems so new..
I feel sadness for those who pass by every day and don’t think another thought about..
The beauty that surrounds them from the beach and the water with the waves washing in and out..
The lighthouse that stands unintentionally stoic and tall and lights the way for those out at sea..
And the sand that finally runs across my toes which has been a dream for so long for me…
This was only possible with the help of a loving person who got me where I needed to go…
And to whom I really hope does realize how much they have helped me in many ways to grow..
And there are always a few people that have to make a spectacle of a girl in a wheelchair..
As they walk by me and say things in a whisper as if they think I can’t hear along with a stare here and there..
If they only knew that It was one of the best days of my life and that I am feeling so relaxed and at ease..
I will take all of their comments and let them go over my head along with the beautiful breeze..
Because this morning I may have been the disabled girl on the beach which was a wonderful thing to me..
And until you learn to see the view from down in a wheelchair every day I don’t care what you think you see...
Because today my view was from the warm sand on a beach towel that was laid down just for me and was the best..
Day I have had in so long because I was no longer that poor gilt in the wheelchair and felt almost like all of the rest..
Of beach goers and comers to the new jersey shore in Atlantic City and right on the pier that is very well known..
For gambling and partying but for me it was just to feel the sand on my toes and feel like I was not handicapped if even for a few moments alone..
Coming home with my stuff in disarray the way it always is along with a few souvenirs because they are from my very first trip away from home..
I loved it so much and want to thank those who took me long on a short but awesome vacation to start me going more which I really hope..
Because it’s nice sometimes to go to places that make you feel different than the usual girl in the wheelchair always needing help from what I call in my head my proverbial rope..
Buffy Sammons
Copyright © Buffy Sammons | Year Posted 2015
Today I want to sing a song,
I write an ode to sunny days , to love .
To you and your translucent ways,
Cause like you say : when we are together,
nothing goes wrong .
Accepting this , took me a while :
You are the coffee that makes me better .
You are that hand that grabs me stronger,
Your lips dissolve all that is harsh ,
when facts of life start to annoy me .
You keep me safe from nights of thunder .
You broke the cycle of useless chaps .
You celebrate my imperfections ,
You love me just the way I am.
You always say : I’m precious oxygen
In the four chambers of your heart .
Since I have met you I’m always smiling
I haven’t cursed not even once .
That guy is nuts - some people comment ,
-He doesn’t know that crazy gal .
But I just walk and kiss your hands ,
You told me once silence is bolder ,
If you can scream on my behalf .
Copyright © Camila Encarnacion | Year Posted 2023
His eyes of gold;
peer into my soul
with a milk mustache
he licks his fancy,
torn between two worlds
reality is magical,
says him so
needing to be free,
yet longing for a hand;
to scratch his silky locks
strike while you can
his finicky soul;
dances in the wind
dreaming of playing again
his sorcery is made of stone,
annoyed by your attention
yet never wanting to truly be alone
his meow is a roaring fire;
piercing through the thickest of skulls
biscuits he serves by the claw,
treasuring every chance he gets to fall;
Quit to land on all fours,
he sprints so fast;
you could say he's climbing up doors.
Copyright © Candice Yates | Year Posted 2022
While cleaning house I over heard the Trolls talking down below.
There was to be a battle in the grove, between a bear and a Troll.
They said this would be the end, to beat all ends, as only one would win.
Well, I’m a mother… so this worried me… on how this would all end.
A Troll and a Bear… fighting…I feared nothing good could come of that.
So, I had to find a way to come between them, to stop them in their tracks.
I talked to the Trolls, who said: this was a thing they… simply… had to do.
In fact, they said they’d all go, and would cheer it on, till it was finally through.
They left when I wasn’t looking, and I had to be there to stop it… so I ran.
The battle would be in the Bear groves where the bully frogs all live.
First I tripped over a root, breaking my shoe, so barefoot… I continued on.
Then I fell into the creek, coming up with mud everywhere, all around.
Brambles caught my shirt tearing my sleeve, but I certainly, wouldn’t give up.
I’ll admit, that Panic does some strange things, as I continued… to… speedup.
Watching where I was going would have been a really good thing, I agree.
But, I ran into the grove, a mad woman, with pepper spray in my grasp, you see.
Low and behold, I’d been wrong! There was a card game quietly going on.
The bears and the Trolls in their best clothes: and all sat there, giving a yawn.
It then dawned; this was a poker game of high stakes, which I had come upon.
The bully frog referees and everyone looked at me, like my mind was totally gone.
Actually, that’s probably right... Maybe, with worry… I truly had… gone mad.
Quietly I sat down, to watch the game… until the bear won it all… how sad.
Embarrassed, I tried to quietly sneak out: very quickly, you can be assured.
Low and behold, I ran straight into a tree… getting their attention, for sure.
Laughing hilariously, one of the Trolls picked me up, and carried me home.
He said, he was afraid for my health, should I be allowed to further roam.
They were right of course, but my mind will be better by tomorrow morn
You’ll see… I’ll prove it… when my next new poem is born…
Copyright © Carol Eastman | Year Posted 2012
My fascination as a child was holding a Dragonfly
With fairy wings and the kiss of Spring
I kept an eye out for the Dragonfly.
They were my friends between the flowers
They taught me how to dance and dart
Touching hovering stalking and gently walking
I took one prisoner one day, and hid it under the sink
I tied a string to it’s tail and trapped it in a wink
He buzzed all day and I was caught and served my time
My mother stood and made me untie the string
He stumbled once and flew away with his crystal wings
I met him out the back door, now a friend and not a foe
I now can see my folly, I wont hurt him anymore.
My dreams were of hovering Dragonfly’s
With me on ones back he darted up and swooped down
I held on tight with all my might the buzzing drowned
out my fright the laughter now louder than my doubts
I woke up with a start, it was still night
I grabbed my cuddly Dragonfly and slept on through the night.
02.09.2020
Copyright © Carol Mitra | Year Posted 2020
Up in heaven is my brother Joe
To all the people that he did know
He came to me in my dream last night
And said to me "Everything's all right"
Tell all my friends and family, too
And everyone I ever knew
I love you all, "he said to thee
"And thank you all for loving me."
Copyright © Charles Messina | Year Posted 2018
In the shadow's of the Gothic Renaissance period,
In this age of beauty's enlightenment, and free
Thinking for men, Houska Castle was built.
Not as a fortification to repeal invaders, nor for
Strategic positioning, nay it's thick stone walls,
Were meant to keep something locked within.
Steeped in folklore's mystery, it's sheer cliffs
Drop upon jagged edges unmerciful rocky
Points beneath.
Surrounded by thickets heavy forest, in the
Czech Republic mountains, it's eerie appearance,
Gives one a feeling that you are being watched, by
Something unnatural.
As the sun light breaks through the trees,
The dawn's rays push back the nights dark
Embrace, exposing this a shunned forgotten
Place.
The ancient aristocracy commissioned it's
Construction, by royal commend, not to be
Blessed within but only outwardly.
Called the gateway to hell, beneath a deep
Holes abyss does exist, and misshapen animal
Bones remain untouched.
No human souls are known to walk these
Unholiest of grounds.
Here only the devils breed stalks, any intruders,
So step ever so lightly, if thy choose to visit,
For you may become it's quarry, and never leave
It's darkened realm.
Pace yourself, brace yourself, child of man,
Listen to the inner spiritual voice within,
And run for your life itself.
The eyes at the windows of Houska castle,
Bang their ghostly hands, against it's glass pains,
Keeping rhythm,
With thine own human heart beat.
All adventures beware thy journey’s end,
Is it truly worth the price, this quest for the thrill,
Or a physical adrenals rush, the cost thy very soul.
Leave this corner of darkness, unexplored, and well
Enough alone.
BY: CHERYL ANNA DUNN
02-28-14
Copyright © Cherl Dunn | Year Posted 2014
Grown men today will always complain
About how much their paid a wage
When the same men in their lane are paid
At the same rate but dont say anyway.
Copyright © Criss Tripp | Year Posted 2015