Out in the night
A wolf howls.
Dogs bark and coyotes chatter.
The birds are still;
Silence is their shroud.
Stars twinkle overhead.
Saturn turns and spins like a top.
Nothing is lost in that vast night
While owls hunt,
And bats dart like crooked bullets.
It is a portrait of calm
Predators of the night stalk for meat.
Ears and eyes for the night
Are on full alert.
Death awaits, giving life.
Earth's sustenance is full;
There is enough.
Nothing is wasted in this plan
Of grand nature's design.
Pain is for a moment,
Then life goes on.
The hunter and the hunted
Never sleep,
They only doze in fits and starts.
Soon a killer will be full.
Soon the nightly prey
Will be silent and torn.
Copyright © Bill Yates | Year Posted 2015
A Fading Ember
In shadows cast by waning light,
A love once vivid, now takes flight.
Our candle that once burned so bright,
Now stings of a cold, harsh night.
I see the distance in your eyes,
Reflecting echoes of love's goodbye,
Emptiness in your silent stare,
A longing that lingers in the air.
A love that danced has lost its grace,
Fading memories, a bitter taste,
Sarcasm drips from lips once sweet,
A love turned sour, our hearts retreat.
In the veins of passion, ice takes hold,
Your touch, once warm, now a numbing cold,
Isolation wraps around us tight,
Loneliness now our silent plight.
The flame that once danced, now just a wisp,
A puff of smoke on a burnt-out wick.
A love once radiant, turned to rust,
In silent ruins, we return to dust.
Copyright © Edward Wraith | Year Posted 2024
An empty echo bellows from within the depths of a chasm. Endless and cold, it moans an apathy that desecrates the sanctity of love and alters the signal of all feeling and emotion. It reaches and bites the heart, concealing from vision its true mission of destruction. Tightly wrapping itself around the soul, it plunges its deadly sting through its victim, cutting off the gentle flowing mixture of happiness, sincerity, laughter and devotion. Mindless faces speak a meaningless language. The lips seem to move in an endless array of contours as a lone silhouette vanishes with the last beam of light. Alone it stands as it silently waits for time to pass. Alone in these vast depths of indifference, there is no hope, no salvation from the inward conflict that evaporates the soul. Bow your head little sparrow. Weep the tears that none else can. Reveal the pain that none else will. Lift your eyes to a destiny. Take the future up in your tiny wings and bring it back to me. Together we can cry over the past and fly away. Darkness is the absence of light, yet you and I see. Within the chasm flickers a small candle. To you and I little sparrow, no freedom is too distant, no change too great. We persist with love where blind hatred dwells. Lingering within us is a hope, a dream and purpose that lifts the wind beneath our wings. We've tasted the bottom of the chasm. Together we can cry over the past and fly away..........
Copyright © Walter Williams | Year Posted 2012
I picked up your ashes
Three months after cremation
I felt I had bottled emotions
Time would help verbal summation
Yet silence is what I find
No words escape my lips
Thoughts of your meandering
Unbeknownst except for tips
Your work you credited
All your time and space
Arriving home so late
Booze on breath and red face
I overlooked so much
I never said a word
Just glad you made it home
Uninjured and unhurt
I loved you
I hope you knew
Took care of you
The best I could do
I feel a whole
Deep within my heart
A void filled by you
Right from the start
Sometimes I feel you
Watching over me
But to hold you again
Is what I need
The birds call for you
The dogs look too
The cats wait on the bed
But all are well fed
I keep your ashes with me
And everywhere I go
Your in an airtight gray box
Co captain as we go
It's funny the quiet moments
And music we now enjoy
Is all I ever wanted love
But your program would not deploy
So for now we spend this time
Exactly how I wished
You are always with me
Peaceful loving how I embellished.
Copyright © Kelli White | Year Posted 2015
Voices from the Stones
A message from those who made the ultimate sacrifice for our freedom.
Make these stones everlasting. We will tell you how.
Do not stand before these stones and weep.
We gave our lives, but we do not sleep.
Our names and ranks are etched in these stones.
Sturdy, more enduring than our flesh and bones.
Read our names, see our day
we gave our all for you to say…
…FREEDOM IS MINE!
Freedom is our gift for you to share.
it is also a duty you must bear.
Our loss of life is your gain,
Do not let us die for you in vain.
Pass freedom on and it will keep.
Fail in your duty, and we will surely sleep.
By: Roger White - Operation Desert Storm Veteran
Copyright © Roger White | Year Posted 2024
Melancholy me, since Kelly's gone away
Far beyond the sea, and out of every day
Stage by stage I've wept, but finally, I see
What I must accept; a melancholy me
It follows and it looms, a threat to my clear sky
Though never quite consumes, insists that I comply
She's not for me to find, no path for me to track
So rain I will not mind, if I can't have her back
My happiness and joy, are never felt alone
This grief did not destroy, but left an undertone
Useless to contest, what lingers underneath
So I will try my best, to balance in this grief
Perhaps I am jaded, but I am past denial
Anger has since faded; I've learned again to smile
I'll steady more each day, my given grief tightrope
And mind my every sway, when wind threatens my cope
Relentless my implore, and pointless it would seem
She went, she is no more, to see her is to dream
I begged her not leave, and still, she did not stay
For that, I'll ever grieve, my melancholy way
Born by final breath, now breathing in her place
I'll live despite her death, as long as I embrace
Because it's mine to keep, it's just my cross to bear
I'll bury it down deep, but always, it is there
And though I did not choose, it's what I would prefer
I cannot bear to lose, my memory of her
While pain is in my heart, Kelly too, shall be...
Because she is a part, of melancholy me.
Copyright © Jessica Wheeler | Year Posted 2023
In my world of despair and greatness
I find my ease, behind a pad my
servitude, my sanctuary among my many talents
My emotions are complex, for they are
not expressed in forms of sounding words.
Here among laced golden paper
my darkest thoughts,
my crazed emotions are spelled out.
This is where, I am able to be ME
to speak about my anger, my rage,
to express my worst fears
to give into my sexual desires,
to rethink my daydreaming stages
to capture my deepest thoughts and my
desire to be held by another.
Read my pages for I am here in written
words
Through these dark brown eyes I gaze
intently in hopes you find me.
Just read closer,
I'm here
bare for all to see.
Copyright © Debbie Walker | Year Posted 2017
Aroused by denial,
Disturbing thoughts prevail,
Wishing reprisal,
Hostility unveiled.
Sharpened words uncover
The mask in place.
Extreme emotions hover,
Seen in your face.
Venom grows inside,
Feeding the fire,
Where poison resides,
In the skeptic’s lair
Copyright © Janet Vick | Year Posted 2006
The air thick, like a sweet sticky syrup
Sirens wail, polluting the air with chaos
Voices screaming, obscenities, obscure messages
All the while little children play, in pothole streets
Faces everywhere, stained cheeks and bloodshot eyes.
Cries in the light of day, bloody hands wave
Freedom, Choices, a single right
Lost trash, food piles, scattered along roadways
Dirty shoes, dangling over power lines
Faces everywhere, stained cheeks and bloodshot eyes.
Ever searching, an invisible cape, a quick escape
Smells of rotting food, bloated flies
People who cant stop licking their lips,
twisting their hips, and geeking
Car alarms screaming, like a symphony out of tune
Faces everywhere, stained cheeks and bloodshot eyes.
So hungry, empty stomachs, empty hearts, empty minds
Seeking to fill, to satisfy, lapping up milk and honey
Praying for rain, to wash the stench, to hide the sin,
away…
Lost, undone, alone, without love
Faces everywhere, stained cheeks and bloodshot eyes.
Writings of love, of peace, scatter in the rain and wind.
An iota, a seed, a shining light, dimly lit in the night
People gather, curious, watching, many hoping
A gentle voice speaks living words, of life, a better way
Faces everywhere, stained cheeks and bloodshot eyes
Copyright © Karen Van Wyk | Year Posted 2012
And on this weary platform love is seldom found,
to boast of love that's certain,
a love that's so profound.
On the wall the scribblings of all we feel and do,
sharing good adventure even a joke or two.
And if they find their lover
they all disappear,
but some will still be scrolling,
posting they are here.
A pizza; lovers, share for two,
and sip the curious wine,
So good and wholesome feels this love
they gossip down the vine
And on the platform made for two,
the lovers wear the crown.
For love that's true, and real will never let you down.
Copyright © Klio Tsitsikroni | Year Posted 2017
On the walls of an old rickety shed
are names of sojourners who’ve passed this way;
now my wandering boot does older tread
where I passed on a long forgotten day.
Winding a road less travelled to the sea
drinking beer, watching the wind and tide turn,
where long into the night yon the jetty
aerodrome Air Squadron lights brightly burn.
Into its riptides I dive bombed its depths
where over the skyhawk war birds had flown,
and from its drag clung to those ocean steps
or lifesaver tossed in the deep pull zone.
Now time and tide fade on this hidden cove
where beneath the waves the taniwha rove.
Written: December 1991
Copyright © Keith D Trestrail | Year Posted 2022
There may be a mirror universe
in which time runs backwards
Hawkins hosts dinner for time travelers
who eat dark matter for dessert
Thousands of Endurances think
critical thinking was just spotted on Mars
where lonely elephants seek scientists
Hawkins finds Planet 9 in a black hole
There may be an information paradox
where elephants eat dark matter
Planet Nine still missing
time runs backward while running out of time
Thousands of acres continue to burn
there may be a paradoxical universe
Planet Nine attacked by RNA
elephants create scientists
Copyright © njv Tomcatx | Year Posted 2022
In our neighborhood during the second world war
At the side of each house were a porch and a door.
And, believe it or not, it was always unlocked
When a tradesman or stranger or visitor knocked.
Around dawn men arrived who at doorsteps would lay
All the baked goods and milk patrons needed that day.
And the women would once a week purchased their meat
From the truck of a butcher who stopped on our street.
Before fridges, remembered by we who are old
Was the ice box in kitchens that kept the food cold.
Using tongs, blocks of ice were delivered by men
Who before they had melted would come back again.
Also, door-to-door salesmen would try to persuade
All the wives that their products were best ever made.
And our neighbor would daily come by for a spell
To a recipe share or with gossip to tell.
In the middle of autumn, the coal truck returned
To replenish the piles that the furnace had burned.
Down long chutes made of metal would tumble and roar
Tons of coal that filled bins on our bare cellar floor.
Roving hobos quite often would rap on the door.
Without jobs or a home, they for food would implore.
The depression still lingered, so mothers would feel
Sympathetic and always provided a meal.
And to parents'displeasure, the screen doors would bang
As kids hurried from houses to be with the gang.
We would gather on lots that were vacant to play
Or would wander the countryside nearly all day.
When it rained, on a porch that was covered we'd meet
To with checkers or Clue or Parcheesi compete.
We swapped marbles, pitched pennies, played poker for fun,
And our comic books read till return of the sun.
At the back door we'd weekly the paper boy pay,
And the mail was delivered then two times a day.
If it weren't for the doctor who'd come when we call,
We would never had needed a front door at all.
Copyright © Richard Thomas | Year Posted 2019
A Supreme Baby
Diane and Anthony
A Supreme Baby
Copyright © Anthony Taylor | Year Posted 2019
The snowflakes tickled my nose as I walked home from school that day,
I laughed thinking of how May is so far away.
When the snow wouldn’t be here,
And I could finally be able to see clear.
The snow sang a sad song,
Even though it wouldn’t be long till the birds would be singing their song.
The snow was as white as the paper I was writing on not that long ago that day,
Hoping to get my work done before I would be sent home until the next day.
When hopefully the snow would be gone when we could all play,
In the green grass that we see in May
Copyright © Meredith Tally | Year Posted 2021
Little Dollar Debbie, loves to thrift store shop,
her pocket full of dollars, she doesn't want to stop.
A place of splendid bargains, stacked so ever high,
wanting almost everything that finds her shoppers eye.
Her pocket full of dollars, she doesn't want to stop,
walk each aisle, end to end, like a spinning top.
Pick up each new item to give it careful look,
searching high and low in every shelf and nook.
A place of splendid bargains stacked so ever high,
each for just one dollar for her happily to buy.
New things never seen before to tempt her shoppers skill,
amazing offers in the mix to test her weakened will.
Wanting almost everything that finds her shoppers eye,
two for one with rebates tempting her to try.
Shes a shop-a-holic with no plan to ever stop,
Little Dollar Debbie, loves to thrift store shop.
Robert Gene Stoner Jr
5/15/16 ©
Copyright © Robert Stoner Jr | Year Posted 2016