Helen and Paris By Anthony Luciani

Helen and Paris

Love be now your song, immortal one,
For now the war is over.
What once was love
Became the war of ages.
What once was war
Became peaceful ruined silence.
Among Schliemann’s tel
Sprang forth stories like weeds.
Tales of great adventurers
Who scaled those Cyclopian walls
And brought Troy to its knees.
A fair young maiden
Was the start of this great tragedy.
All for the love of a shepherd prince.
This maiden of the tripod city
Was called the fairest of the land.
Her beauty gave her great fame
And suitors came far and wide
To give her their name.
The shepherd prince chose Love
Over gray eyed intelligence and the bright arms of conquest.
He that gave the golden apple bending to Discord’s secret wish.
Bringing to his country
The invasion of a thousand ships.


- Written by: Anthony Luciani

My poem may be published online as long as I am given credit and a link is included to my website.
thegaiad.blogspot.com

A Love Knot - By Frances Nagle

A Love Knot

Picture hundreds, thousands, of threads,
as long as love is.

For instance, picture kindness – how smoothly it unfurls
when people care as much about each other as themselves.

Picture gentleness: when times are less than easy
a reassuring stream of soothing words.

And respect, the essence of being a partner,
each one delighting in the other.

And look at the joys and trials of being parents,
the challenge none of us is prepared for;

imagine the tough, flexible fibres
that nurturing a child together can create.

And see laced around and through and everywhere
diamond-twinkling filaments of laughter.
-
These profound, priceless connections start so simply –
with a smile, perhaps, or admiring glance.

Picture again these hundreds, thousands, of threads
 as long as love is; longer than life.

Today a knot is being tied
in the strands that ……... and ………

have started to spin out together.
A love-knot.   For ever.


- Written by: Frances Nagle

This poem can be used for free as long as the name of the author is included and the author is given credit.
If the poem is published online, please include a link to this post.

The Usefulness of Rain - By Anna McCarthy Hoffman

The Usefulness of Rain

The usefulness of rain is that
It speaks to every negative emotion
Millions of melodic drops
Thrown from the heavens
Dive-bombing steadily, gracefully
A cacophony of slaps and tings and torrents
Splattering against surfaces
Small fighting punches against the physical world
The white noise of a downpour
God’s tears in Morse Code
Tapping at the hardness of my heart
Gentle pats pricking my ears
Signalling to unconscious grievances
Inner struggles, hidden pain
Its time to let go
Its time to be washed of guilt,
Unforgiveness, disapointment
Let love find its way to parched places
Cracked and exposed crusts
On the skin of the soul
Those places ignored, remember
Nurture them, make peace with them
Release them
In the aftermath there is a great silence
A holy, lingering freshness
My spirit is enlivened with
The premonition of Spring.


- Written by: Anna McCarthy Hoffman

My poem may be published online as long as the author is given credit and a link is included to: regentsparkroad.wordpress.com

Musings over tea in the Morning - By Anna McCarthy Hoffman

Musings over tea in the Morning

What I like about writing,
What has always struck me
As a great modern truth,
Is that is knows no class,
No prejudice of person.
No age or qualification
Anyone can pick up a pen and
Many a hardened looser,
A forlorn deadbeat,
A crazy, insecure recluse,
The reckless youth
And flowery innocent
Many a wailing soul
Have put ink on paper
Type on leaflets
Words onto the screen
There is something just
In this conclusion
A fairness, a refuge
For the battered and curious
For the daunted dreamers
Sitting in secret places
Sending out messages of
Inner salvation.


- Written by: Anna McCarthy Hoffman

My poem may be published online as long as the author is given credit and a link is included to: regentsparkroad.wordpress.com

Little Candle in an Anglican Church - By Anna McCarthy Hoffman

Little Candle in an Anglican Church

The light of a solitary candle
Flickering in the church
A little light struggling
In the damp darkness
A warm flame against the cold stone
Of this quiet knave
Now a museum of departed souls
The mustiness, the ancient air
Breaths of generations lifted in unison
The melody of dead voices singing
Murmers of prayers collected, gathered
In the lofty corbelled ceiling
There is no sadness in the end of things
When the spirit moves from one place to another
Out of churches, into homes
Bowling alleys, theaters, humble community centers,
These new parishes love with the same love
Care and worship with equal fervor
I mourn not where candles flicker
For elsewhere they burn bright.


- Written by: Anna McCarthy Hoffman

My poem may be published online as long as the author is given credit and a link is included to: regentsparkroad.wordpress.com

Freemason - By Anna McCarthy Hoffman

Freemason

I hunger for stone
For modelled, sand cast brick
Fossilised marble and quarried rock
Carved lintels, doorways, window frames
Chiseled copings, stacked veneers
In precise patterns of arrangement
The work of the master mason
His rough hewn hands
Calloused fingers applying
Time tested ideas, ancient methods
Advancing his prospects
Accumulating knowledge
With respect for tradition
And a mind for innovation
In time, the laborer
Becomes the architect
Maker of human landmarks
Intellectual towers of achievement
Fit together, joined
Mortared in immortality
They didn’t let women
Inside the order of the compass
The Grand lodge, the fraternity
Guest houses with great fireplaces
Sacred meeting sites for the
Technically educated
Classically trained
You had to be free
A person of good standing
Most of all, a man
Many a proud and honorable fellow
Planned empires, birthed revolutions
Telling tales of knights and secret orders
Building Solomon’s temple
Under the banner of brotherly love
It took hundreds of years
Until I would become a freemason
A master of my trade
To have learned and earner respect
Through dedication to craft
To build my own temples
Make my mark at universities
Pursuing the good of mankind
By means of walls, shelters and roads
Planned cities, renovated waterfronts, public squares
I always wanted to be part of
The sacred meeting
To know the symbolism of the eagle
The cross, the star
The delicate pointed legs
Graceful curves of the compass
The right angle
The precise measurements of the rigid squire
In my own way
I have righted an ancient wrong
Taken my own oath
Stood under the gaze of the all-seeing eye
And been found on the level.


- Written by: Anna McCarthy Hoffman

My poem may be published online as long as the author is given credit and a link is included to: regentsparkroad.wordpress.com

Proms - By Anna McCarthy Hoffman

Proms

Classical is thinking man’s music
In melody without words
There is a void
The mind must fill
Those who are not trained
Despise the practice
And have no patience with it
The learned know
The beauty of the music
Is what the listener brings
The melodic sounds are
Merely an open frequency
Where creative thoughts
Befriend ideas
Mingle with imaginations
Finding love in lost memories
Latent wonderment
Without voices telling you want to think
The subconcious is allowed to feel
The sounds of the strings
The horns
The bass and winds
Take thoughts travelling
Far beyond the traps
Of this generation
We feel not slave
To the age we live in
To the times and the seasons
That pass and are yet to come
There is a transcendence
A rare opportunity
For the mind and heart to
Come into accordance
As if you were all alone
And not surrounded by
An audience, each individual
Silently computing,
Booting up and processing
Mental data stored
In deep containers of deliberate
Disregard
Rows of still statues
Seated in the red seats of the symphony.


- Written by: Anna McCarthy Hoffman

My poem may be published online as long as the author is given credit and a link is included to: regentsparkroad.wordpress.com

To burn - By Anna McCarthy Hoffman

To burn

I am tired of poetry
About death and aging
Reflections of time passed
And people long forgotten
Generations of aged writers
Chronicling late life
With tired words and
Sour stomachs

Where are the young voices
The brazen fires stoked
By pompous, passionate youth
The kind of leaping syllables
And laughing wordplay
That made the daylight
Break instead of wane

I am not young anymore
But youthful
In a kind of median prime
Searching for the milk behind the masters
The delirious honeyed fruit of our fore bearers
Drunk with adventurous diction
And feelings made audible titillation

I want to write about generousness
Fullness, the roundness of life
When years are still in front of you
Like mine are now
A crammed wallet of coupons
For unspent decades
Burning a hole in my back pocket
My fingers itching
Nights spent contemplating
Endless possibilities for travel

Grand ideas for second or third careers
I still experience
Wonder without worry
The thrill of life in
The possibility of change
To remember these days
When my grandparents still
Greet me in the drive
And the friends who knew me
From childhood are still
Bright burning path lights leading me home

I go outside to feel the force of the wind
Not eating at times to keep the hunger
It’s varied experience that get scarce
Tiredness sets in for the constant
Gathering, harvesting of fuel for inspiration
But one must stay burning
Crackling, flaming
Alight with possibility for something new.


- Written by: Anna McCarthy Hoffman

My poem may be published online as long as the author is given credit and a link is included to: regentsparkroad.wordpress.com

Acid Rain - By Phillip Knox

Acid Rain

In the night I hide
shattered, broken of heart
my soul in anguish
I cannot see far.
Lost in an endless pain
trapped in a torn mind
defeat spread like acid rain
as I search the line-
where sky and earth meets
I grasp the tides
somewhere the death of dreams
comes to be me.
I look through misery's eyes
and gaze for the serene,
but only see the bitter lie
though I steady try-
to flee from all the shame
it spreads like acid rain
I face the distance of time
and begin sigh.
A sweet moonlit twilight
faded beauty inside
death of innocent times
and simplicity of mind.
I breath in the cool air
smoke and tears stain my window
in the sharp night
and there falls acid rain.


- Written by: Phillip Knox

This poem can be used for free as long as the name of the author is included and the author is given credit.
If the poem is published online, please include a link to this post.

Durable - By Kaiit

Durable

As I look down at the past,
I look up at what is yet to come.
This change is for the better,
this change is while I'm young.
Good change is taking its time,
good change has just begun.
Even if the desire was there,
I can't go back now.
what's done - is done.
Now is not the time for nostalgia
Now is not the time to focus on what went wrong.
Darling, please come along..
walk with stride
pick up your pride.
Get on track before your depression comes back.
Stop dreaming, this is reality.
Life's testing your durability
do you feel the resistance?
do you feel anything at all?
I wouldn't say you're broken, I would say you're ready to fall.
Beyond numb to the core sweet nothingness.
Look into my eyes, do you see something more?
these eyes,
these eyes have been through hell, don't be surprised.


- Written by: Kaiit

This poem can be used for free as long as the name of the author is included and the author is given credit.
If the poem is published online, please include a link to this post.

ICE - By Richard Thomas

ICE

It soothes my sores
And cools my drinks
And makes the floors
For skating rinks.
It floats in punch
In cubic form.
It's fun to crunch
When I feel warm.
It's great for sleds
And pucks and falls
And penguin beds
And igloo walls.
On frigid days
 It's hail or sleet
Or frozen glaze
That coats our street.
It forms the flakes
In snow that drops.
It's crust on lakes
Or puddletops.
It's bergs adrift
On northern seas.
It's nature's gift
Adorning trees.
A hanging spear
From roof or wire.
It's crystal clear
And gleams like fire.


- Written by: Richard Thomas

This poem can be used for free as long as the name of the author is included and the author is given credit.
If the poem is published online, please include a link to this post.

PRAISING PIZZA - By Richard Thomas

PRAISING PIZZA

They call it pie, but sweet it's not.
And "pizza" means exactly what?
By any name, when it's served hot,
A palate-pleaser's what you've got.

Ignore existing recipes.
To dough, tomato sauce and cheese
Add any toppings that you please
From orchards, gardens, fields and seas.

Begin with veggies, ripe and raw,
Then olives, mushrooms, fruit and slaw.
Add lots of extra cheese to gnaw
And scatter truffles over all.

Then to this scrumptious-looking mess
(A monument to wholesomeness).
Add pepperoni please, unless,
A vegan lifestyle you profess.

Next, top it off with caviar
And, though it sounds a bit bizarre,
Add chocolate, and there you are:
A feast for rajah, queen or czar.

Nutritious, tempting and complete--
It's all a person needs to eat.
No known cuisine can hope to beat
This cheap, beloved and tasty treat.


- Written by: Richard Thomas

This poem can be used for free as long as the name of the author is included and the author is given credit.
If the poem is published online, please include a link to this post.

REFLECTION OF YOU - Sylvia Salima

REFLECTION OF YOU
 
When you are cold when you are strong
When all fades when you are out of strength
When you are weak when all is gone
I'll always be true
 
When you run when you are my light to stop
When you are out of reach
When no answer seems right
I'll always be true
 
When you give up when you move on
When you try when no hope is left
When all seems false when all is broken
I'll always be true
 
Truth is the sincerity in me
Love is what I hold most
Reflection is what takes me back to you
I'll always be true till the end.
 
 
- Written by: Sylvia Salima
 
This poem can be used for free as long as the name of the author is included and the author is given credit.
sylviasalima@yahoo.com
 

HEARTBREAK GAME - By Sylvia Salima

HEARTBREAK GAME
 
He loves me I love another
It's a cycle of love Love never taken for granted
I think of another His thoughts are of me
How could I be so blind It's real, It's true
What would I do How could I lie.
 
He hopes in prayers He sleeps in dreams
How could he remain so true
I cant change my heart I cant stab myself
Why do I feel this way
How could I love someone I have never thought of
 
He leaves in a future of me and him:
I leave in a future of me and another
Both feel true emotions both are clear
Too bad it's always vice versa
We leave in a life of vicious circle
 
I lie he believes
I hold my thoughts my emotions are out of control
The cycle is on no redirecting
Both ends loose in a game of Heartbreak.
 
 
- Written by: Sylvia Salima
 
This poem can be used for free as long as the name of the author is included and the author is given credit.
sylviasalima@yahoo.com
 

SIN OF BEAUTY - By Sylvia Salima

SIN OF BEAUTY
 
She is the girl The girl in a blue skirt
True beauty True admiration
From a distance all look in disbilief
True essence of beauty but a loner within
 
Her smile captivates even the blind recognize her precense
Her walk attracts even the streets brighten
The presence of true heavenly creation
True essence of beauty but a loner within
 
She wants to scream but she keeps it together
She helps the needy to replace the missing pieces
'Why am I a loner'she asks her soul
True essence of beauty but a loner within
 
'All want her', but the wrong gentlemen she says.
All listen, but her beauty always finds the way ahead,
'Can't anyone find the true her' her heart pales in agony
True essence of beauty but a loner within
 
Her loneliness kills her more everyday
She would exchange her beauty for love
All she has is what attracts the wrong people
The beauty that shines like light but in darkness it carries loneliness
 
The SIN of BEAUTY.
 
 
- Written by: Sylvia Salima
 
This poem can be used for free as long as the name of the author is included and the author is given credit.
sylviasalima@yahoo.com
 

MOMENTS OF THE WEAK - By Sylvia Salima

MOMENTS OF THE WEAK
 
The Ring I noticed the Ring
His marriage is right Her love awaits at home
His intentions are sincere His feelings never change
What about me?
 
I should care about my heart
I should care about hurting her
How can I destroy am not that kind
What about her?
 
My feelings are real at home he awaits for me
We both have paths to follow
The spark between is like a flame ignited
What about him?
 
Am I cruel Am I mean
How could I not care Myself is all I think
Wishing for an amnesia but somethings never fade even with disease
It feels like an explosion inside
What about me?
 
I became a thief stealing anothers space
It's never me Then who is to blame
How could my heart play such a dangerous game
What about him?
 
You,Her,Me,Him,
No I shatter the built expectations
Our lives will get back to normal
And so I hope
But still what about US?????????
 
 
- Written by: Sylvia Salima
 
This poem can be used for free as long as the name of the author is included and the author is given credit.
sylviasalima@yahoo.com
 

THE WATERFALLS - By Sylvia Salima

THE  WATERFALLS
 
Am diving in with courage
Am holding my pieces whole
Am holding my weakness within
Am realising my strength to flow
The chilling water of the ocean I release my sorrow
 
Mourning was with time now i can try moving on
Forgeting the love can never control hidden emotions
Remembering the moments never sadden me anymore
The chilling water of the ocean I release my sorrow
 
Shortened period in our lives never fade happy times
The losses in our lives never mean we are punished
Enjoying what at hand makes life more meaningful
The chilling water of the ocean I release my sorrow
 
I smile the feeling witihin feels right
Am moving on doesnt mean 'I will forget you'
Neither the heavens nor life after makes love fade away
The sorrow fades with the chilling water
Happiness remains like a gift rapped with ribbons.
 
 
- Written by: Sylvia Salima
 
This poem can be used for free as long as the name of the author is included and the author is given credit.
sylviasalima@yahoo.com

The Great Mansion - By Amit Herlekar

The Great Mansion

Its a majestic thing to all who see
The Mansion across the horizon
With rose gardens and tall trees
Stood tall on its stead - Unshaken

Passing by the moor, an old man often
Smiled gladly when his eyes caught
This magnificent structure - Abandoned
By time, which was once admired a lot

It was a palace all sang and danced, it Prayed
For everyone to Live and Enjoy Life with charm
Where grandmas baked and children played
It welcomed every living soul - With open arms

It was a home for Lovers of Romance
In the rose garden, under the starry night
Embracing each other in a complete trance
For all other eyes it was a delightful sight

Now he stood very close to it - Very upset
Admiring every detail crafted up by pouring sweat
Then his proud smile gradually began to fade
When the liveliness was lost - What fate!

He couldn't accept its failure in the struggle
With time, of being the dear thing - Forever
Where he saw little kids play and giggle
Is now filled with haunting silence allover

It was once a Castle of a Great King
And there were celebrations all the time
Everything is blown away by howling wind
For Emptiness to prevail like Eternal Sunshine

Its neither pleasing those New Eyes
Nor it is a structure of glory anymore
He wonders why it can't be otherwise
Why can't it stand a chance anymore?

It steals attention of anyone passing on the way
But it remains just as good as anything to watch
"It was a great mansion" - is what they say
And share its stories holding a glass of Scotch

He longs to live in the mansion - As Before
Thinking he could rediscover his inner self
But it looked old fashioned and he couldn't adore
As it is gravely beaten by time - Like himself

Left in ruins, will it die alone in oblivion?
Or survive as a legend in pages of History?
Why does anyone care where he is buried in
When all his noble deeds are deemed ordinary

Thus goes the song of roaring Rise and silent Fall
All the hard worked footprints slowly get erased
Time always wins to cause imminent Downfall
Paving way for the new breed of things to race.


- Written by: Amit Herlekar

My poem can be used for free as long as people first obtain my permission by writing to amitherlekar@gmail.com and, my name must be given credit and a link is included to http://all-amit-thinks.blogspot.com/2013/02/the-great-mansion_2.html website.

Holy Night - By Anna McCarthy Hoffman

Holy Night

Who are you
In the Christmas story
Were you ever young
And in trouble
Pregnant as a teenager
And unmarried
Are you someone
Taking responsibility for things
Not your own, burying secrets
and disapointments
Making the most of a life
Unexpected
Or a business owner offering
What little you could to others
With an emergency need
During extraordinary times
One of the globe trotting titans
Foreseeing trends, markets, seasons
Investment in hand
Wanting to be part of the next great thing
The worker on the night shift
Watching another day pass
A common man just working to live
One night finding yourself
In the presence of Angels


- Written by: Anna McCarthy Hoffman

My poem may be published online as long as the author is given credit and a link is included to: regentsparkroad.wordpress.com

Lodinium - By Anna McCarthy Hoffman

Lodinium

History drives
Down the red roads,
Colored asphalt carpets
Not just for Bentleys
Jaguars, Rolls Royce
But rickshaws, Red buses
Mobs of weaving blue Bicycles
At weekends
Philosophy walks these
Stained sandstone slabs
Uneven and washed out
These sidewalk see-saws
Tottering toe-traps set to
Catch the young and drunk
By surprise
Civilization trips over these
Rounded, warn
Cobbled streets
Cracked teeth beneath her feet
With blackened gums
Chewing at her heels


- Written by: Anna McCarthy Hoffman

My poem may be published online as long as the author is given credit and a link is included to: regentsparkroad.wordpress.com

Vivid Tryst - By Hamza Matar

Vivid Tryst

There they stood
before each other
2 young lovers
Secret tryst
In the forest
Her heart twist
He can’t resist
to the thighs
In the lake
As they sighed as they smiled
To each other
The lake just waved in the shape of a heart
As they kissed
a vivid tryst
Up above
As she looked
into his eyes
With desire
as he bends
so he kiss her
was it water all around them
it was set into blue fire
dancing by the rhythm of their desire
how they felt
no one knows
to Elysium
Their love grows
far behind them
in the middle
was a volcano
as it ruptures
as the lava
reach the lake
to the right and to the left
2 different worlds just collided
Short white dress
He dressed all black
As she stood
In the right
With a deer
And a horse to the left
In the sky
The jealous sky
Just described how they felt
As white clouds and darker ones
Just collided in the middle
While the sun to the right
With its heat burning up
And the moon the cold moon to the left
2 young lovers
How they felt
when they kissed
A thousands stars
Shined on them
it should be bright
they just hold tight
its just right
so all around them
Light was dim
Just 2 bottles
Of fresh water
Red of ink blue of ink
And as they kissed
into the water
Ink was spilled
And as they’re kissing
Into the water It just spreads


- Written by: Hamza Matar

This poem can be used for free as long as the name of the author is included and the author is given credit. 
www.hamzamatar.blogspot.com

May the music be a messenger - By Hamza Matar

May the music be a messenger

May the music be a messenger
on the death line lies my defender
a true man a true hero
my heart was taken by this boy
with his rifle in his hands
his weak body on the sands
determined to defend our lands
may the music carry my words
expressing my love and my fears
as my voice touches his ears
since he's gone and I'm in tears
i lost all faith but one in him
i lost all hope but to see his face
to fall in his arms to melt in his grace
our reunion would be my heaven
soon i pray it would happen.


- Written by: Hamza Matar

This poem can be used for free as long as the name of the author is included and the author is given credit.
www.Hamzamatar.blogspot.com

Psychoses - By Hamza Matar

Psychoses

Message to the world
Peace to the world
Correct me if I’m wrong
I confronted my demons
I can beat them
Be strong
Have faith
They can’t have your soul for dinner
You will have theirs as a desert
And I was wrong
With raging pride and thoughts
I followed my shade
Crying my way to the west
Shredded heart
Torn soul
Death was lurking
The end has more pride than mine


It didn’t come to me
It charmed me to go for it
And so I did
What keeps me here
Everything has fallen to pieces
There is nothing left for me
But sorrow
Everlasting autumn
So let me fall
If I have to fall
Let me fall with pride
What keeps me here
They have killed my all
They darkened my soul
They left my heart with a hole
I’ll never heal
My innocence has vanished into the night
And I’m drowning deeper and further
into the darkest most devilish place of my heart
Into hatred
Into outrage and grudge
What keeps me here
Only vengeance
But I followed my shade
And it shrank
Just beneath my feet I no longer see it
I’m lost
Should I dig
And hide my shame
It’s the end of road
Death will lurk for some more
And my pride is greater than the end
It will come to me
I’m not gonna surrender
Saved by the shade
Saved by the sun
Saved by God
What keeps me here
The last pure tiny flame of light it me
I feel it
I hear it
It calls me from the depth of my soul
Hold on to your heart
And you will find peace
This is I promise you


- Written by: Hamza Matar

This poem can be used for free as long as the name of the author is included and the author is given credit.
www.hamzamatar.blogspot.com

Only me, myself and I - By Hamza Matar


Only me, myself and I

Only me, myself and I in my insulation
At night insomniac, me my guitar and desperation
Coffees are wine… wine and coffee
Am I asleep or awake, sober or stoned?
Trapped between my guitar and my bottle made my mold
Chocked with a scream
There goes my dream
As I wondered who am I
Falling into frustration
It’s me who had it all in my hands and I let go
It’s me who ran the hills of heaven with joy and I didn’t know
And now I know
Now I know
Only me, myself and I in my insulation
In a bar full of people as I play my guitar with exhilaration
Then there she was
At the door
Chocked with words
I couldn’t sing
As she said hi
And her voice rang
In my ears
I can’t rely on my hallucinations
It’s me who had it all in my hands and I let go of it
It’s me who ran the hills of heaven with laughter and I didn’t realize it
Now I know… it was you…
It was you


- Written by: Hamza Matar

This poem can be used for free as long as the name of the author is included and the author is given credit.
www.hamzamatar.blogspot.com

Your Hand - By James Cecil

Your Hand

I tossed, restless, in the dark, deaf night.
From cool crisp sheets,
my clammy frame drenched our bed.
Your voice cut short the spiral…
“Would you like me to hold your hand”?
I was that who you touched,
I was frantic and you gave me rest.


- Written by: James Cecil

This poem can be used for free as long as the name of the author is included and the author is given credit.
If the poem is published online, please include a link to this post.

TIME IN LIFE - By Murjanatu Umar

TIME IN LIFE

it was a moonlit night
the wind murmured in the trees
these swinging trees which murmured
reminds me of life
life flows like water
it's like drying leaves sometimes

At the beginning they were fresh
beautify the trees
but sometimes old and grey
they fell and became waste
waste and dirty !waste and dirty!!
Oh!what kind of litter environment

Time is something in life
it's like lightning
which passes like a bird
the bird flew as fast as lightning
it focus on it prey
and went back to rest

the bird flushes away
on its golden feather
for she has no time to play
for reasons are many
and time is immutable
before i knew it she disappeared

she is not like the tortoise
who is ponderous
when his bird friends
borrowed him feathers
and after, deceived them with tricks.


- Written by: Murjanatu Umar

This poem can be used for free as long as the name of the author is included and the author is given credit.
If the poem is published online, please include a link to this post.

Deserted land - By Murjanatu Umar

Deserted land

She was old and gray
and never sparkles
everything fades away
like a dry desert
which blackens her
madly flying in breeze
null of bones to pet
wondering lonely in a forest
who never heard a voice
to sympathize in troop
what a barn owl
forgot her way
and when the sun smiled
she was blind
with no enemy of her's
to eat her alive.


- Written by: Murjanatu Umar

This poem can be used for free as long as the name of the author is included and the author is given credit.
If the poem is published online, please include a link to this post.

PEACOCK - By Murjanatu Umar

PEACOCK

Nene is a barn owl
who plant a crest of rainbow
thinking she is a Pharaoh
pondering as a duck
Quack!Quack!! As she laugh.


- Written by: Murjanatu Umar

This poem can be used for free as long as the name of the author is included and the author is given credit.
If the poem is published online, please include a link to this post.

Flail - By Lee Woodward

Flail

He falls in a dream, the sky rotating around his unsuspended limbs,
The clouds that rise past him do nothing to halt or delay his descent;
Even though they are figments of his imagination
could turn into helicopters, or Planes… 
birds, or abstract symbols of airborne salvation
instead they choose to retain their state 
and leave his downward journey uninterrupted.

The mountains that circle as he spirals could grow 
in stature to giant peaks of softest powder snow, 
then reach up to him, before he drops below.
But they instead stand apathetic –
tall, yet still pathetic
- and point to the midday sun,
as if to say “My dear friend, you’re going the wrong way.” 

The trees lean - their branches clatter amongst themselves to withdraw:
His fall could be broken but so could their arms,
which could then no longer hold their precious offspring 
and scatter them on to fruition.

When he falls the ground could become elastic, 
could absorb his weight and send him Skyward;
It could turn into a single emerald sheet,
With a hundred thousand cushioned bushes 
that welcome him like a newborn baby to slumber, 
unaffected, fantastic and deep.

He bears no ill will to them all, 
for they are part of his own internal nature, and life is all just a dream.
Then the earth opens up and lets him pass through 
– down past the rocks and magma. And…
There you stand at the end of all time:

Your smile catches his eye and he falls into your hands 
and your lips and your loins, and your breasts, 
that welcome him down to the place where you rest,
And still deeper, too:
Where true love envelops and encircles him,
(Because true love is you.)


- Written by: Lee Woodward

This poem can be used for free as long as the name of the author is included and the author is given credit.
If the poem is published online, please include a link to this post.
 

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