Robert Zanfad
Robert Zanfad
Jan 14, 2010

Desperate these words,                          
Chasing fleeting shadow,                      
Echoes flocking like birds                
Amid myriad distortions,
The unquiet mind's sorrow.                
In birth chosen for sweetness,                    
A bid for attentions of one                        
Soon fade mere whispers,                        
Weak and defeated tomorrow,                
Exhaled anguish unheard.                        
Written lines would have best
Been spoken in ears years ago
'Ere time flowed its course,
When ever softer verse
Might shimmer
Then a symphony,
Maybe able
To drown life's other sounds
Like Mozart, loud as one can turn up.
Would there be any remedy
Which relieves burdens of memory...
The music of dulcet strings
Does dull stings, still only temporary;
And since abandoned,
Thoughts of more ultimate things.
So still, some poet's quill
Crafts dreams into sparrows,
Sets fluttering free
Their unnatural wings
To sing a song of regret,
Share madness with the winds.

I'm crafting a miracle
Pamela Rae
Pamela Rae
Nov 12, 2014

I'm crafting a miracle
Just working my fingers to the bone
trying to make sure
that I never feel all alone
I reach out as much as I can
and try to help those
I see in need--
I share whatever I can find to give
and refuse to give into greed--
I smile and hug and send good vibes
to so many folks
along my way--
and oh, another thing--
I'm always thankful for
each and every day--
so, where is this miracle?
you might wonder within your inquiring mind--
Why, this miracle is that I wake up each day
with the will and determination to find
a way to make each day I receive
a gift to not just myself,
but to others too--
and this miracle branches out to be
that I am still here
writing this to each of you...

#life   #need   #alone   #help   #working   #thankful   #greed   #determination   #miracle   #reach  
Kriti Gupta
Kriti Gupta
Jun 23, 2014

It's a night of poetic prowess
Tape over unresolved discussions
Don't go throwing another in the deep end
As the life preserver is already flat
The atmosphere has lost its beauty
And misconceptions
Filled with hope
Become my dividing force

this doesn't even make sense
story of my life

Enter thy come and take your place
No blade will forsaken your face
When the moon has bled
The sun has fled

The father shall bleed
While the son shall flee
Stand on and keep thy paste
Stop moving and thoust be erased

Steel, Fire, Ice, Thunder
This sword been built for smoulder
Hands crumble of blisters
Soul full of cleansers

Thy crafted blade made whole
Thy blade legend be in scroll
Blade coated within strychnine
Behold thy master design  

This blade crafted for revenge
Thy uses it for only purifying
No need for revenge
For karma has been healing!

Crafting good poetry in *distinction*;
βέƦẙḽ Dṏṽ the Smartass Rabbi

Crafting good poetry in distinction;
scribbling bad poetry is distraction.

Your hands for crafting,
Zara Noury
Zara Noury
Aug 19, 2014

I looked at you
The way an artist
Would look at a naked woman.
Your bottom lip was designed
For kissing,
Your hands for crafting,
And there was a picture in every moment
I have shared with you.

I saw that we fit together
So very perfectly,
But the subjective camera
Was only me.


He wanted it to be perfect,
for the words to fit together
like a well-oiled…
scratch that…
he’d heard that some Muslim women
(in Turkey or were they Moors?)
purposely wove a mistake
into their intricate tapestries
because only God is perfect
and they were right of course,
but he felt perfect just now
sitting still, warm
in a buck-fifty’s worth
of sunshine.

Copyright Andrew M. Bell. Acknowledgement is made to Valley Micropress in which this poem first appeared in Volume 12, Issue #7, September 2009. Also appears in my poetry collection, "Clawed Rains".
Cutting and crafting language,
hedonistic sentience

The flicker of hands,
Cutting and crafting language,
Working their magic.

crafting your thoughts, unfragmented
Nov 28, 2011

crafting your thoughts, unfragmented
into the perfect illustration
of the fervor in your head
is what keeps

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