Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
 Sep 2022 Jen
 Sep 2022 Jen
She tried to protect the small child inside, did everything she could. Acted like a wall for his words to bounce against, accepted the blame for a behavior which was not her own. Kept her chin up and took on a smile in front of the child, so that the child would not be harmed. In order for this to be successful, no one could know the reason this child was being protected. She constantly stood behind a barrier who kept her from reaching out, all this for the child. It took her a long time to see that these barriers where broken down long ago, matter of fact they might never been there. The child was no longer a child, it was only her. Only her and no one else in reach.
 Sep 2022 Jen
It is the thing we create from within.
From the depth of our soul
Where our passion does live.
The place we seek to find the unseen,
Those things that are seen
Within our minds and our dreams,
The things that others have not yet seen.

A vision where those can gaze and be free,
By a master at play while capturing his dreams
Upon the canvas where the art lives and breathes
Away from other influence, that he may have seen.

The art does not copy the others of known.
Instead, each piece is the artist's very own.
By bracing his feet upon the ground where he stands,
The art comes from within, from the master’s own hands.
Before the onslaught of digital and its mediocre output, art was considered a treasure. Not anymore. It’s become a world of anything goes. The way of the masters lost to a sea of 0’s and 1’s: no more perfection, no more beauty with the stroke of a brush. We entered the creative world of the mundane.

To view more of my work, visit me at
 Sep 2022 Jen
vienna bombardieri
I hear the echoes of yesterday's callings
like a soft longing from a long ago ghost
The emerald forest of my youth re-appears
at the sight of a midnight cadence;
Mystical night dreams reiterate  
like an incantation from long ago,
Forgotten Sepulchers...
Tunnels of earth wind and fire burn my desire
once again, as I perch onto the matrix of solid bark
the silence is almost deafening'  
I hear the fairies call with their gentry of good will,
"we guiders of soul have come to take you home"
and as I walk through their fragrant gate,  
I know from my heart of hearts, that I belong here  
In their forest of dreams .
 Jul 2022 Jen
Stu Harley
one drumbeat
a time
supply me
all the
Early morning view
The city is still asleep
Most people not awake yet...
Blushing colors in the east
Promise of golden sunrise
to be born soon.

Shell ✨🐚
Early morning view
 Jul 2022 Jen
Kurt Philip Behm
The artist
must ****** the spark
while avoiding the flame

Never surrendering
to the heat
as light’s wonder calls his name

A flashing
of transcendence
escaping the warden of imprisoned time

Where the gold is buried deep
and hidden
—in mysteries still to mine

(State College Pennsylvania: October, 1977)
 Jul 2022 Jen
Carlo C Gomez
Come and stay with me
in Hammerfest

A compact town
a compact love

The harbor and your heart
within walking distance of each other

White night
civil twilight

A disc rather than a point

Where the multiple exposure
of your first day smile
never subsides

 Jul 2022 Jen
 Jul 2022 Jen
She did not let the shadows win.
She remembered who she was
and wore the vibrant stars at night.
She gave her heart consent to heal and held hope within her hands.
 Jul 2022 Jen
Glenn Currier
 Jul 2022 Jen
Glenn Currier
This terrain is unfamiliar
long vistas of green and golden fields
and to the side dark ravines
quicken alertness and care
to avoid hollow fruitless depths.

A gathering of souls
beckons me back to be among them
to tell of my journey, my vision.

But I carry with me shades of the ravine
attached as doubt.
Someone told me to be myself.
An odd order,
for who else could I be?

just about the time I think I know
my self
it is eroded by swift waters
sweeping by and into me.
Next page