Birds rush and are busy
Breaking the days, laden
Twigs have broken, landed,
White clouds sail in breeze,
Sun has spilt, over gleamed
Gold on crest fallen, blue mountain,
Leaves lay with browned, under
Grown green matted grasses—
Whispers of spring.

Every cause has an effect
And for every action, a reaction
Risk may yield reward
And so I risk my life for you.

Trending,
it's like bending light
you write a poem
sometimes you get it right,
and the other times you struggle on,wondering
where the rhyme went wrong
I get along alright
I hit,I miss but that's okay,I know there'll be another day,another write and one more losing of the night,
bending light is trending right?

I squint  just right
And capture a memory almost forgotten
Jars of fruit and honey fresh from hives
Filling shelves in old smokehouse
Home-made butter and molasses
In her kitchen
Waiting to smother
Biscuits warming
On black cast iron wood-stove
Boxes of buttons
An old cameo
Split wood in corner
Old sleepy dog on porch
The house on the hill
Where Mom's Granny rocked

r ~ 16Feb14

There he lay, snuggled only by a puddle of discomfort.
Held in impropriety, drowned in drink, not really drunk.
Chap without even a comely smile.
His lights are on, but there's nobody home.
Watching seconds, as they drift, finding meaning in minutes as they zoom past.
Wondering if his next breath is his last.
Struggling a last **** on his stale cigarette.
Gap between fingers two and three wrapped in toxic nicotine.
Burberry flat cap, left open at his right hand, fishing for coins as they pass.

Night falls again.
Tugs himself up, discarding his ****.
Brushes self off.
Third time this week he weren't moved on.
Nodded acknowledgement to passing old bill, as he wanders, towards home at the top of the hill.
(C) Livvi x 2014

A part of me always wanted to believe
That one day we could be friends
The good kind
When we'd talk on the phone
Go on lunch dates to chat about nothing
Help each other when we were in need
It's unfortunate
And crazy
How much one can be so wrong about a person
I was incorrect about you
We can't ever be friends
Your motives always seem to be rooted in something
That most certainly is not love

He kissed the ocean's surface,
sent his love right out to sea,
because his lover left him
in the heart of Italy.

Oh what a glorious thing
my daughter gave me a dead rose
just for this day, that 14th
she had no way of knowing my plan

As the world spins with it's manic occupants
I take that rose and wish to die
you truly would have no idea
how angels of war hate you

Yet my honour and wings are true
and do deny me to make havoc on you
dark skies I could empower
yet for the gift of a dead red rose


By Christos Andreas Kourtis aka NeonSolaris

Faces, shiny faces
in a shiny magazine.
Face of a gypsy girl,
the face of a queen.
Face of a princess
regal and fair.
Face of a rich girl
caught in the glare.
Face of a film star
captured in a dream.
Face of a model with
skin smoothing cream.
Faces on beaches
soaking up the sun.
Face of a beauty with
the potential to stun.
Faces draped with jewellery
and make-up to ****.
Alluring expressions
intended to thrill.
Observe ****** glamour,
young fresh and bright.
Drown in the images
reflecting your delight.
Absorb the pretty faces
of perfect colour tone.
Identity assimilation
won't leave you alone.
Forever trapped by faces
in a faceless prison.
Individuality lost in
a nightmare vision.
Faces commanding
the commodities of life.
The looting of pockets
both legal and rife.
Faces of power corrupted
through and through.
Keep checking out the faces
who are checking up on you.

© Paul Chafer 2014