Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
 Apr 2016
Surbhi choudhary
She was not morning girl..
She started off with morning walk...
Laughing on insecurities..
Swallowing all negativities..
Swapping her priorities..
She finally changed.....

Talking herself late nights...
Following her intuitions...
Fed up of being judged...
Opting for being loved...
She finally changed...

When nothing was approprite..
When her surroundings were not thy great...
She decided to no further bound..
Getting free from all mundane....
She finally changed...
 Apr 2016
SE Reimer
~

(old beach fence)

pickets set,
once in symmetry,
straight and white...
young teeth;
now in weathered state,
discolored by
the salty spray;
rust-formed rivers
trickle down from nails,
barely tethered
to its frail frame.
in places, shifting sand,
overruns its posts,
like a winding score,
it's rhythm lagging,
holding yet its notes;
fulfilling purpose,
like an old musician,
though beaten down
by wind and storm
the music strong,
sometines pouring out
in gentle song,
oftimes belting.
out in haunting tune;
lyrics pointing,
shaking voice
still croons,
the heart still beats,
though the mind
is drifting on;
like an old,
weathered,
beach fence...
has not lost
it's relevance!

~

*post script.

in conversation with a beautiful mind, about her photo of an old beach fence.  she says, “I love the loneliness in that picture, though I'm not sure why.”  his answer just a hopeful guess, “i know why... it speaks of purpose and usefulness, despite age and state of repair; it speaks of direction, despite its apparent randomness... too oxymoron-ish to not be drawn in...”  conversation ’tween two friends, conceiving thoughts, in particular her encouraging response with these words... “You should make that into a poem! And yes, that is exactly it!" yes indeed, she is a beautiful mind, this precious, poet friend of mine!!
 Apr 2016
SE Reimer
(response to yesterday’s prompt
for national poetry month)

~

paisley in golden rod,
the only name for
a fabric this fright'ning,
remembered all too well.
by siblings one and all.
short one for little brother.
long one for a father, tall.
each has tried to forget
this, a night of infamy
gone wrong, a season's greeting
in the middle of the sixties.
when one from distant shore
thought to add to
our family this lore,
and sent as Christmas gift,
what's not on ANY child's list;
now tis burned indelibly,
etched far too deep in memory
for sure this gaffe
they thought a boon.
till disappointed children's sighs
their echoed groans
'cross living room,
this boon a bust revealed!
for whatever possessed
this he or she?
who, but pure insanity,
would conjour up this spirit
of unholy, living terror?
for this was no gift in living color;
no... this instead,
t'was the night before Christmas,
when hell incarnate
dropped in for a visit,
and dressed children six,
with a mum and their dad
in matching paisly,
pajamas of golden rod;
still a distressing memory
forever in infamy fixed!

~

post script.

yes, there are pics and there's even a home movie; six siblings are still trying to unearth and shred every copy!
 Apr 2016
Vanessa Gatley
I get soo bored
  I could cry
   Just sleep away the time
     I could be something better
    Or else with my life
       Don't wanna eat either
    That's most common for people
    To do
 Apr 2016
wordvango
might I better feel in prosody
defined by iambic pentameters
or weight of a dactyl or spondee
stress patterns or
a sequence of feet
or is my line enough
a pattern qualifying through
or is emphasis
too often stressed as following
the pattern
of the compulsory
 Apr 2016
wordvango
the  best of melodies
with short rest -
the breathe of woodwinds
air;

conductor's
control of
movements
in  space and time

in love with
the color and smell of her

the every cymbal crashes;
the contrabass echoes
deep
the heart
       beats

heights reached
are  tender sighs
orchestral
*******
 Apr 2016
wordvango
and....when the words don't come
you search
search
the bottom and the top
left to right, right?
the words not used up
the leftover crumbs
put together a meal
of morsels found
remaining
still,, when you're done
you feel hungry
still groveling the Dictionary
or Thesaurus for more?
Next page