ǀ ωιѕн ǀ ωяσтє тнαт!

Apr 2016

Pradip Chattopadhyay

sings a bird in the open
sings too a caged bird

one to forget the pain
the other to make its freedom heard.

Apr 2016

GaryFairy

I am not one to treat a beast decent
but I've fed that demon as of recent
this creature eats my peaceful pieces
with hate increased, my whole decreases

no more free meals

Apr 2016

GaryFairy

the best parts

If you were broken, and i had the parts to fix you
i would work on you both night and day
but, i'm afraid the parts that i use would mix you
and take the best parts of you away

Apr 2016

Walter W Hoelbling

who we are

when we remember
what the times have been
that made us into what
    and who
    we are today
we travel deep into our past
to hear our mother’s voice
our father’s not so friendly gripes
when we fouled up a task he gave to  us

our friends, our teachers, our loves
whose interactions shaped
who we eventually have become
while we believe that we have always been
     so independent and  autonomous

it may be worth a moment to reflect
     upon the influences
     we are inclined to casually neglect
and recognize the fact
     that we are always part
     of that great whole
     which we so desperately try
     to disavow for individuality

only to recognize a few years later
the minimal common denominator

life is a wonderful excursion into space and time
always surprising, turning on a dime,
leaving us puzzled well unto the end
always intent to look beyond
the next bend of the river …….

Apr 2016

GaryFairy

the other side of the mountain

on the other side of the mountain
where the winds are whispering
how i dream to be surrounded
by the mist of mystery

on the other side of the mountain
the water flows so shimmering
how I dream to be un-counted
sitting in the glimmering

#nature #mountains #antisocial

Apr 2016

Jim Timonere

No Selfie This

We were the defiant ones who
ripped open the envelope back when
conscience and citizenship really meant
obedience to conformity.

We broke that with reason and gave our
blood too at times so those words up there
would have their ordinary meaning not
what the suits would have us believe.

We opened doors closed so long to more than half of
us who proved not to be the weaker ***
and brought outcasts into the debate because
we finally saw and listened and acted.

And we ushered in technologies that will bring us to
the stars; some of it is in my hand and
I can picture myself in an instant, but
that isn't me I see there.  It cannot be.

That man has gray hair, and wrinkles and his
skin sags.  He looks older than I could
ever want to be or ever would achieve
because I am one of those who changed the world.

The only part of me I see in him is in his eyes
where familiar fires burn deep within, but
who will see them now in this old face?  Who
will look?  Who will care?

This is not myself I see.  It is neither the self I know
or the self I am.  I still run across the yard lines
and down the base paths.  I make love with my
Precious on warm summer nights.

I am one of the defiant ones who changed it all,
and I will never get old.

Apr 2016

ryn

A Poet's Heart

.
A poet's heart isn't like any other...
It's the tears that trickle with radiance through words.
     It's a treasure trove that hides but longs to
     be found.
          It's a book shelved high that wants to
          be read.
               It's the freest of all birds caged but
               unbound...

A poet's heart isn't like any other...
It doesn't beat to the capable strokes of the artist.
     It doesn't pump in the most vibrant of
     colours.
          It doesn't wield a paintbrush to
          translate its thoughts.
               But it can see through the eyes of
               painters...

A poet's heart isn't like any other...
It doesn't conform to the conventional parameters of lyrics.
     It doesn't bind itself to the requirements
     of musical harmony.
          It doesn't follow the conventions of
        genres.
               But it sings its voice loud without
               restrictions of melody...

A poet's heart isn't like any other...
It's an open secret, that whispers in metaphoric codes.
     It's an exploding universe, that merges
     back into galaxies.
          It's a sought after painting, that boasts
          of unfathomable beauty.
               It's an everlasting song, that echoes
               within the poet that embodies...

.
Dedicated to all of you...

If you're reading this...
This is for you...
.

#allofyou #hellopoetry107 #apoetsheart #allofus

Apr 2016

ryn

Hug

I wish for a hug...
One that lasts only mere seconds.
Yet could only mean nothing
but eternity.

I long for a hug...
One that finds me struggling,
and offers the line that'll hoist me up
so that the whims of the world
would simply fall away.

I yearn for a hug...
An embrace that grants me the briefest
moment of solace.
Amidst the clamour and chaos
that overwhelm.

I want a hug...
One that's unconditional.
One that'll just take me in, as I am.
One that wouldn't cringe
at the misfit of my bones.
One that wouldn't judge
if our heartbeats don't
thump in sync.

#hug #hellopoetry107

Apr 2016

Eddie Starr Love Poetry

Low Self-Esteem

When you put your worth, in the people that surround you.
When you put your worth in the things that you do or say.
When you put your worth in what others might say about you.
When you put your worth in what you can do for other people.
Stop , quit selling yourself like this for each of you are worthy.
Just laid down your low self-esteem and pick up Christ purpose.
For one thing that God can not do and that is make junk.
He only creates beauty and Masterpiece, so quit calling yourself junk.
For you are worthy to be appreciated and loved by others for you are Gods Masterpiece.

Mar 2016

A Lopez

You are all,my inspiring muses

Crazy
Wild and free,
Climbing the earth
In nature's tree.
Sipping the suds
From bubbly seas.
Creating love
Out of detestation's
Seethe. Scribbling
Quick the words
I know, I am the
Poet
You seek
To know.
My vibes you
Take in, from them
You grow, from you
I glow, because you
Are all
My inspiring
Muses.

Mar 2016

Jacob Traver

Snow Falls

Through the eight-paned stained glass window,
I sit and stare and ponder the snow as though
I am a single solitary flake falling slow with no
Worry of leaving the sky.

I float on air carried and ferried by wind flow
As I gently come to lie on the blank covered ground low
Below the sky stretching grey over white as a plateau
Of heavy clouds on high.

#fall #winter #window #snow #cold #air #glass #cloud #cool #falls