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 Jul 2017
Nishu Mathur
Don't judge me by my looks
And don't read me by the books
I am brash and I am kind
I am hard to define
I am bold. I am shy
I am grounded, but I fly
I love, and I give
I cradle, I forgive
Though soft I may feel
I am thunder, I am steel
I am smiles and I am laughter
I am happily ever after
I am tears and I am ache
I am a mess when I break
I hold tightly, but I know
When it's time to let go
I am dove, I am hawk
I am the rose and the rock
I am rain. I am sun
I am I. I am woman

Thank you all so much **
Dearest everyone, thank you so much for your likes, loves, reposts.  Thank you so much for all your wonderful and encouraging responses. This is a small,  simple poem and I wasn't certainly expecting all the attention it has received. I am grateful to all of you talented poets and readers. I am so happy that it was chosen as a daily - it's a wonderful feeling. Love to all.

I am also very thankful to Conrad Druger van den Bergh, an excellent poet and wonderful friend who inspired this x
 Nov 2016
Martin Palatický
Sitting under the tree
Smelling of a fresh mowed grass
Running along the river
I can hear the wind blowing
behind my ears
Listening to the Coltrane every
morning when I wake up
those are the pleasures
of my life, I thought.
Thought  boat has finally
set the fine course
Thought I've
reached it.

Still there is a lone bird
chirping deep inside.
Singing a new song
every time
I forget.

I think it's fine that
he is down there
I really don't know
what my life
would be
without him.
Don’t come to the cemetery at night Peter Xalxo would say
If you are so inclined make your visits in the day
For often in the evening when exam worries were gone
I would go to the cemetery and sit on some tombstone.

I think boy the ones from the other world make visits at nights
And they would not love to find living souls upon their sights
Why intrude their peaceful home and not leave them there alone
When the time after the sunset they think to exclusively own!

Having said this with a grave face he would lower his voice still low
While on nightly posts at the graves I’ve seen in the dark some glow
And at moonlit nights on duty’s round heard footsteps around me
I would advise boy not to step into at night at the cemetery.

He used to tell more such tales to instill in the boy some fear
But come the next evening and at the cemetery I would reappear
For I loved the moon bathed solitude the trees’ darkened shed
The tranquility of the place in quiet company of the dead!

All said I wouldn’t leave out in this account one truthful fact
Uncle Peter’s stories had some effect some impact
They colored my times at the cemetery spent at nights alone
I seemed to feel they were moving the graves’ marble stone.

Then one night as I was coming out around nine o’clock
To my horror found the gate closed with an iron lock
Bewildered I stood there knowing no other ways to go
When there appeared a shadow heard the voice of Peter Xalxo.

I told you boy not to loiter here not disturb their peace of night
This ground here the dead walks now though beyond your sight
Run home and never come back
his voice in whisper talked
Some more words he mumbled before got the gate unlocked.

That night at the dinner table my father told mom this
He was such a good man and a great friend to miss
But God only decides in his garden which flower to pluck
Peter Xalxo died this evening suffered a heart attack.
A repost on Halloween.
 Nov 2016
I crawl the floor

Collecting broken glass

To protect feet of those who do not know

Do not care

Whilst rejecting offers of company

As music moves the floor.


When all is quiet

I enter the night

To walk along roads alone.

A bogeyman of myth

Stalks these streets

It's ok

For I am not the prey he seeks

I am not the prey he seeks.
 Oct 2016
Rainey Birthwright
Patches of grass spot the hill,
Interspersed are old stones
Wind blown, like bones
Buried deep in the sun.

Wildflowers are crowding
There too, scorching bloom
In desolation, windy blown,
Sacred as any high tomb.

Crows circle above, waiting
For new soiled dreams to end,
I watch them from a shy window
Cold as the hill stones, remaining.
 Oct 2016
The Dedpoet
Bottom feeder.
He looms under tables
Awaiting sloppy eaters.

At midnight
Scurrying about
With buddies in tow.

Fast paced,
Head too small for his body,
Sneaky fella.

In the kitchens
Of single men,
He feasts.

Hidden from the world
He speaks secretly,
Awaiting midnight snackers.
 Oct 2016
Each day I ****, on a Whiskey bottle
As my life, also does **** on me
My worth on earth, about as much
As my **** is, to the sea

Inside this swashing jug, a raging sea
Sets me adrift, atop a cresting wave
Then pulls me under to such depths
That my soul, I can no longer save

With each gulp, I stir the bowels
Arouse the sediment and silt
And as it settles, I hope it hides
Or at least, obscures my gilt

Every mouthful, flays my throat
Like waves, they break into the rocks
Smashing, spraying, then dissipating
Where the Devil stands and mocks

I drink until, my mind goes blank
Then plunge into the floor
At last, a drunken blissful peace
Until I wake, once more

So as I lay here, on this deck
Inebriated, dying in this flask
I think of you and what we had
If forgiveness, I could only ask
 Oct 2016
Valsa George
Somewhere in a strange land
An unknown heart throbs for me
      Etching an amorous graffiti
On the blank walls of my mind
Where ever I am, I feel a pair of eyes
Fondly surveying and scanning me,
Speaking to me in silence
And keeps me awake in the night
I feel it all, I hear it all
Filling me with a sweet ache!

When night birds croon in the woods
And their mates answer the serenade,
When the moon begins her somnambulistic walk
And light beams percolate through pine needles,
When a hundred eyes open in the blue heights
To watch over the sleeping Earth,
When the whistle of a train is heard far away
And its music wanes into a monotonous drone,
When the rooster makes his first clarion call
Breaking the serene silence of the night,
When glow worms float in darkness
Like cruise ships over the sea,
When night gales shake the slender coniferous trees
And wind whistles among their leaves,
When sailing clouds blind the stars
And the night turns into an ebony shade,
When the opening Jasmine secretly exults
In her own exotic scent,

Sitting in my dimly lighted room
      I draft this message of love
      Pouring all my warmth into it
      Thus emptying my love laden heart
That blazes with the fire of love
And encode it in cryptic script
      To be mailed to you, my love!

Oh, it might take much time
Better it be a whispered endearment
Sent through this perfumed night breeze
That shall carry it from this end to that end

So kindly leave
your window open!
 Sep 2016
Elizabeth Squires
there's a definite skill in tugging strings
marionette controllers understand these things*
cords of manipulation pulled left and right
to keep each puppet working for his might

a deftness of tasking beyond compare
this capability he'll show with much dare
an accent always being on the wire's desire
as to how he'd like his wooden figures to fire

we marvel at the maestro's astute vigour
in employing his expert's toggling rigour
commanding all the dolls by ace orchestration
*he's a supreme professional of the vocation
 Sep 2016
Melissa S
Can't you just listen
Please for once
I know God gave you ears
I know you can hear
but it is so much *more
than that
Please just *listen

To the sound of my voice
Take in the words
that I am saying

Uh uhhh
Stop right there
Can't you see I am hurting
Do you not see the pain
You do not have to fix me
Sometimes you just cannot
Please just hold my hand
Hug me
*Hurt with me
Sometimes there is nothing you can do for a person except
Pray for them ~ hurt with them <3
 Sep 2016
****** charm
an   elegance and   a
myst  ery which she   uses
        to your harm.  
             she is lithe    
       and supple
  attracts men
in swarms. but
she has a heart of
marble. so you'd
best stay calm
she taunts you      
and she   haunts            
you. she  will make        
alarms...  but she
  cannot hold you
        because she
             ♡has no♡

(C) 9/23/2016
it's been a long hard day
so I'm relaxing with creating some concrete poetry. It is supposed to be the shape of the actual statue of Venus de Milo.

i hope this comes out!

evenings are the only time I can read
or write anymore. I'm not ignoring
my responses here... i simply
don't have time! I'm sorry!

♡♡♡LOVE YOU ALL!!!♡♡♡

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