W o r d s - Hello Poetry

Sep 2016

Joel M Frye

The power of music
and friendship
heals dead connections;
a well-meaning member
of a jam session
offers me a guitar.
I politely decline,
embarrassed by my disability,
and they shrug. Your choice.
The familiar curves
beneath my arm
like a woman
from my past,
my amnesiac left hand
reaches for the
muscle memory
of fifty years' practice.
After an agonizing minute,
the G chord miraculously plays,
as I played it at five,
the three big fingers alone
strong enough to hold it.
The switch to C impossible;
so I play a variation.
Doesn't sound bad with the group.
My God, I might play a D7
by the next time it comes around
in the song.
The gang is playing old standards,
Ohio State music;
three chords and a cloud of dust,
which suits my present skill(?) well.
I almost cried when a few tunes later,
we sang A Horse With No Name
to my accompaniment.

Beethoven was deaf, yet heard the Ode To Joy.
Hawking is paralyzed, and travels the universe.
I have three good fingers,
and no good excuses.

Sep 2016

jane taylor

i long for autumn

hints of auburn drift creating a soft cadence against the autumn wind
almost heard in lieu 'tis felt somehow awakening souls buried long ago
giving birth to falling crimson leaves tinged with maroon and gold
abandoned dusty roads transform under enchanting spells cast by fall

burnt orange pumpkins standing solitary on wooden porches threaten to reveal
hidden secrets held by dusk’s luscious cinnamon seasoned air
once fulgent sunflowers begin to slumber softly beneath the harvest moon
whilst autumn’s trance brushes all it touches with honey colored hues

i stand pensive as an amber leaf gently twirling falls to the ground
bewitched by thine supernatural powers; thine gifted artist’s hand
who with one stroke turns to butter amber all that once was forest green
and imbues my soul with thine exalted essence forever ripening

©2016janetaylor

Jul 2016

Janae Marie

Moving Mountains

She's a garden of gentle strength,
raised from rose gardens,
raised from fields.

She mutters soft words that move mountains
and hums songs that mold hearts.
She's a girl that cannot be held for too long,
who changes the world with a kiss,
with a stare.

How can she, peppered with scars,
followed by night, be so warm?
And perhaps her skin isn't soft for what would that do in war?
And her nails are clipped short
But she has never frozen, never ran cold in her hot veins.

A girl from wisdom, feet planted in the dirt:
dainty, soft; powerful, strong.

#girl #beauty #woman #strong #powerful #gentle

Jun 2016

Melissa S

Man in the Diner

He held himself with a somber sadness
His massive shoulders sagged to the floor
As if something at his center had just given up
Perhaps life dealt him a bad deck of cards
or perhaps he had just got some very bad news
That is when I noticed the picture at the table
Sitting at his right in his favorite corner booth
was an old picture of a very lovely woman
Come to find out later this was his beloved wife
They were married for 55 wonderful years
She passed away in 2009 but that did not stop him
He still dines with her every day
and kisses her picture every night
He talks to this picture like she is right there with him
Now that is true love my friends <3 <3

After seeing this picture was just drawn to write a little something. If you are interested in the picture and the story behind this poem click on this link http://www.foxnews.com/leisure/2014/10/29/photos-elderly-man-eating-lunch-with-picture-deceased-wife-goes-viral/

** True love does not worry about the distance between, for the heart and soul travels through one’s words ~ author unknown **

Jun 2016

SøułSurvivør

~~<♡ unconditional ♡>~~

there are some out there
who have never felt

~~< truly loved >~~

i know that i feel like
that at times

i feel like a motherless child

unloved
unappreciated
unhappy

---[ needy ]---

if you feel this way
please know that i can
RELATE

that's why it is my
constant prayer
that i can

===《love unconditionally》===

no matter who it is
or how i've been
treated in the past

"love thy enemy"

if you love your friends only
how can that help the world?
****** and Stalin
probably did the same

i had a realization long ago
(after accepting Christ in my heart)

we have a hairbreadth of time
on this earth
you never really know a person's history
how they've been hurt

~~< perhaps they hurt just like you >~~

they may be bitter
cynical
vengeful
wrathful

LASHING OUT

have you ever felt that way before?
perhaps you can control your
emotions more successfully

maybe they feel UNLOVED and can't handle it

maybe
just maybe
they have a

TERRIBLE ETERNAL DESTINY!

don't you think they need some

~~< love & compassion >~~

TOO?

♡ Catherine ♡

#love #truth #life #god #way #jesus #acceptance #enemy #irony #christ

Jun 2016

Rogers Enemugwem

Love

It all began with Love.

Love beheld our frame;
He looked upon our wretchedness and saw beauty.
He looked upon the hatred in our hearts,
And saw Love.

Said Love, "I will shower my affection upon my beloved";
Then Love gave
His most treasured possession
—His only Son.

So Love humbled Himself;
He minded not the frailty of our frame,
Nor the vainness of our nature.
But He robed Himself in flesh,
And came.

Love sent not an angel,
No, not even a cherub or seraph did He delegate.
He sent the best resource there ever was;
He came Himself.

Then Love took our hurt,
suffered our pain,
experienced our rejection,
endured our death on the Cross,
and paid for our sins.

So Love repaired the breach,
and atoned for our misdeeds;
Himself the Sacrifice,
and Himself the Priest.

Love broke our chains,
that we may experience the Father's Love
—undying, unbridled, and unrestrained.

Then Love returned in the Person of the Holy Spirit;
and Love stayed.
Love taught,
and Love played.

Love sought,
and Love found;
Here is Love
— Love Unbound.

By Rogers "@BroRogers" Enemugwem

#love #god #father #salvation #holy #spirit #jesus

Jun 2016

Valsa George

When Poetry Haunted Me

Sudden was the descent of poetry on me
I tottered under its weight
My body heated up like the sun
A frying egg yolk on the pan
My blood started burning…. burning
A strange madness crept across my senses
Intoxicated as by an excess dose of ale
Or drunk with the vintage wine
Or by some mystical disengagement
I started levitating
Wings sprouted up suddenly on my sides
I reeled round and round
Flew up and up
Meteors flashed past
Stars blinked
Larger celestial bodies stood still
Strange sounds fleeted past my ears
My heart palpitated,
Like the rumblings of thunder
My eyes glowed like fire *****

A shout I heard afar
Over the heavens’ mysterious rim
Muffled though, I could decipher it;
“Welcome to the clan of poets”!
Around me, I saw multitudes of poets
Young and old, their faces blazing
Like a thousand lanterns lit
In that blinding brilliance
My filmy wings burnt outright!

Like Icarus, from the heights
I flopped down to the chasm below
In the scattered heap of flesh and bones
A faint stir …..
…………………..
The feeble flutter of a poetic heart
Before it was finally stilled!!

This is how I feel now....... in the blinding brilliance of poetic talents I see here, my wings are burnt !

Jun 2016

Ree Bunch

I'm Not Designed To

Fall straight in line-
I make my
definition of normal!

Being different just means I'm unique

Apr 2016

Daniel Ospina

The Rain Knows Better

Some take cover from the rain,
But I know better.
I let it cleanse my
Grime-encrusted skin,
Layers upon layers of sin.
I’ve tried to occult my faults,
But the rain knows better,
For it penetrates my guise with
Surprising ease, disarming me.
Bare skin exposed and I quiver
As eyes examine every sliver
Of who I am.
Soaked body with nature’s balm
Glistens when a ray of sunlight
Splits the gray clouds, as if
Assuring me redemption.
Some retreat when gray clouds approach,
But I know better.
My character, tempest-tossed,
Scintillates when the sun comes out.

Apr 2016

Sally A Bayan

A THOUSAND DEATHS

Every death
I have felt, or known,
In silence, i mourn,
Within my breath...

No words come upfront
Just thoughts, preponderant...

I'd feel the freezing cold of an empty space
Feel the absence...clearly imagine a lost face
No smiles, spanning from cheek to cheek
Eyes, seek answers...
suddenly, I'm there by the shallow water of the creek
While some nearby creatures quietly chirp...and squeak
While I......... I could not even speak...

Living,
Is realizing...and accepting
At the right time, they turn brown, the weeds...and reeds,
But, under the water...waiting, growing...are their seeds
Brown ferns...are almost detached from a mossy concrete wall
With a strong current, and wind, they'd be carried...ready to fall

The driftwood lying by the shore...is always wet, but petrified
Brown fallen leaves, on the green grass...no more hold...crisp and dried,
The dead bark of a tree...in pieces...are crumbling...
Merging with the wet earth...in a process of fertilizing
Deep down under ....a fresh spark of life is starting.
All these, remind,
Life and death stand side by side,
That in the midst of death-
Something new is birthed...
When faced with death,
there is always someone's living breath
And, as long as the heart wills to beat
Then, life.....will still exist.

Hundreds, or a thousand times,
We all have died
In the high and low of life's tides,
Physically,
Emotionally.

We remember
Those who have left
Those who have survived..are still around
We think of those who are next to leave,
Waiting for their chests' final heave

---And then, we think of ourselves---

Worry not of our own time
Make each of our remaining days
Be golden, beaming, and bright
With good deeds, and straight pathways

The earth is a moving circle
It makes a round.......as it spins
We try to live outwards....and then, within
Any way we live it...life is an endless cycle.

Sally

Copyright March 23, 2016
Rosalia Rosario A. Bayan

***A HAPPY EASTER TO EVERYONE!!! ***

#*** #cycle #circle #thousand #deaths