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 Mar 2017
wordvango
it is a wonderful world
out there somewhere
where brethren plead
for love and peace again
and woodstock rises it's head above
Manson
where corporate greed
individualism
can be not replaced
but added to by societal caring
where the
farmers have enough to share
the workers are well rewarded
the banks feel empathy
and government is us
where the times have changed Bob
to where no one among us not the poorest
goes without
where the wealthy
keep their
mansions
porches and yachts
their mar-a-lagos
but have hearts , too.
In any swing a long way one way
comes the other way around eventually
and I see
from this hard right way up narcissismic and me
pendulum
a hard swing back to peace signs
a rebound in flower covered
VW buses and
sit-ins
and flowers
in guns.
 Mar 2017
Lazhar Bouazzi
Across the leaden sky
A gull shooting a cry,
Hastens to his final task
Before the sky puts on his mask.

No one knew what his final task was
Except that his time drew to a pause
And that he had to hasten because
From the open he had to retreat.

This the bird knew, but he was wayward;
He swam in the airy waves, beak forward,
Skating-flying, but always eastward,
Heedless of the dark - like a poet.

©LazharBouazzi, 2017
 Mar 2017
Pagan Paul
.
Slip your arm around him and smile,
tell her that she has beautiful style,
bring love and friendship to them all,
then stand back and watch them fall.

Shower compliments from way up high,
be with them all to laugh and cry,
share their pain and share their lives,
whilst in the darkness sharpening knives.

For rumours, and cursed words you weave,
behind the scenes, intent to deceive,
to bring them crashing to their knees,
and conquer that which has you displeased.

Then laugh until it hurts, somehow,
the means may have justified the ends,
but take a good look around you now,
you no longer have any more friends.

© Pagan Paul (25/03/17)
.
I was going to call this Ingratiate and Conquer.
I changed my mind.
PPx
.
 Mar 2017
Jonathan Witte
Nine years and still
we cradle our grief
carefully close,
like groceries
in paper bags.

Eventually the milk
will make its way
into the refrigerator;
the canned goods
will find their home
on pantry shelves.

Most things find
their proper place.

Eventually the hummingbirds
will ricochet against scorched air,
their delicate beaks stabbing
like needles into the feeder filled
with red nectar on the back porch.

Eventually our child
will make her way
back to us. Perhaps.

But I’ve heard
that shooting
****** feels
like being
buried under
an avalanche
of cotton *****.

For now it’s another
week, another month,
another trip to Safeway.

We drive home and wonder
why it is always snowing.
Behind a curtain of snow,
brake lights pulse, turning
the color of cotton candy,
dissolving into ghosts.

And with each turn,
the groceries shift
in the seat behind us.
From the spot where
our daughter used to sit,
there is a rustling sound—

a murmur of words
crossed off yet another list,
a language we’ve budgeted
for but cannot afford to hear.
 Mar 2017
Colm
My memories are not special
They are not unique
But they are mine

And though imperfect
They're all that I have
To reference these more confusing times

And after I’ve lived them once or twice
I store them away within my mind

Not just for me
But also for you

So that one day you can look back and see
All that it once meant to be
Alive within the eyes of Me
Generally speaking. Please know that if you're reading this. Liking this. Sharing this. Or just generally following me here on HP. I'm thankful for your kindness. For your input. For your thumbs up and considerate comments. It does mean a lot to me. Even though I don't say it nearly enough.

(:

Thank you!
 Mar 2017
South-by-Southwest
I woke up this morning
In the middle of the night
Saying to myself
such a dandy plight

Every thorn has it's rose
Every brier patch it's hare
Every Monday has it's shame
for the weekend it bares

You can buy salvation
for a dollar a shot
During happy hour
So much redemption why stop ?

All the glasses
in a row
Why they call them shots
I already know

Every thorn has it's rose
Every brier patch it's hare
Desolation is one after another
Until you just don't care
 Mar 2017
hazem al jaber
My queen...





O my sweet dear queen...

to you i am writing...

my pen penning my feelings to you...

trying to let you know how much i miss you...



my queen...

wish you know, how much feelings i hold inside...

wish you feel my honest love which i keep into my heart...

wish you know, how i feel just when i see you...

O my queen...

wish you know...

no one lived into my hearts' land...

no one has a rights to think about...

no one lived into my dreams...

no one shared me my loneliness...

no one touched the sensitive part into my heart...

only you...

the only one who owned the mind and the heart...

owned my heart...

and become my queen...



O my queen...

sweet lovely queen...

please come be more close to me...

come and look into my eyes...

come and see the frame into my eyes...

its your picture into that frame...

drew into there from a long age...

and written around your picture...

i love you...



O my queen...

to you i am writing a meanings embodied by my soul...

and written through my breathes...

and sent to you through my longings' breeze...

chose you and called you...

to house forever your heart...



my sweet lovely queen...

my beautiful amazing tune...

and the address to my life...

you are my world which i always dive in...



from my missing seas...

sending you my perfumed warm lovely longings...

reminding you...

about this love...

about your lover...

that lover who holds you always into his heart...



dears lovely readers...

did you know now, who is my queen...

who is my sweetheart...



tomorrow or after tomorrow...

she will talk by herself to you all...

to tell you about her lover...

about me...


by :  hazem al jaber ...
People enter your life
For a reason,
A season,
Or a lifetime!

By Lady R.F (c) 1999 - 2017
A quote I wrote
many, many years ago!
An innocent pure-white heart
does not see manipulation coming
from a distance,

It does not imagine such hurtful things
in its gentle empathetic existence.

It does not see the dark evil monsters
behind their masks--in disguise,

It does not recognise the difference
between genuine truth and shifty ***** lies.

By Lady R.F (c) 2017
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