Wordsworth Ave. - Hello Poetry

Jul 2018

Traveler

Pawns, expendable pawns
Black and white squares, we move upon
Dreams, lost in a garden of dreams
Invisible hands guide our teams

Heaven bound angels we turn
Fall to the ground we burn
Run, run to the mountain of lies
Our righteousness is our disguise

Devastation and heartache, our path
The unavoidable crash, karmic wrath
Yet somehow we find love in vain
In one brief moment we leave our stain

Truth revealed in fever dreams
Guilty feelings waking hours bring
What does it mean we ask ourselves
Storing hope upon dusty shelves

In the silence between our laughter
I have heard the voice of stars
Deities banished to wayward heavens
Sentenced to observe us from afar

Behold the whispers that makes us dream
Countless eyes that see everything
Forbidden to touch, to reach and feel
Enviously awaiting with intention revealed

Traveler Tim

Jul 2018

Akira Chinen

...

she turns black thread
into silk verse
and writes poetry
with every sway of her hips
and the words linger
in the movement of a dream
and even the moon
can’t wear the night
as beautifully
as she wears that dress

Jul 2018

Pagan Paul

All In The Mind

.
Thrown into an event,
temptation wearing a smile,
as you fall into the void
behind my pale blue eyes,
a willing traveller
through gateways of adventure.

And you stumble through
to mystery, unknowable puzzles,
a Pandora's box of imagery,
bound and enslaved,
to dream, reality, memory,
bedecked with lucid hallucination.

The intensely dark and hollow,
the bright lights hot shine,
all swirl in symbiosis,
dazzling and confusing your view,
assaulting your quiet feelings
with butterflies and nausea.

And you sink enthralled,
appalled, intoxicated,
as thoughts, desires, pictures,
flash before your eyes unbidden,
products of inertia
from the depths of my mind.

© Pagan Paul (02/07/18)

.
Someone once said they'd like to take a peek into my bi-polar psychedelic washing machine mind.
Despite the Govt. Health Warning and exclusion zone.
But ... if I am the guide, then the journey begins ... are you scared?
.

#poetry #mind #bipolar #psychedelicwashingmachinemind #guide

Jul 2018

Kate Rebecca Hopwood

Taste of blueberries

Wild or highbush
Connect to thee
Indigo berry
Yes I see
Taste
Fully

Balance

Between

Jun 2018

Edmund black

Restless Poetic Mind

In some crazy way
like  being loved
Poetry  gives me
Strength and
Motivation
at times it’s
all I  have
It’s where
I escaped
It’s Where I
feel right at home
my happy
state of mind
Where I take
my mental
Essence to
a higher plateau
Where words
becomes Arts
Never ceased
to amazed
Let the ink
dance  with
my mind
Tango enlightenment
Impossible to avoid
ink splattered
all over
my thoughts
It’s like swimming
In the Black Sea
with full consent
into a black hole
Impossible to
let go
Orientation put
me into a dazed
But not for long
anticipating
memory fades
Ruined  expressions
like mind on fire
seeking for the  river
Put words together
analyzed all
the dance strides
my ink had taken
Scrutinized
what It all means
and make sense
      of it all
Nevertheless
keep my insanity
Is The duel
being  fought
Enduringly
into the abyss of
The poetic  mind

Sometimes even when I’m not trying to think About what to write , without notice without warning words starts popping inside my head to a point at times I may have to stop whatever it is that I’m doing to write it down before it disappears for ever ... not an easy task but it’s what I love doing ;)

Jun 2018

Lawrence Hall

Road Breakfast

Road Breakfast

Greasy spoons are a little too clean these days
After the sweet incense of cigarette smoke
Was purged by a Vatican II of health
Along with the morning paper. It’s all

Plastic tablets and gourmet coffees now
Multi-colored packets of chemicals
Flatware in little cellophane envelopes
Bright cartoon tees instead of stained work shirts

Cross-trainers where muddy boots used to rest -
Greasy spoons are just too d**d clean these days

Jun 2018

Lady RF - Rosalie Fayad

⚘ Bird In A Cage.⚘

Broken,
Is her spirit,
Her wings
Are without feathers...

For decades she sat
On a brittle thorny perch
Bound by rope
And heavily chained
Tethers.

Every step,
She was walking on eggshells...
For, she was doomed
By the evil, selfish and wicked
At heart.

Not in the name of love,
But for fulfilment
Of cruel, greedy obsessions -
For such selfishness
Her soul was torn,
Tainted and pulled apart.

She once flew
As high as the heavens,
Now, A stranger,
She is to herself.

Her cage is now left open,
It is, but for her fears,
That she remains perched
Like an old book on a dusty shelf.

Mentally, she still flys
To the highest of heights
And dives deep, inward,
Into her own psychological abyss ...
But sometimes she finds her internal universes to be too draining,
Making such journeys
Mentally and physically
Too hard.

She is no longer
In restraining tethers...
But scarred.

By Lady R.F. (C) 2018.

Jun 2018

Brianna Love -aka Stormy Angel

Midnight

Beauty
        comes
                at
                  Midnight
                         as
                           hopes
                                 and
                                     dreams
                                              take
                                             flight
                                       peaceful
                                 feelings
                                      of
                              safety
                          and
                      love
                guild
          through
                 morning
                            light.......

Dream Sweet!!!