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 Aug 2014
WendyStarry Eyes
It used to be Grandma's yard now it's heaven


*SANCTUARY TO ME IS A PLACE OF PEACE WHERE I CAN BE FREE
 Aug 2014
Amitav Radiance
Let the sun rise everyday in your heart
And dream a beautiful thought at night
After the darkest hour you can see light
Beautiful heart rules even after you depart
 Aug 2014
Joseph Schneider
Why do bad things happen to good people?
Because good people can grow from it.

-Joseph B Schneider
© Joseph B Schneider. All rights reserved
 Aug 2014
Sally A Bayan
The WORLD is a poem...

Upon waking up on each new day,
you face a variety of views, of people,
animals, things, events or scenes...
They start to unfold before you,
they capture your eyes and
stimulate your imagination.
It could be a spectacle, a tearjerker,
sometimes, an eyesore...
from the nearest place,
right there in your garden,
reaching out to the farthest in sight...

A rose is a poem in itself,
from its leaves, down to its roots,
to the colors that adorn its whole being
even the thorns on its tough stem
have messages to relay
they are loud verses themselves...

The birds by the trees that greet you
early in the morning,
the geese, always in a huddle,
chatting, honking with the others,
near or far from the water,
those who stray further,
waddle by the nearest puddle,
seemingly interested at first sight of a human being...

The lonely eyed cats and dogs on the streets,
with no roofs on their heads, rain or shine,
just like the homeless people, the street children,
there's a lot to read from their faces..

An after breakfast walk
could take you to the streams ...
walk further and you see the bigger seas,
roam your eyes, to reach those hills and plateaus
all have hidden stories to tell...

The seasons of the year,
slowly shifting from one to the next,
they make themselves known to you
through the changing colors of the leaves,
the hibernation of some animals, the naked trees,
much more of God's miracles are revealed,
abounding,
amidst your surroundings,
just open your eyes...

The sun, the moon and the stars
the comets and meteors flashing across
a firmament of blue or charcoal black,
give you so much to wonder about...
they, too, are sources of rhymes,
they are a flowing spring
of vital informations
Teeming with inspirations...

Morbid, scary thoughts accompany
a cold coffin, but
maybe a chest of drawers,
an overloaded bag, a blender,
a faded and dilapidated chair, a table,
or the old but firm toothbrush
could generate a lot of positive thoughts...
Even a whole kitchen
would speak if it could,
you just have to pause and see,
feel, listen to what they express
in their silence...

Those bridges you cross
sometimes by car, other times, by foot,
they connect you to distant friends, relatives
or people you've never met, never seen
people who are deprived, abused,
hungry, even killed...
bridges take you to places where a battle is
about to start, or already raging,
where help is needed...but never given...
bridges are brimming with events to share,
they would have spoken...
but they could not,
it is up to you to be sensitive enough
you must be aware, you must know...

Every thing, every one on earth
has a message to impart
All of you are to be their voices...

You should be most grateful,
and love this WORLD you live in
it is a most precious gift from GOD,
You should all be one in saving the source,
a great volume of verses:
this universe....

Save me, now...
I am your poem,
I am the WORLD.



Sally

Copyright 2014
Rosalia Rosario A. Bayan
From out of the blue, these words came out.
I am keeping my fingers crossed...
 Aug 2014
SG Holter
There once was a town in the world.
In this little town, lived a girl.
She barely could write,
But sat up all night.
Carefully carving each word.

The poem she wrote was a dream.
A thought that had grown, it'd seem.
The frailest of strands;
Words woven by hands.
Like droplets of diamond
Downstream.

The morning sun shone on the stairs.
He sat there, his face holding tears.
Her father, and all
That little girl called
Her family, burdened with fears.

She sat down beside the poor man.
Put paper inside his strong hand.
She left him to read,
As if sowing a seed.
And so, the whole healing began.

Her words had a life of their own.
Of wisdom beyond any known.
They spoke of a place
That was floating in space,
Yet it's beings were far from alone.

Why cry when there's laughter?  
Why fight when there's dance?
Why hate when there's family,
Fun and romance?


Her words were so simple, so clean.
Yet painted in colours unseen  
Through verses and lines,
And symbols and signs...
To adults, elders, infants and teens.

It took not religion, it seems.
No army, no guns or machines.
To shape this old world
To the words of a girl
With paper, a pen... and a dream.
 Aug 2014
WendyStarry Eyes
WHO ARE YOU?
WHO ARE YOU?
WHO ARE YOU?

LISTEN TO THE QUESTION RING IN YOUR HEAD
IT ECHOS ON & ON & ON
IT'LL RING   TILL YOUR DEAD
IT'LL NEVER BE GONE!!
 Aug 2014
WendyStarry Eyes
I'm the outcast of society
In reality
I'm the soul that has been set free
They put me down and shut me out
My only wish is that the whole world
could grasp what I'm about
 Aug 2014
Mike Hauser
She's the girl who whispers tomorrow
Leaving behind the thoughts of today
Pain, despair, heartache, and sorrow
That's where she'll leave them all lay

She's the girl whose taken misfortune
And held it tight in her hand
Hears the stories told in the shadows
Along with the whispers of men

She's the girl who breaks from the moment
Unraveling all of life's strings
Retrieving with whispers unspoken
Yesterdays left behind dreams
 Jul 2014
Peter Cullen
On St.Michael's layline,
a dozen miles from Dingles coast.
This was where young Luna May
was to meet the Holy Ghost.
High upon the rocks of Skellig,
awoken by the angry waves.
The ground beneath began crumble
opening the ancient graves.

The ocean calmed,
as angels fluttered,
danced and sang beside the sea.
Young Luna May just watched in wonder,
shedding tears of disbelief.
She checked her pulse and shook her head
cryed out loud "how can this be?".
Blessed herself before she fell,
gracefully onto one knee.
She looked up to the skies above,
eyes filled with fear
and filled with love.
The clouds gave way to brilliant light
and she could sense that God was near.

She asked "why have you chosen me,
what is it that I can do?"
This is when the Ghost appeared
forming from the morning dew.
It led her up the ancient steps
Clasped her hand,
yet she felt free.
Sat her down upon the grass
kissed her gently on the cheek.

As it did, her life went flashing,
like lightening bolts before her eyes,
thunder roared inside her soul,
as she slowly realized.
"Am I here because I've wondered?,
doubted all I felt within"
This is when the Ghost would speak,
telling her "doubt is no sin,
all you need, has always been".
"All you need, has always been".

Then suddenly..........
her eyes shot open,
jolting upright in her bed.
This is when she was to realize,
"I've spent too long living dead.........
Then with grace she was to realize,
"I've spent too long in my head."
 Jul 2014
Emily Dickinson
1116

There is another Loneliness
That many die without—
Not want of friend occasions it
Or circumstances of Lot

But nature, sometimes, sometimes thought
And whoso it befall
Is richer than could be revealed
By mortal numeral—
 Jun 2014
WendyStarry Eyes
IT'S TIME TO MOVE FORWARD
                  LEAVE THE PAST BEHIND
              DON'T FORGET ALL THE TROUBLES
    YET, DON'T LET THEM SET HOMES IN YOUR MIND
                 LEARN FROM THE BATTLES
                    AND KEEP ON TRYIN
                                 WENDY

— The End —