Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
 Apr 2018 Derek David
Joe
Prehistoric seabirds soar
in an inner city park
Young mums frame a Victorian lake
No doubt it changes after dark

Pink noses
Pleasant roses
Water hoses
Reeds part revealing Moses

St George never visited
Only his name
The English patriots bombard
The land from which he came

But let’s leave the politics out of the park
On a sunny day.
 Apr 2018 Derek David
Nobody
I'm tired..
Need a long sleep
a few thousand years should do,
Sheepish lazy breed
Finniky writer
overdue on life
can't keep up
my head swims in drought
a wasteland..
smack dab in the center of an oasis.
 Apr 2018 Derek David
Laura
I wanted him strolling through
the lightnings.
Leftover lessons ones I didn't feel
like teaching.
Ones you pick up on the way home,
at Gerrard & Church,
         Streambank & Lornewood.
"Is he gonna be the one
made for you,
         or are you gonna build him."
I never studied architecture.
I never liked small talk
         about overcast weather.
and I never thought love was built

                                    only gathered.
struggling with ideas of love, self-growth, and becoming the right version for the right one.
The sea is still today
It's cerulean blue and gold
I think of the thoughts it carries
Within its hidden folds.
Its touch is soft and gentle
It soothes the ache of years
But I wonder how many waves
Are made from fallen tears.
Dear everyone,

This is such a surprise! Thank you all for your likes, loves and responses. I have not been very active on Hello Poetry, but will get back in action soon. So much appreciated. Thank you Hello Poetry for selecting this as a daily. Thank you so much my friends and fellow poets for taking the time to read this poem of mine. It means the world to me.  Love to everyone **
 Apr 2018 Derek David
False Poets
there is no value in a poem that reads
_____
_____
____­
M M l i f e s u c k s x x x n o p o e m i g o t

just

nerve; crap bs, a denial of craft

seek the intelligent intelligible,
kiss the sensational thrill that
emotion harvests with resonating tenses
that beg our brains to differ, sense

this claims,
there is no value in no words is
a hoax cloaked as art by the weak,
make thy metaphors metastasize,
my every cell, a preposition,
preposterous and precious and
comforting in their
privations and provocations

speak to us in alpha and
line our eyes wide,
with pictures at an exhibition
of a faun immobile and beauteous

let me hang on every word of yours and
let it be the raft that sees me happily
unsafe home

take your bs line poem  
shove it down your silent voice

this is not avant garde; this is insulting

p.s.  write me a smile and all will be_____
.
belittled into submission
lost in darkness
the basement of my thoughts
a busted knuckle trying to heal
forgotten tears stolen by sand
along the beach of lost dreams
and unwatched sunsets
did you forget about me

sad cliches meet here
outside the realm of hope
waiting like wolves  
to take their breath away
oldie
Next page