Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
 
 Apr 2014 Harkaran
Audrey
I sigh, my soul bubbling up from between
Rose petal lips,
Silent arpeggios of emotion falling from
Eyes, mouth, ears
Shimmering like heat waves on an empty road
I am in a mood for words
Deep words, warm and silty as a
River bed in summer
Quiet thoughts sinking like stones
Through endless evenings, barely rippling
The still, glowing sunsets
Soft words, like my grandmother's creased hands holding out
Smooth bits of sea glass for her granddaughter to smile at,
Clapping her grubby fingers
Dreamy whispers glide across silver lakes,
Reflections of dark velvet and diamonds
Stretched over the bones of the universe
I am in a mood for words
Heavy words and light words
Separating heaven and hell, I float betwixt
Drifting aimlessly in front of drowsy fires,
Pages littering my lap, books spineless from re-reading
My slow breath, thudding heart becoming a dictionary
My mind sleeping under darkness, softly
Gentle whispers of labyrinthine poems
Infinite, eternal
Between the two stood the one
At the place of the skull upon a hill
And the shadow it cast down over man
Across the earth lingers still

Blood stained and spike pierced beams
Held the teacher till he died
Looking up some only laughed
Others bowed their head and cried

On the tree this precious son
Who some by choice never knew
Prayed"Father please forgive them,
For they know not what they do"

Messiah sacrificed on those rugged beams
In three days to rise again
The way the life the truth
An atonement for our sin

When the meaning of the tree is told
My ears attend and receive
I can scarce conceive the cost
And it's meaning to you and me

Behind my eyes I hold these thoughts
Concerning the tree to which Jesus went
The lonely tree of Golgothas Hill
Where hung the saviour from heaven sent

Our sins destroyed life now given
By the blood of one who was only good
He hung in my place where I should have hung
Upon a cross made of wood
 Apr 2014 Harkaran
Luna Lynn
a wave of sadness overtakes my body
as I ***** self esteem
it never belonged within me anyway
because that was never me
under the boulder of self pity inside a cave of broken dreams
the little girl is still hiding from the monsters and holding on to what used to be
with ribbons in her hair and shoes that never fit the awkwardness of being different was all they'd ever see
she's crying
i'm crying
the storm is never over
the lightening flash is frightening
we're losing air in the thunder and
now we can't breathe
who is coming to save us
who is coming to save me
beneath this boulder of sadness
in a cave of broken dreams
(C) Maxwell 2014
 Apr 2014 Harkaran
betterdays
please let me apologise
i am unable to write
well of  today's suggested
prompt, but write i must
i made a mental deal.
i am meant to
be writing a terza rima
but at present the form
is beyond me....

my creative flow is
silted up and sluggish,
mindless and murky
just muddy thoughts,
caught upon a logjam
of tired emotion.

and i feel unable to
produce,
a  credible rhyme,
let alone......
tercets with a braided
rhyming scheme.

but a deal is a deal....

to day i plod,
from dawn to dusk,
the world a beating rod

upon the broken husk,
that once, was my mind
now muddied, mush,
gouged by memories,
broken elephantine tusk.

i feel, so blind, so blind
stuttering,stumbling,
about in the dark
chased by ....

see this is the mud...
....in which
i am swimming...

so sorry to you,
as you can see.....
having......
.......a bad write day!!
napo wrimo day15
prompt; write a terza rima

as you can see i had much difficulty and after many virtual sheets of crumpled vitual paper...
i decided to treat this with wry humour
and give you this look into
my brain blocked mind
just don't stay to long you
might get caught up in the log jam
****
i will write a terza rima
with worth by months end...
i will!
 Apr 2014 Harkaran
cheryl love
Catkins wave the winter goodbye
Sticky little buds rest for a while
before opening themselves to the world
next to the tea rose and chamomile.
Primroses and violets
line the hedges sparkling lime
waiitng for the lilacs and pansies
in the heat of summertime.
Blue **** and the Jenny Wren
bob excitedly across the wall
With moss in its cracks
and spiders at nightfall.
Pecking for grubs in gaps
searching the the odd meal
finding bits and bobs and
a scrap of old orange peel.
The blackbird proudly presents
her newly hatched eggs in the nest
with a whilstle to die for
in her black shiny Sunday best.
Blossom like pink sugar lies on twigs
on the Apple Tree and the old pear.
one swift blow of the north wind
and that will soon disappear.
Spring is a promise of warm weather
of sunny evenings in the deck chair
There is no other season like it
and nothing can ever compare.
Next page