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Candice Jul 2017
I wait aimlessly for your arrival
Just to see your smile
To hold you in my arms
To keep you from the world's harm

As I sit waiting
That moment I am creating
When I can finally see you standing before me
How lovely would that be
I hear your car outside
Last time I saw you I cried

As I run to meet you
I realize our love is true
Our bodies meet with an embrace
And all I can feel is my heart race

We spend hours together
We're two birds of a feather
I enjoy every second I have sitting beside you
Butterflies I get from you, as if our love is still new

The way you say goodbye
And the way you cry
And hug me so tight
In your arms it feels so right
Kissing you for what I know is the last time for awhile
Oh, how I'll miss that smile

As I walk away from the only thing I've ever really known
Home doesn't even feel like home
All I can say is that I miss you, Bay
Knowing you're about 130 miles
Soulace May 2017
"If my art somehow
Manages to save one life."
That's why I do it.
Jonathan Finch May 2017
It is towards a slow keeping-together of themes
from a missal-thrush memory
that words keen and are made.
                                                   The place matters little:
a furrow of ponds, a wet landscape
curved like a dish, the brittle stare and awkward movement
of spread-eagling duck on a cup of ice –
                                                            what do these matter? unless
the memory keels to the retina a shape of things to come,
teases and minnows them down to a flashing fin
in a chamber of shapeless streams, in a chamber
of crosses and thrushes.
Glenn Currier Apr 2017
The sun rose again at dawn
lilies opened blasting praise
I found a road to walk on
to face my fear and malaise.

How have you risen today?

A son forgave his errant dad
A father forgave his son’s sin
from their chains they got unclad
and found a way to begin again.

How have you risen today?

My wife and friend came with me
to church and sang and listened
were open and willing to see
the light and my eyes glistened.

How have you risen today?

Confused and lost I’d gone astray
and thought I was dying inside
gave up on finding the way
learned I could still come alive.

How have you risen this day?

Today I found a new truth
that if you are really inside
I’ll always be in my youth
and when I die I too will arise.

That’s a few other ways you’ve risen today.

“How have you risen today?” Copyright © 2017 by Glenn Currier
This poem was written Easter Sunday .  Easter is about THE resurrection.  I get that, but I like to ask about my own resurrection or rising - how am I rising out of the mire of my life?  And how does God play a part in it.  This poem is addressed to multiple "Yous."
silvervi Apr 2017
Precious time
Great ideas
I am using these

I don't want
To lose them
Make them useless

Automatically
Planning out
Creativity
Is the ground

No illusions
Can be found
No strategic
Or deep wounds

Truth is happiness
With no fear
And creations are
Its best friends

Beautiful
Nice to hear
This is how this short poem
Ends
Nickols Mar 2017
Sometimes when I set my pen to paper, I have no idea what will appear.

Swoops and swirls.

And backward twirls.

My mind has created once again.
Bhakti Lata Oct 2016
Until yesterday
I was
unaware.
Blind.
Un-conscious
to the
power of choices
that rested within me.
All my tools and colors
were chosen by others
and
were handed over to me.
That was until yesterday !

Today is a different day !
For today I choose
the landscape
the background
the scheme of colors
the medium
the strokes of my brush.

I choose them all
to paint on the new
canvas I get handed in
each day
with consciousness and
in full awareness.

And every once in a while
I like to
pause,
stand away from it all
and
take pride
in what's shaping up to be
a Masterpiece -
the very purpose
for which the Master
created me.
I was reminded of this poem which I wrote few years ago (almost a decade) on reading the inspiring poem 'canvas' by Victorian Cinderella. Thank you Cinderella :-) and thank you in advance to all my fellow poets whom I am getting to know through their poems as a newbie to this beautiful webpage
Anna Mosca Aug 2016


the littlest
month coming
but I wished it stuffed

with all colors of peace
gratitude and smiles of
understanding a cold drink
can be sweet in silence
savored limbs stretched

infinite beauty my
thoughts a pillow
come lay with me
www.annamosca.com

This poem belongs to the collection of the California Notebooks 01
Damian Murphy Aug 2016
Poetry by its very nature
Its immortality does secure.
For from the seed that one poem sows
Others take root, germinate and grow
To bloom as poetry of all kinds
From many fertile, creative minds.
Thus ensuring the art shall endure;
Shall flourish long in to the future.
Anna Mosca Jul 2016


the sun rests
on my hair on a
winter afternoon

hours fleeting
rushing into the
calm evening

not daring to
go inside subtracting
myself from grace

I keep my head down
bowed as I write between
letters my emotions
www.annamosca.com

This poem is part of the bilingual collection California Notebooks 01
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