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I am sitting, at my table,
Armed with a pencil, in my hand,
Making words, out of letters, that is my basic plan.
Then my thoughts, started to appear,
One word, at a time, as I search through my files,
So many memories, in my mind.
The subject, can be about anything, from rain, to a sunny day,
To an all-night party, years ago, or the special words, I do Pray.
Never knowing, what will inspire me, I can’t, just plan to write,
Ideas flow in from every direction,
It could be morning, noon, or night.
Thoughts come, and go in a fast way
, Many writings, I have started,
May never see, their final day. never planning ahead,
watching for signs, then at one moment, I decide,
This will be the last line.

                                                          ­The Original: Tom Maxwell © 11/21/21 AD 8:20 am
A poem can be written,
In many, different ways,
Depending, on the authors emotions,
Like everyone’s, changing every day.

It’s not hard to write,
As some think it could be,
Sharing honest thoughts, with feelings,
Maybe guidance, for others, to see.

We all have messages, to share,
Have no fear, of what others might say,
Be open, and honest,
Release your visions, in A special way.

                                                                      ©Tom Maxwell 02/08/2007
Nothing Worth Doing is Easy

an impossible

luminesce In,
from obscured
higher frequencies

swapping saffron compliments
with proud Susan, while
sitting on the thirteenth pedal
circling her black eye

Reflecting our diaphanous flight,
through this garden of stars

Worth Doing Is Easy
As a guide of Mindfulness, often Allowing is a challenge. Simply Being vs Doing is a challenge, indeed. How easy is it, to just watch a butterfly and realize we are fine without the striving. Everything comes.
Raven Blue Aug 2020
Poem is the art and emotions of the person writing it;
It is a gift and a friend whom we can lean on anytime.
We read it when we're sad;
And there we can find some inspiration and courage;
To continue our lives bravely and not give up.
We read it when we're angry;
To calm ourselves and think thoroughly.
We write poems to express the feelings and thoughts that we have;
We write poems to give inspirations and to motivate others.
It is maybe just words but through writing and reading poems, we can clearly see and understand the reality ;
All of us maybe read the same poems, but truthfully we read it differently and have different thoughts about it.
But what we have in comparison is that, we read and write poems because it is a cure to us in any emotions that we have and we need it in our lives.
Shabnam Apr 2019
Like the sweet smell of wet sand,
Like the cool breeze in a dry land,
Like the morning twilight,
Like a twinkling star at night,
Like soft words in a harsh life;
Enough to make me strive.
Like an oasis in the desert
& a pole star in the sky.
Like a treasure hidden so deep..
An amethyst, a ruby, a coral of steep;
A soulmate is as sweet as life!
Brandon Nov 2018
I can't go to sleep
with good thoughts
still lingering in mind.

I must ride the wave
until it's Crest
breaks under
the passing of time.

Till my self and whole
are torn asunder
I plunge into the depths.

Passing now,
the shallow veil.

I have grown quite adept,
in this game I call "my life"
and godly humored quest.

The easiest move is riding it out
it's acceptance which is hard.

Now the wave is gone, but I sink on
into deeper, and deeper depths
till dawn.
Speculations on why I usually can't sleep
Jack L Martin Sep 2018
These are not just words
that rhyme or fit together
in some fancy, schmancy
catchy rhythmic flow

These are my thoughts
my feelings
my inner beauty
my outer demons

typed on my kebyoard
stored on a web server
searched by web crawlers
presented to you

Here is my soul. Can we compare notes after class?
Alister Benn Mar 2018
Never more so than today
I see me in you and listen

I understand now why it’s so hard
When not even you can withstand

In the crackling dryness of your stems
I see nothing but rigidity and death

But at my feet a ****** reaches for heaven
Naked and pure even as the rain spits on her delicate face

The mightiest ground to dust, the solid made weak
The weakest cracking rocks and the ice crushing all

The sun, the moon, the waves, they dance
Their joyous frivolity that teases the air

Even as darkness engulfs me
I know the dawn will bring hope

I nurture your weakness as you give me strength
I cherish you for your gifts, challenge and sight

You are and I am, I am you also, we are
And that makes me smile, itself a gift to all…
I am a landscape photographer by profession and spend all my time outside. It gives me great insight into myself and my relationships with the environment.
Cobalt Nov 2017
Why should you limit yourself to being just pretty?
Don't be just pretty.

Be a storm, beautiful, dark, intelligence flashing across your eyes like lightning and a voice as loud as thunder. Be a storm and never be silent.

Be a forest, rooted, wise, strong and unmovable in the force of opposition and yet a dancer in the wind. Be a forest, and loyal to your land.

Be the ocean, glittering, mysterious, captivating thousands of hearts and countless lives in your allure. Be the ocean, and be ruthless.

Be nature. I guarantee nothing will get you farther.
Sally A Bayan Sep 2017
( ) ) (( )(())

No cold wind blew
to abate this afternoon's heat...
no rain showers brought out
that sweet smell of very dry soil
...........touched by rainfall

tonight, my mind is occupied by
the transience of things
all thoughts are fleeting
inspirations are hard to capture...they're
soap bubbles, flying...bursting in the air

"bubbles"......made me turn to my left
where a wineglass stood, and sparkled...
my eyes stopped, stunned...a bottle of Prosecco,
was within beckoned...

ahhhhhh......sips came one after the other,
much delight in its its taste...
i want to be numb from nagging pain,
from the cries...the anguished sighs
that can never go, without a tear falling...
bubbles of pain...slowing down
the passing of days....but all these
will wane one day,....and be part
of the banalities of my diurnal life...

just like in the past, this, too, will pass...
this late hour, again, i raise my glass,
and drink away my days of woe...high
to the bright lights
for, a different kind of radiant yellow
drives away my trail of shadows
i will just smile
even for a while
and enjoy its bubbles


Copyright September 15, 2017
.hard to resist sparkling wine :))
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