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Oil and vinegar,
Sugar and spice;
everything looks nice.
Your wit and charm,
sends long walks of
harmony into a world
of a never ending
Put's on his best smile,
but he will always be
a broken man.
Stay's at home,
I try my best to
console him and he
Put's his head high,
and thinks no one will
On the way, he imagines
reactions, that someday
he will have a perfect world,
made the way he wants it.
Making plans for Mikey,
to make sure he's a happy man.
Glenn Currier Oct 2020
This place is an oasis
in the midst of loneliness.
How could I be so lonely
while wrapped in your embrace?
For the poets on HePo
Dante Rocío Jun 2020
‘Like a graceful
yet mighty arrow
I saw you
shooting through the town
with the name “Adventure”
upon you.
I saw your coat fluttering
with wind’s madness,
irises of deeper colour
than the darkest tree’s bark,
nose drugged with the scent
of Poetry transcripted
and bare feet carrying with themselves
the heraldry of freedom
and a better world.
With books from faraway lands,
of wonders,
as a shield on your chest
from all that’s choked,
ideas unattainable to the Black Pit, thoughts
and dreams piercing
the surroundings’ façade
and the Village whirling into blur
from the speed of yours,
every time you’re the most beautiful feature
among the trash bins we live in.
Couldn’t take my eyes
and thoughts of you…’
Pero nadie se da cuenta,
nadie lo escupe por los dientes.
Ahogados por el tiempo
no me ven/sienten fluyendo entre ellos,
no ven la Esperanza
por debajo de sus parpados.
Como magia o viento vuelo,
espero hasta que alguien
me capture
con esta atención
en un jarrón
y me susurre
un amor así
como arriba.
Till someone sees and experiences me in that short shot of an arrow.
Till someone captures.
Maybe soon I’ll flash through your life too
Glenn Currier Apr 2020
You are a valve I can turn
to open the flow of love
into my day
into my heart.
Glenn Currier Mar 2020
So many hours of each day
I go about doing all the things I want
accumulating long moments
without a thought of you
but when I do stop to notice you
to commune I am again renewed
and filled with your love.

May I take a few long or short moments
with you each day
for refills.
Jessica Jan 2019
This cosmic canister carries the world’s disarray-
Our destinations different, our feelings the same.
Though we have regular meetings we remain strangers;
Heads down, uncomfortable.
A pattern forms in our lives which none exits, our sacred routine which if changed is wrong.
Empathetic eyes glazed with weariness.
At each departure, a new inhalation of caffeine and smoke,
A new wave of bodies,
A new mass.
We all contribute to the mass, but the mass never goes,
Only waxes and wanes with the seasons.
We travel as one, carried by destinations, riddled with enigmas.
The hour reaches 6:00 and the mass bulges; the kettle is at its boiling point.
We move as agitated atoms riling against one another.
The world’s day draws to a close, as our microenvironment wakes.

A man exhales stale disappointment- no promotion due.
The coarse skin of his fingers caresses
The constant happiness in his life;
Helping him live, hastening his death.
Unable to inhale satisfaction, his suit clad leg
Writhes underneath the table,
Distracting him, but alerting others of the craving.
Although his tie is straight and his briefcase orderly,
A lose thread and weary eyes give him away-
He’s tired; tired of life, tired of the necessary endless routine
Which holds him and his livelihood captive.
It weakens and sustains him simultaneously.
His secrets define him.

A girl sighs, her cheeks wet,
Tears heavy with hurt.
A bruise has settled itself on her forearm;
A warning for the next time she comes home late.
Her skin has become a canvas and everyday more paint is added.
Her permanent ink hides the painful marks
Yet the latter seems to leave the most lasting impression.
Her face is scarcely discernible;
Metal studs line the place where her smile should be-
They are so many that her humanity becomes robotic.
Her secrets define her.

The tube we sit in holds heavy hearts, new smiles,
Old friends.
The mass becomes one as each day our routine returns,
We get to know our fellow travellers
Without really getting to know them at all.
Their influence on our existence seems insignificant,
Yet they contribute to the steadfast mass that so grips our little lives,
Whilst we hold on to sanity by a single thread.
Our secrets define us.
Glenn Currier Aug 2018
The hair on the back of my hand
glistens in the lamp at night
it tells me I am a man
I am a creature
a thing created.
I did not create myself
even though I act as if I did.  

You made this body
and you keep it alive.
When I look at my hand
sometimes it reminds me of Jesus
who was also a man.

I yearn to feel his touch
his arms around my shoulders.
How often I need his hand
on the small of my back
giving me a gentle shove.

When I picture that hand
in my mind’s eye
I see the hair
the veins that bring the blood
from his heart,
a heart so full
so big it reaches to heaven.

It also reaches into my heart
when I think of his first noticing
and then stooping down
to touch the person on the side of the road
the person nobody else would go near.
I am touched to tears.  

That was the hand of Jesus
reaching down as it does now
to this sinner.
This is another of my spiritual-awakening-moments. I find myself on this site with poets/creators many or perhaps most of whom don't relate to the godstuff and yet I feel at home here standing in this garden and all of its fabulous and rich fruits - creations by these lovely creatures. With gratitude to all of you and to David Chadwell for his web piece entitled: “How low will Jesus stoop?”
Debbie Brindley Feb 2018
Notice the things about
the one you love
Like their beautiful smile
The way that they dress
their own style
The tone of voice with
each change of mood
Or funny habits when eating food
The sound of their laugh
That look
just for you
The way their lips pucker  
as they drink
The way their **** looks
when they stand at the sink
The shape of their hands
The arch on their feet
All our loved ones are very unique
The color of their hair
Or expression in their eyes
The feel of their skin
The touch of their thighs
So make sure you notice
what you have today
Because someday
it may
just all go away
Stop and appreciate
Whisper Yes Oct 2017
I notice the group of homeless people I see every morning
However this morning they are fully involved in some sort of drama
I notice how one man puts his arm around the other man
I notice the humanness, the support, the love and care

I notice the woman with the **** on her back
It pushes her fully forward so she can't see the sky
I notice her and her husband walking along by the sea
I notice how he is holding her hand
The sight fills my eyes with tears
I hope they go and drink a coffee and share a slice of carrot cake
I hope he kisses her cheek and tells her he loves her
I imagine a blanket of love enveloping them both

I notice the woman with the gold sandals and bunch of floweres sticking out her bag
I notice her dishevelled hair and clothes
I sense her aloness
Her sandals and floweres make me smile
I hope they make her smile too

The moments of beauty
The human need for love, beauty and support
These moments are all around
Within the sadness and dark realities
They are there
The magic is there
I saw these three things on my run this morning....❤
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