Tryst: Favorites

Sep 2015 Tryst

GaryFairy

i just can't breathe in here, my head is spinning
i believe the stale air is thinning
i get no answers to the questions i'm sending
black magic love spells are trending

i read poems. but never reach the ending
they lead me back to the beginning
i feel so guilty of the time i am spending
black magic love spells are winning

(11-9-12-8 syllable count for both stanzas)

I noticed that one of the spammer advertisements was trending in the feed(along with a lot of dead poets), so i wrote this. This site gets
Daily Unique Visitors: 62,858
Monthly Unique Visitors: 1,913,200
Yearly Unique Visitors: 22,943,170 (http://hellopoetry.com.w3snoop.com/)

Ain't it a shame that so many new poets get ignored?

Sep 2015 Tryst

Sparkling Simplicity

Sep 2015 Tryst

Kim

Sparkling Simplicity

Ignorance is bliss they say
There are many who might agree
But I have a secret to share today
That once was shared with me

If you should ever chance to gaze into the eyes of the young and bold
You might discern a glowing light that neither flickers nor grows cold

What sustains this constant spark-
Night or day, light or dark?

Whence flows the river of joy and peace
That gushes forth through gentle souls?
What is the secret of peaceful sleep
Enjoyed by minds of simpler mould?

Tempting though it may be to attribute to lacking wit
The exuberance and ecstasy discarded with the training bit,
Wisdom urges a second glance
beyond the proverbial looking glass
In the hope one might contrive
to visit with the other side
A world of simple charms and grace,
far from this one’s treacherous maze

And so this deeper, delving look
Might relight that failing spark
While in the pages of a thousand books
One may languish in the dark!

#peace #life #dark #grace #joy #light #bliss #simplicity #wisdom #innerchild

Sep 2015 Tryst

kentucky fried chicken

Sep 2015 Tryst

Walter W Hoelbling

kentucky fried chicken

the white-haired patriarch
   beard and moustache
    a bit colonial
benignly smiles
   at the United Nations building
   at Times Square
   and at 8th Avenue
where hot-pantied women
   in buzzing crowds
date strangers
   to share their loneliness

humidity is high
    on muggy summer afternoons
at the core
   of the Big Apple

          * *

Written on the occasion of my first visit to NYC in July 1977...

Sep 2015 Tryst

his hands

Sep 2015 Tryst

Walter W Hoelbling

his hands

when the telephone rang
at six in the morning
four days before Christmas Eve
   I knew
things were not right

they told me
   my father had died
   at three in the morning
   and would I please come by
   arrange for the burial
   and collect his belongings
at the senior citizens home
where he had spent
the last four years
of his life

they had rested him nicely
he looked at peace
I kissed him on his forehead
   like I always had
   at the end of my visits
and cast a last long look at his figure
   before the body would be taken away

    and suddenly I noticed
       how big his hands were
    they’d never seemed so prominent before

as if in death they sent me a reminder
of how much he had loved his hands
   for work   for play  for sports
   for fight and for survival
   to point and to gesticulate
      they held me as a baby and
         some times
      slapped me as a child
   they repaired toys   split wood
   built sheds   drove cars and motor bikes
   were patient and precise
   caressed and soothed and loved

they were his life
they held his world

my father’s hands

It took me 5 years to pen this first verse about my father's death ... difficult...

#death #father #loss #hands #absence

Sep 2015 Tryst

Kinds of Hood

Sep 2015 Tryst

Elder Darius Castañeda

Kinds of Hood

As a child,
I had heroes,
Also known as childhood heroes,
But then I grew!

Now in adulthood,
all my heroes have been found wanting!

If only I could return to my former hood!

I speak not of the place where the walls are stained,
Where souls find relief on the pavement instead of a home,
And where the metropolitan noise is much like ***** music from the sanctuary!

No!
I speak of innocence, incorruptibility, probity,
And a playfulness unadulterated!

There! That!

There is where I want to be!
That is what I want,
Not only for me,
But for my family!

#ruminations

Sep 2015 Tryst

**The Way It Should Be**

Sep 2015 Tryst

Joe Cole

**The Way It Should Be**

From Americas rocky mountain tops
To the Himalayan snow capped peaks
These are the things of nature
That all of us should keep

Australias barren outback
Englands green and pleasant hills
Nature free for all mankind
Who seek her gentle thrills

From the Amazon tropic forests
To the arctics icy wastes
Things of natural beauty
When traveled at natures pace

The azure blue seas of the Pacific isles
Cruel dark seas of the southern cape
Placed there by natures hand
To be respected without hate

Drab plumage of the desert vulture
Bright birds of Paradise
Birds of every colour
Birds of every size

Scorpions of the desert sands
And the grey atlantic seals
Both there for a reason
As only nature can reveal

Think about the lion
The African king of beasts
The soft eyed Chinese panda
That our children find so cute

Mountain tops and hidden valleys
Vast lakes and rolling seas
All put there by natures hand
But not to be abused

Animals, reptiles, birds
Put there for me and you
They should be studied in the wild
Not trapped inside a zoo

We cannot alter history
Or repair the damage we have caused
But we can stop the mass destruction
Of the world that's mine and yours...

*Also around the world in fourty lines

We read so many poems here about man's abuse of this once beautiful earth. My poem The Way It Should Be really is the way it should be

Sep 2015 Tryst

SMILE

Sep 2015 Tryst

Ja

SMILE

A kiss and a hug
Or a nice warm embrace
Will always put
A smile on your face

So, just for the feeling
That from it we’ve gotten
We should all do it
A little more often
WIZDUMBs BY JA 212 05-08-2013

Sep 2015 Tryst

The moon used to hurt

Sep 2015 Tryst

Aeerdna

The moon used to hurt

There were times
when the moon used to hurt so much
it was like someone
was constantly carving in my heart
portraits of pain
it was like someone
was painting with flames
your face
in my chest