Poems (34,318)

Enter the winter
rolling hail in the street
I think of refuge
after the roses have died
and the leaves have filled the streets
you feel the curl inside
the harboring of breath
as if the age will not pass
the secret is to lie in a hot tub
with the steam rising high
and whistle a merry tune
"Spring, wonderful spring.."
until the wine runs low
then off to bed you go.

The hourglass sifts down towards the bottomless undertow. The heart beats faster than what has ever been known. The soul shakes to the sound of the aftermath. The world turns until it burns and crash. As you lay in the wayward light falling into a dream. Decent into the emptiness of the stars as they beam. Into your eyes a darkness Fades into tears. Bringing your mind to the worst in life of all your fears. Creating a moment and in that moment it's an eternity. But in that forever moment the night has shown us rain. And in that wayward light those feelings though bottled up hurt for only just a day. One day the hurt will be gone as I look at the golden haze.

buried my toes in snow
earth so brown below
brown frozen holding down
snow all over earth like crown
I was freezing

pretty pain from one snow flake
it kept me for sure wide awake
was I something death could take
another devil for God’s sake
the frost was teasing

hand of sleep reached me so
my breath was pretty bad to blow
I should have known this years ago
like any other flying crow
the frost was pleasing

As soon as you pray it echoes
only God consumes its meaning
in this tall room with high rafters
once built for reverence

There's a small bell in the corner
it is chiming in the morning draught
I imagine a spirit still resides here
in this once loved sanctuary

Weddings and funerals all passed
ceremonies for the masses
we watch the candles burn
sunlight through the panes

Salvation may be hidden
in the mysteries here, for all I know
I turn a page and read
"In the beginning.."

Not long ago
I felt so all alone
I had no where to go
I would just wonder and roam
I came on here and read some poems
I then knew I wasn't alone
I read many of a poem
Some of them hit home
Some made me moan
But after reading all your poems
I felt like I found my home
There are many stores to be told
All in the form of a poem
This is now my second home
I've made several wonderful friends
I cherrish each and everyone of you
Everyday through
So I just want to send a big thank you
I'm not afraid to tell you I care
I'm sure each and everyone of you know
Just how dear you are
For each and everyone of you poets
Are like a fine piece of art
And all hold
a special place
In my heart!

Its a crazy world out there, especially when inspiration is gone
When feelings are imparted, and creativity is shared
Do people really seem to care?
We are caught in a momentary trap, a wormhole, paradox of your making
Do you think we are still circulating?
Are we just foreigners trying to come to terms with our reality?
Are we aliens in human form trying to come to grips with our humanity?
When will we realize that we are not pawns for society?
And the fears or worries lift into a tsunami of anxiety?
When you think you can get up and just be strong
When your voice feels smothered and you don't know
Where you do belong, when there's no purpose
When you don't know what you should do!

Every day itself is a challenge, when you feel hopeless to impart wisdom
Of the questions and the answers that are circulating around within
When you feel the need to go to ground and heal, and you are stuck
Remembering

When you lose yourself in the past gone by and identities seem to slide away
With a numbing crush of feelings then it tugs on the strings of your heart
In harder challenges of survival, its a regular competition to take part
The old flame of creativity and introspection encourages you to participate
But yet all you can feel is anger, fear and public hate
When you want to bring around a bit of hope, heaven knows how you can cope
But you still want to paint it in so the future doesn't look like its grim!

The world around you changes as soon as you make the choice,
And sooner or later you will find your voice,
Yet in this mission as you partake,
your present intercedes in with the future too
And the seeds of doubt will be one too few
Strength will be a part, gifted from me to you,
And soon I'll be moving forwards heading into the georgeous sun
Knowing in time that my battle of power, control and emotions will be won.

Crescent moon, through silver birch shine
Branches not clad in green, send a sign
Autumn is here, as the summer days fade
Erratic temperatures, to prepare and gauge
Chilly mornings, equally chilly evenings cool
In preparation, cannot bury head to be fooled
After summer, when floods-rainfall took control
Breaking hearts, rural communities fought for soul
Now the clean up, starts to make its impact felt
After devastation, so many people were dealt
Will winter prove manageable, weather wise
Aftermath of such damage, out of silt rise
Bring hope, families gain strength stand strong
Those who lost so much, gain inner peace longed

When lush tender green grasses
That grows in early springtime
Beautiful behind camera glasses
Watch the colors as they rhyme

Those dancing dandelions ablaze
Tulips standing like colorful sentries
How the flowers pop and amaze
The noblest of all the gentries

A perfect coronation in natures sight
The most sacred dances and song
The chase and chatter songbirds fight
Pageantry of love make our hearts long

For a few brief weeks this battle wages
When all the color and noise take flight
A spectacle to behold for all the ages
Under a glowing sun shines so bright

Olive green
fix me a martini
when you stir, you shine
and all the syllables flow
down through the pages
as small fish must ply
in the bountiful ocean

two strings to your bow
she coyly remarked
wolverine weaponry
tossing her hair
she idled on

I'm left in the plush air
of a night's writing
an idle pursuit
God granted
feeling for the next stanza
is a call to arms

looking for the cadence
to rectify the machinery
too much in play
beat it out so
it is no missive Jim
words flow like liquor talks
strong is made gut to gut
bringing out the light
shadows cast asunder

I used to go out with my Dad
In May you could find them around old elm trees
We usually had a couple meals of them
The rest were sold
The last morel I found was in 2016 with my Dad
We only found one
The rest of the years since I have bought them
A few years ago I spent 35 bucks for a pound of them
Now I am seeing 70 bucks a pound
I went today and only found a golf ball and a quarter
The morel festival is in two weeks
We'll see if I want to pony up the dough for a pound of morels
At least the kettle corn is still cheap!