I Try to Them on Paper | Mónika Tóth
Beautiful afternoon
My heart is full of words
I try to them on paper
a poem
Loss | Imogen Anderson
Vanilla essence lingers
And the scent won’t go away
It is flirting with my memory
I’ve lost another day.
Visit http://imogenanderson11.tumblr.com/.
Beauty and Despair | J E Billheimer
Traveling the road
of beauty and despair
A convoluted journey, truth be told
That two such vastly different means
of sight and heart
Should blend so seamlessly
seems hardly possible
Yet hand in hand through bitter
life they go
At times inseparable, if truth be told
For there is a fair beauty
in despair
A tantalizing anguish found in
shattered dreams
The tormenting destruction of our
sweetest hopes
The remnants swirling broken at our feet
Hold fascination for us in the
sweet despair
And beauty in the tatters
of our dreams
Hollow and Empty – A Poem by Scott Thomas Outlar
Fake plastic people
melting in the sun
Wrinkling with age
they cannot quite accept
Little tiny minds
dwarfed by insecure egos
Dying for attention
that comes their way as laughter
More at http://17numa.wordpress.com/.
My Night – A Poem by Anuradha Fonseka
You are my night
Who belongs to me when midnight falls
You are around me with
Greatest love and greatest care
You embrace me like the night does
Keeping a comfy space between us though
You feel like the night
Dark, deep and never ending pitch
Into which I keep falling every night
When the world dreams we dream together
With endless “what if…anyways”
You are the night I sleep in
You are the night I dream in
With you I walk under the moon
With you I learn the stories of stars
With you I smell the flowers of night
With you I dance in the rain
With you my night
Endless adventure.
Like the flames of a barking hearth
Does my heart sigh
You are the night that dissolves with the sun
Yours is the love I have no right to claim.
Busy Fingers A-Pickling – A Poem by Paul Tristram
The kitchen steam is monumental,
it’s like standing up amongst the clouds.
Atmosphere ‘Juicy’
with the syrupy scents and aromas
of thickening preserves,
shredded flower petal and pumpkin seed
freshly baked bread rolls.
Those bingo-wings are a-sweltering
as she wipes her busy, buttered hands
upon the front of her
‘A Home Without Cat Hairs
Is Not A Home’ pinafore.
Then grimacing-up her beetroot face
into concentration, she goes in for the kill,
kneading that dough until it’s ‘Good and Proper’.
Sink taps a-gurgling and a-spurting,
juggling pots and pans and skyscraper trays
like a Circus Magician/Juggler.
Then ‘The Archers’ begin on Radio 4,
as amongst the countless, sparkling jars
she starts reaching for the vinegar,
herbs, onions, cauliflowers and gherkins.
More at https://paultristram.blogspot.co.uk/.
Present Tense – A Poem by Aroop Mitra
It rains all night
sleep steals away
I listen to shadows
Dawn emerges
exultant
as chansons of birds
Houses emerge
mists thin in
slow motion:
cries of kids at play
fig peddlers
raucous ravens:
I am writing now
Pennies on the Dollar | Angelica Fuse
Earned
back less than
given
accepting tokens
from the king
of roadside
carnival fair
barker
takes last dimes
for the ride
to heaven.
JohnQPublic | Tempest Brew
Poor guy
darts
at his face
does his best
to shrug
off the many
roads
leading him down
into
the trench.
Therefore | Russ Cope
There is always a reason
at least they say
I’m trying to reason it all
out for myself
Sometimes I think I see
a pattern
Other times I’m just lost
in the sea of the living
trying not to ask too
many questions.