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JOIN OUR COMMUNITY – PROMOTE YOURSELF – SEND IN YOUR POETRY – READ AND ENJOY ALL THE WONDERFUL POETRY – COMMENT AND INTERACT WITH OTHER POETS – JOIN THE WONDERFUL WORLD OF POETRY

 

COMMUNITY

 

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Collection Of Poems – by Jessica Burton – Promote Yourself

but
          INNER BUTTERFLIES
Out of every guy I’ve ever met, no one compares to you,
I just want to be near you and do the things you do.
Ever since I laid eyes on you, I noticed you had that spark,
And thousands of new formed butterflies fluttered within my heart.
As care free times are changing and future plans begin,
We find ourselves drawn together and these crazy feelings kick in.
Its written in our starsigns, we’re compatable as can be,
So it is no wonder that we make perfect company.
Whether there’s wind or rain or snow it never feels blue,
As long as you are there with me, I know that we’ll get through.
Wind means kites will fly well, rain creates puddles to splash,
Snow makes it feel like christmas without the need for cash.
In this dramatic world, things change from day to day.
We often fall and make mistakes until we find our way.
Somtimes we annoy each other and take little things too far,
But it’s from these things we learn, it’s just the way we are.
Exam results aren’t everything, they shouldn’d make you stressed,
Even if the world should stop, there’s no need to be depressed.
When we are together and our smiles fade into one,
I know our love’s for real and not just there for fun.
Crossed fingers of luck come from all around as our worries drift away,
And those lil butterflies inside us shine as does our love each day.

by Jessica Burton 
 nightmare
            THE NIGHTMARE HOTEL
 
We arrived at the hotel at precisely six fifteen
But to my disgust the entrance was not pristine
The luggage handler stole my bags and took them in the lift
I shook my fists and banged on the door “Those are not a gift”
The receptionist greeted us with a rather unpleasent smirk
Said I “Pack that in you rascal that technique will not work”
“Now I require a double room but with two seperate beds”
“One for me and one for my blasted husband Fred”
Fred scowled at me “‘Tis our anniversary dear”
“I propose we share a bed for the first time in three years”
I picked up my zimoframe and jabbed him in the groin”
“I can’t be sharing with you Fred you’re far too annoying”
The receptionist gawped in horror and handed us the keys
I examined them with my eyeglass and stated “What are these?”
“They are far too dusty they certainly need a clean”
“Get on and polish them then or are you in a dream”
I turned to the porter “Escort me to my room”
“Wait a moment madam i’ll take you there soon”
“Take me now you foolish man don’t allow me to wait”
“I want to see my bedroom i bet it’s in a horrific state”
He led us to the room and my prediction was correct
I scowled at the furnishings it was far from perfect
The first thing i did was to sniff the bed
It was unsuitable for me and even for Fred
Out of the window there lay a ghastley sight
I’d specifically ordered a sea view this was impolite
I glanced into the bathroom and to my horror and disgrace
I noticed that the towels were not in their correct place
Everybody knows towels should be labeled with names
I was sick of this appauling hotel and its silly games
I poked Fred in the stomach “Why did you bring me here?”
“You always ruin our anniversary every single year!”

by Jessica Burton
 
 
hhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh 

A SENSE OF NATURE

 

Hark

Do you hear what I hear?

It is the sound of the common sparrow,

It can be heard the world,

Through fields of sweet corn, cauliflower and marrow.

 

Look

Do you see what I see?

It is the striking feathers of the proud male peacock,

Preening himself upon a sacred rock.

 

Sniff

Do you smell what I smell?

It is the scent of the buddleia flower,

Attracting red admirals with all its power.

 

Yum

Do you taste what I taste?

It is the sweet stem of the evening clover,

Which is found in the fields the whole year over.

 

Touch

Do you feel what I feel?

It is the soft fleece of an infant lamb standing for the very first time.

Come on little fellow if I can do it you can!

 

Now I must go and meditate upon the dew drenched wheat,

Along with the millipedes, that crawl across my feet.

I think about nature and all the joy it brings,

And how one can use their senses to experience these things.

 

by Jessica Burton

Ballad of the rain – Promote Yourself

pane

I woke up alone; the only sound was the ticking of the raindrops hitting the nearest window
I had numerous dreams about you; why couldn’t I see your face?
There was no hand to hold; there was no shoulder to lie on; there were no kiss to blow
I was alone; I was always all alone; in the crowd I was just a face

I turned the DVD player on; “Monalisa” was playing in the background
I took a seat, and stared at the ACLS manual books spread all over the room
I opened the door; I could smell the scent of the rain and the wet ground
I closed my eyes, took a deep breath, and I suddenly felt like home

I played with the raindrops; I befriended the cold; I listened to the melodic ticking
The hell with the damp clothes; with you, I would dance in the storm
Hidden in the rain, so many unspoken words; unshed tears; untold feelings
I tried to recall the sound of your voice in my scattered mind, trying to be a little warm

We’re worlds apart, but rain is always the same; is it also raining in your place now?
I let you slipped through my fingers; wait – were you even there, hmm?
And as I was standing there, in the middle of a heavy rain and the hard wind blew
The hell with the broken past; I suddenly felt like home

I let the rain muffle all the unspoken words I never dared to yell
I let the rain hide all the unshed tears I was never able to wipe
I let the rain wash all the untold feelings I could never be able to tell
I shouldn’t have fallen for you; you weren’t even my type

Am I imagining things, or are you smiling while reading this?
There were no memories to remember; we never made any, did we?
Then the cold breeze blew; I closed my eyes and felt a pure bliss
I shivered; and I suddenly felt like home.

I am Sari, and my blog site is http://saritjiang.wordpress.com
I am a from Indonesia and in my spare time you can find me reading or writing.

I See You – Promote Yourself

 HERON

Oh, Blue Heron

There in

the reeds.

Pretending not to see me.

I often see you.

Steely Blue,

Peeking through

The lake weeds.

And I wonder if,

like me…

You’re lonely.

A.J. MarieK

Where My Heart Is (or No excuses, the domino effect) – Promote Yourself

money

Gifts of money
Time and prayer
But chiefly
Money.
No pretending there
We need
Money.

So giving?
Hmm

Poorly?
Mightily?
Grudgingly?
Apologetically?

Or with excuses?

Hmm
Mortgage
Kids at uni
Pension
Direct debits
Bills, cars,
food and clothes.

I work hard
I have a right
To spend
A little
On me.

Hair
Now and again
Coffee
Now and again
…and again
…and again
and then … again

Meals out,
KFC and McDonald’s
Do count
…and pizza

Hmm
Ebay
And work canteen

Hmm
And the odd book
And the odd clothing
And shoes
…again
…and again
and coffee
…again
…and again

Hmm
Five pounds goes
Nowhere…!
But it’s a lot
When I give it
To Church.
Or charity…
Five pounds…
Two cups of coffee
Hmm
Easy to fritter

Just thinking,
Lord of the domino effect,
Where my treasure is
Where my heart is
Where my need for
Peace and quiet
Is
Where I want
Where I need
To place
My money heart?

Hmm
Excuses
Dominoed.

cheryl bhagwandin

The Poet and The Statue – Promote Yourself

byron
If I, as Bird, did fly around your waterfall 
Of silver-shining hair to see your twinkling eyes
And stopped, a-hover there, so much amazed with all
The wrink’less beauty of a splendid lover, oh,
Would I not sing such piercing songs into the skies
That gath’ring clouds would get them fast and far away,
And winds, that moved so dull before, would blow and blow,
And fill with big bloom odors all the wilding air
Until you breathed, and turned, and stretched like bursting May!?
Then awed I’d sit a waving branch and watch you there,
Like ship upon the waters, up and down, in bliss
to sight the isle of happiness for which it’s bound.
And now, with flutt’ring pulse for perfect, twirling ground,
I ‘magine me a bee to buzz your lips and kiss!
Oh, what’s a better power than poet’s power like this?
_________________________________________________
May you share this with poets everywhere.
Brian Faulkner 

WAR CHILD – PROMOTE YOURSELF

child cryingxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

I wake up in the morning to the cries of hurt and anger
I wished I’d wake up to cries of joy and laughter
I wake up every morning hoping it will all be gone
But the fighting the war has only just begun
I’d play out in my mind that I could beg for them to stop just for a while
But no! What do they care I’m just a war child

I’d go to sleep every night with the fear of not being able to last another day
Oh please please help this child many would say
But deep down I know those peoples urgent call
Will be returned with bombs shooting or nothing at all
The shock that they turn to shooting even if you smile
Is abhorrent but what do they care I’m just a war child

I’d hope for a place to truly call home
But how can it be with all the peace and harmony gone
It hurts and pains to know the people doing this have neither regret nor remorse
But instead curfews and more undeserved punishment is what they’ve enforced
Enemies upon us our country reviled
But what do they care I’m just a war child

I’d cry puddles full of tears day to day
Hoping someone my mummy or even my daddy come by say its ok
But no one will ever care I’m just a war child.

© Lamzii

Summer Holiday

Summer Holiday

 

Summer the season of the sun

Holidays breaks on your mind
All the kids having lots of fun
Parents walking on the warm sand
-
Ice cream melting down your arm
Cold drinks taken by the bottle
Sun cream protect you from harm
While kids build a sandcastle
-
Walking round the resort at night
Enjoying the cool evening breeze
Taking in all the local sights
Temperatures still twenty degrees
-
The beach is the plan for the day
Getting the sand between your toes
Looking out across the bay
Spots a dolphin there she blows
-
The summer holiday is at it’s end
Bags packed reluctantly ready for home
All postcards have been written and sent
Roll on for next summer to come

Unknown Author

Sunrise

sunsisexxxxxxxxxxx

I watched the sun arising
Within the morning sky
A chilly breeze caressed my face
As the shadows of the sun passed by

All was quiet and peaceful
As I felt the warmth upon my face
I was in oar at the reflections
As they danced all over the place

As the sun arose in all its glory
Clouds of fluffy white appeared
Drifting slowly across the sun
Not a sound could be heard

I found all this very relaxing
Because we take nature for granted
We can sometime forget
At the beauty she has planted

It instils the very soul with energy
It opens our very censors to see
With a sense of clear vision
Without nature it just would not be

Malcolm G Bradshaw

Sunday Afternoon

 

Jan 1 (5)

 

I walk to find

 Peace of mind

By the water’s edge,

River bursting from the rain

Still it feels the same

White feathered friends

Swim by my side

Like a dedicated friend, one so kind

Creating ripples, causing no harm

Creating ripples of calm

A window of still life

Walking by the waters side

A gust of wind now picks up my hair,

I’m in a place where I really don’t care

We should all take the time

To go somewhere tranquil

To find  peace of mind

 

Gillian Sims

Under Shelley’s hat

 

Shelley wrote his famous sonnet*

In just twenty minutes flat

That’s some going, it’s impressive.

Wish I wore the Shelley hat.

I’d knock sonnets out in dozens

They’d come pouring from my pen.

Poetic industry would flourish:

Wonders, time and time again.

Ballads, odes and the odd haiku,

Watch them dancing on the page.

All my own and all the rage.

But this, alas, is a mere day dream

Imagination all askew.

Random rhyme, no similes,

No metaphors, I ask you!

Poet manqué, you’re a has-been.

Go find something else to do.* Ozymandias.

By Ron Gardner

When You Are Old by William Butler Yeats -YOUR FAVOURITE POEM

William Butler Yeats was the most famous Irish poet of all time, and his poems of unrequited love for the beautiful and dangerous revolutionary Maud Gonne helped make her almost as famous as he was in Ireland. The first poem below is Yeats’ loose translation of a Ronsard poem, in which Yeats imagines the love of his life in her later years, tending a waning fire. The second poem, “The Wild Swans at Coole” is surely one of the most beautiful poems ever written, in any language.

When You Are Old

by William Butler Yeats

When you are old and grey and full of sleep,
And nodding by the fire, take down this book,
And slowly read, and dream of the soft look
Your eyes had once, and of their shadows deep;

How many loved your moments of glad grace,
And loved your beauty with love false or true,
But one man loved the pilgrim soul in you,
And loved the sorrows of your changing face;

And bending down beside the glowing bars,
Murmur, a little sadly, how Love fled
And paced upon the mountains overhead
And hid his face amid a crowd of stars.

The Wild Swans at Coole
by William Butler Yeats

The trees are in their autumn beauty,
The woodland paths are dry,
Under the October twilight the water
Mirrors a still sky;
Upon the brimming water among the stones
Are nine and fifty swans.

The nineteenth Autumn has come upon me
Since I first made my count;
I saw, before I had well finished,
All suddenly mount
And scatter wheeling in great broken rings
Upon their clamorous wings.

I have looked upon those brilliant creatures,
And now my heart is sore.
All’s changed since I, hearing at twilight,
The first time on this shore,
The bell-beat of their wings above my head,
Trod with a lighter tread.

Unwearied still, lover by lover,
They paddle in the cold,
Companionable streams or climb the air;
Their hearts have not grown old;
Passion or conquest, wander where they will,
Attend upon them still.

But now they drift on the still water
Mysterious, beautiful;
Among what rushes will they build,
By what lake’s edge or pool
Delight men’s eyes, when I awake some day
To find they have flown away?

YOUR FAVOURITE POEM SENT IN BY YOU

WHAT’S YOURS ?

 

 

Oh how I long to be touched all my life – Promote Yourself

woman and man

Oh how I long to be touched all my life I have wanted to be the only focus of someone’s only desire

The cool look down the nose the warm touch as if I were the only one in the world you wanted

You would look at me and wonder what I was thinking and really cared and gave me your full attention.

I sit lonely and waiting for you to show , for when you don’t the pain I will know

Lost an hurt the pain begins ,I just want to let love in

But for now the joy Is not to be , for there is no you so there is no we

My heart is yours and it is for you to take, let this dream continue and for me not to wake

My dream is of a love hat has no bounds ,a touch from you makes my heart pound

You touch my hand as to say come to me ,for in my dreams I cannot  see

My needs are not for you to fill I, will continue this fantasy  oh yes I will

For in my dreams I am all yours ,you want me and hold me there are no doors

My heart breaks as the sleep goes away ,I open my eyes to another day

I wake to see that again I do not matter, my dream was just thoughtless patter

I go through my day and cant wait for the night ,for in my dreams all is right

Only in dreams I will be desired ,the rest is all thoughtless mire

Good night ,and let me be, as I look for that love that will forever be.

Sean Warren

THE SHERWOOD FORESTERS

sherwood

They wore their badge in honour when they went out to war
But it is something that soon they no longer can display
The fact that the name of the Sherwood Foresters is to disappear
Has been greeted by Nottinghamshire folk with dismay
 
How can this proud name and its years of service
In fighting to preserve our country’s liberty
Be sacrificed on the altar of expediency
Pretending this will lead to greater efficiency
 
We know that the real reason is the economic situation
And that the value of tradition is set at nought
When we realise how taxes are being squandered
It makes us wonder if we value for what they fought
 
They gave their lives to preserve the English way of life
Our traditions and our pride in our nationality
But one by one they are gradually disappearing
As our lives become surrounded by banality
 
The time has come for us to make a stand
To fight for the traditions that we should treasure
To show our pride and gratitude for those who died
And to ensure the name of the Sherwood Foresters lives on forever
Ron Martin
 

shredded – Promote Yourself

 
 knitting
 
Anger
Squashed in the middle
Of iron bars
Nanas knitting more

Victim of my own success
Well
What am I supposed to do?
Fail?

And people all reasonable
Calm and objectionable
I mean objective

What is it that you want to do
What is it that we can do
To reduce the stressful situation
Given the lines and targets
We have to meet?

And I swallow
And breathe
And agree
And am calm
And objectionable
I mean objective
And nod and don’t disagree

And let’s put in place
A meeting
And we’ll meet again
In two weeks time
To see how it is going.
You probably
Just need a rest.

A rest…

Well goodness me…
(Or words to that effect…)
I never thought of that…

cheryl bhagwandin

Steve the seagull – Promote Yourself

gull
Steve the seagull ventured from his nest one summer’s morn

High up on the rooftop where with his siblings he’d been born
Thought he’d had enough of being up there in the sun
Wondered at the down below where it looked a lot more fun
Flapped his fledgling wings a bit and hopped out into space
Plummeted immediately with a lack of seagull grace
Found himself in a small garden with strange smells and grass of green
Such a totally different world from the one ’til then he’d seen
Hopped around bewildered looking for a snack
But when he couldn’t find one thought he’d best be getting back
Flapped his wings, ran a bit and jumped up pretty high
Then rapidly discovered that he couldn’t actually fly
Time passed by, the sun went down, day turned into night
But Steve wasn’t all that bothered about his unexpected plight
Water in a bowl appeared so he could quench his thirst
And he’d found a few small worms to eat, though they tasted strange at first
Thirty-six hours later though and Steve was feeling pretty glum
Mum and Dad had made it clear ‘You’re on your own now, son’
He’d watched, forlorn as they had swooped up there in the blue
So close yet now so far away from the world he thought he knew
And then to make things even worse he was grabbed, stuffed in a crate
Taken from the garden wondering what would be his fate
Steve the seagull found himself on a beach with sand and sea
With lots of other seagulls full of life and flying free
And with another run a spread of wings he found that he could too
Rise up in the air and fly with the others in the blue
Steve the seagull swooped and soared, found his voice and cried aloud
A fledgling chick no more he was a Sussex seagull proud.
By Jem Croucher
(NB – the pic is one of mine so no credits are needed)
 

THE ENGLISH LANGUAGE

 
The English language is not easy to write or speak,
In so many ways it can be quite confusing,
Very often words and phrases are misapplied,
And we sometimes find this to be quite amusing.
 
Words are not always pronounced as they are written,
For instance enough will never rhyme with dough,
We have to listen very carefully to the pronunciation,
Or our understanding of the language will quickly show.
 
Some people might catch a train from Nottingham to Leicester,
And note the names of the stations they pass through,
The English folk will know when they reach Loughborough,
Australians might think that it was Logger-be-rew.
 
I before E except after C is said to be the rule,
But this cannot always be applied,
For if we write about a person’s height or weight,
Our spelling will certainly be criticised.
 
Slang words are just another complication,
As are words which virtually sound the same,
Can it be write for me to ask a question?
Or to ask someone else to right their name.
 
The English language has so many variations,
It is spoken in so many ways throughout the land,
Accents, brogues and nuances all make a difference,
Its no wonder people find it hard to understand.
 
 Ron Martin

Invictus – YOUR FAVOURITE POEM

Invictus – which the former South African president Nelson Mandela read to fellow prisoners in Robben Island jail

The Holy Land (Palestine) – Promote Yourself

holy

What revered, holy land you are?

They took your homes, your olive trees

Ohh! Kingdom of heaven, now cursed you are

They let you gasp the breath they lease

What revered, holy land you are?

Your burning homes, those gardens charred

Those evil men that wretched star

Your love is scarred, your innocence marred

What revered, holy land you are?

Their lies, deceit are aired as fact

Your pelting stones at armored car

Your scream in pain their terrorist act

What revered, holy land you are?

Democracy, humanity, the right to live and breathe as free

Are they not dreams you’ve pushed so far?

So why now deaf to screams you are? Why this pain you fail to see?

What revered holy land you are?

Your silence is admission of guilt

Your judgment not a day so far

Forever none has ruled so far, the strongest realm they might have built

What revered holy land you are?

You’ve seen much worse of times in past

Such devilish men, the Satan’s czar

Nor they shall live nor curse shall last

What revered holy land you are?

You sacrificed, your cherished brood

 Ohh Palestine, so brave you are

No one but you, shall last this feud

What revered holy land you are?

My name is Kashif javed my blog link is http://kashjaved79.wordpress.com/ 

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