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But I love you so

shadow in the woods

I gently wipe

The tears from my eyes

Remembering the love

You denied

Like a winter breeze

Embracing the trees

You disappeared

Faded into the breeze

Through the forest

Through the trees

To follow a rainbow

Maybe, or

To greet your new love

But I still

love you so

We built our friendship

We built our love

On rocks

I thought

A deep foundation

When all along

You had a new love

You left me

All alone

But I still

Love you so

Gillian sims

” Slowly: Come Find Me…I’m Tired”:- Promote Yourself


Waking up to a dream

within inward expressions

beaming from green firelight

of a night before…

the soft contours of skin

craving yielded desires.

Through imperfect fatigue

we found rhythms surrounded

by a wash of stars…

mingling surprised tenderness

with fingertips exploring

the fiery galaxy inside you.

Braced, staged, and pressed

against a chattering headboard…

cinched ecstasy and bodies

that remember sinewy luxuries

of acquiesced prodding…

hips colliding tuned to love’s

angelic yellow hymn…

The choir octaves

of an undrawn voice…

Euphoria split visibility

below seas of sighed

breaths that hungered with

with heaving passion

augmenting the way

your blonde hair draped

across your shoulders.

Lonely nights whisper your name

on the edge of expanding wings.

In-spire – Promote Yourself



The ancient church spire

Absorbs the sorry scene

It sees the approaching fire

And yet it stands serene


Not keen to yield to natures call

As mighty flames lick, forge on

It will stand majestic and tall

Until the last hope is gone


The spire knows, is assured

That if it’s frame is set ablaze

There will be a spire no more

A short farewell, its final phase


Where church and spire once stood

Embers of faith glow in the rubble

Faith is questioned, misunderstood

But people want to help in times of trouble


The spire saw faith move mountains

It knew faith could rebuild, nurture, thrive

If you look to the example of the spire

See past now, that you can revive, survive


Be sure that faith lingers at a heart’s gate

Stand tall, serene, witness, breathe

You can withstand the whims of fate

You are not scattered ashes and you believe.



Joanne started writing professionally in March 2014.

Her books are available on Amazon, some of her children’s stories can be found on and a selection of her recent short stories are downloadable from

A number of her poems have been accepted for publication in anthologies.

Her poem, His Prey, was shortlisted in the Creative Writing Ink competition in August and September 2014 and in October 2014 her haiku was featured in Chrysanthemum in English and German.

Her blog on writing and life with O.C.D. and P.T.S.D. is updated regularly –

Fish Food I&II-promote yourself


One day a man went to the seashore,
a measuring rod and a notepad in hand

Walked into the surf
took a measure from his knees to the sand
noted it on his pad

A week later the man returned
and measured from his waist to the sand
duly noted
on his pad

Another week later the man returned
took a measure from his neck
to the sand
noted on his pad

It was quite some time
before anyone noticed
the man no longer took measures
and was not seen nor heard from again

Washed ashore was found
a ruler
and a soggy note pad
that read:

“my calculations must have been off
and now i fear
i’ve gotten in…
way over my head”


Should’ve at least learned

How to first tread water

Before attempting to swim.


Fish Food II

shark and diver 

Lord teach us to be
kinder and gentler
Lord help us to see
beyond self unselfishly
Lord teach us to stand
and be able to lift someone by the hand
Lord we love what you’re doing in us
You’ve taught us
that nothing worth having comes pain-free
Lord it helps to appreciate You more
growing through Blessed trials
Divine Grace and Mercy
Lord we love how you give so freely
but know exactly how
to leave us a little thirsty
We love you Lord
teach us how
to love you more
though it’s very clear to see
try as hard as we might
You’ll always love us more
We give thanks and Praise to You O’ Lord
Your name above all names
We are grateful Lord
this road we’re on
started long ago
but everyday
it feels fresh and new
like it’s only just begun

One step…



hold your ground
“be still…”
wait for the sound

next step
might put us over our heads
but you’ve taught us how
to tread water
and never drown

anthony gomez

“A Beautiful Mess” – Promote Yourself



Exit -Promote yourself


Pure trickery – Promote Yourself



CLOUDS – Promote Yourself


Into the Fiery Furnace


Victims – Promote Yourself


On Reading the Handwriting on Walls – Promote Yourself

White washed…Yikes! – Promote Yourself


Feel the oppression on earth – Promote Yourself

The moon light-Promote Yourselfb

Space landscape moon


What is Ageing? – Promote Yourself


Virgin Snow – Promote Yourself


NEW YORK BEACON – Promote Yourself


Driving along in New York City

One cold stark Saturday night,

The city alive, the tenements dark

Save a harsh fluorescent light.


What were you doing that Saturday night?

Making love, planning your life

That dark Saturday night,

That cold Saturday night.


I saw your light, that lonely light

That cold dark Saturday night.

In the distance a beacon calling us home

As we wandered through darkness that night.


The city was dark, the hope departed

That cold stark Saturday night.

But work was done and dreams were dreamed

In the shadows that journey towards light.


That time is gone, that time is past

Yet my mind recalls the sight

Of you alone amidst the sea,

That fluorescent beacon of light.


You planned, you dreamed, you lived your life,

That cold dark Saturday night.

Where are you now, what have you become?

A demon, a memory, a light.


Did you succeed, did you escape?

Did you survive your plight?

Does your beacon still shine showing the way

As we journey this lonely night


  Walt Trizna

The poem was published by Bewildering Stories in 2007.


Let me tell you its history.


Back in the mid 1970s, I was working in New York .  You already know this if you read the background for The Camera’s Eye.  I would sometimes spend weekends with a coworker and her husband.  They lived in Queens, but knew Manhattan which I often visited with them.


One cold winter night, I was sitting in the backseat while they drove.  I happened to look out the window at a landscape of tenements, high-rises that packaged the less fortunate. 


I will never forget this.  Most of the windows were dark, yet one had a glaring light that drew my attention.  I was mystified by this and thought about it for many years; then I finally wrote this poem.

Raising My Adrenaline


When I see it happening around me, and I have to stop

take a breath, make a choice

do I respond, because when I do,

you know, they will retaliate, speak out loud

make a point that is that universal language 

that shouts with vengeance, screams a throttling,


When I feel,

it all unravels so quickly I can only sit back

and resign, let the wind hit me with stride

hope my balance, hope my center,

can withstand the scrutiny, piece of myself

that always believes there is something wrong

because the world around me constantly,

reminds me.

If when I respond to the circus that plays me,

I might not always feel a shelf below 

the polished instruments that eyes take notice,

letting those in the dust become a secondary after-thought.

Yet when sunlight strikes the silver lining,

that is the peace that drives me forward,

knows I can love with compassion,

knows there is truth and discovery,

allows change to become a practice,

a remarkable challenge toward realizing 


So when I cry,

please don’t ask me why,

just let me be there,

in the moment underneath all of my fear,

lies a vision, an honest reckoning,

perhaps a quiet travel through life’s intrigue,

while searching the endless avenues,

those difficult stumbling blocks

that when surpassed may speak …



© Thom Amundsen


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