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Here is my submission for the current picture of the Bird and the Snow

Copyright image taken by  Poetree Creations

All for Her

“It was all for her” the swallow said
As it swelled its breast with pride
Watching the man with black umbrella
Walk from side to side

“It was all for her” The man softly spoke
As he considered all he had
And kept his feet to shuffle between
The snows pile up ahead.

“It was all for her” The snow declared
As it whittled down its stock
Becoming just another pile
Of water among the rocks
“It was all for her” the rocks declared
As they mark the borders by
And so the sun may glisten upon
Their bumped backs, soft and dry

“It was all for me” the sun affirmed
As she raised her gentle head
And watched the people praise her warmth
Wishing for Summers heat  instead.


I am Philisapher

Here is my submission for the current picture of the Bird and the Snow

…and if this
       little bird
                               could share of what it’s
                                               mind conceives, would I even
                                               understand how simple life
                                                can be …
thanks for the opportunity.   Lita
   EstreLita Pondoc
How people treat you is their karma; how you react is yours.
~ Wayne Dyer
I’ve composed a poem for your contest with the chickadee in the snow picture.  

And then there was one…And so, here I am, upon the winter of my joie de vivre,
where once were perched two friendly birds; now rests thus only one.
A wooden cage erected hence, that I can never leave,
the snow the only thing that will remember when I’m done.
I cannot see the outside world as I once knew I could –
I gaze through disconnected visage, staring at the cold.
The bitter chill assaults me, and I’m left from what is good;
My breath hangs in the air, and with each second, I grow old.
The greens are grey around me; all the flowers?  Gone to sleep.
A broken tree breaks through the white of everpresent ice;
all around the wooden husk, the ivy starts to creep
and strangle out its life and each last wisely sage advice.
The earth’s adorned in frosted dew just as a christening gown.
There’s empty footprints in the snow aside my freezing feet,
At last I feel the slumber, and I lay my body down,
at the winter of my life, so maybe now, I’ll feel complete.
Brad Bricktower

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life and love

Everyone Has A Glow-promote yourself

The lost village. – Promote Yourself

You walk along the cobbled streets’ passing the people you may meet’ the houses are strange’ you can tell’ you wonder why there is a well.
The people are dressed in funny clothes’ that’s strange don’t you know.
They talk to you in a weird way’ I don’t understand what they say.
As you pass by a near farm’ you wonder why there is alarm’ so many animals there should be’ there is none’ only a tree.
I walk along a cobbled road’ crossing bridges as I go’ now I know where I am’ I came up across the river dam.
Its huge and big I must say’ I wondered why the waters flows that way.
The village disappears into the night’ you turn around and its out of sight.
The village is lost that I know’ its so old I must go.

Patricia bourne WordPress 2014.

Cornucopia – Promote Yourself


 I just thought I would send you a poem.  My name is Angela Perkins and I live in Hastings in the UK.  I have been writing poetry for a while, but have only recently started blogging it at my blog

The Writers Stage – Promote Yourself



I. Will. Revolt. – Promote Yourself


I will be a better person
I will help out where I can
I will commit to listen
I will not demand

I will be attentive
I will not draw the line
I will shelter vulnerable
I will not waste time

I will learn from watching
I will teach by showing
I will be more conscious
I will devote to knowing

I will be compassionate
I will give more than I take
I will be grateful
I will forgive mistakes

I will reserve my judgment
I will share my opinion
I will be respectful
I will not be a minion

I will stand against oppressors
I will fight for no ones war
I will love the neglected
I will recompense more

I will deflect aggression
I will not insult
I will not flee from tyranny
I. Will. Revolt.

By- Mr. Mister

Walls – good and bad – Promote Yourself

walls not good

ones that grow
amid friends
never fall down
friendships drown

low wall not bad
amid two houses
a place for tete-a-tete
builds friendship
as strong as high wall

high wall not good
between neighbours
icy-cold hearts
stony dead silence
such walls develop ears

‘wall-to-wall’ walls not bad
such walls build houses
if hearts build a home
without house no home
hug such wall-to-wall walls

 strong walls of a house
keep inmates warm
and secure, weak walls
of a house soon come down
till the home drowns

shaky walls of an old house
broken and mouldy
such walls weep and such
walls speak, tell sad tales of a
home that once was

Alka Girdhar

Past midnight

Shadowy thin man appears
lurking amid car headlights,
he’s obviously had a few beers,
it’s not a pretty sight
a man who sheds tears.
The sky cloaked as a funeral,
held in a dull trance,
has an uneasy reliance
on misplaced Novas; innumerable,
shooting to a macabre dance.
Thin man follows his own star,
Trilby hat over one eye
to some bolted door of a saloon bar,
again he begins to cry,
too late, I fear, for that last jar.
Crescent moon on high illuminates
empty streets, shuttered blinds,
closed doors, sleeping minds,
dreaming of last nights date,
waking suddenly to ruminate.
Only the thin man walks the way
of hopes and stars and dreams,
unsteadily unable to convey,
nor neither equipped to delay,
a morning mist on sunlit streams.
By Stephen Holloway

My broken heart

I have a broken heart

That I have tried so hard to mend

I placed all of my trust in you

I thought you were my friend,

You took your love away

And gave it someone else

I’m now left with a broken heart

That I’ve placed upon the shelf,

Each day I try to repair it

The pieces are scattered everywhere

It will be so hard to mend,

But I’m not going anywhere

So each day I will continue

To fix my broken heart,

Though you will always try

To tear me apart

I hope your new love

keeps her heart intact,


The truth is…

I never want you back

Gillian Sims


ASSISI BY NORMAN MACCAIG – Your Favourite poem

I studied this poem for my ‘Higher’ English exam at school in Scotland over 20 years ago and it has always stayed with me.  The first few lines are heartbreakingly descriptive and set the scene beautifully to enable the final verse to bring the message home in some of the most poignant writing I have read 

CHURCHBBBBBBBBBThe dwarf with his hands on backwards
sat, slumped like a half-filled sack
on tiny twisted legs from which
sawdust might run,
outside the three tiers of churches built
in honour of St Francis, brother
of the poor, talker with birds, over whom
he had the advantage
of not being dead yet

A priest explained
how clever it was of Giotto
to make his frescoes tell stories
that would reveal to the illiterate the goodness
of God and the suffering
of His Son. I understood
the explanation and
the cleverness.

A rush of tourists, clucking contentedly,
fluttered after him as he scattered
the grain of the Word. It was they who had passed
the ruined temple outside, whose eyes
wept pus, whose back was higher
than his head, whose lopsided mouth
said Grazie in a voice as sweet
as a child’s when she speaks to her mother
or a bird’s when it spoke
to St Francis.

YOUR FAVOURITE POEM SENT IN BY YOU = http://elizabethfrattaroli.wordpres


Death To Wiggly Red Lines – Promote Yourself



There is nothing so oppressive to the spirit
Of the perennial utilizator of nonsense verbology
As the crinkled strip of death objecting
To our syncopating vocabulary.
Not content with voicing harrumphs at these
Gone too, must be academic jargonry
Lest we break the poor computer’s cranium.
And we know truly that the programmar (Of who I am SIC)
of your dictionary must definitely be
For heaven forbid you durst use
Cheese eating francophiles partez!
We have no Word for thee.
Good heavens, do you speak
Like the Queen, or the BBC?
Rather than like they do in the colonies?
The fruits of your labour shall be
Underlined in litres of red ink.

Leastways, it does not presume
To change it by itself – Oh wait
Which, interesting to note,
Is itself an “illegal word”
Proving that God
Or at least the programmer
(Who all have God complexes)
Has a sense of Irony.

- Ryan E. Martin

Can be found at


i way
We all need God to guide us on our life’s way,
And he needs us to speak for him today,
For the voice of God is very seldom heard,
Many, many people are never confronted with his word.
Those who have met and come to know the lord,
Have it as their duty to propagate his word,
Helping others to know Jesus as a friend,
Someone who will support them to the very end.
What is this friendship that we have come to feel,
What is the word of God we have been asked to reveal,
It has been described as the most precious thing that earth afford,
The reason for this being the promise it records.
The gospel message is one which is filled with hope,
To give us all the strength that we need to cope,
With the many problems which beset us on lifes way,
And prepares us to meet our maker when it comes to judgement day.
To those who do not believe this is hard to understand,
It is possible that it will interfere with the life that they have planned,
In itself this is a barrier which will make them resist,
This reluctance on their part is why we must persist.
At the same time we must not only spread the word,
But reveal to others the changes which in our life have occurred,
To show that our new life in Christ gives us satisfaction,
And praying at the same time it will get a good reaction.
When we look around us at the world today,
We should recognise there is a need for the Church to have its say,
The purpose of the Church must be to convince, not to condone,
To help others to accept the life of Jesus as their own.
If this could only be what a change would take place,
As the faith in Christ was spread throughout the human race,
It would give us pleasure to see more people guided on lifes way,
And we would find satisfaction in speaking for him today.
Ron Martin

OVERHEAD- Promote Yourself


 the light bulbs expire,

Their guts bursting,

And in death their ghosts yield a softer view of life,

Harsh shadows melt away.

Reality fades into the background

and the room’s boundaries sink into infinity.

Another bursts in incandescent death.

Familiar objects take on new shapes

as possessions melt from sight.

A book left open,

the words blur into feelings.

Something calls from the darkness

waiting to be released as the last flame fades.

Walt Trizna


life and love

I could not live without love,
It’s my strength and my guide,
It’s knowing someone cares for you,
That they will always be at your side,

Love comes in many forms,
Love for family and friends,
Love for your partner,
A love that should never end.

The love for a new-born baby,
So gentle and so mild,
It was love that created,
That sweet and beautiful child.

Love for your fellow man,
Is felt when they are in pain,
Affected by their down fall,
Bring light in to their life again.

Love for life itself,
Be grateful for what you are,
Illuminate the light within,
Like the brilliance of a star.

Love lifts the spirit,
Love lifts the soul,
Give love to everyone,
That really should be our goal.

Malcolm G Bradshaw

There Comes A Day…-promote yourself


Growing wings- Promote Yourself


Will you give me shelter

and comfort me in cold 
heartless winters?
Build a nest of loving words
feathered with acceptance
shielded with the grace I need
to give me wings
Will you do that?
And when I’m strong 
will you have strength
to let me fly away – alone?

Refinished – Promote Yourself

Wild Orchid – Promote Yourself

“The flower that walks”, the Indian; said, 
And walking spreads its crown-like roots 
Through forest glades and upland dales. 
Moccasin flower or Lady’s Slipper,
It matters not the name
Or if it be fair white or rose or tiny yellow kind
Tis ever rare and wondrous there 
This woodland beauty Bequeathed us from another age. 
A Heritage to guard with 
And cherish for posterity
That other eyes in future years
Mav see this Orchid walk the trails
As did our native Indian braves
And shy eyed maidens of the tribe.

Nights eye – Promote Yourself


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