RSS Feed




3303523929-2 You may already have a poetry platform,but the more you promote your poetry the more you are seen in the public eye. We have over 20  countries now following this site each day. This is your chance to shine, whilst  the world is watching and waiting for you to promote yourself. Now is the time to send your poetry

Join all the other outstanding poets here!

Wild- Wood – Promote Yourself


Likened it to a system in itself, me in the middle of its breath
the wild-wood sits untouched
(almost). The hard-core
track around which we walked, once. The hides I stumbled upon
for a wax coat and a gun and the tracks that lead your prey
to the barrel and its shells. Trees felled, forest management perhaps
but forests managed before definitely.

This bench blurs in my mind with the last time, before I left when
I apologised for leaving without eye contact and a ran down the hill whilst you walked.

Trees retain memory and start feeding it back to me, like poison
contained within our secret.

Chris Bates


“Stories” – Promote Yourself


We all have a tale to tell, 

And a  path to follow, 

In this vague and shadowy world.

Some dreams are fulfilled, 

While others are forsaken,

And as we grow older

A new reality is unfurled.

We all have a story, with 

Triumphs and tragedy.

We have songs unsung,

And youthful visions of 

Grandeur and glory.

Some are forgotten, or far-flung,

Simply cast aside.

Some of us learn, we grow self aware;

While others do not, and still more

Rely solely on prayer.

Fed up with fairy tales,

They hide behind lies, 

And they believe ancient myths,

Told within a new guise.

Embracing these mysteries,

They never know, 

That some defeats, are more 

Triumphant than victories.

We all have a tale to tell,

As you surely know,

Since you generously share,

Your story so well.

You reveal subtle insights,

When you share your worldly wisdom,

Your fears, and your brokenness, 

With dignity and trust. 

Giving more of yourself,

So others benefit, 

When their intuitions prove unjust.

Your sensitivity, and savoir faire,

Have untold ripple effects, 

As we share, your expertise and flair.

You touch countless lives,

Many more than you will ever realize.

Reminding me again again

I must not despair,

For we all have a story,

And a story can change a life.

(for Marc)

HOME. – Promote Yourself

~                                                  Home is where the heart is that’s what I say,no matter who thinks in any way.          You feel cosy and safe and comfy too all curled up with you know who.                      Home is where your life begins, you grow up and  see things.                                        Things will change as you know your life begins as you grow,                                      home is where you need to be as you go as your free,as you spread your wings and fly,don’t you just wonder when you  sigh.                                                          ~                                                                    Home is where you may be even under the Christmas tree,life at home is complete don’t you just think its so neat.      Now I’m grown life is good its my home now understood.                                            ~                  patricia bourne 



I feel empty, like a bottomless pit,


I cannot explain why.


I feel a pain in my soul,


For which there is no remedy.

Everything around me seems to be static and monotonous,


While inside me, there is an endless turmoil.


People ask me why I’m like this?


People ask me the reason for such anxiety?


People ask me why I fee such emptiness?


So many questions for someone who has no answer.


Why there is a need to explain everything?


Why there is none just to hear me without saying a thing?


I seek no answers and no solutions,


I just want to be the way I am, complicated, painful, tearful, melancholy and a  poet.


No, the world has no place for those who have no answers,


There is no place for someone with unexplained feelings,

Why not think of the complexity of the human being?

I’m body, soul and spirit,


How to find out where is my concern?


I was medicated for the body, without being healed.


I did therapy for the soul, without finding peace.

I did prayer for the spirit, without being answered.


I do not know if I’m sick or the others,


If I am sick, I accept the fate and seek for healing,


If the others are sick, why they blame me?


Why would they demand me to change?


Cruel world, for both healthy and diseased!


I do not believe in the health of any living soul, we are all diseased,


I have never encountered a complete healthy man!


Those who say they are completely healthy, mostly are sicker than all,


I assumed my disease and have prepared me for the pain,


For everything in life hurts!


One day they reproached me for speaking so much about pain,


The other day they made ​​me deny what I am and what I feel,


People told me to simply put on a false cloak of normality.

I was not born for lies, I was born to walk with a naked soul,


I was born to cause scandal, like the one caused to me by Theresa, the saint, from which emanated so much light, even though she said that she was walking in darkness, she was another restless soul.


I’m this, which you sees, but that changes every moment,


When I explain what I am at the end of the sentence I am already another being,


With new pain, new anxieties, new emptiness.


No, don’t have pity on me, I hate pity,


As the poet said, ‘even Solomon in all his glory wasn’t happier than I’m in my misery,


Neither the midday sun is brighter than me in my darkness,

Neither the healthiest has more strength than I in my weakness,

Neither the wisest knows more than I do in my ignorance.


I’m not lost,


I’m not confused,


I’m not faithless,

I’m just a poet, I’m just a contradiction…

by Luis A R Branco 

Luis Alexandre Ribeiro Branco | 

A HOT SUMMER DAY! – Promote Yourself

Waking up knowing the day will be filled with water and sun.
Swimming in the ocean, friends laughing, what could be more fun?
Splashing and chasing, giggles and shouts of joy,
it didn’t matter if you were a girl or a boy.
Through the eyes of your children seeing it again,
a reminder of yourself way back when.
And when it comes time for bed
As you remembered, they also fought it all the way as they lay down their weary head.
Their little eye lids so heavy they are asleep before goodnight is said.
And if you are very lucky and life goes as it should,
you will experience the feeling again with your grand kids which is very very good.
For those are memories that keep your heart happy and young,
and isn’t that what we want when all is said and done.
by Linda Garcia

Dancing tonight – Promote Yourself

I’m going to be dancing tonight,
I’m getting up on the floor,
I am going to spin to tunes,
Until my feet can take no more.

I’m going out tonight,
I am going to dance and drink,
I am going to say bye to my dignity,
As my dancing skills rather stink.

I am going dancing tonight,
Me and my man,
We’re hooking up with our friends,
And dance as much as we can.

We’re going to be home late tonight,
We’ll be stumbling in,
Its going to be so much fun,
To get drunk, dance and sing. 

By Michelle MacKenzie

Not Only But Also – Promote Yourself


Not just a myth
but God’s defining Truth;
Not just a means
but the one true Way;
Not only the creator
but the sustainer of Life;

Not only the beginning
but also the end;
Not only a prophecy
but the fulfilment of the Law;
Not only a baby
but the Prince of Peace;

Not only a perfect man
but the Son of God;
Not only a prophet
but the Word of God;
Not only a priest
but the Holiest of Holies;
Not only a King
but the Lord of Lords;

Not only a sacrifice
but the conqueror of death;
Not only my Saviour
but yours as well;

Not only for then,
Not only for now,
but for eternity.

by @faithunlocked





When Jesus walked this earth

He had one message in mind

To teach the world to love one another

And to each other be thoughtful and kind


Spreading his message to the people

With his disciples by His side

Teaching the words of his Father

Who was his mentor and his guide?


Rebuked by the establishment

He still stuck to his task

Spreading the word of God

Knowing that it would not last


Crowds would gather at his meetings

He would heal those in need

The cripples would walk again

And the multitudes he would feed


But alas the establishment arrested him

There he was put on trial

He was cleared of all charges

He thought he was free for a while


But then he was paraded through the streets

Carrying a cross with thorns upon his head

And as he was nailed on the cross

These were the words he said


As the heavens opened and the earth shook

Father forgive them for they no not what they do

But the seeds Jesus had planted for all

Would blossom in this world anew



  Malcolm Bradshaw

Guide me my Lord – Promote Yourself


Hold me Dear Lord; I tend to sway
With each passing moment I get carried away.

Comes a day when I chart my way
Followed by weeks when I go astray

There’s a clear understanding as to what is important
But when it comes to giving my best I get hesitant

The day runs me rather than the other way around
Negligent amount of work done by day end leaves me astound!

Thoughts of Penny grapple me
As my boss asks to focus on work subtly

On my way home I wonder what do I really want
Cos there’s nothing that I can’t!

The problem lies in preset goals
Work done on them are size of moles.

Until I finish them I’m not going to be free
Unfortunately it isn’t motivating enough to be on a spree

Dreams are thousand but reality is one
I’m a worked up finance guy having less fun

How does writing and photography fit into this I don’t know
But I do remove time to watch Jon Snow

Then there’s House of Cards, Arrow and Person of Interest
Donna is an amazing actress!

Day by day nothing changes other than TV shows,
Neal Caffrey has many foes.

Kiddo, I wonder how will your mother and I meet
Hell! I need to get out of Baker street!

Charlie woos hot chicks while others fake,
Michael Scofield rocks in prison break!!!

Smelly cats purr purr purr,
Thank you Joey, Rachel, Chandler!

Lie to me and I’ll go mad,
 The hell yo, I’m breaking bad!!

See, how thinking of my goals always takes me away
Guide me my Lord, I get carried away. ..

- By Raj Vora

Saint Georges day


Saint George sat all alone

In a tavern enjoying a flagon

He was pondering deep in thought

On how he was going to slay the dragon


He mounted his trusty steed

In his armour with shield and lance

Sped of into the distance thinking

Would he succeed, would he stand a chance?


As he approached the clearing

The mighty dragon stood tall

With fire coming from his nostrils

He stood with his back to the wall


A mighty battle soon enraged

As George lunged forward with his lance

The dragon fought with courage

But alas the dragon didn’t stand a chance


He rid the village of the dragon

So everyone could live in peace

The villages hailed him a hero

For the terror now was to cease


George became the patron saint of England

Where it’s celebrated every year

So enjoy all the celebrations you attend

When you see Saint George give him a cheer


Malcolm Bradshaw

As a child, – Promote Yourself


As a child, 
I never gave much thought or credence, 
about growing into manhood. 
And one day to my surprise, 
I found I was a man. 

As a man, 
I never gave much consideration or deliberation, 
about growing old; 
Moreover, I busied myself with everyday things, 
and allowed time to slip by unnoticed.
Then one day I stopped to look about, 
I was shocked to discover I was an old man. 

As an old man, 
I never gave much thought or attention, 
about death,
moreover, I busied myself with selfish things, 
again, I allowed time to slip foolishly by,  
and to my disbelief I found I was dying.

As I lay dying, 
I find all my thoughts and concentration, 
probing my memory 
now, I busy myself searching for the memories, 
of family and friends from by gone days, 
I did not miss until it was too late.



About Me: I am a 63-year-old retired engineer-building contractor who quite recently discovered writing, poetry, and prose. I have no formal training in any discipline where writing was anything more than writing reports or contracts. 
One day while reading a novella, I made the remark, I could write a novella like the one I was reading, and the gauntlet was thrown down. I bought a high school English Grammar book and a college English Grammar book and studied them both from cover to cover. 
I will admit to this day, I write passive sentences, I do occasionally split the infinitive, and least we not forget I might butcher the mechanics, of the English language. However, Word does a wonderful job pointing out those major flaws in my sentences and paragraphs, then gleefully points out those mistakes, and demands they’re fixed immediately. I hate those little red, blue, and green underlines that appear out of no-where when I type.
I wrote in my journals, and I wrote prose and other works for ten years before I posted the first poem on the blog. I wrote of and about everything from inspirational prose to a 400-plus-page World War II novel. And numerous short stories and essays. I even wrote a porn story of 75000 words, and I think, I will let it languish in the hallowed cylinders of my hard drive until I can find an out of the way place to post it. 
Out of all my pieces I have penned, I have had two published one in a book of prose and the other in the Harleys Owners Group (HOG Magazine) Volume 21 on the exhaust page.

Please visit Short Stories and other Writings at I hope you will enjoy reading them. 
Thank you, Frank Goulding.

The Darkest Day – Promote Yourself

The one on whom we pinned our hopes is now forever gone;
His broken, twisted corpse has shown all witnesses Rome won!
His promises of life and mercy clearly all a fraud,
Hide and lock yourselves away before you face a viscous sword!
What was he thinking? When they came he told us not to fight,
He surrendered with such calm, as if he controlled that night.
We could have made a break for it and seen another day,
With all the wonders that he worked, there had to be another way…
When he merely said his name, they all fell to the ground,
Wasn’t he supposed to clear the temple then be crowned?
Clearly not, no king would choose to die the way he did,
When morning comes it will be time that we all fled and hid.
Deny you ever knew him our you’ll share his shameful fate,
Our home towns might just take us back, if it’s not too late.
Our women want to see the tomb, embalm his body right,
There they go, despite the gloom of dawn’s approaching light…
Taking my baby for a walk.
Enjoying the shadows that play across his sweet little face
As we move in and out of the trees.
A gentle breeze rustling the leaves, distant birdsong,
The calm clatter of pram wheels along the cobbled path.
Watching the curious look in his innocent eyes
As he takes in the scenery passing by.
Is there any moment more peaceful, more wonderful,
A greater advert for life?
The only way to make this memory any better
Is to share it with you.
Forested deep purity
Dusted with a winter’s glow;
Crystalline perpetuity
Takes its place in nature’s show.
Fresh sunlight plays with diamonds soft
That glisten as they sing
In silent awe that drifts aloft
A peaceful offering.
Great ice sheets yield to spring’s sweet kiss
And snow gives way to rain;
Arboreal chants blend fragrant mists
That flood the fertile plain.
New fauna dance with life unbound
And quiver as they sleep,
Loathe to miss one sight or sound
Or lose one joy so deep.
Streams trickle, tumbling, giggling down
And nourish all they meet;
Young bucks do battle with their crowns
Their heroes to unseat.
Fierce summer heat strips arid earth
Of all that’s failed to thrive;
Refreshing flows gain countless worth
For all to stay alive.
Massed Shady greens turn mighty light
Into life’s currency;
Frantic deals done day and night
In this dependency.
Old summer takes his bow in style
With whirls of amber shades.
Harvests picked and safely piled
As daily brightness fades.
Most heed the warnings in the sky
Of winter’s coming wrath:
In insulated sanctuary lie
Or take a southward path.
And so the cycle runs again
It’s glorious phases through;
Enjoy their transient beauty, then,
And savour them anew.
Warm sun on your back,
Cool breeze in your hair.
Here is space to relax
Or reflect, if you dare.
Space to breathe,
Space to think.
Space to revel in the wonder of reality:
The grandeur of a hilltop,
The beauty of a tree.
The charms of lilting birdsong,
And life’s stunning mystery.
The carefree laughs of children,
Friendly dogs at play.
Sights and sounds that lift your mood,
And turn around your day.
The gently rippling field of grass,
Fresh air after the rain.
Cascading smells and textures that
Make this world far from plain.
The mighty soaring orchestra
That sweeps your off your feet
And takes your heart to places new
As two worlds seem to meet.
Gentle words of solace,
A comforting embrace.
All this and more to ponder
In this quiet, peaceful space.
I’m an English ex-pat living in the Czech Republic with my Czech wife, four sons and daughter. I have a degree in Chemical engineering, but I work as a freelance proof-reader and occasional translator, mostly for various local scientific research institutions and Church organisations, but we used to do more translating for a post-production studio (for example, we translated every episode of ‘Duck Tales’ into Czech for dubbing). I have a self-published novel out, but zero success getting any of my poetry published (I entered a couple of contests, won one but never got the prize, entered a pay to enter one and never heard back from them, so I’ve given up on contests). My next project will be based on the ‘Joy of…’ series on my blog, interspersing the steps in the philosophical journey with poems appropriate to the given subject.

The Science of Surrender – Promote Yourself


You exist now but in memories

that permeate my skin

and crawl their way into my mind

in an instant devouring

the last semblance of

a vain façade of animosity

of which I’ve never been convinced.


With each atom of my being

magnetized by your allure

you manipulate my limbs;

bending knees to your devotion

you are a master puppeteer

whose once soft whispers have become

a paralysing  howl.


Armed with defences  paper-thin

I am a failure at deception

demolishing feeble barricades

you seep into my porous walls

illuminating through a guise

of rough exterior grown transparent

the fragile creature at my core.

Wounded in an open field

I lie in wait to be consumed.

Written By: Katie Flach, Campbell, CA

About Me: I am a 27-year old graduate student pursuing my masters in Clinical Psychology, with the hope of ultimately becoming a licensed psychotherapist. Writing has always been an incredible outlet for me, not only as a means of self-expression but also as a vehicle to create something of beauty out of the ugliness generated by painful emotions and difficult life experiences. Aside from writing, I have a huge appreciation for art, all things reptilian, cosplay and body modification (tattoos and piercings). In my free time, I enjoy reading, shooting my bow, nerding out to video games, hanging out with my crested gecko and ball python, watching sci-fi/action films and keeping myself in shape through hiking, jogging and strength-training. Thank you so much for taking the time to read my work!

Check Me Out on WordPress:

Stop Talking to Dead People – Promote Yourself

Let go of the kite
Its bows are torn
And it reeks of the ditch where
It sat for many days.
We’ll make you a new one-
Failing that,
You’ll grow up
As tall as the weeds that
Envelope the plants
In a deafening embrace.
You will forget.
Take this inside,
Your hands are soiled
And the bitter taste that
We know all too well
Is on our tongues,
Hiding in the bristles
Like a frightened child.
Wash the dishes,
Unfold the crease in the middle of your heart
And stop talking to dead people-
They are gone.
Like your bracelet at the bottom of the pool,
You will forget.
The Mentor
We ourselves have been a dying breed
That planted nothing; that sowed no seed
And slowed the earth without a hint of qualms
Recovered softly, and gave no alms
Our hearts obese and left in disarray
We owned no lamps to help us find our way
The ringing choir that waiting wolves concoct
We heard no sound, our ears were locked
This bitter darkness we had come to know
Its aching charade; its ebb and flow
Its razor sting that rides the night’s appeal
Through glacial fear- to kill and steal
Now softly tread the wounded beast’s manure
Make slow the thirsty race on Bodmin moor
Evade the piercing crystal light’s allure
I tell you we’ve been in your place befor
The load that bent our backs was ours to carry
Our pleas in hastened rush like the canary
Our feet were blistered, broken, bleeding pus
And you are lucky to learn from us.

My name is J. V. We and I live in London, England. I’m sending in two poems for Promote Yourself. I write because I love the idea of capturing moments, memories and dreams with words (my way of making of the moment something permanent). The link to my blog is 
Ufuoma Brume

Word Weaving – Promote Yourself


A weaver of words in and out through the woods,

up on a mountain where the sky is so blue.

I sit here and think of something new.

To contemplate those elusive words that my mind does see,

wanting to write what it is to be,

so you visualize what I am trying to show.

If successful, you will definitely know.

The trick is to say it just right,

in addition, keep it together nice and tight.

No wandering off into ramble land,

need to keep it here if I can.

Sometimes the mind leads the way,

and the hands type more than I need to say.

I try to stop the thoughts before they go,

choosing the ones that keep the flow.

If I am lucky and it all works out,

You will understand the thoughts I am talking about.

 By Linda Garcia


The Dawn – Promote Yourself


This saddest chore we will fulfil,
We women weak and weary still
From all these awful days have wrought,
We will embalm him as we ought.

But who will roll the stone away, and what about the guard?
So many things combined to make this day so very hard.
There’s the rich man’s garden, but what happened to the tomb?
My friends nervously approach and peer into the gloom.

An unknown voice calls, “He’s not here!” We scatter, terrified.
A minute later I return and take a look inside.
They’ve taken him! But where and why? What do they hope to gain?
Can’t they just allow us to endure our private pain?

“Please, sir, Mr Gardener, I do not mean to lurk,
Just tell me where you’ve taken Him, I’ll leave you to your work.”
“Mary,” says a voice I know, I look up in surprise,
And wipe the blurring tears from my disbelieving eyes.

It’s Him! He is alive and His body glorified!
“Teacher!” I said, so overjoyed to be there by his side.
“Do not cling to me,” He said, “I must still yet ascend
To my Father up in heaven, I am faithful to the end.”

“Go to all my brothers and tell them this from me:
I’m going to the glory that is mine eternally.”
That dawn began a whole new age, His rule began that day;
We’ll follow our beloved king, the Truth, the Life, the Way!


Get every new post delivered to your Inbox.

Join 11,977 other followers

%d bloggers like this: