When I see my reflection
I see chubby and ugly,
I see imperfection.
I need the affection
I have to be pretty
If I don’t look like “this”
They won’t bother with me.
So I get dolled
And caked up
Smothered in make up
Just to have some boy tell me
I need to be easy on the eyes,
To compete with the girls
And impress the guys.
To them I’m a prize
A challenge, a game,
Another pretty face
With a number and name.
And I’ll play along,
Pretending to be okay
Pretending I don’t know about
What they whisper in the hallway.
It’s just another day
I have to get through.
Why couldn’t my reflection
Be beautiful too.
Hey, it’s Marcus Roi again, hope you enjoyed the poem. This is one of the poems that will be featured in my book “Book of Mars.” You can find more from me at allpoetry.com/Marcus_Roi.
My wife is pregnant
and the joy floods in.
Never expecting another life from mine
I stand amazed
and watch you grow
a love within my love.
I’ll tell you things,
I’ll teach you things,
I’ll show you the past
and stand amazed
as the future unfolds.
And I’ll hold you close
when life threatens.
This impatient little boy of age ten
With his blue side bag and quirky glasses
It was a fine day with a playful breeze
Tapped his feet and saw the cars pass by,
The Toyota, the Maruti and the Mercedes!
He waited for his mother on the street.
The Crowded road in front of his school.
Where vehicles and people were plenty
His father told him it wasn’t so once
for he did go to this very school
Spoke proudly about the time long gone.
When the road was clean, Spotless!
There weren’t so many cars so many people.
A lot of turf and not a trace of litter.
The boy couldn’t imagine that distant time.
As he waited all he could see.
Was litter and people too busy to care
as the garbage played with the road, a love affair!
Garbage in all of its manifestation.
Cans of mountain dew and wrappers of lays and
Skin of orange riddle the space.
People too busy to care
Walk without even so much as another glance,
Caught up in the ways of the world, in a Trance!,
That was when the boy saw it,
One man. Just one man! Lifting up the garbage,
In his clean clothes and slip on shoes.
No one now dared to litter as he
picked up the can, picked up the wrapper.
The boy joined him and a miracle happened,
People gathered to clean the streets,
That day He went home and told his dad,
The time that once was has returned,
The road is clean, spotless!
All it took was one man and
an impatient Little Boy.
Where are all the broken brollies?
They have all been left in the streets
In Nottingham, all bent and broken
After all the snow,rain and wind has gone
I saw a Council man with a trolley
Picking up all of those broken brollies,
So now I know where they have all gone
The Council man picked up every one
They say in London
The streets are paved with gold,
In Nottingham the streets are filled
With broken brollies
The shops are empty
The brollies have all been sold
Now what will shelter us
From the rain and the cold?
Abbe, Tom, and Gillian
Her alluring sculpture of a woman
Her dark hair like a charming legend
Her feminine scent from heaven
Her beady eyes outshining diamond
Her dulcet voice like breeze tones
Her sweet lips as coconut flan
Her sharp wit penetrating stones
Her clear skin wearing no tan
Invaded my gamut of emotions
Inhabited my heart, soul, and mind
Dived into my deepest oceans
And cured my eyes that were blind
© Chaouki M’kaddem
December 25th, 2014
Have you seen the birds in spring?
They are nearly always on the wing
Seeking in the east and west
Materials to build their nest
The eggs are laid and are kept warm
Protected from the wind and storms
Until the sound of breaking shell
Tells the parents that all is well
Then they spend all day in search of food
To satisfy their hungry breed
Chicks which grow stronger every day
Until one day they fly away
Parents then begin their quest
To find a site for a second nest
Another clutch of eggs are laid
And the care of the parents is again displayed
The days grow shorter every day
Until one day they fly away
Then no more can they be seen
They have gone away to pastures green
Where there is warmth and food for all
There is a member who is new
Who requires some type of rescue!
Looking back at life’s preview
He has had his kids
Been wise and stupid
Smoked enough weed
Aging exhibits on both eyelids
No more young dreams to pursue
A time he was young with hope
Goals matured and developed
But time took away that potential scope
Old age has at last struck for true
Today he joins the old pensioners’ crew
Stuck in his fresh basement
He scorns retirement at its commencement
With continuous utter resentment
Thinking it is a washed up experiment
Today, old age seems to be of no value
A new life and a new official venue
Some meet at the post office queue
Others meet at the bookies avenue
Leaving only when the night is due
The alarm clock has ceased ringing
The ladies have stopped singing
The bread winner is no longer bringing
To him nothing anymore is inspiring!
Why is life such a screw?
Is this a new life for true?
His thoughts he has to subdue
For him life still continues
Forthwith he looks at life with a new view!
The anticipation has come to an end,
It’s almost time to meet our new friend,
It’s 2 in the morning, the pain kicks in,
Here he comes, his life will soon begin,
I am scared stiff, what lies ahead?
Screaming out in the hospital bed,
The pain is so bad just want him here,
I have never felt so much fear,
25 hours later he’s in my arms
Hoping and praying he comes to no harm,
His big blue eyes and cute little face
Look up at me to say,
How did I get to this place?
I promise him right there and then,
I will love him forever, until the end.
All ready I’ve
To try and write it out
My feelings flowing
On this unforgiving page.
See I once
While i plotted lives
With a cold hearted
Now my hands
Only to my
There is no longer
Solace in a
It is now
A cold dead tomb
In which i am burdened
By its weight
With dark skies
And overdue consequences
Time has finally caught on
The price of lies
Himself outgrows his flowers.
He grows by gift of patience,
Since he who sows must know
That only in the Lord’s good time
Does any seedling grow.
He learns from buds unfolding,
From each tight leaf unfurled,
That his own heart, expanding,
Is one with all the world.
He bares his head to sunshine,
His bending back a sign
Of grace, and ev’ry shower becomes
His sacramental wine.
And when at last his labors
Bring forth the very stuff
And substance of all beauty
This is reward enough.
-MARIE NETTLETON CARROLL
Please send your poetry to:firstname.lastname@example.org
Some say the world will end in fire,
Some say in ice.
From what I’ve tasted of desire
I hold with those who favor fire.
But if it had to perish twice,
I think I know enough of hate
To say that for destruction ice
Is also great
And would suffice.
BY ROBERT FROST
Sent in by you. What’s your favourite poem?
They say that we are what we eat
And in many cases this appears to be so
For those folk who enjoy a regular ‘fry up’
Advertise the fact wherever they go
It is said that obesity is a problem
Affecting the health and wealth of our nation
So I have decided that I must do all I can
To ensure that my body does not suffer from inflation
So I asked my sister ROSEMARY for advice
And said I should try a diet of herbs
That SAGE could be beneficial
And it would help to divide the nouns and the verbs
My cousin BASIL said that he agreed
With much of what my sister had to say
He said we should eat more CORIANDER with our salads
And this would keep obesity at bay
At first this appeared to be working
And that it would require more THYME
And if this does not prove affective
At least it will give me time to finish this rhyme.
As the eyes which I can not see ‘ its the sadness that reaches within me .
My sight I may be losing ‘ its sad but true ‘ I worry about the very thing ‘ and about you .
The pain and suffering ‘ I may have to bare ‘ but not seeing you grow up ‘ its beyond compare.
This is my life now ‘ eyes which I can not see ‘ will I be alone ‘ with only you and me .
The future I had ‘ I must learn to face ‘ the eyes are not needed ‘ its no disgrace .
They say the eyes are the windows of the soul ‘ that you know to be true ‘ but that’s not the only thing ‘ for me and you .
Patricia Bourne WordPress 2014
You’re the sun I never shun
Besides you, I cherish none
You’re the prize I’ve ever won
For hard times, joy and fun
You proved to be the one
You’re my source of light
You made my life so bright
I am ravished with delight
Whether here or out of sight
I remain your grateful knight
© Chaouki Mkaddem
June 3rd, 2014