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Wading absent in the floral age of old memories.
Dead leaves peeled from the skin to leave raw wounds of hope,
space to flourish,
for the new blood to surface.

Press the leaves in the Book of Failed Attempts
and Finished Chapters,
to admire and pine over on the long days of the heart’s winter silence.

Save some room. There’s always more to come.

Like a disappointed child,
I stand in the empty field at the end of the road,
longing for more,
waiting for a magic carpet to unfold and take me beyond this endless dead end.

Anger grips the lungs,
piston breath pushing venom spit to the lips.

Nothing behind me but rubble–
old lies and charms,
lost treasures,
the repeating,
familiar scene.
Millions of identical lives in a house of mirrors,
watching the face of death smile into eternity.

Light and stone and cold fumes permeating through the walls of sleep,
pushing the hands to clutch,
to prize any warmth,
covet the soul of God to alleviate the claustrophobic pressure of the alarm clock screaming.

I stare vacantly down that old road,
emptied into long days,
sad nothings,
eternal moments of joy,
frozen and ever encroaching,
seeking the return to now,
tempting the feet,
my heart,
tricking desire to turn,
to retrace the travelled steps to the void of dead time.

The old skin always wants to crawl back, curl up in that familiar womb–
to (relapse) relax and sleep awhile.

Slip a little bit of delirium in the pocket,
wistful sunshine obliterating my face in the open field,
to keep me company in this uncertain moment.

Soften the blow of the hard grit of the true day–
a playful lie,
basking in yesterday’s romance.
Pretty poetry,
to exaggerate as the years divide me,
stretch the distance between then and now.

Ahead of me,
the unapproachable forest of mystery.
No beat down path, no hint of the way–
only the fresh growth of the unknown.
I take the first step without a hand to hold,
a shoulder of support,
a nod of approval.

I take the first step alone.


I Will… Against All The Odds


I will keep flying and singing

Despite subjugation and wings clipping

I will keep up advancement

Despite any ignoble impediment

I will keep to my principles

Despite bigotry and disapprovals

I will keep on preaching peace

Despite intolerance and violent tendencies

I will move for change and make a difference

Despite blind hatred, rage and indifference

I will keep my chin up and never give up

And enjoy freedom like riding at a gallop

© Chaouki M’kaddem

September 12th, 2014

Self Sentence – Promote Yourself


Prisoner to approval

I sit in the corner of my cell

painting pretty pictures of myself


overflowing with creative energy

yet begging for inspiration,

am I never to realise

the true art of life hiding within

the formlessness of just being?


Will I ever dare

go beyond the rusting bars

where freedom sits, waiting…


like a mother unable to cradle her young?

Big Love,


(About me):

My name is Jason Graham. I’m a London-based father, partner, poet, copywriter, dreamer and Master of the ancient Japanese healing art, Reiki. My writing and love for life is inspired by the non-dual spiritual teachings of Sri Mooji and the ancient Sufi mystic and poet, Rumi.

the angels in our lives aren’t to keep – Promote Yourself


She saved me from myself

from falling to the lowest depth

unlike no other

with her selfless grace

Her beauty so immense

with wings shiny white

and golden radiance

She flew me higher

and in her

i fell deeper

Each night she left me a feather

for she was an angel

and we couldn’t be together

Her halo is broken

I’m left with the wings

she tore down

She is an angel no more

with someone else

she is bound.

Nipun Bajracharya, Nepal

Just enthusiast in writing attempting poetry :) 

forgot the link for my blog please check out for more :)
thanks for the amazing service :)



Let’s stop and pause

Put life on hold

Ask yourself

How many opened doors

You have entered

When you had an opportunity

At your feet

Did you press pause or delete?

Put life on hold,

Take a deep breath

While you make your life complete

Place the pieces in the jigsaw

You desire more from life

You need,you want

You have the world at your feet

Now is the time

To put things in place

But you’re just a number

In the human race

Let’s stop and pause,

Let’s applause

What you have achieved

You have found the missing piece

In your jigsaw

Now your life is complete

Gillian Sims

Coffee – Promote Yourself


Black or black,
Has a world of its own
I peep
Into the crema
I dive into my open ocean
I sniff
At the cup
I embark on my own boat 
I sip
I sail back and forth
I lean 
Against the backrest
I know this moment is the best
I start
A first draft
I feel a creativity waft
© Chaouki M’kaddem
September 16th, 2014

Senior EFL teacher

Seething Rage


I reach

I touch you,

soft skin delight.

I cannot imagine otherwise.

I want to watch you and cherish you,

love your smile, reactive and giddy.

I imagine a world in your eyes,

and realize only,

you need

my love.

Why rage?

how do we defend

the actions of reactive passion

beyond the scope, a child

with pleading eyes

wonders how now,

why this?

Falling timber

solid in a careen

tramples the brush

only to leave scars in soil

the natural course of small earth.

A tree doesn’t compare

line up or speak

to the soft flesh

in a switch of


We cannot judge, we may silently grieve,

yet in the moment, we do know our rage.


©Thom Amundsen 2014

Broken Heart – Promote Yourself


Lying all crooked on the floor
my heart broken to the core
bleeding through day and moonlight
after losing the fight..

My love lost in the battle
leaving the hidden emotions to rattle
All now flowing down my face
my tears competing in the race..

Never felt so weak and lost
sudden rescue from the frost
bitter sweet memories playing hide and seek
stabbing pain is making me weak

Remorse and regret flows through my veins
to my heart and to the rain
of the tears and off to the ground
falling silently not causing any sound..

Lonely and abandoned I am
not by you but by love..yet all are same;
No difference no change no improvement,
Reflecting your love which you never meant..

Time travelling through the past with nothing to gain,
just crying and suffering with the pain.
Soon everything will be over
except if you make it slower..

For my soul to be free
your venomous words are enough,even you may agree
Once said cannot be taken back,
its not like a jar taken from rack..

Now,that I am alone
I can see that my eyes never shone
with the shine same as before
after you showed my love the exit door..
And crashed my heart to the floor!

Here is a poem written by me, after someone broke my heart….


The month of September

Is the month I remember

Of the honeysuckle aroma so sweet

Farmers harvesting their wheat,

The month of September

Is the month I remember

When shorter days are to come

Darkness starves the early morning sun,

We pluck the apples from the trees

We prepare for our Xmas cider feast,

The month of September

Is the month I remember

No perspiration falling now

No hot sun,hitting our brow,

I glance at the beautiful landscape

It is one that God could only create

Gillian Sims

Perfection – Promote Yourself


No one understands my true feelings;

I am too perfect to show them.

Living day by day in search of a way

to ease my mind,

hoping things will get better over time.


I’ve changed so much over the years,

rain couldn’t begin to catch up my tears.

I’m living in a world of judgment

because no one really takes time to find out

about the subject Me.

Putting makeup on my face,

hoping the pain and heartache will soon erase.

Hair in tack, always neat,

even when just walking down the street.

I can’t be too big.

I can’t be too small.

I just want to get away from it all.

No one understands my true feelings;

I am too perfect to show them.

Alanah Frilot

Blue Harvest Moon







Comes silently
on sorrel moccasins

roosted on tortoiseshell
of root cellar

singing, stumbling
in numb imaginings

lit with half-light
squeezed in jars
of russet and avocado

a cornice of sky
split with laughter
for broken arrowheads
gold and silver among leaves

air billowed white
from lips
soft frail bones
of snowflakes
magically appear
scattering in breath
taken away
into apple night


The Seasons


The seasons come the seasons go

The summer green changes to the Autumn glow

The trees shed their leaves,the flowers fade and die

The grey clouds gather in the sky

The daylight hours shorten day by day

A sign that winter is on it’s way

The birds no longer can be seen

They’ve gone away to pastures green

The mists and fogs come in November

Ice and snow often greet December

The country is held in icy grip

As we walk about we slide and slip

The snow soon melt and disappear

Then the first snowdrops appear

The spring sunshine and April rain

Brings the flowers and trees to life again

The birds return to build there nest

And we see nature at it’s best

The summer day’s are here at last

But very quickly they will go past

A carpet of leaves are at our feet

The cycles of seasons are now complete

Ron Martin

The last puff – Promote Yourself


I smoked away my pain
I smoked away my memories
I smoked away my dreams
I smoked away my blithe
I smoked away my pensive moods
I smoked away my thoughts
I smoked away my friends
I smoked away my relationships
I smoked away my emotions
I smoked away my breaths
I smoked away my life
As I smoked away my last puff

Sanskriti dixit

Well.. Who knew I wrote again. Can’t get it out of my system


Harvest Thanksgiving – traditional & contemporary liturgy

Bruegal Harvest

Harvest is a great season for the Christian, because within is so much meaning beyond the usual bunches of grapes and flowers that decorate our churches, as God looks to our harvest – how fruitful are you as a Christian?!

According to that fount of all knowledge – Harvest is from the Anglo-Saxon word hærfest, “Autumn”. It then came to refer to the season for reaping and gathering grain and other grown products. The full moon nearest the autumnal equinox is called the Harvest Moon. So in ancient traditions Harvest Festivals were traditionally held on or near the Sunday of the Harvest Moon. This moon is the full moon which falls in the month of September.

An early Harvest Festival used to be celebrated at the beginning of the Harvest season on 1 August and was called Lammas, meaning ‘loaf Mass’. Farmers made loaves of bread from the fresh wheat crop. These were given to the local church as the Communion bread during a special service thanking God for the harvest.

The modern British tradition of celebrating Harvest Festival in churches began in 1843, when the Reverend Robert Hawker invited parishioners to a special thanksgiving service at his church at Morwenstow in Cornwall. Victorian hymns such as “We plough the fields and scatter”, “Come ye thankful people, come” and “All things bright and beautiful” helped popularise his idea of harvest festival and spread the annual custom of decorating churches with home-grown produce for the Harvest Festival service.

Two liturgies for Harvest

1) A More Traditional Liturgy

Leader: The heavens declare the glory of God
All: The skies display the work of his hands

God of light and God of night
Creator of seed and mountain
raindrop and fountain
We bring our offering of praise.
God of right and God of might
Lover of child and childless
rich and homeless
We bring our offering of praise.

Leader: Do you not know? Have you not heard?
All: The Lord is the everlasting God, the Creator of the ends of the earth(Isaiah 40:28)

‘As long as the earth endures, seedtime and harvest, cold and heat, summer and winter, day and night will never cease.’ (Gen 8:22)

By faith
I gaze up to the heavens
and know
within its vastness
that this is your creation
planned and effected within eternity

By faith
I pluck an ear of corn
and know
within its symmetry
lies the chemistry of life
the potential of creation within my hand

By faith
I listen for your voice
and know
the whisper that I hear
breathed a world into existence
yet listens to the prayer within my soul

By faith
I strive to do your will
and know
the door that I approach
may lead me to shadows
where my roll is to become your light

By faith
I cling to your word
and know
the strength that I receive
has it’s source within the love
that is at the centre of all things

Leader: Listen to these words from Christina Rossetti ((1830-1894)) and think about them for a moment,

‘Lord, purge our eyes to see
within the seed a tree,
Within the glowing egg a bird,
Within the shroud a butterfly,
Til, taught by such, we see
beyond all creatures, thee.’

Leader: For the beauty of a country scene
All: We praise you Lord for sight
Leader: For the coolness of a mountain stream
All: We praise you Lord for touch
Leader: For nightingale in tuneful flow
All: We praise you Lord for ears
Leader: For the taste of fruit that we have grown
All: We praise you Lord for senses

Creator God, for daily bread
and all who work
to bring your harvest home
we bring our thanks today.


Forgive our ingratitude
we who have so much
yet waste what you have given.


For those whose harvest is poor,
whose crops have withered,
water tainted, children starve,
help those who bring relief
and bestow on us
an unaccustomed generosity,
that all might share from your garden
and all might sing your praise.


Creator God, provider of all
we bring our thanks today.
And we bless each other
that the beauty of this world
and the love that created it
might be expressed though our lives
and be a blessing to others
now and always


2) A More Contemporary Liturgy

Small Beginnings

“Things great have small beginnings. Every downpour is just a raindrop; every fire is just a spark; every harvest is just a seed; every journey is just a step because without that step there will be no journey; without that raindrop there can be no shower; without that seed there can be no harvest.”
William Wilberforce

In the beginning there was nothing, and out of nothing you fashioned a universe so vast, so unimaginable that we can only sigh with amazement when we stare upwards on a star-lit night. And within this universe you positioned the earth and populated it, provided for it and designed for it to be a place of beauty.
Creator God: Thank you

In the beginning there was just potential; the seed within the packet, soil’s nutrients, sunshine’s warmth, rain clouds gathering. And within the tiny seed all that is our daily bread encoded, primed and ready should it be planted and allowed to grow.
Creator God: Thank you

Genesis 2: 8 Now the LORD God had planted a garden in the east, in Eden; and there he put the man he had formed. 9 And the LORD God made all kinds of trees grow out of the ground—trees that were pleasing to the eye and good for food. In the middle of the garden were the tree of life and the tree of the knowledge of good and evil.

In the beginning there was humankind, placed within your garden, made steward, gardener and caretaker of this place of beauty, given responsibilities and the capacity to enjoy. And yet among the seeds we have sown have been weeds and crops of our own choosing, which have not shown fruit or have spread and choked the earth.
Creator God: Forgive us

Myung Lee reminds us of an old Korean proverb. “If you plant a bean, then you will harvest only beans, not grapes or strawberries.” God gave us new life through Jesus Christ and planted special seeds of forgiveness and love in our hearts. What fruit will we bear in our daily lives?” 

A moment of quiet, time to listen, time to be still with God – what does he say to you this harvest time?


God of harvest,
gardener supreme
you place us at the centre
feed us, equip us and
having provided for us
look to a different harvest
a fruitfulness of lives
in service to you
and others.
God of harvest,
feed us
prune us
harvest us
that our lives
might bring glory to you.


Autumns symphonies – Your Favourite Poem

yearning for sevdah*
(for lesya)

<> -Albert Camus

yearning for sevdah when

before there were roses and pomegranates
is sevdah is there is where is sita is

not then yearning for sevdah

rare lovers meeting finding unbroken harts
snowflakes melting sweet wilting fruit blossoms
is rama is where is there is sevdah is

not when yearning for sevdah

true lovers falling weaving love’s tapestry
transcending sorrows inside fermenting plums
worms emerging spreading lucent dragon wings
refining liquid gold into worlds of glory
is sevdah is there is where is is mira

not then yearning for sevdah

when true sailing beloveds unraveling kiss
as uncertainty completes certainty so
tragedy quickens comedy as all is
cupidity transfiguring chastity so
lovers probing discover love creating
is sita is where is there is is rama

when not yearning for sevdah

sevdah as lust is sevdah as sorrow is
sevdah as bliss is sevdah as nothing but
lust finitely quickening infinitely love as is
the beloved seeking lovers as all sevhad
is rama is there is where is sita is

then not yearning for sevdah

all creatures probing those quickening our musk
true love kissing pure love endlessly while
amidst stardust orchards become deserts so
is mira is here is what is mira is

now all is yearning for sevdah

is sevdah is here is what is sevdah is
crystal tears baptizing fermenting vineyards
rama’s arrow piercing brahman’s hart of harts

then yearning for sevdah is

after there were roses and pomegranates
remains what is here is love is sevdah is
sevdah yearning for yearning sevdah is love

not nothing if not krishna beneath phoenix wings
mere lust tantalizing unrequitable love

even gods cannot articulate sevdah


chrteién marc valentin





If i wanted to be a lion and hang as tall as a tree i could, but that would be irrelevant can’t you see
I am a man, a wo-MAN, a fe-MALE so that would make us one … am i right?
I may not be a girl i may not be a boy i may just be a being living in a world
What is creativity if you look inside and see its understanding your subconscious self and questioning your reality
If we are made in God’s image and all Religions say God is creator then we are also creators, projecting our inner light called “creativity”
We can’t all be painters the world would be ugly! But we can all be creative and express ourselves individually
One colour on a pallet will make the plain paper look dry, but many colours on the paper will create a story of why?
Not wanting to be yourself will erase your story, paintings and more colours will manifest your glory
Beauty is individuality so express it and be proud even if others don’t like it at least you stand out from the crowd





I was shocked, confused, bewildered
as I entered Heaven’s door,
Not by the beauty of it all,
by the lights or its decor.

But it was the folks in Heaven
who made me sputter and gasp–
the thieves, the liars, the sinners,
the alcoholics, the trash.

There stood the kid from seventh grade
who swiped my lunch money twice.
Next to him was my old neighbor
who never said anything nice.

Herb, who I always thought
was rotting away in hell,
was sitting pretty on cloud nine,
looking incredibly well.

I nudged Jesus, “What’s the deal?
I would love to hear Your take.
How’d all these sinners get up here?
God must’ve made a mistake.

And why’s everyone so quiet,
so somber? Give me a clue.”
“Hush, child,” said He “They’re all in shock.
No one thought they’d see you.”

Judge NOT.

Author Unknown
(Though possibly written by either the worst sinner or 
the most thankful person in heaven, or both!)


Stand and Deliver – Promote Yourself


Stand and deliver
Your money
Or your life
Why did I
It was wife?
Why did I
As wife
I’d go
More than money
More than
More than
I had
Than I
Could ever
That it was
That I
Had to

And do what?

Stand and deliver
Your money
Or your life
I’ll deliver
My life
On a plate
On a stage
I’ll shout
I’ll demand
I’ll laugh
And I’ll cry
And I’ll show
All those
Who look
I can sing
I can dance
I can look with new eyes
See colour
And beauty
The leaves on the trees
The sun
Through the bandstand
Glinting and gleaming
The air
Full of promise
Death and destruction
Leads to life
In more fullness
I’ll stand
And deliver
My life

Cheryl Bhagwandin


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