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Battle Cry


The battle raged all around

Bullets and shrapnel lay strewn on the ground

The sky was grey

I hear solders cry

I feel their pain as a hand rose high

Then a rocket lands close by

Another crater appears before my eyes

For more soldiers to be devoured

And buried them alive

Will these wars ever end

Can we learn from battles won or lost

Will we keep paying the cost

Or will we still hear the battle cry

Can someone please tell me why?

Thomas Sims

Ode to Horace Mann – Promote Yourself


Be ashamed to die until you have won

Some victory for humanity. Horace Mann


Be aware that energy is life, save some for your kids.

Be afraid that our minds are bent by news not books.

Be awed by the healing power of the simple purple cone flower.

Be amazed that after four short years she knows so much.

Be awake before the bombs drop, before the money rules.

Be agile: live in a town that walks and bikes to work and play.

Be amused by ants and birds, goats and potato fields, lilacs and sycamores.

Be angry only long enough to solve the problem, then move on.

Be ashamed to die until you have won some victory for humanity.


By Dong Stuber    2006

J. Douglas Stuber
Visiting Assistant Professor of English
Chonnam National University
English Department

“Secretly Searching.” – Promote Yourself

Secretly Searching

I often wonder why?
And yes…I try
I picture loving
But always shoving, aside
It hurts so, yet it feels so good
If only I could (What shall I do?)

I can imagine the twinkle in my eye
Is it a teardrop from my cry?
Oh – my smile full of gleam
… But it hurts so much…
If only I can touch…

Images closer than mirrors
Scents within souls,
Hearts fluttering,
Moods smothering,
Is the key I hold, so close?

Climbing within the depths of me
Floating the brims among the sea
Sitting around a bushel of love
With a fistful of hope in one hand
The other, my rope

It feels so good
Why can’t I understand?
Love and trust
Comes hand in hand

Jonnay D

-JD (

Today’s poem, titled Secretly Searching, is the third poem from my “mini-series” of poems I promised to share in between normal posts that was written during my college years. My professor had little to say about this one but I felt good about it after writing.

I think this also was a time when I was still hurting from a loss and my mind was filled with questions as to why things had to happen the way they did.  However, one of the things I observed that seem to be common in some of my writings is how I wrote from a place of emotional pain, hurt, resentment seemingly based on a past I couldn’t  let go of. On the other hand, I’m  grateful for the experience.

For the most part, my professor had this to say, “Good idea. The rhyme seems to get in the way here.” I took that with a grain of salt. After all, this was a beginning for me and I thought poetry was about rhyme. Silly me :-). Thanks to him, I learned a lot. Enjoy!

Dear pseudonym… – Promote Yourself


Dear pseudonym…

I remember how you comforted and sheltered my real identity,

When I was too afraid to show my real face or give my real name.

I’ve spoken with many people and they claimed to regard me as “friend,”

But kept at arm’s length to no end.




Seemed like a Divine Spirit gifted sure thing,

Lucid light of day vision to boot!

Frightening at first honestly, baffling and really none of my own doing,

actually railed and rebelled against it with all i could muster,

about as effectively as the last stand of Custer.


Inspired words were like arms wide open with none willing to enter into them.

Not even a poke from a pointed spear to see if i really bled like any other human.

No, I’m not in the “witness protection program”

Not a serial killer…

not yet anyway but anything is possible…who is to say?

Cain walked with God did he not?

As did Moses.


Yes, I really am who I say I am!

No, this is not just pretend.

It has just occurred to me,

In the myriad discussions held with those sheltered in anonymity,

What freedom, what sharing can that truly be?

Why are the most “outspoken”

the first to obscure their faces?

Can names truly be changed to protect the “innocent?”



Are we kidding ourselves’?!


Interchangeable personalities,

how many people can exist in one person?

What has become of sincerity and Truth?

Can it be called these things from behind a mask?


Will first person be third

or third first?

Or second last?

Can Virtual reality’s water quench anyone’s thirst?

Without a solid identity to steal,

Why be so afraid of a thief?

Than can only pilfer,

Nothing real.


Anthony Gomez

Summer In The Square – Promote Yourself


Summer In The Square

I’m wondering with

Eyes itching with hayfever

Why we do all this


Maybe Beryl knows

Ice cold water bottle fun

And the sky shines on


Curious pigeon

Trace sharp tongues of grass to find

Us hugging the sun


A warmth not human

It’s the glow of our childhood

That’s not coming back


It’s everything we

Wish would stay the same, but it

Just shows the difference


Clouds kissing my skin

Cut grass and oily coconut cream

The smile of freedom


Emily Duke

I’ve added one of my poems I’d love for you to feature on your page, looks like you’re always posting a wide range of stuff! 
I’ve been writing poetry for quite a few years now and am currently in my third year of an English Degree in Brighton. I started my blog about six months ago and it’s got off to a really good start, so I’d love for you to add a link to it if you publish my poem too :) 

A Tribute to the Persecuted and Slain – Promote Yourself

You told the Father you would follow His will.
You accepted His Son without hesitancy.
You carried your cross even unto the gates of hell,
but the enemy did not prevail.
Tortured, battered, beheaded
for the sake of His name,
you have stood for righteousness
in a world where evil reigns.
You have demonstrated the cost of discipleship
by laying down your life.
Death was more honorable than saying,
“I forsake Jesus Christ.”
I hear your stories, and I weep for you.
How can humanity be so cruel?
Yet even with such malicious intent,
your sacrifice is beautiful.
It is beautiful to the One who welcomes you home,
to Him who says, “I will avenge!”
It is beautiful to the Son who understands your pain,
to Him who calls you servant, child, and friend.
You have placed your feet on the Solid Rock
when all around you is quicksand.
Your resilience in the midst of adversity
has challenged the Body to stand.
We will remember you
and your commitment to the King.
May we be willing to live like you,
giving up everything.
This world is not our home.
It only reaps anger, hatred, and fear.
Our destination is eternity
where the Lord heals every pain, wipes every tear.
To all of God’s people, stand firm and be ready
for the enemy shows no restraint.
But whatever the cost may be,
let us stand strong with the persecuted and slain.
Lauren Heiligenthal

The Water of My Soul – Promote Yourself


Teardrops, words of silence

Expressing the air of thine heart


Cleansing, emotion-fill’d deluge

Droplets of love’s interpretation


Leaving thou spent at a time well lent;

to the need to declare thy longing


Rain from the eye’s of the poor in spirit

Endue life to the needy and meek


Mine crying eyes are in need of peace

Globules of sorrow, giveth me an escape from the noise


Thou renew my sense of well-being

And maketh me whole and new again


Thanks be to the Creator for the water of mine soul

Its strength is need’d during times of toil

lDara Reidyr 

Proof Positive of an Almighty Sense of Humour

Allah/God/Jehovah/Yahweh’s people are all of us notwithstanding that some of us
haughtily consider that they … and they only, enjoy a ‘most favoured’ … status.
The rise to notoriety of Abu Bakr al-Baghdadi, the Islamic State and the Caliphate
via a magnetic attraction for disaffected … misogynists … takes the cake.
Ever more disagreeably disagreeing in this tragic-comic ‘reality’, The Big Three,
Muslims, Christians and Jews … may yet reconsider … albeit … belatedly. 
By Miguel Vera from Puerto Rico

@chachomanopapa on Twitter

” A Moment in Miracle”:- Promote Yourself

The first
miraculous moment
occurred at
the age of forty-four,
sitting across
a table
shared by you.
Your green eyes
extending the beauty
of contours eclipsed
by the curve of
high cheeks
…or perhaps
freckles pinpointing
the precipice of thin
deliberate lips
…or was it
an entire therapy
of love’s
coveting years
where you sat.
I remember
a marvel
that is you.
I love you.
Nathan Lindsay

The mask you wear


You wear the bluest summer in your eyes

You are like a raging river when you cry

You wear the sunset in your smile

You have the emotions of a child

You become the mask that you always wear

You build a wall when I try to care

I hear your laughter on a summers morn

Like the sweet sound of birds at dawn

As the daylight illuminates your face

Your sweetness I capture and embrace

Like marshmallows in your arms

I caress your magnetic charm

I steel your emotions one by one

I slowly peel away your mask

To expose the true you at last

Gillian Jane Sims

Bubblews; GREAT EXPECTATIONS … Popped -Promote Yourself


Mere months ago many wrote giddily (I, amongst them) of the great expectations
of a business model … that threatened … social media institutions.
Written then: “Between posts, tweets and bubbles, in a jungle that is [media] only
the latter of book, bird and bubble … shares … its money.
Between book, bluebird and bubble, only the latter is the innovatively pioneering,
first, FAIR ecosystem of the internet … truly … sharing.
Chachomanopapa is a poster, a tweeter and a bubbler too, decidedly unhappy
that Zuckerberger’s Facebook book be such … a common … bully.
Chachomanopapa is a poster, a tweeter and a bubbler too, but Twitter offers
little more than shout-outs and sales pitches from … 140 characters. is the new kid on a block populated by bigger and tougher boys;
but this boy is his own man … a man-boy committed to sharing … his toys.
The new kid on the block is a visionary willing to rock this bubble of a boat. We
bubblers too must share its vision … and rock this boat … visionarily.
The new kid is a rock and roller … rocking and rolling … the powers that be;
for … far more important than money … is community.”
Alas, Bubblews is but a mere bubble. And, as we all know all too well, it is not
in the nature of a bubble … not … to pop. 

By Miguel Vera from Puerto Rico

@chachomanopapa on Twitter

[ THE AIR OF SILENCE ] – Promote Yourself

                                               Silence is golden not a sound you make, not even a whisper make no mistake,          all is quiet peace at last, have a glass of wine, a meal to last.                                    –                                                                  Silence of the night, quiet and calm, look out side and hear a alarm, you hear them whisper and say, oh no not really not today.                                                          Silence is what we need, we listen to sounds as we read, quietness and peaceful all night long, we breath with relife an sing a song.                                    As we rest,as we sleep, silence is golden in that we keep.   
  { Patricia bourne}

“Reflect” – Promote Yourself


Mirror, mirror on the wall -

Show me how and when I will fall.
To my dismay, find my demise -
As quickly as I shut my eyes.

Stumbling through this life -
Failing once more to end my strife.
As wonderful I thought I was -
It’s hard to like this body still.
It’s hell to keep on thinking still.
For every motion and every memory -
One more mistake I cannot bury.

As Hippocrates once had spoken -
“Primum non nocerae”
A verse I wish had been known to me -
And long ago.
How awful has this thing become?

Mirror, mirror on the wall -
Show me where and when I had gone wrong.
People, people that I love -
Apologies for my misuse.
Of terrible likeness I’ve wandered still.
No healing found in depths of heart.
I’ve faltered, fumbled yet again.
But still, oh still -
I strive to mend.
And fail I do -
In every measure.
What good in me is still found?

Constantly soliloquizing -
And of my falters, so done trying.
Giving up is just so easy -
Yet letting go is still so hard.

Mirror, mirror on the wall -
Show me God and let me fall.
People, people here around me -
Come close here, and please surround me.
Throw your stones and curse my name.
Perhaps I will begin again.

My heart, my heart!
Oh blackened, bruised -
A soul come tattered and abused.
Coming to be, and changing still -
The same I am not, and never will.
Who I become, I may not love -
Though life too precious to be given up.
As much as I would like to cease -
Something here, still me -
It keeps.

Mirror, mirror on the wall -
Show me hell and watch me burn.
Demons, demons here around -
Come surround and tear me down.

Of loving and confusion kind -
And of the hurt I’ve left behind -
Apologies do not suffice.
Of this world, which I survive -
I’m finding myself unpleasantly surprised.

As saddened as I have become -
I seek out wonders to the tongue.
I search for goodness in the world -
And empty handed I become.
Of all the things that I have done -
Of all the things that I may do -
I doubt that they will be enough.

In realizing myself true -
I fear, a fire does indeed brew.
Of wishing I could kill this here -
To set anew a person, clear.
Of wanting all the world to see -
Yet hiding face, berating still.

Mirror, mirror on the wall -

Show me my face and let me die.”
Evan martinez

Hello there, my name is Evan J. Martinez, I live in the U.S, I’m only in my sophomore year of high school and I’m learning to become an electrician, and I am the owner of the blog “” (wolfpacey’s blog)

I would like to thank you for liking my poem “Fin” and I wanted to submit a poem that I am especially proud of.

“A Different Moon” – Promote Yourself


Last year, under
a different moon,
with rays beaming
through the leaves
of pepper trees,
I stood…far from here…
on lonely porch.
Lost in the succulent spells
…of discovery.
The song of her voice,
caroling enchanting stories
of trials
and triumphs.
My heart…stirred
with sensational
of excitement,
…in reverie…
worshiping each…
in admiration of
…of her…
Absorbing the notes
…of her life…
A fantasy became palpable,
as if sipping love
spun from
…the dreams of angels.
A beauty divine…
…and lost…
a different moon…
…last year…
…that’s her…
Nathan Lindsay


Endearment – Promote Yourself


Divine is your smile
and sweet is your gaze
I pray we’re together
for all of our days

For all of my time
here on this earth
only your charms
gives my life worth

All the world’s rubies,
emeralds and such
to me are worthless
compared to your touch

Even the stars,
set like diamonds above
will not endure
as long as our loveby

Don Wells



Tom was a young lad
From where I grew up
We went to the same school
Then both joined up
We became Commandos together
And never looked back
We met again in the desert
Had a laugh and a chat
I heard it over the radio
Surely it wasn’t him
I chose to deny
Until we got back in
After an hour back on base
Drapes asked for a private word
With a tear in his eye
It all seemed so absurd
I’ll remember Tom forever
And raise a glass in his name
A soldier to the death
We cry and cry again

Alex Cockers,



gypsy 3

She found herself quite lost

All memories a misty haze

Was last night a reality?

Or had she just slept for days?


Forwards confused, backwards perplexed

The most complex addition

Clutter and vacuum intertwined

A misfit of every definition


Nomad Gypsy Hippy Punk

One of all and yet one of none

Wandering day long night longer

Her thoughts became shattered undone


Not clear why she continued to creep

Perhaps feeling an incongruous force

But the story did continue on

Let me reveal it to you in due course


She stumbled across a gloomy track

A path somewhat untamed

It pulled her closer like a magnet

As if it already knew her name


And so her journey did embark

Down that path untraveled

She felt the cold prickle her skin

And mysterious beginnings unravelled


- CarlyLou


England is said to be a good place to be
Where everyone can escape from the chains of poverty
By claiming the available means tested benefits
Or being fortunate enough to win the National Lottery
All they have to do is pick six lucky numbers
And riches beyond their wildest dreams will be theirs
An opportunity given twice a week to everyone
To allow them to join the evergrowing band of millionaires
Unfortunately the chances of winning are very slim
And the result is that there are many losers in the game
This means that the poor become even poorer
And there is less advantage from the benefits they claim
Is the lottery a symptom of the nation’s greed?
It is a sad reflection if this is true
Are the proposed new casinos to satisfy a real need
Or is it just another means of raising revenue?
The lottery and casinos are means of taking money from the punters
There are some winners, but more losers I am sad to say
The same applies to betting on the horses
In the long run many gamblers will rue the day 
Ron Martin

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