by Tim Smith |
Cinderella dreams across yellow brick roads
Creating Prince Charming out of simple silly toads
We play hopscotch, jump rope and other little games
Trying to produce magic and a feeling quite the same
Dancing through life with rose colored eyes
Wishing and hoping love doesn't float on by
Finding the one that just makes us smile
Holding on tight, hearts entwined for awhile
Happiness comes to those who are blessed
Sharing our all when two lips are pressed
Suns set, moons rise but one thing still remains
When fairy tales meet blood pumps in our veins
Whether young or old we seek out love to surround
There's no greater feeling when a heart in love pounds
by Desvin Umberger |
beautiful, happiness, love, metaphor, romantic, summer, winter,
Sun beams like Hot Choclate on a blue day...
Soft silky and smooth on your skin...
Butterflies softly floating like falling feathers in the wind...
Gently gliding gracefully over the bright green grass...
Eyelashes brush against your cheek like soft snowflakes on your face...
Fingertips flit freely across your arm...
Together playfully prancing like horses running wild...
Spinning tops twiling tenderly....
Wishes whispered wimsically like pixies playing hopscotch...
Softly calling quietly,
I love you!
by Noel Villarosa |
april, birthday, dedication, inspiration, love, romantic love, wife,
Lovely at Your Age
The thought of years feels remarkably well
Like a hopscotch scheme, tossing, and hopping
In a numbered square where your aim will dwell
In careful steps, everybody’s watching
Blessed age is not too young or too old
Candles on your birthday cake tell a tale
In your age, love and care have all years told
Another rendezvous, young heart prevails
For a moment feel free from your duties
Let me take you for a lovely dinner
Flowers and candle-lit room show beauties
For my wife, who’s lovelier than ever
Small notes that I always stick to the wall
April twenty-three is a birthday call
Birthday poem for my wife
April 23, 2018
by Daniel Human |
Why does the chicken nod its head
As it walks across the yard?
What has it seen, what has it read
Why is it so hard?
Why does the sparrow play hopscotch
On the lawn?
Who is the person, the author
Of the invisible lines that had been drawn?
Why does the eagle fly so far up high
As it eats the sky?
Why does the dove
Puff up as it serenades a mate
Ready for marriage, ready for love?
Why is my head
Reading what is drawn
In the sky
by Glenn McCrary |
The hue of streets; cousins of chalkboards;
the distinct voice of transition; of forbidden love
sipped through straws of anticipation;
swallowing decadent tribulations
to nourish picturesque gardens
and English dreams; the line between
appreciation and alienation
Happens to be the blemish
of today's death; headline hopscotch
founding father of premeditation
Sound prints in the sand
By Glenn McCrary
© 2012 Glenn McCrary (All rights reserved)
by Brian Martin |
Our mortality lowers it's sunlit beams
Receding in childlike desperation
Just one more attempt
Til lungs dusk blow out
A heart beats 2
Three beats faster
Skipping a hopscotch pattern
Like so many times
The phone never rang
When life became shorter than not
Every man must have a delusion
As the blissful sea sprays
And eyes press the horizon
Anticipating today's yes
Certainly tomorrow or
Promise me love
The wind whispers
In dream as destiny
As clear as your name
by Dylan Reyes-Cairo |
childhood, daughter, father, love,
You are Love like a soft and laughing breeze
unfettered, loosed upon the salted palms
in winter benign and without freeze.
Beauty breathless of a January babe,
dancing, careless of the Sun that fills your face
yet left your doorstep to wander from its place…
…to embrace and carry you, enchantress,
now elevated from the drenched and marshy plains
to enthrall, and in your mountain home to reign.
Play upon the grassy foothills of a dream
in sunbeams, giggles, hopscotch and apricot trees,
your eyes and infant’s curls from afar to me gleam.
Sleep the sleep of innocence,
live the dream of bliss.
To you, my daughter, beloved Alanis,
I send this father’s kiss…
by Tiffany Cordova |
devotion, faith, introspection, love,
Tingling lights clutch my aching heart
Emerging my frail nerves beyond a virgins silence
Quietly a familiar embrace breathes calm rain
Interfering with my lonely tattered pleasure
Pocket size holes float softly through my dreams
Basting scarlet rose petals near my cheek
And beautiful wonders sprint through endless time
Of an unchanged memory flashing deeper into my intimate desires
Falling deeper I entangle myself in passion
Residing my changing heart on garden lilies
As I rest swaying hopscotch moments in a bucket
Urging to escape through the eloquent fingers of truth
I’m momentarily blinded, transforming my secrets, my desires, into fading reality
by Anderson Torres |
the keyboard....eyes making out
with the screen, pupils fall in love
with what they see
They call it Face Book...
Because your face can't stop to read...
The facebook link contains
Nicotine, chemicals for critics
Because this site is so addictive
".com" is the blunt paper
that brings it all together
Fingers playing hopscotch
across the letters
If you really think about it
More then 500 million people
spend over an hour on this site...
When for that 1 hour.. we could save a life..
that is lost within every minute
And so when Satan sneezes it's a sin
So we give him the tissue
Every time we log in
by Jacob Jones |
Taking in vistas
breathing in autumn's perfume
squirrels hopscotch from branch to branch
juncos play a symphony for me
the wind whispers reminding me of emptiness on my sides
stinging me to the core with a sense of absence
till we meet again