by James Marshall Goff |
Grandpa's Fishing Hat
hope and joy
more poetry books
Babar, the Stuffed-Elephant
McCoy Cookie Jars
ties I don't wear
family heirloom recipes
suits I try not to wear
my Children's love
....... Jesus Christ
by Paul Callus |
I read with greed John Master's books,
to Indian culture introduced.
I grew to love a distant land;
by her allure I was seduced.
To Indian culture introduced,
I felt the urge to go and see
the striking beauty of her face,
the charms bestowed abundantly.
I grew to love a distant land
where the traditions are held high,
religion, races, culture, tongues
are deep-ingrained - will never die.
By her allure I was seduced,
this vibrant country in the east.
I plan to take a closer look
and let my eyes in wonder feast.
Contest: Shall We Retourne
Sponsor: Debbie Guzzi
by James Peranteau |
on writing and words
Like bolts of lightning I’ve
felt the words from my fingers
my brain, sparking thoughts
Out of them I dust the books of
love with words
I fantasize with paper
I cross fiords and skies,
I cry out loud from the high
rocks of the sea,
the bolts riddle,
they rhyme the words,
and charm the hearts,
they uncover my thoughts
by Michelle Faulkner |
appreciation, books, community, together,
Lingering among the stacks
Interval of serenity, a luxury to
Borrow a world, then bring it back
Riches of printed page, once few
Are carried throughout the community
Requiring only a card to belong
Young and old both given opportunity
Lending literacy to growing minds, strong
Out of many streets, they share the room
Vaulted ideas have a place to bloom
Encyclopedias of adventures to unpack!
by Joshua Aguire |
girlfriend-boyfriend, introspection, life, love,
Why stay in Oz, girl
Wishing for changes?
Turning your mirrors to books
So you can rewrite the pages
You’ve got a beautiful heart and mind, girl
Why look at the flaws?
I can’t even see the tin
Or the rust or the straw
I think your worst side is your best side, girl
Don’t throw all those little things away
I don’t want your 'out of date' style
Or your blemishes to change
So open your eyes, girl
And look in the mirror
You’re perfect to me
Couldn’t get any better
by Darlene De Beaulieu |
books, poems, poetry, words, writing,
Before this virus came around
On Saturday's I'd go to the mall
One of the places I like to go first
Would be the bookstore to enter
I would look for poet's poetry books
There are lots of books to choose from
As I walk through the aisles-
I noticed someone sitting at a table
She had piles of books stacked high
So i chose a chose a book and read
It was titled Love-I bought it
The author and I chatted
Then she signed her book
Her name is Beleza Angel
The title was Pieces of Me
Will be a book i will always keep
This will be a special book
I met a poetess she wrote poems
She published her poems
Beleza Angel a book keepsake
She is on instagram & Facebook
by Andrea Dietrich |
I find her most congenial, and we
have everything in common; it’s a fact!
With all of her opinions I agree.
Our shelves with books and nic-nacs all are stacked.
To exercise at Vasa gym she goes.
I also love that place, and all the time
she’s my companion at the movie shows!
We love to write and love to make a rhyme,
and we are also glad to be a girl
and wear cute clothes and use accessories.
When on the dance floor, how we love to twirl!
My closest friend is such a cinch to please.
If you’ve met “me,” you’ve met my friend. No lie.
She also calls herself “myself” and “I.”
Dec. 13, 2019 for Regina Riddle's Best Friend Sonnet Contest
by May Fenn |
bereavement, death, funeral, loss, obituary, sorrow,
Death is not the end,
For love goes on
And you will find the evidence
Long after I have gone.
The flowers that we planted
Will blossom without end,
You’ll find me in their beauty
As to their needs you tend.
The books we read together,
The laughter in the pages,
Will continue to give pleasure
To you throughout the ages.
So do not mourn my passing
You are not left alone,
You’ll always find me waiting
In the places we have known.
The bond that grew between us
Will not abate with time,
It will go on for always,
I’m yours and you are mine.
by Cona Adams |
community, friendship, people, writing,
(A Blank Verse Sonnet)
In June, we traveled south to Memphis town,
a public poets' fete with Southern flair.
The mid-south heart unfolded nationwide,
an open cloak of warmth spread far afield
in concert with the sound and sense of rhyme.
A graciousness so coupled with its pride
to sharpen all who came in studied hope
and reasoned well effect, to prove result.
Yet seasoned poets put their pens aside;
the books they found, devoured with eyes and minds
already voiced the thoughts mankind repeats,
our ageless chants for hearts in love or pain.
The weather's pull to southern ports advanced
the lure of southern charm from heart to heart.
by D.W. Rodgers |
I get pretty picture postcards
from faraway places,
not many but over time
on walls, fridges
and marking pages in books.
Mostly from old girlfriends
writing to prove
they are still alive.
"Amazing scenery, wonderful people,
haven't had a decent cup of coffee since Montreal,
watch out for the water in ice cubes.
Wish you were here (Not!)
all my love xxxx"
Still on a dull grey morning,
a message from Mexico, Italy,
Vietnam or New Zealand
is at least intriguing.
Me, I never send postcards
as I never go anywhere
but I get pretty picture postcards
from faraway long ago bitches
every now and then.
by DAH dahlusion |
absence, age, dark, lonely, loss, love, spiritual,
Between happiness and sadness
—silence; an angel prays:
I kiss the loneliness of old people,
their temples like handfuls of winter;
are used baggage,
memories speak to them,
they smile and
tell me stories from their youth
silence passes unspoken
—they remember the dead.
I kiss the loneliness from their temples
and sadness lifts from their mouths.
From my first book: 'In Forbidden Language'
©dah / Stillpoint Books 2010
all rights reserved
Search Amazon Books: "in forbidden language/dah"
by Annabelle Jane |
Books half opened
Lines half written
A bridge half built is halfway there.
Bones half broken
Lives half hidden
A heart in half has half to share.
by Shani Fassbender |
I’m lost everyday when I wake, at the emptiness lying next to me
When I read the morning paper, the news is not to share
My coffee is never waiting for me anymore, neither is your kiss
Solitary walks are shortened, without companionship
The meals do not taste the same, the flavor you added is missing
I fall asleep watching movies, and books hold no interest
Some of the light has vanished from the day
As more of the darkness is invading my nights
While I’m sleeping, in my dreams you tease
I dread all the tomorrows, where you will not be
by craig cornish |
(English Sonnet Rhyme in Iambic Tetrameter)
What tomes in lonely corners dwell
where undisturbed and rimmed with dust,
forgotten tales that once were held
and stained with tears and love and lust -
now sit untouched like aging queens;
more interest in apparent heirs
like Kindle tablets - pageless screens,
dull bootless script where no one shares.
So empty when a page is turned,
no weight of paper in its place
and when it's done no conference yearned -
there is no book ... just empty space.
The halls where all the books are kept
will haunt until their dust is swept.
by Edwin Alluso |
Our Little Boy
Our boy named Dione Henry
Comes from our fathers name
He’s so cheerful and friendly
But sometimes he’s naughty
He loves to play and full of energy
Even his stomach is empty
At the end he is so hungry
He dream of becoming a pilot
Reading his books he always forgot
But playing games he did not
I’ve thought to tied him with a knot
So he could stay in my front
And guide him in his right plot
To show his wisdom that he got
I know that he is our little boy
Who loves to play with his toy
Sooner you’ll become a man
Enjoy your time and have fun
I will always there to guide you
To reach your dreams I'll support you
I’ll be there for you because I love you
by Brian Strand |
house was full
hours upon the wall
a smell of love
by Abdul Malik |
~A Brian Strand July 24 contest - Footle.
"Your Footle poem" contest by Judy Konos
by DM Babbit |
books, emotions, poetry, writing,
Embrace the line
it flows straight yet narrow
guiding the eye and the hand along its edge.
Behind lies the blanks waiting
hoping for some beatific message
to be filled in along the emptiness.
Focus and see the ink
flowing from the pen
in a cursive calligraphic display.
Words and phrases wrapped around a vision
that waltz dances on the page
then springing forth in calypso imagery.
Hears it, feel it, see it give birth
in poetic prose and rhythms felt
deep in the mind, heart and soul.
Embrace the line
it draws attention
poetry is born
with love, inspiration and deep emotion
revealed along the lines.
by daver austin |
Animals teach us to love
They excel at all the simple things
They are no good at complex things
Painting great art
Playing the violin
Making out income tax returns
Building machines of war
When we ask animals to do any of these complex things
They look at us with such curious eyes
We value them for their unobtrusive simple ways
Give them a place to sleep (often on our own bed)
If this aint love I'm a rooster's comb and cackle!
by Lu Loo |
I bled for you so many days.
I tampered with evidence
in so many ways. I left you
alone with no tears to cry.
All my ears can hear is you
sigh. Forgotten memories
forced into my skull. I’m
emptied when I used to
be full. I took for granted
the love that we shared.
I could never accept that
you really cared. Afraid
of forgiveness while frantic.
I turned around and saw
you panic. Too many books
left unread. Too many times
I’ve been declared dead. I
am confused under your
pillow tonight. The fear
doesn’t make us wrong or
Written By: Laura Loo
Date Written: April 26, 2016
by Patricia Langston-Moran |
lost loveme, love, me,
GIVE ME TIME
I have tears to be shed...
Books to be read...
Words to be said...
I love you.
I have a life to live...
and love to give...
I miss you.
I have memories to leave...
Moments to grieve...
And time to believe...
That you once loved me.
I have a horizon to climb...
Only moments of time...
to learn to love - me
Wait for me to do this
Don't leave me yet,
If you care.
by Trina Hamel |
anniversary, beauty, books, boyfriend, butterfly, caregiving, child,
When I look at him I don't see a love story you'd
Read in a book or even see on the movie screen
I do see someone that is meant for only me
Someone who doesn't judge or expect anything
but takes everyday as a gift and treasures
It with all my flaws and insecurities and still stands
I see an angle heaven sent because even god knew
He would be
A miracle in my eyes not a love story by any means
But a story written for me and him to read
by lynn Hanna Barany |
It was a loving relationship
Meant only to enjoy,
Never to be analyzed,
Not intended to destroy.
It was nice at the beginning
Full of warmth, and love and fun
Until the day it fell apart
In this game that no one won.
I suppose someday if we meet again
And by chance we feel there's more,
We'll spread our wings, and find the key
To open Heaven's door.
Until that day I still remain
A girl that held you hand,
When you carried my books
and walked with me
In the days of Snow and Sand.
Lynn Hanna Barany
by Malabika Ray Choudhury |
love, love hurts,
The glamour of a prestigious school lured her far away..
two years would whizz past, of arduous work,
immersing in books, away from home,
away from her beloved...she assured him.
rushing to the station, he wished her all good luck,
holding a bouquet of Lily of the Nile...she admired !
petals shrivel, flowers wither, the moment does not.
July 27, 2022
Short Verse Inspired By Pictures Poetry Contest
Sponsor: Lisa YY
by Khadidja Megaache |
death, grief, pain, poets, remember, solitude, sorrow,
When I lay in the mortuary,
Don’t cry, smile and appreciate my journey.
Throughout life, at times, I lived wary.
I carried hope, love and even the burdening worry.
When I lay in the mortuary,
Before I’m buried and forgotten in a cemetery,
About my death don’t ask questions,
Don’t whisper in my stiff, blue ears confessions.
Few would come to my funeral,
Fewer would weep.
Few would care,
Fewer would lose sleep.
When I lay in the mortuary,
Burn my drafts and books,
My life was dull and ordinary.