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Monthly Archives: March 2013

There is a light at the end of the tunnel

              

                         As I looked into the sky,                               

                          I saw a beam of light,                                    

                        It shone directly over me,                            

                             So beautiful and bright,                                   

                           I looked in amazement,                              

          As the light surveyed the ground,

Sweeping back and forth,

Searching all around.

 

The light had many colours,

Of reds, blues, and green,

A spectacle of brilliance,

The most beautiful ever seen.

Then from within its beauty,

A symphony of sound was heard,

Filling the air with music,

My very spirit stirred.

 

A haunting sound of peace,

Filled my heart with love,

Creating an hypnotic trance,

As the light shone from above.

I felt so warm and comfortable,

Bathed in that beautiful light,

Drawn to the end of the tunnel,

To a light that burnt so bright.

 

At the end of the tunnel,

Was a soul so gentle and meek?

Welcoming a lonely traveller,

Bemused I could not speak.

Welcome to the world of spirit,

This gentle soul he said,

For you have left the material,

Your body on earth is dead.

 

Now your spirit life is eternal,

And in time will expand and grow,

But now is the time to rest,

To be surrounded by all you know.

Enjoy your life on the material,

Put thoughts of death behind,

Be tolerant with one another,

So all will have peace of mind.

 

For me my earthly life as ended,

But my loved ones I will be near,

To help in times of torment,

To elevate all fear.

 Rest assured my spirits free,

 Free from all earthly pain,

So be strengthened in that knowledge

     For we all shall meet again.

Malcolm Bradshaw

The Giraffe in my bath

I found a giraffe in my bath

He was having a wash

He looked very clean

And he sounded very posh,

I didn’t know his name

I wasn’t sure why he was there

He seemed very polite

So I didn’t really care,

There was a giraffe in my bath

When I went to have a wash

I didn’t know his name

But he sounded very posh,

When I asked him to leave

He didn’t seem very pleased

So I left the giraffe in the bath

I just hope he hadn’t got a key

Gillian Sims

Grandmother’s stew pot

 

 

Granddad’s sitting in his rocking chair

Sipping whiskey from an old stone jar

Chewing tobacco and staring at anyone

who dare come near,

Grandmother chewing a piece of straw

Whilst standing by the kitchen door

Stewing pot bubbling nice and hot

It’s squirrel stew that’s in the pot,

Musket Hangs on the fire-place wall

The one that granddad used in the civil war,

Granddad can still hit the spot

Even with a single shot,

Squirrel and rabbit, in the pot

Nice and juicy really hot

That is what’s in grandmother’s stew pot

Thomas Sims

It’s Fun To Smile (Weekly Writing Challenge)

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Check out Mothers Day at:www.poetreecreations.org

mothers dayxxxxx

Risk

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Experimental Fiction

Raging at Gods
of evil intent,
cursing the frustrating
time that was spent,
in following heart
and ignoring mind,
in trusting in love
but only to find,
that passion is fleeting
and lust quickly faded,
while outlook grows darker
and attitude jaded.

Silently cursing
an unconscious fire,
that burns in the soul
flavored sweet with desire,
to have and to hold
a love everlasting,
a life offered whole
without need of asking,
given with trust
and utter conviction,
speaking to heart
that is willing to listen.

But history speaks
of past hurt and pain,
could I open my life
and risk anguish again?
Is the chance to be taken
worth sorrow and loss,
when things fall apart
as surely they must.
Is it safer to stay
alone and apart,
to protect this damaged
and love tired heart?

Happiness fleeting
is surely still worth,
the risk that goes with it
for…

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The Tattoo — by Stacy Poole & Jordan Wester

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Could it be?

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MC's Whispers

dogopolyThe window was halfway down so he could easily pop his head out, gazing at the passers-by.

“Hey pup! How ya doin?”

“All right. Not too shabby, I would say. Out for the day’s walk. How about you?”

“Good. Just got up from my nap. Tiring day today. Was up since dawn. You know, had to chase after breakfast. My stomach was growling!”

“Ah, I know that feeling. I just hope the economic crisis doesn’t cling on us too!”

“Hey pretty! Nice bow you got there!”

“Oh thanks, Dane! Just got out of the salon. You like the new style?”

“Suits you perfectly darling! You should pass by more often. Makes the sun shine brighter!”

“Oh stop, you’re making me blush!”

BRRRRRGGGGGGRRRRRRR!!!! The neighbor next door started the lawn mower. I was abruptly woken up from my daydream and reinstated back to reality.

Suddenly the Great Dane sitting by the…

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Mannequin.

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JJR Writing.

Sometimes I wish you could walk through the stems of my mind
See the pain and worry and constant doubt
Doubt in myself, in my heart and in my being
There’s no part that I want to hide, but it’s hidden
I can’t let it out, let you see, let you believe
Because if you believe, you see the real me
See the pain in myself, in my heart, in my being
I’ll never be real
I’m plastic
Plastic mind
Plastic heart
Mannequin.

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20 Lines A Day

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Eternity

 
 
I’ll soon be leaving the University of Life
I hope my final exam result will be first rate
But I hope to travel on to the Eternal City
And to receive a warm welcome at the Golden Gate
 
It is the place where I hope one day to be
Where I can fulfil my hopes and my desires
Not a place where the streets are paved with gold
A place of harmony enveloped in the music of heavenly choirs
 
I know that entry into the Eternal City is not automatic
And not everyone will find acceptance there
The decision will be affected by our record here on earth
That is something of which we should be aware
 
Not many people today believe in eternity
In fact it is hard to understand what they really do believe
They might feel that death is the end of our existence
And that eternity is difficult for them to perceive
 
For this reason they indulge themselves in earthly pleasures
Hoping this will provide happiness until death takes our life away
But each of us should carefully assess our situation
For we may have to answer for ourselves on Judgement Day
By Ron Martin

My Poem Got Published!

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Melodies

Maria Michaela Poetry (formerly One Poem A Day)

the guitar strings sing

the piano’s keyboard rings

I hear a melody so soft

I’m taken to the clouds

up and away I go

until the flute glides me back

to where the drums beat fast

and the cymbals welcome me home

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Tuesdays Thoughts

On the Road (Walk with Me)

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Lonna Lisa Williams

Image

It seems I’m always on the road, in some exotic country across the oceans.  I’ve traveled to many continents and cities, but I love to just take walks.  I’ve walked with my children, so much enjoying their wide, surprised eyes and their small hands in mine as we bent to touch a dandelion or stretched up toward the moon.  I walked with my husband and sometimes friends.  I often walk alone, so often not by choice.  Yet, I was not all alone.  Christ walked with me, and though I should follow his footsteps more often, He doesn’t abandon me.

Writing begins in the mind, and when I’m walking, I let my body and mind relax.  Words come to me, and I can outline a novel in one afternoon.  A character, a setting, a desire, an object like an old camera held up to a seeing eye–images drift into my…

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Fairy Tales

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Daily Prompt: Twenty-Five

There are 26 letters in the English language, and we need every single one of them. Want proof? Choose a letter and write a blog post without using it. (Feeling really brave? Make it a vowel!)

Since, I am no literary genius I can’t make it a vowel! but yeah I’ll write a post excluding the last letter of the alphabets ( can’t name it here 😉 )

I can’t think of anything to write today.. Daily prompt does it for me daily, well but I surely have to write something, so here goes!witch_brewing_potion_poster-ra487e9847efb4eb8ada5854b563f6af9_w2q_216

Once upon a time. in a lonely hut, in a far away jungle, lived a mean old witch. You all know how mean witches are, well… they’re mean. Once she was brewing up an evil potion and for that she needed (of course) princess’ hair. So she kidnapped a princess from a nearby…

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No, thanks. – The Past is in the Past

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Charlotte Bronte – Biography

 

charlotte-bronte

 

Charlotte Bronte (1816 – 1855) Novelist and Poet.

Charlotte was the daughter of the Rev. Patrick Bronte,with her sisters Emily and Anne, Charlotte was brought up in a small parsonage in the Yorkshire village of Haworth. Whilst still in her childhood the Bronte sisters lost their mother and as the eldest Charlotte took up the a role of looking out for her sisters Emily and Anne. Charlotte was described as: “the motherly friend and guardian of her younger sisters,”

The sisters had an unusual upbringing in that their house overlooked the village graveyard. To escape from these surroundings and the loss of their mother they would often spend time creating stories of fantasy lands. These fantasy stories were often based on the soldiers of their strict, religious aunt, Elisabeth Branwell. Later in a poem Charlotte wrote:

“We wove a web in childhood, / A web of sunny air.”

After various efforts as schoolmistresses and governesses, the sisters took to literature and published a volume of poems under the names of Currer, Ellis, and Acton Bell Unfortunately these early publications were a commercial failure. However this did not deter Charlotte and she continued with her novels such as ‘The Professor’ and ‘Jane Eyre’. Jane Eyre proved to be tremendously popular with the public when it appeared in 1854. The novel has gained status as one of the classics of English literature for its originality and strength of writing.

Charlotte was married to her father’s curate, the Rev. A. Nicholls, but after a short though happy married life she died in childbirth in 1855.

“Conventionality is not morality. Self-righteousness is not religion. To attack the first is not to assail the last. To pluck the mask from the face of the Pharisee is not to lift an impious hand to the Crown of Thorns. “

– Charlotte Bronte

Sources: A Short Biographical Dictionary of English Literature

by John W. Cousin

Evening Solace

The human heart has hidden treasures, 
In secret kept, in silence sealed;­
The thoughts, the hopes, the dreams, the pleasures, 
Whose charms were broken if revealed. 
And days may pass in gay confusion, 
And nights in rosy riot fly, 
While, lost in Fame’s or Wealth’s illusion, 
The memory of the Past may die.

But, there are hours of lonely musing, 
Such as in evening silence come, 
When, soft as birds their pinions closing, 
The heart’s best feelings gather home. 
Then in our souls there seems to languish 
A tender grief that is not woe; 
And thoughts that once wrung groans of anguish, 
Now cause but some mild tears to flow.

And feelings, once as strong as passions, 
Float softly back­a faded dream; 
Our own sharp griefs and wild sensations,
The tale of others’ sufferings seem. 
Oh ! when the heart is freshly bleeding, 
How longs it for that time to be, 
When, through the mist of years receding, 
Its woes but live in reverie !

And it can dwell on moonlight glimmer, 
On evening shade and loneliness; 
And, while the sky grows dim and dimmer, 
Feel no untold and strange distress­ 
Only a deeper impulse given 
By lonely hour and darkened room, 
To solemn thoughts that soar to heaven, 
Seeking a life and world to come.

 

 

 

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