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Monthly Archives: August 2013

I Wonder if You Wander – Promote Yourself


I wonder if you wander along the shore;
While the tide rolls in and Time fades into grey.
I wonder if you wander when the daylight pours its rays upon your face.
As your soul lays barren, washed up in the waves if you long for refreshment;
Though water is at your feet.
In the thousands of grains of sand, you wonder if at all someone will notice you,
As they will notice me.
The brevity of life; the fragile state of living.
Somehow, we take each second for granted, the minutes to share our hearts with another.
In a breath and a sigh; it passes by too quick.
Take each drop in when you can.
I wonder if you wander when someone will carry you underneath the wings of hope.
Does the suffering grieve your heartstrings too much that the sun won’t shine tomorrow?
As you cry, the next bottle of rain; you want to hide your head in the caves of Remorse.
You can’t escape the past, or run far enough for the dawn to catch you.
Don’t lose sight; redemption has come;
Just open your eyes and your heart, for tomorrow is come.

I wonder if you wander in the shifting sands of life,
The shoreline’s too long and the tide is too high.
The waves crashing, undertow pulling into its side;
Wiping out all hopes of success, all joy inside this world.
Tossing, turning, shipwrecked, sunken treasures, us boys and girls;
But with the compression; the pressure in His hands.
He takes these challenges turning us into His pearls.
Precious, priceless, perfected by trials,
In this lonely beach.

I wonder if you wander on this rock, on this isle.
Isolation and desolation; seeking not to be stiff and still
But full of vibrancy and bright.
No one is an island; no one is a shore
But banking on the waters of love.
Love will restore and heal the broken,
Love is the ocean, and we are the sea;
Flowing, growing, feeding one another in its plentiful, beautiful bounty.
Going on in its continuous fount, the water that never runs dry;
For the parched heart.

I wonder if you wander along this shore.
Thinking and watching as Time rolls on;
But wait, don’t lose heart, you can’t give up now:
Hope is alive, it lives for tomorrow!

Dr. Seussa

SOLDIER CHORISTER – Promote Yourself

broken swords

Soldier choristers armoured in their song
No need for clumsy swords and shields had they
For harmonies, so binding and so strong
Had woven strong protection from affray
With sacred sound they faced the army ranks
Who felt with fear the voices pierce their hearts
The singers knelt to join their palms in thanks
And closed their eyes to hear the weeping start

No blood was lost the day the choristers won
As battlefield turned ocean from tears shed
For enmity and fear had fled and gone
A blessed new alliance in their stead
Sweet melody of oneness buried deep
Return to re awake us from fear’s sleep

Harula Ladd

Human – Promote Yourself


Thousands of miles separate our beings,
but not my mind from you.
I dreamt a dream last night,
brutal in honesty.
It tore at the very fabric of me,
and tears would all but form behind my eyes.

I think of things often and sometimes,
of you, of things you have said.
You speak of only being ‘caught up in a moment’,
but it is a moment that binds me to its eternity.
days pass like ages,
still your scent lingers around corners.

I close my eyes,
and in this smell of you,
your taste, your grace,
the small fire nestled in my belly,
it burns softly.
Warmth in the darkest of winters.

Why have our souls,
yours and infinitely mine,
been so blessed?
A love that tears at the seams of all things.
It remains close to my chest,
as it is all things we hold dear.

Morning’s light,
a dance on window’s sill.
Another night’s past.
I smile gently,
that empty feeling rises from my gut,
it comforts me in all familiarity.

This pain in my chest,
it waits for you.

It reminds me of my humanity
when I am at my most weak.

In love, in fear, in doubt,
in all things that I am.

I remember your name.

For you have showed me the meaning of


© D. A. Yew

Poetry by DAY

111. Seamus Heaney 1939 – 2013


Céard atá i ndán dúinn?

File faoi bhláth ar shlí na fírinne

Seamus Heaney

Ar Twitter ar maidin thug mé faoi deara go raibh daoine ag scríobh faoi Seamus Heaney is níor thuig mé cén fáth ar dtús. An raibh duais eile buaite aige? Ach ansin tháinig an smaoineamh sin chugham. Ag an am céanna cheap mé nach bhféadfadh sé ‘bheith fíor. Bhí sé ró-óg.


Domsa bhí sé i gcónaí an aois céanna. Bhí sé ina mhúinteoir óg i gCarysfort ag siúl isteach inár rang beag. Ach cén aois é i ndáiríre anois? D’oscail mé an nuacht agus ansin a bhí an fhírinne. Cén scéal é seo ar maidin? Ní raibh mé ag súil leis seo. Tá mo mhúinteoir imithe. Bhí fonn orm caint leis, le rá leis, “Bhí tú lách, an rud is tábhachtaí, is mhínigh tú áilleacht dúinn.” Agus is fíor sin. Is chreid sé ann féin agus ionainn agus…

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Midnight Swim – Promote Yourself

My name is John from Northern California, USA. While I am no longer young, I am but a child at heart and also very new to writing. Even newer to writing for the world at large to see. I will be sending entries from time to time as I am inspired. Here is my first. Hope you enjoy.
Midnight Swim


Cold ocean waves

Reflected moon

Diamond glitter

Across the wake


Refreshing plunge

Open water

Quiet mind

Alert,  awake


Depth unknown

Moving shadow

Swift below

Midnight mistake


Jaws of death

Open wide

Scream in pain

For no ones sake


Countless teeth

Razor sharp

Rip and tear

Shred and shake

Foamy water

Crimson red

Flesh is torn

Bones they break

Glimpse the moon

One last time

Pray the LORD

My soul to take.

Thank you poetree creations for providing this outlet. Anyone who enjoyed this feel free to check out all my other poems, flash fiction, and written mayhem at

Keep writing.


~WAVES~ – Promote Yourself


Waves to say hello to constant friends,
Waves to bid goodbye to seasons’ ends;
Waves to rollick, dance and spin,
Waves to conduct an orchestra to begin.
 Permanent waves to create new dos;
Bird waves which sweep above you;
Flag waves with mercurial breezes;
Thought waves that rush like sneezes;
Making waves to be constructive;
Electrical waves which are productive.
Rippling lakes from waves of wind;
Ocean currents bring waves that bend;
Hot days during waves of heat;
Sports events where waves repeat.
Doppler waves, sound waves, and gamma waves, aren’t science fiction;
Microwaves, gravitational waves, and ultraviolet waves could be in your kitchen.
Seismic waves, tidal waves, and rogue waves portend destruction.
Sonic waves, light waves, and mechanical waves which need instruction.
Modulating, undulating, standing and plane,
Versus Alpha, Beta Delta; Theta which comprise the brain;
Beach, Reef and Point breaks for surfing the ocean blue;
Other waves too numerous to mention to you.
So, I’ve decided to go outside and play
On this temperate, inviting day.
And as the sea beckons a view,
I wave to ask: “Come join me, too.”
Wendy Shreve

Finding Peace

The long road represents time
With every narrow passing
A piece of life becomes sublime
Its nature is to reckon our liking
We raise our children to bring the future
Presence into our hearts and mind
Knowing their lives evolve only to assure
Beyond the comforts of home left behind
A quiet melody breaks when love is erased
A soft heart weeps at a moment’s loss
The tears of love will forever be embraced
As we are finding peace; Spiritual cross
The emotional netting of family now knows expanse
A child’s tear ventures upon life’s passionate chance

Thom Amundsen

A Little Prayer – Promote Yourself


Before I sleep, when the night’s at peace;
I caIl on Him with the dancing bees;
I don’t do this for you to be pleased;
but for me to be able to live with ease.
Trials and hardships have tested my faith;
A way out isn’t a problem ‘cause there is to create;
There are a lot of things that I wish to state;
but it is for you to discover, so go and change the fate!
As time passes by, we all move along;
Trying to find the place where we really belong;
Some are confused but please don’t get them wrong;
Because they couldn’t have seen yet the lyrics of the song.
There are problems that seem to last forover;
Stand up, face them, be strong and clever;
Don’t forget that you can cry on His shoulder;
You’ll feel a lot better when you say a little prayer.

Shavaun Lemieux

Bank holiday weekends why does it always rain?

I saw a show on the Discover Channel that said that it’s much more likely to have rain on the weekend than on a weekday. All week long, industry and transportation are putting particulates in the air. Raindrops coalesce around particulates. By the weekend, the air is saturated enough to cause it to rain, and then the sky is cleaned out and the cycle starts all over again.

If this is true, then it stands to reason that it would be more likely to rain on a holiday Monday than a regular Monday, because often on the weekend, people stay home, but on holiday weekends, people are more likely to travel.

Or maybe you just notice it more.


The Window – Promote Yourself



I can feel the cold breeze,
As I open the window to reminisce.
Remembering everything we had together
And I just can’t accept that you are now in peace.

You always let me pass through that window.
You said I am a child whom should know
That it is better to rain than to snow,
But the drizzle in my heart will never go.

Being strong is what you taught me
Until I realized that it is not the real me
I am weak; I can’t even try to skii.
I just tried harder for you to see.

I didn’t imagine what my life could be
Without you beside me.
Now I am here crying in front of the tree
Because I know I can’t have you back for free.

Everyday I wish to be with you
Chatting, laughing and playing are what we used to do.
In my heart there is always you,
But now all I can say is Adieu.

Iana Shirin

“Ode to Cat Hair” – Promote Yourself


Hark! Hear the sneezes of chosen ones.
Thine tiny hairs of potency they cannot out run.
All seasons, winter through fall,
your omnipresence is evident to all.
Whither can one go to escape your confident displays
of black on white, white on black, every shade displaying all the browns and greys?
If I go to the depths of the sea,
you manage to float by my eye like a wayward bee.
If I go to the heavens Leo awaits
to add his contribution to those who contemplate
the mysterious nature of that which has once again found its way onto their dinner plate!
If I remain on the earth and carefully search through history’s books’ garlands
I would find the Son of God blessed you with a wave of his hand;
or t’was it dismissal from his robe by command?
In the coldest lands men make snowy cocoons,
you are there.
In the hottest of wastelands among the sandy dunes,
you are there.
Your endurance is astounding and focused
defying even the most thorough removal process.
‘Tis for records eternal these verses have been chiselled.
For want of a climate destroyed and all life begun anew
you shall remain, you and your furry crew
surviving what dinosaurs could not, or Trojans too.
O cat hair, once apocalyptic doom has come from whence and gone thither,
settle upon the ruins of wasteland and humanity withered.
Cat hair, hear and believe, you always have the last laugh, disembodied critter!

Stephanie Matthews

Inside Looking Out – Promote Yourself

My name is Chris Ball, I’m a 35 year proud Dad of an amazing son and an electrical test engineer from Plymouth in England. I write when i feel the urge and or need and i read when i find the time.
This is a poem from the point of view of a goldfish, its kind of metaphorical but more blunt than subtle.


Solitary, but content,
Looking out from his own world,
A memory longer than you’d ever know.
Sustenance from above drifting ever closer,
That no hands could ever gather.

How they stare and gawp,
Torturous tapping to gain his attention,
But he does not hear,
Just feels the pain,
And once again,
Floats off in his own enclosed world.

How I envy him and all he can do,
Literally breathing in the very world around him,
Relying on all those outside for all that he knows,
For without them he will not be.

Does he know that one sad day,
His whole world will turn up-side-down?
From his perspective he will not notice,
But we will, we will.

By Chris Ball

August showers

August showers

Watering the flowers

No sun in sight

Staying in tonight,

People rushing

To miss the raindrops

Staying longer in the shops

Cold feet and hands

Where people stand

Waiting for the rain to ease,

Catching colds in the August breeze

August showers

So much power

Flooding to come

It’s raining again,

Let’s run

Gillian Sims

JUST BREATHE! – Promote Yourself

Sea air, honeysuckle, and new born babies.
Rampant cynicism, vehicle emissions, and politicians’ “maybes.”
Males’ musky scent, fishermen’s fresh catch and horses’ sweat.
Polluters, collateral damage and mental health neglect.
Maple tree sap, buttercup sweetness and children’s gladness.
Enflamed fear, limitations and media madness.
Clean sand, lavender fields and sunflower seeds.
Violent anger, narrow-mindedness and worldwide greed.
Giving people, bridge-makers and quiet ways.
Lonely nights, endless fights and desperate days.
Inhale. Exhale.
Inhale. Exhale.

Wendy Shreve

Too Much Fun Haiku

Short Librarian's Blog

Loving family
Visit with seven children;
How does she do it?

Cool aquarium,
Awesome zoo and busy mall –
these are what we do.

Recovering from
having so much fun means I
need more weekend time!

Summer gone so soon;
We still have the Fair to see.
Heat sizzles in air.

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Promise to love me

Sizing Up – Promote Yourself

gun head

There is laughter there
In-between broken ribs and bent souls
In being alone, in touching your own wounds
Salted funny

I needed to tell you I was crazy; in promise
You would not reject me because
I have an art about forgiving and still losing everything
Telling the preacher himself
So that I don’t feel so lonely
When you sit your sin right beside me

A mass of contradictions
You told me right and taught me wrong
Thinking that all I have to do is tell the truth; be strong
When the rope was dangling there all along
You sleep soundly
Thinking you have killed me, but I loved you
That was always the right choice to me

They all want to wreck me
And I want salvation
You want portraits of the condition I am currently in
Still waiting
Seeing the light through your cavernous body
Hoping my spirit clings to the correct things
And not the dampness of your dark

Taking what you give me
Even when it hurts me; you left me
Feigning and sickly; scrawny
From the lack of dreams where you would hold me
Sometimes I feel your fingers foreign
And I lack the self-respect to
Stop them because it’s been so long since
I’ve had someone’s whole palm to lay my cheek in

My tears will never be enough restitution
I could bleed your vanity and still be too thin
To complicated to kiss
Unaware of your efforts
Claiming to have good intentions
But all I feel is shame creep in

Memories of when just your form could make my entire structure unsound
Your smell could make me forget I ever
Saw hell in your eyes
The way they matched perfectly with your voice
That spoke to those words
Making me put a Smith and Wesson to my head

With still no kiss to my temple
The love I feel from you is lethal
But I know I’m more than thankful
Because if I was like you
Selfish acting noble
I would feel even more so unlovable

I have hope and
You don’t; say;
I’m sorry but I wouldn’t either
If the only good part in my entire day
Was watching a beautiful girl decay and slip away

My reality
And still you have the audacity
To say ‘leave me be’


Hi my name is Kelley Stephens I am from the United States in Oklahoma. I have a degree in nursing and I have been writing for as long as I can remember but I just started really concentrating on my poetry the last year or two. you can find my blog here Hope everyone enjoyed!

Kelley M. Stephens

*Blues Queen* – Promote Yourself


She finally made it back to Birdland.
It feels like just yesterday she was here in New York City, spray-painting this bitter, hateful earth with the blues. Now she is on Heaven’s replica stage being backed up by the greatest bluesmen that have ever lived accompanying her commanding voice as respective maestros of the
Sweet sax,
A pair of trombones and a double bass:
What a Difference a Day Made.
Oh she’s still got it. It feels like Radio City here in the clouds…with flashy lights beaming down on the messengers of song. The stage is overflowing with music and taking center stage is the very physical and spiritual representation of the Blues. She stands before the audience oozing blue, it’s wrapped around her skin, and from her soul it pours from her pores…the moment she begins to roar.
She is the Blues.
With clenched fists and an open heart — she Rules the microphone…
Victoria and Elizabeth can have their jurisdiction…
But on this stage there is but only
One Queen.
I present to you:
The Queen of Blues.
All Hail.

Painted by John Penney

©2012. Original Clyde Aidoo. All Rights Reserved.

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