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Monthly Archives: November 2013

The New Town Square – Promote Yourself

              250px-Accra_montage                      I sought information

And the world’s intention

I sought the latest news

Our nation’s direction and people’s views


My birthday approached

One day prior and the matter was never broached

The day arrived, and neither a text nor a call

Instead a flood of generic messages on my Facebook wall


I bought my new bracelet

Already a friend abroad had gotten wind of it

Inquired why I’d buy such a hideous ornament

Her voice dripping with heavy judgement


Brokenhearted lady shared her plight on her Twitter feed

Seeking solace, consolation at 4G speed?

She got insults and a skim of condolences

Guess we all see life through different lenses


Showing the cash, flaunting the new missus

He also posted to keep up appearances

Albeit on the inside he withered slowly

No substance and thinking of himself lowly


A lovely day but I hear ranting

Violent opinions and pointless raving

Each wanting his voice to be heard

To scribe his viewpoint, no matter how absurd


Welcome to the marketplace of the digital age

Where we all commune on the virtual page

Chatting heartily and laying our souls bare

Hate it or love it, it’s the new town square

Setor Dzisenu

                                                                                         Accra, Ghana

I’m Still Chasing Ghosts – Promote Yourself


I’m still chasing ghosts –
Perhaps in fear.
Perhaps in love.
Perhaps in loathing.
I’m still searching,
Though I don’t know what I’ve lost,
Or what I yearn to find –
Though I’ve long been petrified by the glare of phantoms.

I’d rather be guided by these demons
Than wander alone.
I’d rather be preyed upon by illusions
Than strive for the nihilism of truth.
I’d rather succumb to this affliction
Than hope for the frailty of a cure.

I’d rather burn
Than wade into these tides,
Only to be assailed
And cast back to the shore.

I am incarcerated in twilight,
And bound in flame.

Luke Dukinfield

Found – Promote Yourself


The emptiness is all gone,
taking a French leave like Darkness at the scent of Light
which shone so brightly, such that
Purpose could not cover her nakedness anymore.

Let Nothing weigh me down, ’cause I’m buoyant now.
Upwards in the sky, I float, my head above the waters,
gloating over all my fears that are no more, flushed
away in the Sewer of Nought.
I can touch the skies, I can touch the earth
like the hands of the clock when it is on the hour of six.

Moving hills, moving mountains;
Moving stars, moving galaxies.
It was in me this whole time, I’m just waiting,
waiting to bring it all out.

Promise Tewogbola


If you have any poetry you have written about Christmas,we would like to display it on our website:

Please send it

This Gathering









I am grateful
To recall the memories
Children running through rooms
A gathering of family
Hopping over the ankles
Brushing shoulders
Quick smiles as we flit by each
Relative that stood in our way
I grew up believing the aroma
Baking, basting, tasting
Always a natural consequence
Of gathering loved ones
While the care in the kitchen
Symbolic of love and festivity
Would offer purpose to the
Acceptable gluttony of spirits
If I were to name you
I’d feel compelled to recall
Everyone that touched me
When gathering I had no clue
How your love would remain
Close to my heart today
On this morning when I ready
My family to celebrate together
I believe then I am wondering
How to include everyone
My memories are vivid
Always a gathering with effort
To recognize each individual
Belonging together in heart and soul
Without exclusion on this day
An occasional stranger appeared … love
When I celebrate memory
I feel certain emptiness stir
Becomes an anxiety I fear
A gathering of lonely and heartsick
Souls wishing for a warm fire
A soft blanket to shelter exposure
I will pray for them in my own way
That peace in God’s eyes may occur
Glance outside and the sunlight’s beauty
Lights a blessed gathering of souls today

Thom Amundsen

MAGIC LOST – Promote Yourself







A watercolor sunset that leaves pixels, prisms of color in the mind,
Luminous green giants, waves lifting after a winter tempest,
Spider-like branches reaching for the sun, roots creaking and twined;
Softened shells and eroded rocks, sandy granules without rest.

Comforting darkness; noiseless, interrupted only by coyotes’ baying,
Avian darters drifting with the spiraling wind, displaying their own story,
Hermit crabs struggling to climb lofty mountains, etched walls awash and decaying,
Silken, black or gray companions, popping up and down amidst the sea in days of glory.

Faces, newly-shapened or rutted with wrinkles, sharing smiles with surprise,
Wind-thrown hair atop rattled figures, pushing their way toward the spit,
Awakened love bringing cherished hopes, laughing with wonder and reprise,
Hands, bodies clenched in simple pleasure, making light of daily flits.

Then, wrapped in winter’s cellophane, we hide away; seek to stay;
Wonders and smiles that nature brings are tempered ‘til Spring;
Living portraits now muted cacophonies, humans; animals resist the day,
And kindled love connected to future promise, lies in embers; a broken string.

Wendy Shreve

Watch out for our Christmas cracker theme coming soon!!!

Don’t miss out on the Christmas party at Poetree Creations

We want you to be there

To see this amazing theme

And all that it brings

Invite all of your friends ©2012



winter tree

I am winter,
Coldest season,
If you’re looking for a reason,
Skiing sledding,
Leafless trees,
Skate on ice,
No sign of bees…
The Earth has tilted,
From the sun,
Days are short,
But still such fun…
Put some gloves,
On your hands,
Enjoy my winter wonderland!

Constant Pain – Promote Yourself


pian life






which is always there with me

There is absolutely no gain

In pretending what others want you to be

May be the pain will fizzle out

but I will miss its presence

Among all these self doubts

Constant pain is my life’s essence

Gaurab   Country : India

Blog :

About : I like travelling and photography. I’m an avid reader, I also write,mostly about my experiences and journeys. 🙂

Saturday night – Promote Yourself

I hope I see you Saturday night.
You’d be dressed in your best clothes,
You’d smile shyly when you see me see you,
and you’d smell the red thorn-less rose.
You wouldn’t wear heels,
‘Cause you don’t like being taller than me.
But I’m cool with it, honestly.
I feel lucky.
You’d sit across the table and quietly say
“Don’t look at me like that”
I’d keep looking, straight in your eyes,
and you’d say again “Stop that”
You’d forget about your studies,
I’d forget about work.
You’d kiss me deeply,
& I’d try to hide my smirk.
I hope I see you Saturday night.
I have thought about it a lot.
I really want to try,
This time, I think we have a shot.
Jidvish Ruparel

Walking by Landmarks


I took a walk outside the other day
And realized the world has remained the same
The fields are changing as the
Clouds build their quiet momentum
But the stroll is a similar cadence
One can never be moving too soon
While in life missing steps
Would be
A bit nerve wracking
I took a walk outside the other day
Skies with their hue of golden blues
Will always brighten my day
Even as the wind’s ice take form
I seek a quiet comfort internally
Only to recognize again
The sudden calm’s change
Might be
A tad unrelenting
I took a walk outside the other day
And questioned what occurs
When my mind begins to sway
Off course into a never-land
Of energy no less endearing
Yet driven by our world’s demands.
Could be
A new awakening
I took a walk outside the other day
And when I listened to the sweet melody
Of simple pleasure in nature’s Grace
I could imagine a peace
A love of beauty and delight
Shed all aspects of the past
Only to relish a newer day again
Will we
Ever make allowances
I took a stroll while on a new avenue today
Noted the people’s intent to thrive in the gray
Thom Amundsen

Missing Hope – Promote Yourself




Somehow the sun

Sneaks in

Unnoticed, even shunned

By those not ready

For the flicker

Of a flame already snuffed

So many times

By paralyzed thoughts

Of reality known

And dreams departed


Somehow the sun

Slips gently

Making contact, though rejected

By hearts still twisted

With past and pain

Blocking rays, restricting light

As life gives moments

Short yet sweet

To collect and keep

Or resist and release

Arley S.


LISTEN TO THE RAINBOW – Promote Yourself




Hear the blood shed,

(Orange) Clementine

Unspoken words, blurred lines,



Refusal to shout, to bellow,


No words shared; between,



Inaction, injustice we rue,


From despair, rises a human archipelago;


We must no longer be quiet.

Wendy Shreve

Rainbow Treasure


Rainbow Treasure
I have found the treasure
That lies at the Rainbow’s end;
Wealth beyond computing
Is mine to give or lend. 

Opals of an April dawn, 
Gold of a shimmering noon, 
Amethysts of the sunset, 
Pearls with the glow of the moon. 

Would you like to share it? 
There’s more than enough for all
In my Iris Garden 
Against a grey stone wall.





I am too close to the water’s edge
and I wait impatiently to slip in
and succumb.
Let the water pour in and fill every empty space within me.
Let me inhale the cold deep blue –
filling my lungs to their bursting capacity.
For I desire not to thrash and wail,
but to sink, heavy-weighted and
silent, to the sandy bottom.
Let me gracefully and languidly
find that desperate peace beneath
the dark depths, where no light dares penetrate.
Why long for such finality? Such conclusion?
There is a solemn quiet down below.
A silence that calms the worrying voice.
An end awaits, more grand than the one he refuses.
And I long to have it — that full stop.
When I am finished
and I nourish the sea,
return me to the heavens.
For the one I seek is not here.
And they told me so all along.


A Western Australian Piano Graveyard


The famer’s pressing oil, olives spread
on mashing mats. We talk of chooks
and foxes, irrigation and bush fires.

I’m here to see ruins in meadows,
on outcrops, brought from sheds
and yards, lashed to utes and trucks.

“All good things return to earth.”
She tells how a choral hum is raised
by strong wind, how possums nest in felt

and termites engineer collapse; how once
after rain, a derelict played like a pianola
as green tree frogs leapt in its heart.

I take her hand-drawn map, find
a Gold Rush era upright, laminate
blistered, keys jammed and gapped.

Despite its barroom look
a brass plaque by the keyboard
names an outback orphanage.

A Foley artist’s dream, felt-less hammers
conjure horror from bass notes, or tap
a level crossing where the hero speeds

to make the gate. Each instrument
decays uniquely; a baby grand is legless,
veneer turned peeled like cherry bark.

Under cracked coffin-gloss
a clutch of white eggs.

by Roy Marshall

Heavy – Promote Yourself


Your baggage is too heavy, if I told you I’d have to charge you overweight fees, you would take it personally.
I was never raised to be sensitive.
You complain about my detachment but I’m just doing what I’m the most comfortable with.
Spread your emotion like poison, but stronger, all you are doing is killing yourself with insecurity.

And you wanted me to love that about you.
I’ve told you for a while now that I’m incapable of loving anything.
You wanted to test that, like how a child finds a loophole, slick but obvious;
I warned you that I do not cave in, I am made of war stories that began in love.

I was born during peace time, but even I knew to avoid the land mines the best I knew how, and I knew how to sit before I could crawl.
That’s why I am sitting now, and you have the audacity to tell me it’s bothering you.
You will never survive trying to manipulate other people’s feelings.
You will step on all of their triggers and wonder why they all blow up on you.

This friendship is not toggle switch that fits in your back pocket.
There is a reason why I am either hot or cold, I am reflection of your own extremities;
Is that why you’re afraid to look in the mirror?

You’ve pushed me into bushes when an attractive man comes along,
Still wanted me to be there when whiskey-breath Marlboro man offers you his invitation.
You never understood how to say no to either.
I grew lonely of your fluctuations, I guess I can say that you taught me emotion.
I guess you can say that I taught you rejection, and I will leave your baggage at the door.

Bucket Manyweather

Does Dark Matter? – Promote Yourself


Does Dark Matter?

So if there was an explosion

What is the commotion

Does dark matter?

If it proves to be the latter

There may be some clearing up to do

I thought I was free

But I am not

Depraved followings

Can’t let me stop

Does dark matter?

All inane chatter

Foreboding about a hole in a hill

©John de Gruyther 2013

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