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Daily Archives: January 18, 2014

Words & Notes – Promote Yourself










While you sat at your piano,
I sat beside my book.
You played the sweetest music,
I wrote down words for you.
We were the cutest duo.
Our heartbeats were in sync.
But my words, and your pretty notes,
were all gone in a blink.
I hear your off-key tuning.
My ink is now a blur.
Who ever thought, without your song,
I couldn’t write a word.
I need you as my guideline,
to keep my story’s flow,
but if your music must be gone,
I’ll wait for the next rhythm,
and of yours, I will let go.


I am an anonymous writer because I have not found the courage as yet to allow persons to read my poetry… I am really shy and I am trying to overcome it daily. I would like to be known as my initials (C.C.J.) until I am ready to reveal my true identity.
I am from the beautiful island of Saint Lucia… that’s in the sunny Caribbean!
You can find me at:

Pincushion Heart -Promote Yourself







Love plump, sat
on the lap of
the seamstress,
a pincushion heart
lies stuck full of needles.

Fattened with
towelling, chastened
with ribbon, the heart
of a woman – the heart
of the seamstress.

Plucked out by
his wit, cast from
his reason, the threads
of her stitching
now lost to love’s leavings.

Raoul Izzard

It’s Started – Promote Yourself






Everyone is leaving their homes today

It’s started

Hordes of zombies marching

Headlamps clatter and devour our destiny

Mechanical monstrosities belching out chemicals






A torrent of atrocity

It’s started

The hordes of zombies are marching

Spliced DNA in an underground lab

Families killing families for bread

They are listening and watching over our every move

Vilification in the headlines

Guns on the street

Knives in our pockets

It’s started

But this is no horror film

or post-apocalyptic vision

This is just another day

Just another man kissing his wife good-bye

and jumping into the family saloon, heading out to work

Just another person in an unknown location,

piloting drones to blow up civilians

Just another politician selling another dirty lie

Just another person turning a blind eye

This is today

This is now

It’s started

©John de Gruyther 2014

Freelance Writer



And did you know
That every flake of snow
That forms so high
In the grey winter sky
And falls so far
Is a bright six-pointed star?
Each crystal grows
A flower as perfect as a rose.
Lace could never make
The patterns of a flake.
No brooch
Of figured silver could approach
Its delicate craftsmanship. And think:
Each pattern is distinct.
Of all the snowflakes floating there –
The million million in the air –
None is the same. Each star
Is newly forged, as faces are, 
Shaped to its own design
Like yours and mine.
And yet… each one
Melts when its flight is done;
Holds frozen loveliness
A moment, even less;
Suspends itself in time –
And passes like a rhyme.

Clive Sansom


Clive Sansom was educated at the Southgate County School, England, and qualified for the London matriculation certificate in 1926. He worked as clerk and salesman for an ironworks company until 1934. Between 1930 and 1935, he studied speech and drama at the Regent Street Polytechnic and the London Speech Institute, and phonetics at London University in 1936.

The Snow


See the snow
Its a blanket, soft and white
Falling slow
Covering the world, making it bright

Hear the snow
Crunching underneath feet
Children throw
The snow in the street

Smell the snow
The freshening scent
As the steady flow
Makes my heart content

Feel the snow
Powdery, it freezes your toes
As the blanket starts to grow
And the cold wind blows

Taste the snow
The way it makes the world look clean
Still cold though, 
Makes the world, a beautiful scene

Love the snow
When I see it snowing all day
I just know
That everything is going to be okay 

Katniss Everdeen
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