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Daily Archives: April 29, 2014

…and everyone should have paid attention – Promote Yourself


angels
The Angels have overslept
and left you lying
your face trailing off
your hands grasping in vain
It is (oh!) so unjust
to be left behind
it is (oh!) so inhuman
to be still alive
the Gods were occupied
and left you dying
your spirit fading low
your body parting away
It is (oh!) so unjust
to be left behind
it is (oh!) so inhuman
to be still alive
The Spirits have languished
and left me crying
my mind fighting out
my heart struggling along
…and everyone should have paid attention
when time could have been reversed
too late now:
Only flowers can follow your flight home
Eva van Beek, 
SWITZERLAND
 Dear Poetreecreation

I visited  your blog today and saw your call to send in poems, which I could not resist. So I am sending you two of my poems, which you  liked on my blog http://evavanbeek.com/ . They are below. And I am very happy to send them. If you can publish one of them on your blog that of course would be fabulous. But regardless of that: thank you for the great initiative and promoting poetry on your blog, I think it is fabulous!

Cold Night – Promote Yourself

street

She stood in the middle of the street,
Picturing the ruins of her life
Unable to move her feet;
Unable to see the way forward 

Pushing down all her emotions
Delaying the inevitable,
And wondering about prohibited notions.
Grasping desperately to keep hold but slipping away…

In the cold she feels lost
The spark draining from her ambitious eyes
Being punished and paying the cost
Of the sins never committed

Now she stands alone, ready to fade away 
Ready to be gone… without having her say

By Grace Linton

Here’s the link of this post on my blog: http://justsomeimportantwords.wordpress.com/2014/03/09/cold-night

My blog: http://justsomeimportantwords.wordpress.com/

Not Just A Pretty Face! – Promote Yourself

hay

It was a usually busy day,

He was an opportunist in the sun; making hay,

He was ambitious, always thinking what next,

His focused approach made him the best!

 

He believed in working hard partying harder,

He was a man who had it all; no need to look any further.

As much as he was smart, he had an equally good physique,

He was charismatic; with looks as good as Enrique.

 

He believed in challenges; always going for the girl hard to get,

Blond or brunette, he would take all to bed!

In the morning, they would find a note that would break their heart,

He would be nowhere to be found, for office he would have depart.

 

It was the weekend; he was waiting for the day to end,

For he was going to ‘Club Verdant’ as usual to hang out with his best friend.

Little did he know he would meet a hot date;

Though it wasn’t due to fate….

 

She was standing backward as they arrived,

He checked her bountiful ass from the side.

She seemed to come from south; her back was sun tanned,

It’s going to be an interesting night; he pondered while ordering a beer can.

 

Finally she turned around,

Her beauty made him go astound.

Her eyes were lost; lost in search of a known face,

She was anxious as she scanned the bar again with pace.

 

Her hair shined in the neon light,

Her sex appeal made him never lose her sight.

Standing away but not far he followed,

‘A Pretty Face’ he said to his friend as he swallowed.

 

She seemed challenging enough to pursue,

Her tanned skin was gorgeous, he felt like touching it through.

She was going to be his story for office tomorrow,

About how another pretty face fell in his burrow.

 

Determined, he walked towards her and offered her to buy her a drink,

She joked she was a prostitute and wouldn’t mind a drink!

He was shocked; took out a cigarette to smoke,

She couldn’t hold her laughter any further, and gave away the joke!

 

She had caught him being judge mental; which she didn’t like,

And started to walk away towards her bike.

He pleaded her to give him a second chance,

Ensuring his friend didn’t hear him by chance with a glance.

 

They talked about themselves over drinks;

He had a Bloody Martini, while she ordered Slinky Mink.

She was a journalist from south, here on an official errand,

And was waiting for her boss’s official command

 

Every drink he had made her an irresistible desire,

He couldn’t help staring at her attire;

It was time to take her to the apartment and show her who was the man,

She happily obliged; though she had a different plan…

 

He started kissing her as he closed the door,

He couldn’t wait and wanted to do it on the floor.

She caressed his hair as she undressed him;

Hard it was to calm him down and bed him.

 

She stopped his hands as he tried to unzip her dress

And tied them to the bed asking him not to be stressed.

He was excited for he had never been dominated ever before;

Patience was killing him; for he wanted more…

 

She blindfolded him, asking him to feel the passion,

Candles burned bright that night; as he waited for action.

She removed a whip from her handbag and struck hard on his chest,

He screamed with agony, trying to hold his best!

 

As the whip lashing continued, he begged for stopping,

Pleading to untie him for his heart was throbbing.

He waited; planning what he would do to her once she untied him;

She had scarred his body; there was no one who could rescue him.

 

Finally, she removed the blindfold over his eyes and stopped the beat;

She was clicking his pictures while he tried his best to hide in sheets.

His picture was going to make it to the press,

The sight of a lying womaniser undressed!

 

As she packed her stuff, she gave him a final advice,

Never to consider women as objects of pleasure if he was wise.

The article exposed him on-line and spread like fire,

His self confidence was shattered; to face the world outside he had no desire.

 

Friends shunned him along with his boss,

His life had gone for a toss;

He frightened at the sight of a good looking woman,

And understood it was wise in being a good human!

 

He kept rereading the note she had left beside his bed,

It explained how he screwed her friend’s life and left her soul dead.

The article was for all the women he ditched; to give them hope,

And the note was for him to remember to not grope.

 

Days passed; he finally got to his feet to find a new job,

He skipped town; for the memories of the night made him sob.

At least he learnt that night how much could he brace,

He laughed finally, noting that she was NOT ‘Just a Pretty Face’!

– By Raj Vora
voraraj.wordpress.com

WASTED YOUTH – Promote Yourself

war

Who should we blame?
We are the new creation,
You want us to close our eyes.
Lie and blew up this nation.

We are watching you destroy the laws and the system.
Don’t point fingers.
Don’t let us scream your names.
Don’t tell us to wave and smile.

We are the wasted youth.
You should be afraid.
You’ll die one day.
We’ll rule one day.

No false accusation!
No more affliction.
No more poor civilization.
Fill the words with discretion.

Let us do the war
with words and prayers.
Let them dance in the flames
and suffer with money and fame.

You shelter yourselves with our skin.
You put your guns through our heads.
while the children starve and cry.
When the mothers got beaten up and die.

We are the wasted youth,
watch your body rot.
We are the wasted youth.
You will see that we are not.

– Patricia Frades From the Philippines

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