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Daily Archives: June 9, 2014

Looking into the Past – Promote Yourself

falling in love

Why does it already feel like a past, as if I moved ahead?
No, I am sure it’s you who moved ahead much further down the lane
And I was left waiting on the side lanes
It was like seeing life from the lens of truth for the first time

Truth is never just black and white
Everything is sheer gray, more on the darker end
No matter what I do, I could never see you through
No matter what I wish, it’s always you away from me

Just bring it on
Challenge me my life
I say every day to myself
Just push him away
Let me live like a wire alive

Why does it already feel like a past, as if I moved ahead?
I never did, I am sure
You just pushed me hard for living your life
While I waited for you to tug me to the shore with you

And then I saw life from the lens of truth for the first time
And nothing mattered any more
For I had already become a cold meat

Inspiration: The sadness of love, the break-up stories I hear, made me wonder why people ceaselessly strive to keep on falling in love again and again with a different person or even the same person again and again. But with every break-up, it’s a heart-wrenching tale.

~Alka Ranjan (India)

Paradise Lost – a poem by John Milton – Your Favourite Poem


Of Man’s first disobedience, and the fruit
Of that forbidden tree whose mortal taste
Brought death into the world, and all our woe,
With loss of Eden, till one greater Man
Restore us, and regain the blissful seat,
Sing, Heavenly Muse, that, on the secret top
Of Oreb, or of Sinai, didst inspire
That shepherd who first taught the chosen seed
In the beginning how the Heavens and Earth
Rose out of Chaos; or, if Sion hill
Delight thee more, and Siloa’s brook that flow’d
Fast by the oracle of God, I thence
Invoke thy aid to my adventurous song,
That with no middle flight intends to soar
Above th’ Aonian mount, while it pursues
Things unattempted yet in prose or rhyme.
And chiefly thou, O Spirit, that dost prefer
Before all temples th’ upright heart and pure,
Instruct me, for thou know’st; thou from the first
Wast present, and, with mighty wings outspread,
Dovelike sat’st brooding on the vast abyss,
And mad’st it pregnant: what in me is dark
Illumine; what is low, raise and support;
That, to the height of this great argument,
I may assert Eternal Providence,
And justify the ways of God to men.

John Milton

Your favourite poem chosen by you.What’s yours?



Time and Tide Wait for No Man -Promote Yourself


Ephemeral moments, embraced by mahogany frames,
Surround me in an envelope of distant memories, mocking.
Each image contorting, like the dusk marrying into the dawn,
From the once blissful sounds of laughter, into the dark realms of reminiscence.

Fingers extended, I reach out to capture the once lost shards of my broken being,
To no avail, they speed away and disappear into that great unknown, a blackened mist.
The sole resident of this forgotten void, I remain standing alert upon a single tile,
My uneven balance weighing the scales of my imperceptible future.

How long have I waited, I do not know, but my painful ankles can attest,
Mountains have crumbled, flesh turned to grass, as I watched on unable to change.
A mortal soul, living a pretence of immortality, I see that I have been forgotten,
In this ever changing life – time and tide wait for no man.

A prisoner to my own shackles, I fear the unseen but fear more the stillness of absence,
The nothingness around me, my sanctuary, how long can we co-exist?
My hands begin to fade, as I watch the darkness through my once opaque skin,
My inability to move has turned me into the daily feed of this fatal abyss.

Unsure, I extend my leg off the edge of my step, breath catching,
For if I am to disappear from this obscure existence, then it shall be with a dream.
The first touch, my final endeavour, sets off the ripples in my sea of fate,
Intertwining with foreign ringlets, their superposition creating countless possibilities.

I fall. I drown. I rise. I stand once again, on a land where shadows escape,
Out of the mahogany frame surrounding my world. I finally have my moment.
My wrinkled hands stare back at my face, time has not been favourable,
I wish I hadn’t just wished, but had done.

By Naziyah Mahmood

I’d like to first start by thanking you for allowing many writers, such as myself, a platform to share our poetry and work. I’m sure I can say on behalf of everyone taking part that we all appreciate it.

My name is Naziyah Mahmood, and I have recently started publishing my short stories and poetry on WordPress, and this opportunity is just what I need!
I am an Astrophysicist and Aerospace Engineer from Scotland, having worked on some missions for the European Space Agency, and my passion in life is martial arts and all things sugary! .

… and then Carole King Stepped onto the Stage …


I am truly moved to weep

watching Broadway’s talent

dance across the stage

in that venue of endearment

where everything they work for

becomes showcased in a showcase.

I don’t have tears of sadness

they really are filled with joy

Seeing such delightful real lives emote

beauty, grace & elegance

at the highest level

of public entertainment.

… and then Carole King stepped onto the stage …

Do you remember when

all of them were elementary students

star-crossed eyes hoping to 

be in the, perform as the, sing with a 

passion in the school play,

the fall musical,

that one talent show,

the Christmas pageant,

the dance recital,

their senior project,

in a garage band,

just short of the karaoke bar

before they were swiftly drawn 

to that element shadowing Times Square.

Dance across the stage,

sing with all of your heart,

shine in front of everyone,

for deep inside

when you question your ability

because after all 

we do know that as humans

we are always wondering;

know you have reached that showcase

and the human condition

no matter the obstacles …

brought your enigma, no anomaly,

to the hearts and soul

of all those real people, all those faces,

all those masses that make our lives real,

emulate our lives on the stage.


© Thom Amundsen 2014

Well groomed. – Promote Yourself


I sit down on the bench. 
Beautiful sunny day, well kept park where everything is perfectly groomed.
I watch people pass by.
Perfectly fitted suit.
Rushing, looking down.
Designer bags. 
Held closely. 
They fit in well groomed park.
I look down at my feet, green from the grass, messy hair from the wind, sun kissed skin. 
A little boy runs towards the fountain. 
Cheeky grin, ice cream all over his face. 
He laughs and throws stones to the water, scaring birds. 
We both laugh. 
He reminds me to keep part of me child like. 
With feet dirty from the walking on the grass.
We both fit in. 


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