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Monthly Archives: August 2014

MAGNA CARTA – Promote Yourself



When I saw Magna Carta

When I saw
Magna Carta
Hairs stood up
On the back of my neck


In bold
In capitals
The start of
What I take for
Or nearly take
For Granted

Changed mind
Changed view
Changed history

I gasped
And couldn’t find
Find how to grasp
To explain
The whole thing
The huge
Wide enormous
Overwhelming enormity

Of what amazing

in silence
And respect
Of that

Cheryl Bhagwandin

STAY CLOSE – Promote Yourself


The silence was engulfing, as the people rushed to euphoria-

The blindfold came off, and she saw the fire she was in.

But the sudden realisation as tears streamed down her rosé cheeks

Was one so clear even though her vision was dim

Her mind opened up in that hour of desperation-

She clung to the sheets on the side of the bed

Because the people had left, but she was still under the influence.

A hazy monster inside her head

And in that hour of need when she felt shaken

Suddenly a presence so close she stopped.

In that hour of need it was so blatant

A God existed, he had not forgot

He had not abandoned her even though she had Him

In fact He was there when she was in pain

And in that hour of need it was clear for her to see

What it means that He is closer to you than your jugular vein

By Aisha Khurshid A.

Hello my name’s Aisha, I’m from Kent, England. I am a student of law, but writing has always been my ultimate passion. I have always been hesitant sharing my writing with others, but this summer decided to make a blog and just go with the flow. Life’s all about experiences and sharing stories with one another right? 

Quintessence – Promote Yourself

Image courtesy: SurrealAberrant

Love is not so simple
Love makes you do crazy stuff
My love for you baby
Your love for me is different

To squeeze you and keep you in my pocket
To chuck life and fix you in my locket
Or to make you a diamond on my ring
Or simply my priceless teddy, prince

Your love is the sweetest type
Mine is the violent, right?
Of the sort of emotions you stir in me
You keep me in a whirlwind fix

With the sweetest romance
It turns into the dangerous road, slip, kill
My hatred seeping in you
Making your life a living mold

Those seemingly innocuous words of yours
Make me cringe and think of all messy floor
The ancient past and what not
Of being no love then, sheer stupidity

And then you sway me the other side
Of being away from you, I cry
Scared of taking you along with me
I hit my own abyss and dry

All in an hour the emotions fleeting
You move from edge of the frame to the centerpiece
But why does it still feel wrong
Even though I was left out on my own

And then you cast your usual jizzy-jazzy magic
In a quick entail, I forget all the shame
Seen through my fudgy prism
You become my quintessence

~Alka Ranjan (India)

Expecting – Promote Yourself


I found a note scribbled
on the back of a receipt
this morning, dancing
in the breeze amongst
leftover litter you likely
didn’t mean to
leave behind.

I feel inclined to tell you
that the condoms you bought
break easily. But it’s probably
too late to heed
my warning.

If I were a spiteful
person, I would place it
in the trash, like I did with
the other evidence of your
drunken escapade.

But Kate 555-4809
Tonight was amazing,
Can’t wait to see you again!
is surely expecting
a call.

Tempest Rose is an American who has a story to tell, knowledge to share, and opinions to be voiced. She feels like she doesn’t belong and she wants to make a difference. She is dedicated to spreading truth, awakening minds, and changing the world. She recently started her journey in mental health treatment, and also writes about an array of topics such as gender, addiction, abortion, and pretty much anything that’s controversial. She can be funny, too . . . sometimes. To read more of her work, visit her personal blog, Nonsense & Shenanigans, or Bipolar Parenting Foundation, where she is a contributor.

20 Years Apart – Promote Yourself


A collaboration
Of two men,
Joined by name,
Divided by 20 years;
The older
Regarding the younger,
Not recognising
The man he was;
The man he became;
Still hoping
For the man he is
Yet to be;
Lord, have mercy.



In the early morning the vineyard owner went to the market place
To hire labourers to work in his vineyard for the day,
As many as were there found employment,
And they agreed that a penny would be a fair rate of pay.
On several occasions throughout the day he returned to the market,
And found people who had no work to do,
All of these were sent to work in the vineyard,
With the promise that they would be paid what was due.
The vineyard owner paid another visit to the market,
This time only one hour before the end of the working day,
Again he found some men who were still unemployed,
He sent them to his vineyard to let them earn some pay.
At the end of the day the vineyard owner paid the wages,
Everyone who worked for him received the same pay,
Those who had laboured for only one hour,
Received the same as those who had laboured throughout the day.
Now this might not seem to be very fair,
But those who had worked all day received the amount agreed,
The vineyard owner had honoured his agreement,
But it’s easy to see why the workers were aggrieved.
In a spiritual sense this scenario is often repeated,
People come to Christ at different stages of their life,
Some will come as a result of their upbringing,
Others will come following unhappiness and strife.
Some will have loved and served their Lord since childhood,
For His sake throughout their lives they have striven,
Some have stood idly by, and have received the call in later years,
But if they have repented they will surely be forgiven.
It doesn’t matter how old you are,
One day you may get a call to labour in the vineyard of the Lord,
Then if you are prepared to do his bidding,
It’s certain that you will receive your just reward.
Ron Martin

Drink again – Promote Yourself


Drink, again,

It’s in my hand.

Down my throat

And into my brain.


Drink, again,

It’s easier to eat.

Down my throat

And into the sink.


Drink, again.

To block out thoughts.

Don’t look at

The world that hurts.


Drink, again,

For something to do.

Let’s kill time,

I’ll get drunk with you.


Drink, again,

To forget I’m  sad.

See this smile?

It’s all I have.


Drink, again,

I can’t help but cry.

I know now

What I held inside.


Drink, again,

It has all gone.

Down my throat

Until the next one.

Danielle Montgomery

I am 23 from the UK and still very much trying to find myself. I enjoy writing – it’s actually more of a necessity for my own sanity than something I just like. Writing is everything to me and poetry gives me that release I need. I hope you enjoy my poem, and for more, please visit The Skinny Fat Girl  (

Dad – Promote Yourself


Thank you,
For being my dad.
You were there,
Through think and thin,
Good and bad.

You are,
My best friend.
You lend an ear.
I will be here for you,
Right to the end.

Thank you,
For all the fun,
Embarrassing Dad dancing,
Laughter and madness,
And loving mum.

Kate Godsall

My name is Katie Godsall (previously Earnshaw) I have recently got married. I work in London UK in the finance and mobile communications industry as a billing analyst. I have been writing poetry since I was young, I found writing poetry to be the best way for me to express my feelings and this year I started my blog… and I love it!

Thanks for reading! Check out my blog here –

Celestial Sails -Promote Yourself


Magical gate, before my eyes, of golden beams appears,
Lighting the path to my next destination, a distance covering years.

I stumble forward into a mystic haze, where time and space collapse,
A realm of intangible nothingness, with no compass and no maps.

Up is down, and left is right, yet directions don’t exist,
All around, homogeneous substance, a moving purple mist.

Should I walk, fly or swim, and which way should I go?
A familiar taste consoles my senses, telling me that I know.

With strength of mind I conjure forth a majestic vessel, my ship,
And take my place at its bow, for this cosmic travelling trip.

I steer my way through unseen perils, observing from the helm,
The awe-inspiring wonderment of this secret spiritual realm.

I float, I glide, I dance along a stream of iridescent rain,
A shimmering-prismatic pathway in this kaleidoscopic plane.

An eternity later, of shortest moments, the anchor is then thrown,
I disembark from my flying carpet, to explore my ethereal home.

Gracefully I make my way through a maze of dark branched grass,
Then run my hand over a motionless sand dune that I’m about to pass.

Then I reach a twin oasis, long palms upon their centres,
And ready myself for the soft rimmed cave that I’m about to enter.

Back, I look, at the soft terrain that has led me to this place,
And realise with a gasp of breath that it was my own face.

Down I fall into a dark abyss, with mountains of teeth that gleam,
And soon awaken with a shocking jolt from my journey to the land of dreams.

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!


Poetry – Promote Yourself

poetry (1)

What is a poem without rhymes?
Granted, good poems need not rhyme.

But then what is a poem with abstract lines?
Probably a tool to befuddle non poetic minds
Then again, what is a poem with very few lines?
If not the trial of a ‘not-a-poet’ at poetry

.A Bellyful of Words

Writer -Promote Yourself


Now he writes
Lathering papyrus canvasses with delicate ink
Expressing nothing but a gallery of words
For those who lend an eye, an ear and a mind
Those passing by and those who wish to return
The guilty bystanders
Here and there

He lavishes and emotes his ideal ejaculations from within
And oh that harlot and dear
With she he shares
For now she writes
they lay naked and nude
Laying waste to each page
Real and unreal
Sureal in hyperreality
In the unending intoxication that is the creative process

They are unshackled and bound and anew with boundless chains
That create more stains upon each line
Their stage is found
Never a bloxk in mind and if it were to be a block it would no block at all

For if there were no lines and are unbound once more as they cross another boundary
All blocks are but a bit of blank slate for what is to come
For the harlot like a harbinger will leave her nest and soar
For truly she shall never be bound certainly in her utmost uncertainty
She’ll return his
And return to hers
For that is her nest
She’ll bring unrest to the restless
So in that deep sleep they may dream again.


Bio: I am an undergraduate student at the University of Pretoria. I am majoring in Psychology and Philosophy. I have plans to do work in all art forms but without being a jack of all trades I am primarily a writer from poetry, novels, screenplays, short stories and various other forms. A Surreal Romanticist Absurdist Existentialist Meta-Artistry and Post Modernism.

Location: South Africa

LOST WHERE AM I? – Promote Yourself

  We are lost in a room full of people, we stand there looking around not making a single sound.                                                We look to be noticed, by the people you see, you wonder if its possible no its only me.                                                               In a room full of people you hope to be seen, then you wonder, no I’m not keen.          ~                                                                  So many faces you don’t know, you wonder if they are just putting on a show, you hold your hand out for help, an they will show,they lead you into the light with holding your hand, you open your eyes then understand.                                       
  WordPress patricia bourne 2014.                    (I love poetry I’m a mother of 4 and granmother of 7) I’m 53 years old

My princess! – Promote Yourself


My princess!
My heart aches at your face pale,
My heart strings- fragile, moulds bale.
                Droops, lively blossom-mottled cheek,
                Drips, my sorrow – your Bridal Veil in bleak.

My princess!
Upon the mirror of my love sheen,
Twinkles, your glorious beauty preen.
                  Ah! Entombed into me, your soul,
                  Now, bade me disfigured – deserted doll.

My princess!
My arms- tender, longs for you,
Seeks your vision to embrace you.
                  Hold me; I will cede you my heart’s pulse,
                  I will resuscitate your sleeping beats convulse.

    Author, poet-INDIA

In love with you – Promote Yourself

in love

I wanted to write a poem about
how a little part of me is renewed
when your eyes shrink
while you laugh

and how
I amaze myself
every time that I survive
your touch
and how
when you say my name, I wanna
play dumb and act like
I didn’t  hear you
so you can say it again
and how

I’m claustrophobic- ally
in love with you

but thinking of you distracted me
and I blissfully
fell asleep



abby araujo

Abbilemnis A. Araujo
“Every minute you remain angry, you lose 60 seconds of peace of mind.”

“The first wealth is health.”

-Ralph W. Emerson

I like the idea of a holiday – Promote Yourself


I like the idea of a holiday
Of an adventure
Of a drive or a flight
New things
New tastes…

Part of me
likes the peace and quiet…
At home

But the peace and quiet
Can be
So refreshing
To the soul
But organise
Or go with the flow?

We’ll see what happens
Well where’s the map?
…go with the flow?
But a vague idea is good…
The sat nav
Okay when you know
But when you’re lost
…no hope

just hope
no tractor comes this way

the lone soldier
the lone chopper
the lone stone
the wind blown
centuries upon

meanwhile riots
and demonstrations
over one young man
gunned down

and thousands
sprinkled liberally and carelessly
like confetti
or on cup cakes
at a terrible wedding
of revenge and beliefs

while I ponder
the merits
of keyring or magnet
as a holiday gift

A holiday gift

Ceasefire for three hours
Aid in
Aid out

Meanwhile we quarrel
Jane Austen
Waste of time
Hyped up
Over priced

Too much to pay
What would she say?

A child lies
Lost sight in the sun
Couldn’t blink

We blink
And turn to other things

The wind blows
We shiver
Where is summer

Too much
Too little

Photographs like leaves
Or confetti

Take one
Delete one



Cheryl Bhagwandin

Matters of Taste – Promote Yourself


One day soon
I hope to blend
Right in
With you

To walk around
No more wide eyed
The sensory input
Just surprising

Wary of the tales
People call me crazed
The faces, styles
And their accents

Grinning like an idiot
I flexed my toes
I was starry eyed
And it showed

So much to see
So much left to experience
The frenetic rush of blood
To the heart

Bumper to bumper
Cruising through all
Finally adapted to the new ones
I got!

Note: A truly rare find, designed by Mai Lamore, these shoes are a work of art. The heels are 18 karat gold and the silk petals are hand-dyed. The playful bee is made of gold, onyx and agate. The expensive cutting-edge design is a jaw dropping $27,945.

~Alka Ranjan (India)

The Bread Maker – Promote Yourself

Faith shaker
And catcher
And slow
Rock carver)
And pusher
Patient waiter
And giver.
Amen.cheryl bhagwandin

“Soul Beauty” – Promote Yourself


My skin
This silken, fleshy covering
Is not me.
Yet it tells my story,
A reflection of my soul’s journey
In this lifetime.

You “look” at me
And think you know me
By my skin;
Know a book
By it’s cover.
Fancy dust jacket 
Catches your eye.

But stand me naked
Before a mirror
Stripped raw and without shame.
What do you see?

Breasts slack from suckling.
Belly soft from birthing.
Hips round with maturity.
A scar on my rib cage
– A tree climbing accident.

How can I get you
To see past my skin?
How can I get you to see
The soul within?
Whatever beauty I possess
It is not my skin.

Sisters, daughters,
Let your souls shine.
Your Soul Beauty
Is your femininity divine.
Susan Dolcimascolo

poem by
I am a 50 year old mother of three budding goddesses on mission to bring back the balance between the divine feminine and the divine masculine.  Society is oblivious to it’s “Oneness” and we have our connectedness in service to the ego.  
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