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Monthly Archives: September 2014

The Dictator – Promote Yourself



Beneath the engulfing shadow of security

I have created a rogue state

where my thoughts dictate

I will never be safe.


But with a mind that’s preoccupied

taking care of little me,

I’d be care-less

if I remembered that.

One Love Always

Jason  Graham

Shortcuts – Never – Promote Yourself


Walk like you don´t need money
Love like you´ve never been hurt
Dance like no one´s watching

But don´t forget
there´s no relief
for your pain

Songs aren´t for you honey
Sometimes you bleed before the cut
Sometimes you think you´re jumping
But you´re really falling

There´s no protection net
But you still believe
And ignore the rain

Taking the highway
Or a shortcut
Is the same

No longer you will stay
And it hurts
all is a wicked game.



Love is a two way stream

One unreleased film

A long distance lost scream

A beautiful ended dream


The same words once more

Always the same ships on the shore

Once again your face on my door

All this suffering what for ?.

Pedro Cunha.

Motion – Promote Yourself


My hips are wide
Are curvy
Are thick
Sway like willows in the wind
Her hips are narrow
Have edges
Have points
Move like waves on the water
And both are strong
And neither is ashamed

Cox, Hayli M

Hello! I’m Hayli, a writing major recently switched from a computer science/math major, trying to switch from languages like Java and C++ to English. It’s a tough translation.

Find me on my blog. Thank you!


The promiscuous hours slide sensously one into another
Writhing and twisting in endless ecstasy
Trickling down like the grainy sands of time
Dribbling out of the bottom of the sundered glass
Unraveling their bright promising potentiality
‘Till only tattered and frayed remanents litter your soul
A barren desert filled with broken dreams and squandered hopes
Riven by great gaping chasms carved out of grief and lost love
Taste the bitter lees of sorrow’s draught on your tongue
The Grim Reaper claims everyone in the end
Time flies, ages pass, and all is gone and  forgotten.

Emily Karn

My blog: Musings of a Soul Eclectic can be found at

She Hopes – Promote Yourself


Lunar dances,

across her pitch balk stage.

The twinkling stars bear silent witness.

Every second fortnight,

for anyone looking up, a graceful sight.

Unveiled white washed beauty, 

before the sun rises,

and judges her guilty.

Tomorrow night, a shadow across her face.

She’s lost and out of place.

Hold on, its just a phase.

Or so she hopes.

Overtime, the shadow creep and grows.

Soon enough she heals,

another fortnight, another grand reveal.

Alas with a searing fury,

Sun shuns her beauty.

Another shadow across her face.

She hopes, its just another phase…

Hi, my name is Levin Balakrishnan. I wrote the above poem for women who have been in or are still in abusive relationships.

Hope you enjoy the read. Please do check out my blog:


Fighter – Promote Yourself


Because I am a fighter

Just give up and fold

I will never take a chance to

Aspire what I desire

To become someone and

My goal in this life is

Sitting back and watching things happen

I could never make a difference just by

Standing up and raising my voice

I fight all my battles

That’s no way to win

Caving in and playing dead

Is the way to go

Facing life’s battles

Is no option for me

Looking the other way and pretending

Not my concern

Never will I say, it’s

My duty to help

Because some problems are hard to solve, I can’t ignore

Though I got up eight

I fell down seven times

It’s time to acknowlege

A silent observer

That’s who I am and always will be, not

Someone who speaks his mind and stands up for himself and others,

A fighter

(Now read from bottom to top)

my Name is Prospermind and I’d like to submit one of my poems to the “Promote Yourself”-section on your website.
I’m a Boy from Germany, who enjoys the occasional writing. As a former exchange student, who has lived in the United States for a little more than a year, I’ve found myself in love with the english language. I’ve found the English language to be the perfect language to write in. It is the language I can be most creative in.

Best wishes to you, Prospermind.


Can’t stop – Promote Yourself


I can’t stop thinking
My mind always squanders away to you,
Like the unruly stream
Making its way to meet the ocean

I can’t stop seeing
My eyes always trace your footprints,
Like the travelers in the night
Guided by the pole star

I can’t stop loving
My heart has never been this foolish,
Like the naughty child
Still aching for the forbidden candy

I can’t stop feeling
My emotions are far too strong,
Like the ocean waves
Hitting the the shore

I can’t stop cherishing
The moments spent wid you
You reached deep down inside and,
Touched my soul,
Now, I am hopelessly yours


Back to her – Promote Yourself

My mind often wanders back to her.
When the sky darkens and the world quietens.
I wonder if she thinks about me,
as much as I her,
I think about how my heart jumps at her sight,
and if hers does at mine.
I ponder about her confessions,
and if they involved me.
I ask if we’ll ever be something,
hoping an answer from nothing.
A knot in my gut says no,
but the beat of my heart says hold on.
She’s not like the others,
a mystery that enchants me.
And so, when the air sits still,
and my emotions start to stir,
I catch my mind,
often wandering back to her.
Hi my name is Levin Balakrishnan. Hope you enjoy my poem!
Please do check out my blog where I upload my poems as well:

Ravaged – Promote Yourself


Raped by time

Ravaged by education

By knowledge and truths

The imagination slips

Crawls beneath a dusty toy box

Stolen from us

by hormones

by cell phones

by newspaper headlines

by age

Hayli Cox

I am called Hayli May Cox, and I am addicted to words, regardless of language. I am studying writing at Northern Michigan University (USA), where I drink tea and try to get sleep between work, class, and tending to my pet rats. I truly hope you find some enjoyment in my poem, and I thank you for maintaining a wonderful site!

Gossip – Promote Yourself




Damage done

Bored now…

Cheryl Bhagwandin

my-mom-my-role-model – Promote Yourself


My Mom Mrs. Ranjan Gala, a strong, and a lovely person by her nature,

A vivacious lady with a charming personality is a great homemaker.

When I was a kid, I remember my loud cries, I made during numerous nights,

She used to wake up, rubbed my back, sang lullabies and held me close to her tight.

Twenty four hours a day, She not only ran the home, cooked food and cleaned the house properly,

But  ran behind me to feed me  and made sure I had my quotient of food properly.

She is the lady who taught me to crawl and walk,

She is the one because of whose efforts, I have learned to talk .

She has stood by me in all walks of my life,

She not only proved herself as a great mother, a daughter, but also an awesome wife 😉 .

Whenever I have been in some problems, she is the one who supported me,

Who taught me the right and the wrong, and always stood beside me.

My tension seems mollified, by sharing the problems with her,

I felt more confident by her blessings and just by hugging her 🙂 .

She is a very patient person and have faced many problems with a smiling face 🙂 ,

She is a very caring and a wonderful mother and no one can take her place.

Life had treated her very badly at times,

But she never lost her patience or crossed her lines.

In all the exams of my school or college or life, she has always motivated me no matter,

She consoled me saying“Don’t mind Beta, never lose hope, you did your best I know, next time you would surely win.” to make me feel better.

She taught me to be a strong girl and face all the situations tactfully,

She taught me to be a brave girl and dare to do all the things fearlessly.

She inspired me to be an independent woman and stand on my feet,

She inspired me to be a successful person, not just by earning more money, but also earning the respect and walk with your head held high.

Whatever I am today, it’s because of her,

She is truly a God’s Gift to me and no one can replace her ever.

She is the one who have always forgiven me for my committed mistakes,

She has sacrifice her pleasure and done everything beyond her reach, just for my happiness sake.

She is a true friend and an awesome mother I have,

I feel happy and blessed today for what all I have.

She is my role model, whom I idolize,

How hard a job it must have been for her to be a mother, a wife and a daughter in law all at the same time, now I realize.

I have never seen a strong, hardworking and a sacrificing  woman like her,

One day, even I want to be like her.

Love you Mom for being there with me,

And battling against the world just for your daughter that’s”ME”.
-Heta Gala

“No man is poor who has a Godly mother.” 
– Abraham Lincoln

Heta Gala

Worm – Promote Yourself

Rainworm, dew-worm, you squiggly slime,
Thine translucent eyes dragging me in mime
I rose to inquire this morning of fog
Where is your poetry? Where is my black dog?
He’s chasing a gray mouse, he barks at your trail
He squirts questions on my blouse wishing for a snail
Asking the abandoned puddle if it’s lone, he says
Ringworm, rainworm, chewy dew, be gone!
He snuggles up to your goo right next to my foot
He says woof, and woof again, dotted in flea-soot
Leering at my rhyme, he nuzzles your pointy tail
In dog speak, you see, you could never make a snail.
Rainworm, dew-worm, you squiggly slime,
Run away from my dog while you still have time
He will paw you, taste you, he will tease your head,
All because your little body was sadly misread.
Your voice of velvet has burnt her air
The eyes of mud and fastened stare,
You lost, you won, but who to care
Now she sits still, in yellow, and bare.
You took the knife to her concern
All of us knew it was her turn
She cut your flash, you cracked her bone,
You screamed at her: “My love is stone!”
A father’s daughter became a wall
A mother’s son could not yet crawl
Her crumble, your stumble, but only one light,
You chose to frame her, your friend, to indict.
She fell on her face, she turned to me,
Vomited soul; said: “How could this be?”
“I held his fear and wiped his brow,
Would the just Heavens not disallow?“
Withered, she picked some ashes from fire,
She grew white hairs and peace with your mire,
She stopped, she curved, and sometime she sighed,
She said: “I’m off, my friendship has died.”
Fedya Blackbird
Thank you for creating a community for poetry postings and readings, it is heartening to see how many people actually write and enjoy poetry!
I am completely new to poetry, having written my first poem a bit over a month ago – and now I have 7 of them! 🙂
All of them are published on my blog, which is conceptualised as a creative space for a group of friends who write, read, observe, photograph … and like to tell the world about it.
Looking at your audience, I decided to send you a couple of poems from my blog – Worm and Indictment. 
I publish my poems under a pseudonym as corporate careers are often not compatible with individual creative pursuits, and I apologise for signing my email to you with my selected name – but it’s all for a good cause – building a poetic identity away from the corporate observers’ line of sight. 🙂
I hope you will like them and include one in your selection.
I look forward to reading many more beautiful verses on poet creations, and wish you the best of luck with your own poetry projects.

Bridges – Promote Yourself


Mighty she stands so bravely,

reaching for the sky, oh so heavenly.

Concrete made her what she is.

Tornado won’t sweep her off her feet, she ain’t his.

She may, in years to come, be falling down.

Any accident may rob her of her crown.

Connecting interstates with a bond.

Bungee jumpers jump from her back, she’s fond.

But suicide is what she hates most,

death is not her host. 



Downsize to kill


At first I heard upgrade.

Later it became downsize.

Customary to contrary belief,

I certainly stood in disbelief.

Why I was the best killer,

never did I agree on a negotiated departure.

My kills were flawless,

yet my loss of job is due to workforce adjustment

Now I sit here,

and I downsize to kill.




Death dress 


One day endlessly flowing into another.

Blindly moving through the hours creeping by.

Take me away from this place, save me.


Understanding nothing of this battles we go through.

Faithless to the power dragging me down.

Take me away from this place, save me.


The sun stops shining, the birds don’t sing.

This is satan’s world, he despises me.

Take me away from this place, save me.

Ansie Ehrke


I posted on am following Poetreecreations on Wordpress and would like to stand on your platform and showcase my poetry.

I consider myself a highly competent WordPress user. I am currently writing a blog Here you can find samples of my work.

I am from South Africa and live in a small town in Paulpietersburg KZN. I love the outdoors and spending time with my two beautiful kids.

If my services are of interest, please contact me. I work part time as a bookkeeper and I am seeking the opportunity to start a professional career in freelance writing.

Thank you for your consideration.

Must-have – Promote Yourself

must have

by my possessions; 
by having to own 
on wanting to have 
at playing to want 
of living to play.
One Love Always

Downsize to kill – Promote Yourself



At first I heard upgrade.

Later it became downsize.

Customary to contrary belief,

I certainly stood in disbelief.

Why I was the best killer,

never did I agree on a negotiated departure.

My kills were flawless,

yet my loss of job is due to workforce adjustment

Now I sit here,

and I downsize to kill.

  by Ansie Ehrke

So… It’s a no – Promote Yourself

no yyyyyyyyy

U ask me this question again And still Its answer is hard to seek If i answer it with a yes We both know where it leads We’ll try our best this time Once again, With promises to hold on Like leaves in autumn Withering Trying to hold on to the tree And We’ll hold on to each other If we fall we’ll fall together We’ll rise and fall again Overjoyed Stuck on each other

But I’ll answer this With a no For this is the autumn Leading to the fall When the leaves all withered Falls down the pavement Of the cold winter roads Where we will be both Until the day One of us Gets stepped on And i don’t want to see you get crushed Once more

***** Nipun Bajracharya, Nepal

for more please visit

Fall – Promote Yourself


My favorite season

Colors of red, gold, yellow, orange, and rusts

Crisp air that bites and refreshes

Pumpkins, fruits, harvest, corn, and hayrides

Children laughing, old people smiling


Animals renew their hope in nature

A cycle in time for a new year

Shedding the old to make way for newness

Beauty of life replaces the long summer heat

Fresh air and clear skies, starry nights, moon bright


Fall brings us to the time of starting over

Food, fun, celebration and amends

Let us forever give thanks to nature

For her unending love and change in season

HARVEST TIME – Promote Yourself

ben smoking


The microspeakers continue whispering their incantation throughout the city. The Harvest alerts play every day at routine intervals: six in the morning, twelve in the afternoon, three in the afternoon and then once more a half hour before sundown, whenever that is during the season. The message is repeated all across the steel continent; in every room, in every building. It is illegal to reside in a property not linked to VoiceComm.

You don’t need to be surface-side too long to catch the gist of Harvest. Every night is the same.
Lock the doors.
Bolt the windows.
Use only one light at any time.
Put in earplugs.
Draw the curtains.
Don’t look outside.

Of course, you peek out the window the first night you’re left unattended. You hear all that commotion start up outside when the sun goes down. It’s like a bustling marketplace starts humming through the walls.
But it’s true what they say – not even once.
All it takes is that first glance. You catch something unfathomable. Something that your mind simply cannot comprehend. There is no way to explain it. You might gaze out through the glass unto the strange hues of light vibrating on impossible spectrums. You may see the reflection of the red moon across a hulk of pulsating black chitin. Large mandibles covered in sores from which monstrous pupils peer out. Which peer back at you through the glass.

The first night, you’ll look away in fear and disgust. But then the next night, there you’ll be, clenching your teeth while you try not to draw the curtain again. While you try to just not eventhink of what’s going on out there. While you fail.
While you peek again. Night after night.
And what you see during the Harvests from your human accommodation room will start to change you. Even though they warn you back home not to play voyeur, not to give in to curiosity, you’re still going to do it. Despite the threat of a revoked PlanetVisa and deportation back to Earth for trial, you still peer through panes of glass, through cracks in the wall. Just to catch a glimpse of something else.

But then you’re doing it every night you’re on the planet. You start forgoing sleep to spy on Harvest, soon you have to watch the Harvests just to feel normal. The alien nights lose their strange lustre. You become familiar with them.
However, you will almost never realise how familiar Harvest has become with you.
Before you know it, you’re not looking away until sunrise. The images of last night’s Harvest burn in your head, keeping you awake until the sun falls once more. Then, you have no choice but to watch the next Harvest lest you go insane – clinging onto the wild hope that somehow tonight’s Harvest will be different, that tonight will be the night you figure it out. You keep your face pressed up against the glass for another whole night until the scenes outside go dim and it hits six o clock and the Harvest alert of a new dawn breaks the silence.

And then, Harvest comes for you.

That’s when it happens. That next night, when you’re too deep now to come back up for air. You haven’t slept in days, you’ve lost an unhealthy amount of weight. You are losing your mind trying to process what happens each night. Trying to figure out what the fuck it all means. And then you see your Mother in your head, heartbroken and disappointed. Her words of caution replaying ad infinitum directly to your conscience:
“Don’t experiment with other planets. It’s not natural.”
And then they knock at the door.
You hear that wet, rustling noise they make when they talk.
Your shaky hand clasps the faux stainless-steel door handle, sweat rolls from your tear ducts, your mouth is dry. Your tongue sandpaper. You open the door and the red moonlight spills in the room. You are no longer behind glass.

Not that I would know any of this, though.
I don’t peek during Harvest.



21 year old student from Australia. Determined to move overseas. Enthusiastic about writing. Will write for enhanced readership, recognition or even money.

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