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Monthly Archives: October 2014


“The Knock-Knock” – Promote Yourself


There was a knock, a thud,
and then
a quiet whisper at my door.

My creeping eyes
follow straight through it.
I got up, I went to walk
towards it, reaching
for the handle, ready to
turn it, open the door.
But then something

stopped me.

And I quickly
backed away
from the doorframe.

Voices mixed with grumbling
strangled and strange sounds
of desparate howling
all fly into my ears, I see
my hands begin to shake, feel
my head begin to ache
and all of the swollen
entryways around me.

upon a curtained window
closed off to block
the cold from outside
I hear it, this screaming
beyond human, beyond reference
as it begins tearing into
my residence.
All alone I waited for it,
about to tighten fists
with tightened lips,
but something once again

stopped me.

A blackened misty figure
walking over to me, I
quiver and shake
in my heart, boots.
I go to strike out
but I am too late
as something else

stopped me.

The mist spoke truth
though I couldn’t hear it in the air
discussing through telepathy
the reasons it was really here.
To take me down, to eagerly
swallow my soul?
To slice my damaged body
into a more
damaged hull?
Leaving me to
rot here alone?

I go to ask, ever
so politely,
but something stops me.

Then I realize, this thing
towering above me, claws at
the ready, it says
it’s me. It’s me.
Death is coming.
But something

stopped me.

A shadowy hand
in league with what
I’ll never see, a
frightened boy now
frightfully free.
This Death, this creature?
They are both me.

by Cory Thrall

October – Promote Yourself

How thou hast deceiveth me with sunbeam
Smiles and a golden moment of youth
When thou shalt in turn strip bare of this dream
This whimsical facade masking a truth
So grey in grace as in crippling tears
Of thunder queens by kings’ charcoal clouds choked
Thy blustering temper invokes a fear 
Whence darker days soon will smother with smoked
Quilts frenzied urbanscapes of trembling souls
None sweeter than mulch does your name to my
Taste buds delight, whilst pond’ring upon foul
Omens summoned to cast the world awry
O when will spring bound rejuvenation 
Reap its distant blessing of salvation
By Gianina Dwek
Age 17, England, UK
I am a student in my last year of school and I passed my driving test this morning! In my spare time, I love baking, writing and listening to pop punk. This is the first time I have ever written a sonnet, and I was worried about sharing it… but thought I should before November comes along! 
For more poetry, why not check out my blog? Link to the poetry page:

A Man or a Rat – Promote Yourself

An aspiring, talented man, set out to make his dreams come true.

Ambitious as can be, and loyal to his pursuits,

An empire which he cultivated, infront of his eyes it grew.

His dreams of reaching the top would inevitably come true.

Caught up in winning the race, his vision tunneled tight.

Left behind his friends and family, with them he had nothing to do.

He came across a grouchy old man; rich but lonely was he.

Not a friend by his side, a burden to walk alone, how miserable he must be.

He caught a glimpse of his future, wondered how sad it would be.

The thought of living such a life, that of a fool he pondered it to be.

Blindly en route an empty path, a vague and futile journey.

Caught up in a rat race, whose victor hath no glory.

Awakened as if by a friendly ghost, just before his demise

Fortunate was he to have deterred off the wretched path just in time.

Baffled by the time he had wasted; thankful for all that still remained

If it had been too late it would only be ruins left along his trail

How great would the world be if everyone would realize

The winner of a rat race leaves his dignity behind.
-Maria Saif

It’s who you know – Promote Yourself


Sitting there,
smiling with hatred,
listening to their
of how easy
it truly is.

They find it easy,
their girlfriends find it easy,
their friends find it easy,
their shits find it easy,
and I will too,
they tell me.

Sitting there,
telling my lies of life
to keep the mask cool,
whilst laughing at their stories
of untold horizons I haven’t seen,
new cities I haven’t been
and of people
who also know
the secret.

Sitting there,
drinking my drink
faster than I want to,
and eating
my shame of
the easy life.

Anthony Keers

My name is Anthony Keers and I live in the City of Manchester, England. Writing short stories has been a hobby of mine since an early age, but attempting to write poetry is fairly new. The majority of my work can be seen on my blog: If you like what you see, then keep checking it out as more is added weekly. Also, big thanks to Poetree Creations for publishing some great work!

Do Not Go Gentle Into That Good Night – Dylan Thomas


Do not go gentle into that good night,
Old age should burn and rave at close of day;
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

Though wise men at their end know dark is right,
Because their words had forked no lightning they
Do not go gentle into that good night.

Good men, the last wave by, crying how bright
Their frail deeds might have danced in a green bay,
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

Wild men who caught and sang the sun in flight,
And learn, too late, they grieved it on its way,
Do not go gentle into that good night.

Grave men, near death, who see with blinding sight
Blind eyes could blaze like meteors and be gay,
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

And you, my father, there on that sad height,
Curse, bless, me now with your fierce tears, I pray.
Do not go gentle into that good night.
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

Dylan Thomas Celebrations In 2014

Celebrating 100 Years Since the Poets Birth

A calender of events have been planned for 2014’s Dylan Thomas Celebrations.

Dylan Thomas, one of Wales’ greatest poets, was born in 1914 in his parents house 5 Cwmdonkin Drive,  Swansea, but spent his last few  years in West Wales.

Dylan Thomas Celebrations The now famous Boathouse in Laugharne was where the poet spent the last four years of his life with his wife Caitlin and three children, Aeronwy, Llewelyn and Colm. Laugharne was the inspiration to much of his work, including “Under Milk Wood”.

To celebrate 100 years since the poets birth, there are many events planned for the whole of Wales, with the focus on Swansea and Laugharne.

Words Not Spoken – Promote Yourself


Although he could not say with words
The love he felt inside
He treasured every moment
And his heart would fill with pride
He never said I love you
But he came to every game
Even in defeat his son knew
He loved him just the same
He’d pat him on the head
Or maybe ruffle his hair
And tell him he was proud of him
As long as he played fair
When he graduated college
I love you wasn’t said
He smiled as he shook his hand
Mumbling, well done, my boy instead
When his son went to war
He trembled as he spoke
And brushing away the tears
He made a little joke

Now, his son’s come home
And he stands with eyes downcast
His hands stroking the coffin
Saying I love you son at last!

Beatrice Boyle

Rising // Rise – Promote Yourself

After every fall
I will rise
and stand even more tall

I will rise
over the wall
I will rise
above them all

Like the sun
which never dies
though sets every night
every day it does rise

Like the ocean
whose tides
many times they are down
but invariably they rise

Like the trees
from seeds they arise
and heights great
they rise and rise

After falling once,
twice and thrice
Again and again
I will rise and rise

I will rise
after every fall
After every fall
I will rise

Sagar Yadav 


The World’s Tiniest Violin-by jody s.- Promote Yourself


Playing the tiniest violin

when faces turn and laughter abounds

A sad little tune as people point fingers

And scoff at the minute whine


But this song is not for them

It’s a Calvary song

See surprised and blank stares

Mouths agape


The band leader is here

And brought the trumpets

And drums with Him

Mighty is the sound


It shakes the very foundation

Feet rest upon

The woodwinds blow down

Trees rooted in the cold dark ground


The strings stroked by bows

Snap off puppets as they topple

Into the open earth

Returned to their master


Oh yes, the world’s tiniest violin

Only for a composer’s ear

Anthony gomez

anthony gomez

“You Are…” – Promote Yourself


A strange mixture

of wistful,

adversarial memories

holds me frozen

in time’s

tempestuous grip.

Modest glances,

over countertops

designed for us

as seconds brandish

dormant desires

between our air.

A caring you noted.

Sleeping tenderness

awakened with

vivacious appetites

for something yearned.

We turned into

one another,

comforted by

the cradle of

our hearts.

We found our eyes

within the light…

driving down a long,

percipient road…

fluttering emotion

for the one I love.

You are…

Nathan Lindsay


Staying the course – Promote Yourself

on course

Staying the course

Journey from liability

To valued resource

Broken down to the bare essentials

Conforming to no man’s image

Not Compromising to worldly norms

Remade, renewed, new creature in You

Only now becoming aware through You

of a greater potential


Covered in ash,

Wallowing in mud


Given freely more than could ever have been earned


Or asked…

Man on fire

Servant on a mission when assigned a task

Regardless of first, least, beast or last

Did HE not choose the twelve

And yet one was a devil?

It’s in the details…

Book of Job takes that understanding to another level

But who wants to hear that?

Advice from friends?

Based on presumptions?

Reserved for the day of wrath

And fiery consumptions

One can only pray

Oh, there have been times when I’ve been discouraged

Or disheartened when the words won’t flow

When there is nothing to give

And those who would have me think

There is nowhere left to go

But I am continually encouraged

By an audience of One

I’ve been waiting for Him to say:

“I know You can do better”

Instead He draws me close

And enfolds me in His Love Letters

And inspires

Without fail

[ ISLAND OF THE LOST ]. – Promote Yourself

                             Land before time so far away, no one goes there, no one stays.                              People who goes there, can not stay, so many dangers to those who stray.                So many things for you to see, go a head so carefully.                                                    ~                                                                  Stories of untold legends to find, open a door to see what’s behind.                            Strange and wondrous things you will learn, mystics and fables with every turn,  many roads you may go, which stories do you  know.                                              Truth or false legends can be, remember that’s its a mystery.                                        [ Patricia bourne wordpress 2014].                Twitter patricia bourne mumpower 2012

My cell phone – Promote Yourself


Having dropped my old cell phone into a steaming cup of coffee, I bought a smart
phone, but regrettably … I’m ever more stupid … and ever less … smart.
A sad development, this added stupidity and diminished lucidity; my contraption
predictably failed to prompt me to make better choices; better decisions.
But no such luck; I still make all the same old time-dishonored mistakes; falling
in love at the drop of a hat … my time-honored old loves … remembering.
Verily, youth is seemingly wasted on the very young; wisdom on the very aged;
for were there a better balance between the two, humanity, would be … aided. 
By Miguel Vera from Puerto Rico

Turning,churning – Promote Yourself

 The sun comes up each morning
He gently turns the sphere
And watches little nestling’s stir
He misses nothing here
And blows upon the dewy grass
And paints with shades of light
While on the other side He brings
The soothing calm of night.
But much of night is trembling
The plagues and rampant war
The hunger, children wandering
As often-time before.
And we see scenes horrendous
Across a stunned front page
And wonder briefly, if at all
Our small part to assuage.
God acts to gain His purpose
But in the world of men
He looks for mercy’s partnership
Ere dawn restores again.


Your Safe Haven – Promote Yourself

A numbness subdues

Oddly overpowering

In a realm so connected

We find ourselves to have drifted

Blindly convulsing in the abyss

with hopes of latching on in attempts to remain at bay 

Solitude is a sweet escape

But to pass off loneliness as that, it is overbearing

The fear that lingers

till this notion of being subsides

 we wish to embrace the state of isolation

…a frightening conception

If it is not a choice, but instead an eviction

sometime all it takes to find yourself at peace

Is to dwell in the warmth of nature, where life is at ease

For if you listen closely, the soul of the universe echoes in your heart

In the mind is a safe haven, an inexplicably profound work of art
-Maria Saif

Truth – Promote Yourself

It is hard to look in the mirror
when I see an unpainted face
full of imperfections.
I am not beautiful enough.
When I sing, I compare myself to others
who amaze people with their gift,
who are not afraid to share it with the world.
God does not want my praise.
I look at my body and think,
“I will never get to where I want to be,”
pushing myself to be better,
but always feeling like I am not thin enough.
Working hard at school
I still lack confidence despite the results,
thinking I will never be like them,
that I cannot make a difference.
One lie after another finds a corner in my mind
until the light of Christ permeates the darkness.
The Father asks, “Do you not know that I have made you?
That I created you with a purpose?”
My purpose is not about me,
but about Him.
The world says I need to look and sound a certain way,
but God’s kingdom is not of this world.
Jesus came to declare truth to all men,
to be a sacrifice of love and forgiveness.
He did not care about the outside of a person
but the heart.
A Christian concerns herself with God,
not the praises of men.
She stands against heresies
and proclaims the gospel.
When I look in the mirror, what do I see?
When I sing to the Lord, what do I sing?
When I work hard, what is my goal?
When I clothe myself, what do I wear?
Lauren Heiligenthal




We go our separate ways
We make our own choices
We see good and bad days
We get past them

Somehow we beat everything
In our way, at times
Sometimes we lose everything
And, we try disguise

We make mistakes
We don’t take caution
We ignore the stakes
We learn the lesson the hard way

We leave, we come back
We grow, we learn
We’re all on different tracks
In pursuit of different things

But, we all end up
At the same place
The same bloodstained earth
Just drowning in darkness

If you like my poetry, do follow my blog:

Link of this poem on my blog:

The Devil’s Advocate – Promote Yourself


Brother, why do you awake in terror and despair?

As I count my final moments, I overflow with desolation

I sense not a breeze from the Garden of Eden

For me the gates lead to a much darker destination

The path I chose offers no trial, no redemption.

You underestimate His mercy and love for mankind, brother.

Passage through purgatory wouldn’t rescue my soul

A glance at my own reflection, I can bear no more

Death’s cold breath creeps along the back of my neck

Hums a haunting intonation

Sent to collect a soul bound for eternal damnation

A fate befitting for a fool such as I

Who did the devil’s bidding on earth while alive.

About me: I am a business student, freelance writer, blogger and art hobbyist from Pakistan.
Best Regards,
Maria Saif
I have been following “poetreecreations” on WordPress, and I love to read all the different submissions. It will be a delight for me if you chose to publish my work on your site as well.
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