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Daily Archives: October 5, 2014



Wading absent in the floral age of old memories.
Dead leaves peeled from the skin to leave raw wounds of hope,
space to flourish,
for the new blood to surface.

Press the leaves in the Book of Failed Attempts
and Finished Chapters,
to admire and pine over on the long days of the heart’s winter silence.

Save some room. There’s always more to come.

Like a disappointed child,
I stand in the empty field at the end of the road,
longing for more,
waiting for a magic carpet to unfold and take me beyond this endless dead end.

Anger grips the lungs,
piston breath pushing venom spit to the lips.

Nothing behind me but rubble–
old lies and charms,
lost treasures,
the repeating,
familiar scene.
Millions of identical lives in a house of mirrors,
watching the face of death smile into eternity.

Light and stone and cold fumes permeating through the walls of sleep,
pushing the hands to clutch,
to prize any warmth,
covet the soul of God to alleviate the claustrophobic pressure of the alarm clock screaming.

I stare vacantly down that old road,
emptied into long days,
sad nothings,
eternal moments of joy,
frozen and ever encroaching,
seeking the return to now,
tempting the feet,
my heart,
tricking desire to turn,
to retrace the travelled steps to the void of dead time.

The old skin always wants to crawl back, curl up in that familiar womb–
to (relapse) relax and sleep awhile.

Slip a little bit of delirium in the pocket,
wistful sunshine obliterating my face in the open field,
to keep me company in this uncertain moment.

Soften the blow of the hard grit of the true day–
a playful lie,
basking in yesterday’s romance.
Pretty poetry,
to exaggerate as the years divide me,
stretch the distance between then and now.

Ahead of me,
the unapproachable forest of mystery.
No beat down path, no hint of the way–
only the fresh growth of the unknown.
I take the first step without a hand to hold,
a shoulder of support,
a nod of approval.

I take the first step alone.


Autumn Time – Promote Yourself


The wind is playing autumn games
Through the gardens and the lanes.
Picking up, and swirling round
Leaves of orange, red and brown.

Gusting through each swaying tree,
Tossing apples till they’re free.
Shaking conkers till they drop
And open wide with prickly pop.

The wind is dancing, full of fun,
Laughing in the autumn sun.
It tumbles acorns, fir-cones, leaves,
To make a carpet under trees.

© to Brenda Williams

Contemplation of Human – Promote Yourself


Some searches for diamonds and gold;

At night they have no one to hold

Some murders for fame and name;

To show mercy, ‘tis a shame

Some just tries their best to be so bold;

A man who could endure rain and cold

Some only wants to be in the game;

For them, in wars no one was to blame


Some takes joy in lust and passion;

But they forget about compassion

Some hides behind cries and tears;

Because their story is full of fear

Some builds several huge mansions;

They would happily die in fashion

Some talks but nobody seems to hear;

For it’s so lonely they have no one near


Why are humans so hard to satisfy?

I don’t find answers, even if I try

They spend forever only to defy;

And they get everything only to deny

I keep asking myself why;

But I cannot bring myself to tell a lie

So that left me with a sigh;
And I’m just stuck staring at the sky.

Sari Tjiang

I am Sari from Indonesia and I would like to submit one of my verse,
which is titled “Contemplation of Human”. I hope you like it.
Best regards 🙂
Contemplation of Human


England is said to be a good place to be
Where everyone can escape from the chains of poverty
By claiming the available means tested benefits
Or being fortunate enough to win the National Lottery
All they have to do is pick six lucky numbers
And riches beyond their wildest dreams will be theirs
An opportunity given twice a week to everyone
To allow them to join the evergrowing band of millionaires
Unfortunately the chances of winning are very slim
And the result is that there are many losers in the game
This means that the poor become even poorer
And there is less advantage from the benefits they claim
Is the lottery a symptom of the nation’s greed?
It is a sad reflection if this is true
Are the proposed new casinos to satisfy a real need
Or is it just another means of raising revenue?
The lottery and casinos are means of taking money from the punters
There are some winners, but more losers I am sad to say
The same applies to betting on the horses
In the long run many gamblers will rue the day 
Ron Martin

“Autumn” – Promote Yourself

autumn landscape
Autumn is like an old book:
Marred spines turn mean yellow,
staples rust red-orange.

Every stained page is stressed
by a splat of color. Rough-red,
like an old tavern,

we become hungry birds
and prepare for fall.
Shape and shadow are candied citron

as lanterns turn bitter yellow. Autumn
is a red fox, a goblet filled with dark wine,
a hot chilli pepper with smoky eyes.

Pressed leaves take in the colors
of seafood paella and saffron; these leaves
are like death, climaxing with a smile.

Autumn: Her dress is a net of mussels;
dark shelled, it covers up
summer’s weather-beaten body.

So pull out your boots
and stand on an aged, wood floor
like an evergreen.

Dear Gillian and Thomas Sims,

I was wondering if you would like to add the following short poem to your collection?

It was first published, Online (, a few years ago.

Thank you,

Mary Hamrick
Tallahassee, Florida

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