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Monthly Archives: March 2015

Rainbow and Lightning -Promote Yourself

ray

Rainbow and Lightning
Both struck
At the same
Time

Branches and fingers
Metatarsals stretched
Broken and breaking
Hair stranded
And splayed
Struck outwards
And upwards
Wrought out
In ions
And electrons
In silence

It shimmered
And shivered
In silence

In silence
Displayed
And explode

In silence
The rainbow
Remained

Cheryl Bhagwandin
http://www.cheryl62blog.wordpress.com

The Tramp

Cold as ice
there he sat

Dreaming about
this and that,

Of what could
have been

If  he’d stayed
within the social scene

Each night his
shadow lies under the lamp,

He is
identified as the local tramp

The park is his
home,

Nowhere else to
roam

No hidden
agenda

Or anyone to
care for,

No personal
appointments to keep

No people at all 
to  meet

No-one to
explain to when he isn’t there,

No sacrifice to
bare

The owls watch
over him at night

Under the lamp
in the moonlight,

Where empty
beer cans surround him

Next to the
rubbish in the bin

The tramp that
wants to be alone,

And to leave
his identity unknown

By Gillian Sims

titanic

THE DOUBLE DECEPTION

HURTING

 take_my_broken_heart
 
So there they are, not loving, caring
Afraid to show the hurt they’re bearing
A life of love lies shattered, lost,
They feel the hurt and count the cost
How soon the hope of future died
How quickly one deceived and lied
The other left to try and cope
With love devoid of truth and hope
 
Whilst one enjoyed a fling or two
The other stayed steadfast and true
A forlorn hope that soon one day
Love might return, not slip away
 
Embittered now, they carry on
No tenderness, their love has gone
A life of sorts they live each day
Filled with shadows, black and grey
Don Holmes

Born Again – Promote Yourself


bab

Drowsy after a caesarean I lay
as if I forgot why I was there

The nurse woke me, handed me
a beautiful dimply babe

As if saying, take care
here it is, now all yours

As I held him, there he was
frantically sucking his tiny fist

His nervous half-open eyes
as if scared to be in this world

Our eyes locked, well so I thought
and I was changed forever

That moment I was ‘born again’
as I had become a mother

He was my bundle of joy
my onus and my prerogative

With trembling unsure hands
I dressed him up in red

He belongs to me, I thought that day
this little soul is solely mine

But no, from that day till now
it was my life that was no more mine

My life could never be the same
it became much better and too fine.

https://alkagirdhar.wordpress.com/2015/01/05/born-again/?preview=true&preview_id=247&preview_nonce=ffbf1555d3

Alka Girdhar
Sydney

Validation for Mourning. – Promote Yourself

apart

I won’t cry

When you die.

Won’t say goodbye,

Blink an eye.

 

I won’t comply

To another lie;

Quietly stand by,

Barely scrape by.

 

I won’t deny,

Or blindly defy,

A blood tie

Now wrung dry.

 

I won’t try

To understand why;

Will not sigh,

Walk on by.

 

I will cry

For love awry;

Rise to fly

Beyond the sky. 

John Northcutt Young
https://northcutt.wordpress.com/

“The Hip of Catching You”. – Promote Yourself

lolly joy ride

Drained, and Yet… – Promote Yourself

kids

AN UNUSUAL CRIME

dv cooper
 
Who was D.B. Cooper, it’s a name you may not know,
On his death bed he admitted a crime committed many years ago,
The crime was most unusual, being the first of its kind,
If you consider the facts an unusual story you will find.
 
A Boeing 727 was flying from Portland to Seattle in 1971,
On board were thirty six passengers and crew,
A passenger told the stewardness that a high jacking was taking place,
That she must listen carefully whilst he told her what to do.
 
He opened his case to reveal cylinders joined by wires,
That he had a bomb was very plain to see,
The stewardess was told to inform the pilot of the fact,
And that their co-operation would guarantee their safety.
 
The pilot was told to land as normal in Seattle ,
The passenger were set free as soon as the plane landed,
The crew however were not aloud to leave the plane,
It was then that a ransom was demanded.
 
The hijacker asked 200,000 dollars and a parachute,
Which the authorities decided was a small price to pay,
In return a promise was given that the plane and crew would be safe,
So the ransom was paid, and the plane took off without delay.
 
The first orders were to fly the plane to Mexico ,
But soon after take off the orders were changed,
The pilot was ordered to reduce height and speed and to open the rear door,
The hijacker jumped when everything had been arranged.
 
The police knew the area where he must have landed,
It was an area which contained a lot of marshy ground,
They thought that he might have been killed on landing,
But in spite of a widespread search he was never found.
 
His thin clothing and the atrocious weather conditions,
Made it very unlikely that he could survive,
But after months of searching without finding his body,
The police had to assume that he was still alive.
 
The numbers on the ransom money had been recorded,
It was hoped that when it was spent it would provide a clue,
But none of it was ever found in circulation,
After a few years the police decided they had other things to do.
 
In 1977 D.B Cooper married, but used a different name,
His wife had no idea of the crime he had committed,
They lived a peaceful normal happy life together,
It was only on his deathbed that his guilt was admitted.
 
 
 
His wife was surprised and told the police of his admission,
They must have been happy that the truth at last was known,
They could not understand why the money had not been spent,
So the reason for the crime is still unknown.
Footnote
 
Thirty years after the hi jacking a young boy playing in the area where the hijacker landed found a bundle of 50-dollar notes, which had been part of the ransom money.
It is possible that the rest of the money was lost in the marshy ground, which would explain why none of it was spent.
Ron Martin

Tear drop rolling down my face – Promote Yourself

tear

Tear drop rolling down my face’ through a haze eyes so glazed’ through a sadness of despair ‘ into madness every where.
Darkness falls each night’ where people are out of sight’ where places are so strange’ an every one out of range.
Where no sound can be heard’ not even a twitter from a bird’ where no life can be seen’ not even in a stream’ in this land that I found ‘ its so quiet and profound.
I must go’ its a must’ this land is full of dust.

Patricia bourne WordPress 2014.

Demon Dialers-promote yourself

A Blink of an Eye – Promote Yourself

tumblr_m4vcxzqtFJ1rtepflo1_500

Canal Life – YOUR FAVOURITE POEM

To celebrate the launch of the Canal & River Trust, renowned English poet Ian McMillan

has written ‘Canal Life’.

Ian McMillan, renowned English poet
Ian McMillan, renowned English poet

 The canal tells you stories

The canal sings you songs

They hang in that space

Between memory and water

 

Once saw a narrowboat raised up,

Like it was cutting through the air,

Between two grass walls and the road below

Like it was sliding through history,

And a tiny vole swam across the water

So a tiny vole swam through history.

 

The canal tells you stories,

The canal sings you songs

  

Once saw a man floating belly up in a canal

Like he was in the bath. He shouted

‘This is the life’ as I passed by on a narrowboat;

The sky was reflected in the surface

And we tied up in the places the map never showed us,

The man floating by, making ripples on the surface.

 

They hang in that space

Between memory and water

 

Once got waved at by a jogger as I stood gongoozling

On the towpath; her running  gave rhythm

To the early afternoon, dog-strollers and kids

Who’d rather be here than sitting in school.

To gongoozle is to stand and watch narrowboats pass

And a canal is a lesson, a water-based school.

   

The canal tells you stories

The canal sings you songs

 

Once these canals were information highways

If coal and iron can be information,

And I think they can be. And there are bridges,

Pub gardens, the laughter of children

As they walk by the water; and the canals

Turn us all into curious children.

  

They hang in that space

Between memory and water

 

Once is never enough for a canal, I reckon;

You need to go back and see it again,

And sail it again, and smell it again, and

Touch it again; canals run through our veins

Like they stroll through this country

Like blood through our veins.

  

The canal tells you stories

The canal sings you songs

They hang in that space

Between memory and water

Ian McMillan

YOUR FAVOURITE POEM

SENT IN BY YOU

WHAT’S YOUR’S?

On Sheltered Words

storm

The Starting End – Promote Yourself

sun

 

Tongues That Tie Cherry Stalks and the Eaters of the Cherry – Promote Yourself

type

DRIVING TO THE EDGE ON INTERSTATE FIVE – Promote Yourself

vally 

As the tires hum I grip the wheel

Through miles of barren landscape,

My wife, daughters make the sound of sleep

As the emptiness rushes by,

I am alone in this desolate land

With only my thoughts for company,

The San Joaquin Valley stretches along

This ribbon of road,

On the CD player, Jonatha Brooke

Sings her sad, soulful songs,

I am so far away from home

As the sun lowers behind the distant mountains,

Wherever I travel, or choose to exist

I long for the home

I fear I may never find,

There is something inside

That I do not understand

That will not permit peace,

A happy family is mine

But conflict and emptiness still possess me,

Forever alone.

Walt Trizna

https://walttriznastories.wordpress.com/

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