DRIVING TO THE EDGE ON INTERSTATE FIVE – Promote Yourself

 

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/

Come show thy Durham Breast – Your Favourite Poem

1542

Come show thy Durham Breast
To her who loves thee best,
Delicious Robin—
And if it be not me
At least within my Tree
Do the avowing—
Thy Nuptial so minute
Perhaps is more astute
Than vaster suing—
For so to soar away
Is our propensity
The Day ensuing—

Emily Dickinson

SENT IN BY YOU

WHAT’S YOUR FAVOURITE POEM?

A Farewell to Cardinal Egan – Promote Yourself

1932-2015
A Farewell to Mom
1936 – 2015

Quite homely and gentle
Service requiem
St Patrick’s Cathedral
New York
Hushed and holy
Glimpses seen
Place of prayer
Scaffold in place

We all came for funerals
His was highly placed
News worthy
Televised
Hers was family
Highly place
Photographed
And face booked
One quiet lady
Who after
Half an hour
Of it
Would have said
Le’ we go nuh
Le’ we catch house

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

 

White Thing, The Blank Page – Promote Yourself

The words linger in the mind’s soupy spaces,

floating and alluding, colliding and being repelled,

and the words, ever ebbing and flowing from ideas to blankness to epics

to confusion, to brilliance and to forget-me-not tales of woe

shroud the shoulder as a painfully expensive mink. The cringed grin of storytelling.

‘Why, hello, there!’ I beam.

‘How can I be of service?’

‘Render us not transient,’ they reply, ‘and we will carry out the rest.’

‘Come, sit down. Would you like a drink? A rhythm? A metaphor, perhaps?

Would you be more comfortable in a prose?’

The poem makes it clear that I fuss too much.

It absurdly sits and festers, waving in and out of the spheres

and atmospheres

and moods

and, in its strangeness, becomes calm and still.

It is too vague, blurring the artistic for the artist…

Work of the wise, the wicked, the witty, or the wastefully wistful?

Emma J. Ware

My name is Emma Ware, and the link to my WordPress site, The Smiley Poet’s Thoughts, is https://thesmileypoet.wordpress.com/. 

 

I’m fairly new to your website but I already love what you do. The quality of content you give is amazing.

 

I was hoping to submit one of my poems to you for your perusal, and I hope it’s good enough to share.

 

I am a 21 year old university student whose dreams only involve using words in some way to help people. I want to write and read, and nothing else. Poetry has always been a passion for me and I adore the pursuit of the written verse. I am a Christian, so much of my work has to do with faith and the inner struggles that come with it. I also write about writing, which is the subject of the piece I am submitting.