RSS Feed

Daily Archives: April 16, 2015

It Makes The Pain Go Away -YOUR FAVOURITE POEM


When you yell at me, it hurts so much inside,
like a knife, dragging through my insides.
I try to yell back, my voice goes unheard,
so I don’t even bother,
I just retreat to writing poems, that hopefully will be heard.
I pour a glass of wine, sweet to my liking,
a passion for the drink I am thriving.
Each glass better than the last,
I am opening up slowly to write about my past.
Your presence goes un-noticed, with every glass I pour,
I wonder if you’d even notice if I walked out the front door?
Every sip makes me care even less, about the fight we just had,
I don’t even care if we go to bed mad.
And as I sit and wrote this poem, my mind free from anger,
what will tomorrow bring, will this fight linger?
But what do I care? I have my freedom drink,
how much lower must I sink?
Into a stupor, I have sunk,
I can’t even think straight, for I am D-runk!
What were we fighting about again? My mind begins to wander,
I am growing tired now, aching for a slumber.
I’m out of wine now, I have no other reason to be awake,
except to tell you how much my heart aches.
I wish you’d respect me, for the woman I am,
instead of yelling “God Damn!”
I am who I am, it’s not like you didn’t know,
from the time we started dating; you make me feel so low.
But this glass of wine is teaching me,
that I am me, I am free,
to say what I need to say, nothing more nothing less,
I am me, and for that my family can attest.
I’ve let people walk all over me,
letting them have more than what should be.
But I’m done with that, at least for now, for this drink has set me free.
I don’t want to be addicted, I won’t let myself go down,
but can I make myself feel better, without being drowned?
With my glass of wine beside me, I feel like I can do anything,
but I wonder, does this poem mean anything?
To me, it means that my mind is free,
to feel and say anything,
my heart is sad, my mind is mad,
Is this really me?
By now, I feel like I’ve said too much, how will people judge me?
For now I don’t care, because my drink is beside me.
But tomorrow will bring the answers I seek, as angry and truthful they might be,
but for now, I have the one thing I need, my glass of wine beside me.

© Rene Bennett



Me And Grandpa – Promote Yourself


I remember me and grandpa and the way we used to fish
It was my childhood fantasy, my one and only wish.
I couldn’t wait to get there, but the ride was very long,
so we all sat back in our car and sang this special song.
You get a line, I’ll get a pole; we all know how it goes I guess
it’s just a song that everybody knows.
Over the hills and though the trees and there it finally is,
a massive structure of steel, the Missouri river bridge.
We cross the bridge slowly you know it’s not real wide,
and every time I’ve crossed that bridge I’ve felt a sense of pride.
The fever’s really got me now with not that far to go,
around the lake I see the boats and then there’s Big-a-low.
Grandma’s probably cooking and making something great,
she always saves a little bit even if we’re late.
The sights are now familiar; my palms begin to sweat,
can’t wait to fish with Grandpa and make our special bet.
So now I’m finally here and I guess it means just this,
that when the morning comes Ill get my fishing wish.
Thanks Grandpa

© Randy R. Patterson



Do you have a faith that can support you on life’s way?
Do you have a prayer you offer up to God each day?
Do you have a vision of how you would like life to be?
If you have, I’d be pleased if you would share it all with me.
For each day I’m becoming a little more confused,
The things I ask for in my prayers are continually refused,
I still have a vision of how I would like the world to be,
But what is happening now is of real concern to me.
The standards which were once excepted by me and you,
Seem to have evaporated, just like morning dew,
My vision of the world is no longer plain to see,
It has become blurred by the mists of apathy.
Why can’t we return to the standards of our youth,
When the virtues were decency, honesty and truth,
When people were made to bear the shame,
If they brought dishonour to the family name.
If only we could return to yesterday,
Many concerns I have would quickly fade away,
But it’s doubtful if this will ever be,
And that the world will drown in a sea of immorality.
I still hope that one day I will see,
A world which is ruled by truth and honesty,
Where the fruits of the Spirit will abound,
And where peace and tranquillity can be found.
Ron Martin

A SENSE OF NATURE – Promote Yourself



Do you hear what I hear?

It is the sound of the common sparrow,

It can be heard the world,

Through fields of sweet corn, cauliflower and marrow.



Do you see what I see?

It is the striking feathers of the proud male peacock,

Preening himself upon a sacred rock.



Do you smell what I smell?

It is the scent of the buddleia flower,

Attracting red admirals with all its power.



Do you taste what I taste?

It is the sweet stem of the evening clover,

Which is found in the fields the whole year over.



Do you feel what I feel?

It is the soft fleece of an infant lamb standing for the very first time.

Come on little fellow if I can do it you can!


Now I must go and meditate upon the dew drenched wheat,

Along with the millipedes, that crawl across my feet.

I think about nature and all the joy it brings,

And how one can use their senses to experience these things.

by Jessica Burton

Burden – Promote Yourself


Drained, and Yet…- A Simple Gate -Promote Yourself


Drained, and Yet…


Another interrupted night,
Another day half-zombified.
Concentration all but gone;
Tempted to just drift along.


No will to attempt what needs doing,
Yet worth it for that heavenly viewing
Of little faces filled with glee,
As they bounce upon my knee.


Eyes full of wonder, taking in
An ordinary mundane thing.
Seen afresh its beauty glows
As they turn to one who knows


And ask for confirmation
(And a simple explanation)
of this magical delight
that sets their world alight.


So please another sleepless week,
with head that aches and joints that creak,
If it means more of these joys,
From our little girl and boys.




A Simple Gate


I stand before a simple gate,

Hoping it is not too late

To be summoned in to see

The answer to my mystery.


What power lies beyond those beams?

What images will haunt my dreams?

What truth too great for mortal men

Is housed within that stone-walled den?


I hope it will renew my mind,

Touch my heart with gestures kind,

Soothe my soul where it still aches,

Calm my hand when it still shakes,


Satisfy my deepest need,

Help me see, inform my creed;

Find my place in life and death,

Put the right words on my last breath.


The bolt unlocks, the panel swings,

My soul begins to spread its wings.

Filled with joy, my eyes behold

A baby wrapped in swaddling clothes.



My first poetry collection:


Selected Verse – Faith and Family

Is on sale now, only 99 cents (depending on your territory) on amazon kindle for the rest of this week

Life in the Momentum – Promote Yourself


We who are hiding in our second bedrooms,

Licking the silver from the backs of our screens.

Are living in a differently timed zone

Of waking awareness.

Sometimes 2, sometimes 3, sometimes 4 or more

Lives are lived each night.

In our rooms

By ourselves

Sitting too close to our beds.


This is our perpetuity,

The lasting legacy of our species:

The glow that now contests the light that once shone from our eyes

Rises up to the razor’s edge of our understanding of

What is Unknown.

What is un-utterable.

What can barely be thought , much less said and

Yet keeps these words dancing so merrily across this page.

Caught in the ballet of silence that surrounds them.


Who are you reading this?

And what are you afraid of?

What perturbs your eternal sleep-walk into this night?

Are there questions you are pondering?

Or are you merely waiting for the screens to pull through for you?

Into your own quiet, private world,

Where the things that count never change.

And no one is dreaming you but your mother

Who has left you now for another child.

Igor Goldkind 

Igor Goldkind was born in Lansing, Michigan and raised in San Diego, California.  He is an author, poet, and lecturer who currently specializes in Digital Storytelling and Speculative Realism.   In 1983, Goldkind moved to Paris where he studied with Michel Foucault, the French Post-Structuralist scholar.  After receiving a graduate certificate from La Sorbonne, Goldkind moved to London where he worked first for Titan Books in the 1980s as a marketing consultant and PR spokesperson. Here, Goldkind helped develop and promoted the term “graphic novel” as a way to help sell the trade paperbacks then being published. Goldkind has lectured at Liverpool University, St. Martins School of Design, and the London College of Printing.  He is considered by his contemporaries to be an expert in the growing fields of Information Architecture. He continues to write and serve as the creative mind behind projects that link computational technologies with art, education, and storytelling.  Igor Goldkind’s  most recent work , is the ground-breaking tour-de-force IS SHE AVAILABLE?, incorporating Poetry, Art, Music, and Motion, and published by Chameleon  Publishing.

The Thug?, The Saint?, The Seeker?, The Touched?, The Reluctant Restraint? – Promote Yourself

Anthony gomez

%d bloggers like this: