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Mothers Special Day

mummmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm

 

Mothers Day will be upon us soon

How are we going to celebrate this event?

Shall we buy her chocolates and flowers?

Or buy her an expensive bottle of scent

 

We all take mothers for granted

Expecting she will always be there

She is always a good listener

And all your problems she will share

 

She sometimes becomes a nurse and a doctor

When you have hurt yourself at play

She will sit you upon her lap

Until the pain goes away

 

She will do these things all of your life

In sickness and in health

She will never give up on you

For a mother never thinks of her self 

 

A champion to all of the family

At times she will have her say

For a mother is the kingpin of the family

So show your appreciation on this her special day

 

Malcolm Bradshaw

Mothers Day will be upon us soon

How are we going to celebrate this event?

Why not dedicate a poem to your Mother 

This Sunday

SEND YOUR DEDICATIONS OR POEMS

TO

poetreecreations@yahoo.com

A Mother’s Love Is Forever – Promote Yourself

mumm

I‘ve been with you
since before your birth.
I’ll stand by your side,
as long as I’m on this earth.

A mother’s love is special,
a never-ending gift.
A love that’s always there
if you ever need a lift.

I think of you often,
never missing a day.
My love is forever,
and always sent your way.

You’re never far from the caring
thoughts in my heart.
No matter how many miles
ever try to keep us apart.

A mother’s love, your gift,
the gift I’ll always give to you.
As we watch our lives go by,
no matter what you say or do.

© Alan Royer

 

Dinasaur dave

MRS. PANKHURST

pank
 
Women owe a lot to Mrs. Emily Pankhurst,
Who was the first militant suffragette,
She suffered many trials and tribulations,
Which those who have followed should not forget.
 
She founded the Woman’s Social and Political Union,
This was in Manchester in the year nineteen hundred and three,
She was supported by her two daughters Christabel and Sylvia,
With votes for women as their first priority.
 
They moved to London to lobby the Liberal Government,
And set about heckling leading politicians of the day,
They performed attention seeking stunts at processions,
Anything to allow women to have their say.
 
At first their actions were quite peaceful,
But in Nineteen twelve they became more militant,
They were directed by Christabel from Paris,
To where she had fled, but where she became more dominant.
 
Mrs. Pankhurst spent several spells in prison,
She went on hunger strike and was subject to force feeding,
She was so intent on getting votes for women,
Nothing could diminish her enthusiasm for the campaign she was leading.
 
When the First World War started she called off her campaign,
Realising that there were more important things to do,
She concentrated her efforts organising National Service,
But about votes for women she never changed her point of view.
 
When the war ended the politicians modified their opinions,
They had been influenced by the Campaign for Women’s Suffrage,
But Mrs. Pankhurst’s ambitions were only partly satisfied,
When votes were only given to married women over thirty years of age.
 
So Mrs. Pankhurst continued with her campaign,
And eventually her aspirations were satisfied,
All women over twenty one were given the vote
In nineteen twenty eight, a few weeks before Mrs. Pankhurst died.
 
Mrs. Pankhurst’s campaign lasted five and twenty years,
Her name is now part of our country’s history,
What she did will never be forgotten,
For she has left women a valuable legacy.
Ron Martin

The June Garden

foxglove

The Foxgloves now have risen to five feet or more
Attracting buzzing visitors from far and wide
And watching them, a sight I watch from grassy floor
It gives me a warm feeling deep inside

As Roses open blooms of radiant colours
And speak of further beauty yet to come
I make my pilgrimage to watch them flourish
In warm and humid days of summer sun

Summer Holiday

Summer Holiday

Summer the season of the sun

Holidays breaks on your mind
All the kids having lots of fun
Parents walking on the warm sand

Ice cream melting down your arm
Cold drinks taken by the bottle
Sun cream protect you from harm
While kids build a sandcastle

Walking round the resort at night
Enjoying the cool evening breeze
Taking in all the local sights
Temperatures still twenty degrees

The beach is the plan for the day
Getting the sand between your toes
Looking out across the bay
Spots a dolphin there she blows

The summer holiday is at it’s end
Bags packed reluctantly ready for home
All postcards have been written and sent
Roll on for next summer to come

Unknown Author

“The Forgotten Soldier” – Promote Yourself

forgot

You gave your all, your time, your life

Set apart, you felt the call to defend against strife

Expendable to the powers that be, but for us, a hero that leads

Selfless, brave, even against the feeling of fear

 

Much you have seen, sacrificed, and lost

Much you have gained, received, and felt

The bothered mind returns home, hoping to feel the security of embrace

Needful of care, love, and understanding

 

We salute you, as ordinary people of ordinary minds

We could never comprehend but we lend a helping hand

We bow down, as the masses do before their king

To show our gratitude and devotion to your service

 

Forgotten? No, not by us

Maybe by them, but not by your people

For we belong to you, and you to us… So,

In remembrance we hail you and embrace you in love,

 

Thank you for your sacrifice

Although not a proponent of war, I support our troops, as many in my own family have served. I wish all troops peace and blessings.

Dara Reidyr

Friday The 13th

13

To many the number thirteen 

is a number to avoid and beware of,
add Friday in front of the number,
and you have a very scary day.

To me the number thirteen,
has always been always been a lucky one,
and Friday the thirteenth,
even luckier still

Then again, if you are superstitious
any number can be unlucky.
If you want to think it so,
it just depends on how positive you are.

Now if you think negative,
you will be that way to,
so in your thinking,
just be like me.

Positive is lucky, negative is unlucky,
so train you mind,
to think positive
all the time.

13 July 2007

“I Read A Poem Today” – Promote Yourself

read

I read a poem today

Not cause I thought about u today
Or missed u today
But because I was curious about

what you had to say

In essence, you say

my absence affects you

A statement your actions

deem prophetically untrue

Understand that my demeanor is not of my choosing  
Cause our memories…

my mind ..it hinders

as thoughts linger
of what yesterday..with u..once brought

I read a poem today

It was called “You”
I read and reread each line
to ensure comprehension

A Line by Line explanation

capturing my attention…

dictating how you think you’re starting to feel for me
I wonder if its real..

but still

your memory

provokes chills

 

You compare our narrative

to that of the gods

Celestial

Ethereal

Inexplicable

And though my smile

is a godly power only you convey

Your stained papyrus

I’m tempted to fray

Because

I

question

if

YOU

have any inkling how to

Treat a goddess

So Timeless..

I read a poem today

 

“I L-l-like you..” it read

I wasn’t impressed

Cause you

Camouflage your

Executions of tomfoolery

So eloquently…

Lying lips licked love so lightly and

Made loyalty look so likely..

Put simply…

You’re no stranger

to the danger

that comes with…breaking hearts.

But

Yet

And

Still

I pray to the gods

that your words ARE real;

I pray for

Vulnerability

Fragility

and Emotional Accessibility

So that your words

may reach ME

and not ….my ego

So here I go…

 

Dear God,

 

Can you hear me?

Its me, Jay.

 

He says he’s ready to keep writing

until

the day his writing will reach me..

 

So I sit here ready to keep reading

In hopes that one day his words

Will reach their home

In me.

 

I read a poem today.

Jay

Spring Sprung -Promote Yourself

giphy

Melifluous, superfluous and glorious
Dandelions and kerya carousing
Dark deadened corners to life.

(I know mellifluous has two ls but I prefer it with one)
(otherwise it looks like melly flew us)

(Now it doesn’t look right either way)
(But hey…it is Spring!)

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

Virgin Spring – Promote Yourself

 

Fountain of Youth

 Once there was a fountain

In a distant, uncultivated land.

Purely, it flowed and glimmered,

Untouched by human hand.

 

After it was discovered

Many flocked to taste.

They stayed awhile and visited

And few left in haste.

 

Soon the men grew weary

Of stooping for a drink,

So they made a hollow stick

Allowing them to stand at the brink.

 

This boosted the stream’s popularity

And the visitors increased.

Yet soon it was rumored that

The spring’s coolness had decreased.

 

The traveler’s purchased blocks

Of ice from merchants of the sea.

They placed them in the fountain

In hopes, they’d discovered the key.

 

The ice cooled the stream

For awhile, then melted all away

Leaving traces of where it’d been

Which were unnoticed in that day.

 

Again the men complained

Of the hike made for a sip,

So they decided to allow one another

To bring their bottles for a dip.

 

With such a precious water

Transported throughout the land,

Word of the spring grew,

So its pioneers developed a plan.

 

Today, the sacred water can

Be purchased in any shop:

Seven-eleven, Exxon, Wal-Mart

It sells on my street for three bucks a pop.

 

As for the quiet spring,

It dried up years ago,

And the water in the bottles

Comes from a sink in Idaho.

Bio: Kayla I. Shown-Dean is the author of Muted and her newly published collection of poetry, Autumn Leaflets. She is also a blogger and regular contributor to shortfictionbreak.com.

Kayla is also a member of White County Creative Writers and Arkansas Women Bloggers, and she attends the annual Writer’s Retreat at the Hemingway-Pfeiffer Museum.

In addition to writing, Kayla has a full-time job at a local university, and she teaches English part-time as an adjunct. She lives with her husband and son, who is a preschooler. When she has free time, Kayla enjoys reading, writing, blogging, painting, drawing, and singing. Visit her blog at www.kideanaround.com

A Morning Stroll (after the tragedy)

Hanging by threads – Promote Yourself

gymnast_beam2
Stumblings, falterings, graspings for heir
There go eye…
With a beam a gymnast
Could do a complete routine upon
Protruding from my own ‘I’
Tweezing splinters from others’ sight
That I am loathe to admit
As if looking down
From much vaunted heights
There’s an irony
Not overlooked
A hypocrisy…
A look on my face
I sometimes cannot see
Unless shown to me
Then the wait is imminent
The fill
The wash
The agitate
The rinse
A spinning drum
Wherein…
I tremble and shake
Removed into silence
As the rumble abates
Hung out to dry
For all to see…humbly
Through it all
Comes this gentle breeze
In the Son
In the Light
Pinned to a line
A warmth renews me
Folded neatly
Collapsing from self
And lovingly set aside
Till worn again
In time…
Colors fade
Threads thin
Wrinkles set in
The cycle
More wondrous
Than vicious

More thorn to bear
Than flower in bloom
More root
Than stem
More button down
Than crew
Or leaf
Or pleat
Or cuffs at hems
Just outer garments to be shed
And renew in due season
Painstakingly straining out impurities
Funneled from a Crown
Out of a head
And into a heart
The unseen
beautiful
Glorious
The scenes in surroundings
No longer
Leaving anything to be desired
___________________

“if people destroy something made by man they are called vandals. if they destroy something made by GOD they are called developers”
God Bless

Spring Coming – Promote Yourself

DCIM100MEDIA

Photo copyright: Poetree Creations

 A lattice, a fence

     Journey in suspense

Far away whence

     In a world so immense

 

Spring soon will appear

     Behind winter’s bier

With sunshine and cheer

     New songs you will hear

               

Today, I just wait

     I ponder my fate

I look for a mate

     I anticipate

Howard S. Carman, Jr.

Winter’s Love – Promote Yourself

SUG

Blue grey hues fill the midnight sky
Ice and rain freeze in patches, converting the ground into solid stone
Trees stand frozen, like mythical ice gods of a bygone world
Snow falls daintily, like bits of tissue paper, white as cotton
As they kiss the ground, melting into the face of the earth

Light the fireplace! Warm the milk and cocoa!
Let’s snuggle in front of the warmth of the flames, sipping our sweet concoction
Read me a story or poem of times past: Dickens, Frost, Keats, or Yeats
Wrap me in the warmth of your arms, as we watch winter envelop us in her love

Poem by Dara Reidyr, at https://daraswriting.wordpress.com/

 

I Will… Against All The Odds

gallop

I will keep flying and singing

Despite subjugation and wings clipping

I will keep up advancement

Despite any ignoble impediment

I will keep to my principles

Despite bigotry and disapprovals

I will keep on preaching peace

Despite intolerance and violent tendencies

I will move for change and make a difference

Despite blind hatred, rage and indifference

I will keep my chin up and never give up

And enjoy freedom like riding at a gallop

© Chaouki M’kaddem

September 12th, 2014

CHRISTIANITY IS NOT A MYTH

crossword

A Rhyme for Halloween – Promote Yourself

cheshire-cat-pumpkinloop

Tonight I light the candles of my eyes in the lee
And swing down this branch full of red leaves.
Yellow moon, skull and spine of the hare,
Arrow me to town on the neck of the air.
I hear the undertaker make love in the heather;
The candy maker, poor fellow, is under the weather.
Skunk, moose, raccoon, they go to the doors in threes
With a torch in their hands or pleas: “O, please . . .”
Baruch Spinoza and the butcher are drunk:
One is the tail and one is the trunk
Of a beast who dances in circles for beer
And doesn’t think twice to learn how to steer.
Our clock is blind, our clock is dumb.
Its hands are broken, its fingers numb.
No time for the martyr of our fair town
Who wasn’t a witch because she could drown.
Now the dogs of the cemetery are starting to bark
At the vision of her, bobbing up through the dark.
When she opens her mouth to gasp for air,
A moth flies out and lands in her hair.
The apples are thumping, winter is coming.
The lips of the pumpkin soon will be humming.
By the caw of the crow on the first of the year,
Something will die, something appear
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