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REQUIEM TO A SAD POETESS


 
The many words she has inscribed upon the page
Reveal the unhappiness and anguish she has known
That she has suffered throughout her life can be seen
For in so many ways she has often felt alone
 
In her simple words she tries to show
Why it is difficult for her to understand
How life could deal her such cruel blows
Why fate had dealt her a losing hand
 
And so she picks up her pen to write
For she wants all the world to know
That unhappiness has marred her life
In the same way that the weather is blighted by the winter snow
 
But life is very much like seasons
The winter snow melts and spring eventually comes again
The sunshine will break through the clouded skies
And happiness will take the place of pain
 
And so she now faces life with hopes renewed
Knowing here are opportunities that she can take
Opportunities which will give her much satisfaction
And that failing to take them would be a terrible mistake
 
We can now see that her happiness is returning
But its completion may take a little while
The visions of joy which the future holds
Can now be seen in her winsome smile 
By Ron Martin

Pastures New

 

With tints of grey in the sky
Brave yet unsure

Of dawn and all its glory,
New dreams await with passion

The poet with a story,
So pen to pad lets once again

Greet the day anew,
Sunflowers swaying glistening
Moist from new dawns dew,
Other thoughts can wait awhile
I know he would agree,
He would want me kneeling

Tending plants and flowers smiling,
Not crying on my knees

Sandra Cameron ©2012

Under Shelley’s hat

 

Shelley wrote his famous sonnet*

In just twenty minutes flat

That’s some going, it’s impressive.

Wish I wore the Shelley hat.

I’d knock sonnets out in dozens

They’d come pouring from my pen.

Poetic industry would flourish:

Wonders, time and time again.

Ballads, odes and the odd haiku,

Watch them dancing on the page.

All my own and all the rage.

But this, alas, is a mere day dream

Imagination all askew.

Random rhyme, no similes,

No metaphors, I ask you!

Poet manqué, you’re a has-been.

Go find something else to do.* Ozymandias.

By Ron Gardner

Words Hidden – Promote Yourself

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The sky is lovely and the stars shine bright
A pen is with me – I think I should write
I sat on the grass and I tried not to think
But ideas came out in just one blink.

Oh words, why am I running out of you?
Transform my thoughts – use every hue
Come to me, for it is my heart that speaks,
Come to me, for it is my mind that seeks.

I do not have a lot; I do not have enough
Perhaps I should stop for it might be a bluff
The calm sky roared, it seemed to disagree
My mind is in pain, please set it free

I must look for the treasure that I have lost
For love is there and you don’t know its cost
Hope exists but the words remain hidden
And so do arguments that can’t be overridden.

The sun had risen and I was still wide-awake
Pain was there – I don’t know how much I can take
All I ever wanted was for my voice to be heard
But how, but how, for I am lost for words

Shevaun Lemieux

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