REMEMBRANCE DAY TO DAY COME AND JOIN US AND SHOW THAT YOU STILL CARE!

Remembrance Sunday is held “to commemorate the contribution of British and Commonwealth military and civilian servicemen and women in the two World Wars and later conflicts

Forbidden Love

Hidden secrets
Secret smiles
Smiles hidden
Truth forbidden
Forbidden love
Love secrets
Secret smiles
Smiles hidden
Hidden secrets
Locked tight
Strongest tension
Strangling tight
Tight emotion
Emotion hidden
Secret smiles
Smiles forbidden
No compromise
Given

Gillian Sims

This poem was recently published in the book THE GREAT BRITISH WRITE OFF

Bonfire Night

As we celebrate bonfire night
Let us remember when it all began
Guy Fawkes tried to blow up Parliament
The government of the day was not a fan

His attempt to destroy failed
For his treachery he was hung
Today we all celebrate bonfire night
With everyone having lots of fun

With fireworks and sparklers
Jumping jacks, bangers and mushy peas
The fire burning lightening up the sky
See the rockets flying over the trees

The smell of bonfire toffee
Fireworks displaying so bright
The fire well alight now
Lightning up the darkest night

Remember to be careful
For fireworks can burn and maim
Let your parents light them all
Keeping all away from hurt and pain

Malcolm G Bradshaw

Scary Mary’s Back

Gathering around the witches cauldron
The ugliest group ever seen
Mary uttering nasty vile spells
Then she let out a blood-curdling scream

The leader of the nasty coven
Was the witch named Scary Mary?
Her face was full of warts
With a moustache and beard all hairy

They danced around the cauldron
Throwing toads and spiders into the brew
Mary was supposed to be experienced
But alas she had not a clue

Her cat Boris was watching
With a smile across his face
To see the witches leaving
At a fast and furious pace

One thing they had forgotten
As they were flying around the floor
They were so high on the brew
They forgot to open the door

Boris by now was in pieces
As they all crashed together in a heap
He was rolling around laughing
As the witches struggled to their feet

Scary Mary was now quite vexed
As she tried to kick start her broom
Boris now was crossing his legs
And was quickly leaving the room

Scary Mary by now was quite dizzy
As she staggered she bumped her head
The last time Boris saw her
She was casting spells in her bed

Malcolm Bradshaw

The Visitor

A pumpkin knocked at my door
I was shocked, I fell to the floor
The pumpkin had a toothless grin
In the end I asked him to come in
The pumpkin shook my hand
And said I knew you’d understand
I wanted to come to your party
I was all alone
With witches and ghosts
They frightened me
It’s you I’d rather see
Someone warm and bright
On this Halloween night
So what have we got for tea
Trick or treat
It will be a whisky for me
Gillian and Thomas Sims

The world is our oyster – Take a look at this comment!!! – Follow us!!!

Friday Highlights 54 | … 4m
[…] Gillian & Thomas Sims have created a community that is alive with amazing creative energy, as poets from all around the world showcase their work on their blog Poetreecreations. The first thing that caught me was the name of the blog, as I’m a sucker for interesting business/site/etc names. The more I perused it, the more interested I became and just knew that it would be a great one to share with all of you. Not only will you be able to read great poems, but there is lots of information for those interested in the craft, various projects, videos, ways to promote your own poetry and so much more for visitors and members alike. Make your weekend just a little more exciting with Poetreecreations found ‘here.’ […]

CALLING ALL POETS – PROMOTE YOURSELF AND DANCE ON OUR STAGE

 

 

LET YOUR POEM MINGLE WITH OTHERS

LET YOUR POEM:

DANCE ON OUR STAGE

ANY LENGTH, ANY SUBJECT, ANY TIME

SEND YOUR WRITTEN WORK TO:gillianandthomas@yahoo.com

WE WILL GLADLY POST IT HERE FOR ALL TO SEE ON OUR POETRY PLATFORM!

Poems you sent to us about this picture, taken in our garden

Here is my submission for the current picture of the Bird and the Snow

Copyright image taken by  Poetree Creations

All for Her

“It was all for her” the swallow said
As it swelled its breast with pride
Watching the man with black umbrella
Walk from side to side

“It was all for her” The man softly spoke
As he considered all he had
And kept his feet to shuffle between
The snows pile up ahead.

“It was all for her” The snow declared
As it whittled down its stock
Becoming just another pile
Of water among the rocks
 
“It was all for her” the rocks declared
As they mark the borders by
And so the sun may glisten upon
Their bumped backs, soft and dry

“It was all for me” the sun affirmed
As she raised her gentle head
And watched the people praise her warmth
Wishing for Summers heat  instead.

 

I am Philisapherhttp://lisainger.com/

Here is my submission for the current picture of the Bird and the Snow

robin

…and if this

       little bird

                               could share of what it’s

                                               mind conceives, would I even

                                               understand how simple life

                                                can be …

 

 

thanks for the opportunity.   Lita

 

 

   EstreLita Pondoc

How people treat you is their karma; how you react is yours.

~ Wayne Dyer

I’ve composed a poem for your contest with the chickadee in the snow picture.  

And then there was one…And so, here I am, upon the winter of my joie de vivre,

where once were perched two friendly birds; now rests thus only one.

A wooden cage erected hence, that I can never leave,

the snow the only thing that will remember when I’m done.

 

I cannot see the outside world as I once knew I could —

I gaze through disconnected visage, staring at the cold.

The bitter chill assaults me, and I’m left from what is good;

My breath hangs in the air, and with each second, I grow old.

 

The greens are grey around me; all the flowers?  Gone to sleep.

A broken tree breaks through the white of everpresent ice;

all around the wooden husk, the ivy starts to creep

and strangle out its life and each last wisely sage advice.

 

The earth’s adorned in frosted dew just as a christening gown.

There’s empty footprints in the snow aside my freezing feet,

At last I feel the slumber, and I lay my body down,

at the winter of my life, so maybe now, I’ll feel complete.—

Brad Bricktower

four Limericks by Mark Sherriff – Promote Yourself

WORDS

I think I will write up some words,
I’m scared that you’ll find them absurd,
I’ll give it a go,
‘Cause you never know,
Ideas take flight just like birds.

MANNERS

My parents taught me right from wrong,
I’m glad that it did not take long,
If they hadn’t done that,
Then I’d be a spoilt brat,
Though I think I’ve been one all along.

FRIENDS

It’s time for us friends to part ways,
We’ve come to the end of our days,
But let’s not say goodbye,
‘Cause that will make me cry,
We’ll go and leave nothing to say.

START ANEW

Look now into fire’s amber hue,
Let your eyes be stuck as by glue,
Remember the past times,
Absolved now of your crimes,
A man who can now start anew.
Mark Sherriff

Might Listen

 

 

I go to your school

Yea, I’m that guy

The one you know

But choose to

Ignore

I mean,

Granted you’re busy

Too ah, caught up

In trying to get along

To achieve

To feel that sense

Of what is the word-

Entitlement …

No, I’m sorry

I didn’t mean that

–

Well, yes I did

You see

I see you everyday

But well,

And

I know

You see me

–

Paths cross

Moments define

The brush of a shoulder

Heading to class

And just that brief encounter

Thus far defines who you are to me

Who I am to you

Who might sea …

I walk past you

How our lives interact

In the eyes of our community

See?

–

Our worlds are labeled as different

Suggested the ‘Man’ to everyone

Thom Amundsen 2013

STOLEN HANDS – Promote Yourself

Sunday Evening…
All ready I’ve
Suffered enough
Of this
Incurable
Hopeless rage.
I sit
To try and write it out
My feelings flowing
From blood
To words
On this unforgiving page.

See I once
Held hands
That i
Stole
While i plotted lives
With a cold hearted
Grace.
Now my hands
Lie
Only to my
Own skin
The punishment
I deserve
There is no longer
Solace in a
Beautiful face.

I betrayed
My own
Beating innocence
It is now
A cold dead tomb
In which i am burdened
By its weight
With dark skies
And overdue consequences
Time has finally caught on
The price of lies
I’ve discovered
Is beauty
Returning
As hate.

Gabriel Denver

Regrets

A life is filled with things we might have done
Choices not taken that we later wish we’d picked
Other times there were things said or actions
In retrospect, our own behind we should have kicked.

Yet none of us are perfect so we do make mistakes
Too many times we overreact and have our minds set
Whether just a wrong course or feelings gets hurt
We can’t dwell, spending our days living with regret.

We must learn from the past and look to the future
Not everyone will accept that we can change course
Those are the ones that will never let go of doubt
All you can do is move on, not making things worse.

We look to ones that will accept us as we truly are
Realizing the person we are inside, offering a hand
Look through the windshield, not the rearview mirror
Find those that will, by your side, always stand.

 Charles Townsend

Don’t Worry, Kid – Promote Yourself

I shed my skin many years ago.

At the back of those high trees in junior school.
That never ever seemed to grow gold in autumn.

It’s still there I bet – petrified. Old. stone skin.
Knees supporting a chin somehow still held high.
With a muddy arse on blooded school trousers.

Just still lacking whatever that place kept
Telling me I lacked.

We are different people him and I
He is my Bukowski’s bluebird
The boy I nurture and protect. As me and my own.

No one sees him – no one hurts him.

Only problem is –
He tells me what he used to tell everybody
“I’m fine, nothing to worry about, I just fell over”

I wish I didn’t know any different.

-Christopher Flame

christopherflame.wordpress.com

The Colours of Summer – Promote Yourself

My name is Denny B. Reese. I am a poet of Canada who graduated from Nipissing University with a Bachelor of English degree and am now working to be a self published author. Here is the poem “The Colours of Summer” that I would like to showcase on your site. I am thankful for the wonderful opportunity you offer.

The colours of summer
Come walk beside me on a summer day
See the children tossing sand
As they run across the beach with red pails in hand
Flashing smiles like the sun
And laughing with the gulls
See the white sails on the blue tinted horizon
Bobbing in the water like toy boats
In an overflowing bathtub
As the rush of water fills your ears
See the ball go up
Spinning away into the blue skies
Into the eye of the sun
Over the heads of children
Into the shining blue

By a tree, one summer morning – Promote Yourself

One summer morning, you sat by the willow.

A book, lazily draped over bare knees.

The meaning of time lost among branches.

Closed, your eyes were.

I watched you, intently from afar.

The dry summer breeze filtered by blonde strands.

One summer morning, you did not see me there.

Maybe you felt my presence.

I felt a flutter of the heart.

Time meant nothing to me.

Seconds, then minutes, passed by.

One summer morning, I sat by the willow.

Hoping, in futile earnest, for you to arrive.

You never came.

It was one morning.

Only one.

Name. V. Vicari

Country: US

About me: an aspiring poet inspired by pretty much everything. 

What if I said no? A husbands rant -Promote Yourself

What if I said no,

What if I didn’t go?

Why won’t you leave me,

Go by yourself to see.

I haven’t lost one thing,

Nothing needed I can bring.

I know I’ll be annoyed,

Not once have I enjoyed.

Cart always pulls to right,

Never another one in sight.

Change carts and yet still,

Always get the bad wheel.

Items needed not in stock,

Empty shelves me they’ll mock.

Most list items once found,

Then the registers go down.

Didn’t want to be here,

After this I’ll need beer.

Hope you know I’m irritated,

By now you probably anticipated.

Shopping is such a chore,

Hate it more and more.

Worst part of my day,

Please, why can’t I stay?

By iamfunny2 and posted on okaywhatif.com. I’m from the U.S. and I hadn’t written any poetry since I was in school over 20 years ago until I started my blog in July of this year.

Marital Bliss is on Equal Ground

Tonight our world will ring a new bell
A notion we have intimately embraced
Tonight is the wealth of our predecessors
Everlasting faith and will to believe; to live
~
We are human
We are real
We stand tonight
We are surreal
~
In the lovely arms of equality
Life has been patiently moving forward
Suggesting who we are may be acknowledged
We are progressive in the eyes of the law
~
And you are my partner
And I am your lover
And now ours is forever
And we are together
~
The world will hold court today
We watch hands held together
At the strike of a twilight hour
In that first minute change is real
~
For even in our childhood when love
Seemed only generated by family
As we grew old and shed innocence
There arose a new confidence in love
~
Tested in our every walk of life
Tested by our friends and family
Tested by our will to understand
Tested and passed when love …
~
Watch close, we reference the human condition
Society has challenged itself to be the agent
Creates a new path that everyone in His eyes
Evolve with deeper, heartfelt, delicious love

Thom Amundsen
August 1st, 2013

 

Escape – Promote Yourself

She watched her oppressor
Every move he made was important to her
As she planned her escape, his demise
Freedom, finally, from the emptiness in her eyes.
Drunk on lust and whiskey, he attacked
She bore the pain and performed the unthinkable acts.
No longer afraid,
She attacked him as he stumbled away.
His anger erupted, the vicious swings came
Without fear, she picks up his gun – takes aim
Bullets pierced the night and his blood rained.
He was dead in an instant,
But she paused only to wipe off her fingerprints.
She walked away from that place
Renewed hope, and for the first time in years, a smile on her face.

Thank you for this opportunity. For the last few years, all of my poems have been written, and put on my hard-drive, never to be seen by anyone but me. I realize now, that although protecting myself from critique, I was also violating the basics of being a writer – we write for ourselves, but we also write for others.

Sincerely,
Trysh L Thompson