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Sweet Smiles

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Sweet smiles

Of a child

Sweet innocence

Radiant skin

Beautiful within

Hours spent

Playing, laughing

Loving life

Sweet smiles

Of a child

Turning to giggles

Radiant skin

Beautiful within

Laughter contagious

Demanding love

Embracing the moment

Just the two of us

Gillian Sims

Photograph copyright Poetree Creations 2013

THE LITTLE THINGS

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It is the little things in life which make the difference
When we are greeted by someone with a friendly smile
Who genuinely enquires about our well being
Or offers help in climbing over a stile

A stile is not just something we see in the country
It is any of the problems we meet on life’s way
To know that we have friends who will help us
Is something that brings happiness every day

For there is a lot of truth in the old saying
That a friend in need is a friend indeed
Someone who is willing to help us
And who is not afraid to intercede

Not one who always wants to interfere
Or to tell us things that we already know
Who can recognise the help that we are needing
And who will stay when all the others go

Who will do or say something that is helpful
It might only be a gesture or a friendly smile
But it can soothe or strengthen us for life’s battle
And make everything we do worthwhile

Ron Martin

Fun at Nine Months Old – Prommote Yourself

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Already you are 9 months old
I didn’t believe it when I was told,
“He’ll grow so quick, time will fly”
But the time really does fly by,
You’ve had your first visit to the park
We stayed and played until it got dark,
You sat on my knee as we slid down the slide,
I held you tight on the horsey ride
We’ve had our first trip to the beach,
Watching the donkeys that were out of reach
The weather wasn’t great but the wind made you smile,
Laughing and giggling all the while
We stood on the pier and looked out to sea,
Wait until you’re bigger and can paddle with glee
You will soon be crawling then walking away,
I’ll be chasing you every minute of every day
So until then I cuddle you close to my heart,
Then the invisible string will ensure we won’t be apart.

Abbe Cutforth

DARK WATER – Promote Yourself

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(In reference to my book, SHADOWWATER)
From a little girl fighting a raging undertow,
To a tween by a shaded stream where she’d “go with the flow,”
Or as she looked for tadpoles; Back Swimmers in the fens,
Water was not her enemy, but a wondrous friend.

~
Skating on forbidden ponds,
As a teenager who felt all sounds
She swam away from angry frowns,
And sought adventure in shadowy places,
Careless minds and unlit spaces.

~
Dimmed lights that spread across a city’s black sky;
Cavernous sewers; wet concrete walls.
Still no fear, no reason to ask why,
Until shadow figures’ final cries; towering falls.

~
Refuge found on sands of magic,
But never forgotten: victims, pasts tragic;
Nor all those who lost their lives,
Under an island’s blue and sunny skies.

~
Years along she swims in capricious seas,
Though dusted with strands of gray,
Saddled with weakened knees;
A lonely girl has found a lost friend,
The older woman can begin again.
And the poet who sees surface plums atop crystal alters,
Can now embrace the depths of shadow waters.

Wendy Shreve

THE LIGHT – Promote Yourself

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My darling
My beautiful one
Why did you leave
I was gone only in the physical sense
I’d never leave you
I told you that in those,
my
final hours.
All you had to do was listen to the beat of your heart
and you’d know
I was with you.
I’m always with you.
Why have you travelled to this place
You knew what you were doing
what you were giving up
when you signed that….
register.
Travelled far
Used the last of our bond
to be able to breath into you
once more.
I have nothing left now
the last between us
is dying.
My darling
I felt your pain
I battled as hard as I could to stay
In the end the body gave in
You knew we would be together….
One day,
In a place where time
does not exist
You had to wait though
Now look what you have done
what you have given
to them
In order to try and somehow
ease my pain,
You cannot cross from there.
whatever they promised
It cannot be given
My darling
if there is any chance
of you finding your way back
I breath it to you
in the darkness of
your solitude
I give you
the last few colours
of
my final light……..

Gabriel Denver

THERE IS A LIGHT AT THE END OF THE TUNNEL

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As I looked into the sky,
I saw a beam of light,
It shone directly over me,
So beautiful and bright,
I looked in amazement,
As the light surveyed the ground,
Sweeping back and forth,
Searching all around.

The light had many colours,
Of reds, blues, and green,
A spectacle of brilliance,
The most beautiful ever seen.
Then from within its beauty,
A symphony of sound was heard,
Filling the air with music,
My very spirit stirred.

A haunting sound of peace,
Filled my heart with love,
Creating an hypnotic trance,
As the light shone from above.
I felt so warm and comfortable,
Bathed in that beautiful light,
Drawn to the end of the tunnel,
To a light that burnt so bright.

At the end of the tunnel,
Was a soul so gentle and meek?
Welcoming a lonely traveller,
Bemused I could not speak.
Welcome to the world of spirit,
This gentle soul he said,
For you have left the material,
Your body on earth is dead.

Now your spirit life is eternal,
And in time will expand and grow,
But now is the time to rest,
To be surrounded by all you know.
Enjoy your life on the material,
Put thoughts of death behind,
Be tolerant with one another,
So all will have peace of mind.

For me my earthly life has ended,
But my loved ones I will be near,
To help in times of torment,
To elevate all fear.
Rest assured my spirits free,
Free from all earthly pain,
So be strengthened in that knowledge
For we all shall meet again.

Malcolm G Bradshaw

Baby Steps – Promote Yourself

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Holding my breath I watch from close by
I know this is the moment my heart will fill with pride,
You pull yourself up like a million times before
But this time you’re unsteady, you look unsure,
Then it happens you take a step so small
My heart in my mouth hoping you don’t fall,
Another step then you fall on your bum
With a smile that says “look I did it mum”,
Just a few weeks later your confidence has grown
Everyone in the family you have shown,
By 13 months you’re walking all the time
Such a clever little boy, so proud you are mine.

Abbe Cutforth

A Dedicated Bench

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On this a blue skied day
I wonder around this quiet village
Where unknown families
Inherit
Eternity together.
Lying side by side.
No longer burdened by hopes,
Dreams
Dramas or petty woes.
Here
You can come and sit
At a strangers feet
On a dedicated bench
That takes the weight of time
Off your shoulders.
I wonder about the life
They lived
In-between those numbers.

Gabriel Denver

The Christmas Box – Promote Yourself

My name’s Christopher Flame I’m 22. I’ve been writing for a number of years.
I come from east London – UK.
I’m currently in Swindon waiting to start a course to go onto study English literature at university.
I love to write about a variety of things really. the one below is quite a personal one of mine, its also featured on my blog. (I believe you gave it a like)
christopherflame.wordpress.com

but I love to observe, people watch, as do a lot of writers and artists. sometimes to the point you forget your own life and existence a little bit.
but anyway, I hope you like it.

 

christmas treexxxxxx

We are not a family.
But the question intrudes
On a year of apathy.
“When is the tree going up?”
“Soon.” She would say.

We left it as long as possible.

Then my dad would enter the loft.
And reveal the Christmas box
Harboring the nostalgia,
The smell of old tinsel,
And last years dusty smiles

Christmas inside of a cracker,
Joined by it for a brief second,
A pull,
A snap,
and it’s gone.

We are not a family.

But hell,
I can be drawn in.
By the hypnosis of the fibre optic tree
Or the coke advert on t.v.
And believe its real for a moment.
As if we are held together by tired pieces of sticky tape,
Straight from last years multipack.

Then, at the end.
We make a relic of it all,
And pack the love and laughter
Back into the box.
Back into the loft.
For another year.
Share this:

Found – Promote Yourself

leaves

The emptiness is all gone,
taking a French leave like Darkness at the scent of Light
which shone so brightly, such that
Purpose could not cover her nakedness anymore.

Let Nothing weigh me down, ’cause I’m buoyant now.
Upwards in the sky, I float, my head above the waters,
gloating over all my fears that are no more, flushed
away in the Sewer of Nought.
I can touch the skies, I can touch the earth
like the hands of the clock when it is on the hour of six.

Moving hills, moving mountains;
Moving stars, moving galaxies.
It was in me this whole time, I’m just waiting,
waiting to bring it all out.

Promise Tewogbola

Constant Pain – Promote Yourself

 

pian life

 

 

 

 

 

which is always there with me

There is absolutely no gain

In pretending what others want you to be

May be the pain will fizzle out

but I will miss its presence

Among all these self doubts

Constant pain is my life’s essence

Gaurab   Country : India

Blog : http://processingthelife.com/about/

About : I like travelling and photography. I’m an avid reader, I also write,mostly about my experiences and journeys. 🙂

Walking by Landmarks

 

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~
I took a walk outside the other day
And realized the world has remained the same
The fields are changing as the
Clouds build their quiet momentum
But the stroll is a similar cadence
One can never be moving too soon
While in life missing steps
Would be
A bit nerve wracking
~
I took a walk outside the other day
Skies with their hue of golden blues
Will always brighten my day
Even as the wind’s ice take form
I seek a quiet comfort internally
Only to recognize again
The sudden calm’s change
Might be
A tad unrelenting
~
I took a walk outside the other day
And questioned what occurs
When my mind begins to sway
Off course into a never-land
Of energy no less endearing
Yet driven by our world’s demands.
Could be
A new awakening
~
I took a walk outside the other day
And when I listened to the sweet melody
Of simple pleasure in nature’s Grace
I could imagine a peace
A love of beauty and delight
Shed all aspects of the past
Only to relish a newer day again
Will we
Ever make allowances
~
I took a stroll while on a new avenue today
Noted the people’s intent to thrive in the gray
~
Thom Amundsen
http://thinkingoutloudagain.wordpress.com

LISTEN TO THE RAINBOW – Promote Yourself

 

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    Red         

Hear the blood shed,

(Orange) Clementine

Unspoken words, blurred lines,

 

Yellow

Refusal to shout, to bellow,

Green

No words shared; between,

 

Blue

Inaction, injustice we rue,

Indigo

From despair, rises a human archipelago;

Violet

We must no longer be quiet.

Wendy Shreve

A Western Australian Piano Graveyard

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The famer’s pressing oil, olives spread
on mashing mats. We talk of chooks
and foxes, irrigation and bush fires.

I’m here to see ruins in meadows,
on outcrops, brought from sheds
and yards, lashed to utes and trucks.

“All good things return to earth.”
She tells how a choral hum is raised
by strong wind, how possums nest in felt

and termites engineer collapse; how once
after rain, a derelict played like a pianola
as green tree frogs leapt in its heart.

I take her hand-drawn map, find
a Gold Rush era upright, laminate
blistered, keys jammed and gapped.

Despite its barroom look
a brass plaque by the keyboard
names an outback orphanage.

A Foley artist’s dream, felt-less hammers
conjure horror from bass notes, or tap
a level crossing where the hero speeds

to make the gate. Each instrument
decays uniquely; a baby grand is legless,
veneer turned peeled like cherry bark.

Under cracked coffin-gloss
a clutch of white eggs.

by Roy Marshall

Sea Fever – Your Favourite Poem

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I must go down to the seas again, to the lonely sea and the sky,
And all I ask is a tall ship and a star to steer her by;
And the wheel’s kick and the wind’s song and the white sail’s shaking,
And a grey mist on the sea’s face, and a grey dawn breaking,

I must go down to the seas again, for the call of the running tide
Is a wild call and a clear call that may not be denied;
And all I ask is a windy day with the white clouds flying,
And the flung spray and the blown spume, and the sea-gulls crying.

I must go down to the seas again, to the vagrant gypsy life,
To the gull’s way and the whale’s way where the wind’s like a whetted knife;
And all I ask is a merry yarn from a laughing fellow-rover,
And quiet sleep and a sweet dream when the long trick’s over.

BY JOHN MASEFIELD

A PLACE WHERE LOVE BEGINS – Promote Yourself

reachingxxxxxx

Not in the past where your tempests raged;
Or in the future, when unknown forces could shatter dreams;
Not in your soul, skewered by hatred and resentment;
Only in the present, as an open heart awaits.

Not by running from what is given;
Or hiding in bitterness and acrid thoughts;
Not in your head, where too many goals are left unfulfilled;
Only in hope, not beyond your reach.

Not in innocence lost or violence found;
Or misguided battles, conflicts unresolved;
Not in your body, ravaged with time and pain;
Only in forgiveness of yourself.

Not in others’ perceptions of who you are;
Or finding reasons to run from promise;
Not in your losses, though hard to bear;
Only in taking her hand; reaching for the sun.

Wendy Shreve

Marry me that way – Promote Yourself

recognition

Come with me to my parents
Sit on an African stool
And stretch out your legs
Drink from a calabash
And refresh your soul
Marry me that way

Let the whole family see you
Let them ask you who you are
Tell them your intentions for me
Marry me that way

Set the drinks before my parents
Let them ask you why you are here
Let me watch your heart beat fast
Because you want to impress
Marry me that way

Watch as my family accepts your drinks
And welcome you to the family
Watch as they start calling you;
In-law, Son, uncle, brother and friend
Marry me that way

 By Sheila Chanase

I still miss you – promote Yourself

 

trexxx

 

 

 

 

 

 

There are days,
When I miss you
With a sudden intensity
Which surprises me.

It aches, in a way I didn’t deem possible,
In a heart, I didn’t know I possessed.
And I lie in this room feigning sleep.
Pining away, struggling with my existence.
While I choke from these strange arms enveloping me.

Should I strive, in vain, for you, most divine?
Or should I instead, be miserably content with what’s mine?

– Sreshtha Sen
sreshthasen.wordpress.com

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