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Believe in me

beachxxxxxx

I’m that face you see strolling by you
In a sea of strangers every morning
I see your eyes shifting away at the right moment
Your affect sheds a little fear as we cross paths
And my eyes hit the ground again
Because you’re gone, rounded the corner
And my eyes search for the end result
While a memory moves through the space
~
I wonder again at lunch when across the room
Your friends are laughing while unnoticed
My eyes search for your connection
If only just a passing glance I am complete
Again for a couple of hours to relax and dream
That later in the day when our desks are rows apart
We can look across the room and indirectly interact
Quiet moods are real even I believe that can be true
~
Our lives exist by responding to a passing smile
An acknowledgement that feels real is the peace
That exists when from afar a person can connect
With another human being that gives them hope
Allows that instance to be enough inspiration
Intrigue, delight, fascination, to hold onto their memory
I will appear again in the morning ready for our routine
To cross paths early across the sea with an imagined wink
~
We are two souls that notice our lives are intertwined
Lacing the tangles that allow ourselves to really believe

Thom Amundsen 2013
Thinkingoutloudagain.wordpress.com

Panthalassa – Promote Yourself

oceanxxxx

They say you can drown
In just a few inches of water

Well I drowned that night

As naked as the day
That I wish I wasn’t born on
In the tepid water
Of what looked like a bathtub to you,
But was Panthalassa for me.

It was our last night together –
You said
You’d lost your warmth towards me –
You said

I sat there.
Water circling iceberg knees.
In your arms
Violently weeping for an hour and a half.
No me
No body or being
Just melancholy.

And the hope that you would lower me
Into that tepid water.

I drowned that night.

Or at least wished that I had.

 Christopher Flame
christopherflame.wordpress.com

Dance of The Winter Solstice

snowflakesxxxxx

Chilled air breaches my lungs.
The ground’s dead leaves lie under the frost.
Raindrops freeze before falling to the earth,
The frozen tears of the sky,
Each a unique and irreplaceable gem.

Strong cold winds make branches begin to shiver.
Old tattered gloves lay in the snow, discarded.
The divine moonlight reflects on each pristine snowflakes.
A Winter Solstice light show.

The cold turns my breath into frosty clouds.
My ears slip into numbness.
My lips begin to quiver.
I didn’t care,
The night was so peaceful.

Snowflakes danced down to the earth,
Twirling to show of their unique patterns.
Trying desperately to be remembered,
Before melting away.
I will remember you.
The dazzling confetti from the sky.
Frosted tears of a higher being.
Jack Frost’s own miraculous dancers.

Twirling, Falling, Gliding, Spinning.
It’s the dance of the Winter Solstice.
Your first and longest performance of the year.
And it’s your time to shine.

The winter sky will be your stage.
People, animals and trees your audience.
So, go on.
Dance.

Dyllan Brown – Bramble

 

more at: dwbb.wordpress.com

Cedars – Promote Yourself

 cedarsxxxxxxxxxx

All Images Copyright © John Bullock 2013
All Rights Reserved
 

A Park. Bathed in Sunshine,
Symphonic Sakamoto caressing my ears
To the rhythm and tempo of the SLR.

Photographs for a calendar, friends of the park.
My lens stealing the beauty only nature,
Untouched, can provide.

The Bee on thistle imprisoned in pixels.
Oak leaf will now not wither.
Eternally mounted, my frames.

Saddened. Curious looks, parents worried what I capture.
Careful not to focus on their concerned.
Press Card at hand. Disclaimer to their fears.

Sun now shrouded in cloud ends Ryuichi in crescendo.
Last chords dissipate on leaf stirring breeze.
Time to rest.

In cool shade, Fountain Pen likewise records my day
As cigarette reduces to ash.

I sit

I think

I write

Days worked as thus are contentment
An Unquiet Mind muted
Brief Respite. 

Copyright © John Bullock, 2013

All Rights Reserved

John Bullock

Journalist, Editor & Writer

john.bullock@live.co.uk

http://about.me/john_bullock17
http://johnbullock.wordpress.com
http://unquietmindpoetry.wordpress.com
https://www.facebook.com/john.bullock17
https://twitter.com/John_Bullock17

Bump – Promote Yourself

PREGNATXXXXXXXXXX

The shock when I saw two pink lines,
The tears of confusion, what to do now,
Am I happy or sad, am I ready for this?
Our lives will change, suddenly a future with kids,
There’s no choice the bond is already strong,
Now praying that nothing goes wrong,
Now it’s all exciting, is it a girl or boy?
I cannot wait to meet our little bundle of joy.

Abbe Cutforth

‘Artists Dilemma’ – Promote Yourself

Hi, I would love to promote myself on your site. My name is Clyde Aidoo, originally from Chicago, IL and now residing in Las Vegas, NV. I have three poetry books out, all under the Art of Mind series umbrella: Art of Mind I, II, and III. If you’re open to it, and I have the option, I’d love to continue to advertise poems on your page, perhaps 1-2 poems every week? Most of which from my series, but I’d also love to add never-released poems as well.

artxxxxxxx

*Artist’s Dilemma*

This “common artist” is about to ascend
Ten Stories High —

Don’t look now.

Now I’ve reached a place where I’m afraid to fall —

Don’t look down.

My art has taken control,
It uplifts me high with an exhilarating view —
But I am afraid that if I choose to let go —
That I’ll end up becoming
Just like you.

Do I continue to rise
or
Come back down to earth?

Should I remain alone with only art as my companion?
Or do I release and return to join the rest of you?
I am so high
on Fumes.
Still —
This remains a terrifying view.

Painted by Chet Davis

artxxxxxxxWordpress Website: ClydeAidoo.com

I’m Still Chasing Ghosts – Promote Yourself

ghostsforeverxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

I’m still chasing ghosts –
Perhaps in fear.
Perhaps in love.
Perhaps in loathing.
I’m still searching,
Though I don’t know what I’ve lost,
Or what I yearn to find –
Though I’ve long been petrified by the glare of phantoms.

I’d rather be guided by these demons
Than wander alone.
I’d rather be preyed upon by illusions
Than strive for the nihilism of truth.
I’d rather succumb to this affliction
Than hope for the frailty of a cure.

I’d rather burn
Than wade into these tides,
Only to be assailed
And cast back to the shore.

I am incarcerated in twilight,
And bound in flame.

Luke Dukinfield

India is her name – Promote Yourself

Hi guys.
Love the site. Not sure of protocol here, but below is a poem I have written about my love for India, recently featured on my travel blog: http://twentyfirstcenturynomad.com
I’d love to have my work featured on your cool site, with a cheeky request to link back to my blog…if that’s okay?
Thanks a lot.

Indiaxxxxxxxx

India is her name

‘Evocative, repulsive, exotic, compulsive,

such a place I’ve traveled, to return much I’d give,

measures equal, serene beauty versus arduous pain,

against odds uneven, timeless dignity remains,

 

Amidst filth and squalor, death and anguish,

lies a peace and serenity, more respect I could not wish,

amazing grace in abundance, holy rivers and manners run deep,

a people so gracious, in shame did I weep,

 

In a land of plenty, yet a billion empty hands,

my own right to entitlement, I could no longer stand,

what one wants and one needs, in a moment becomes clear,

only sustenance to live, and warm hearts to hold dear,

 

Both her mountains and people, spectacular by birth,

I wager could not be found, a more honest place on earth,

despite her palaces and paupers, sacred cows, holy in vain,

cherished memories she gave me, and India is her name.’

By Steven Moore


Twenty First Century Nomad, Novelist & Freelance Writer.
http://www.twentyfirstcenturynomad.com

The Man – Promote Yourself

I just began following you today, and I love  the idea of being included in someone else’s blog. Proves that I’m not the only one who thinks my stuff is decent. 🙂 (Okay, I admit, some times I don’t even think it’s decent.)

I’ve included a handful of poems in this email. All are written by me, Trysh L. Thompson. I live in Kentucky, USA. Nothing really exciting about my existence. Some of the poems included have been posted, or are in queue, at my blog chromeprincess.wordpress.com.

Most of my poems deal with death, and it’s because of the slap in the face I had with it when I was 26. It’s changed my life forever

homeless-veteran

“Have you nothing to spare
To show this shriveled, homeless vet you care?
Twice-over I risked my life for you,
A complete stranger, but that’s just what soldiers do.
I watched my friends suffer and die,
As I continued to battle for you and I.
My friends’ lives were not in vain,
Think of that when you vote again.
Don’t you think I’ve tried everything before resorting to this –
Cold, alone, hungry, and homeless?
You would think there would be more out there for me
But they tell me I’m just a washed up soldier with PTSD.
So I’m reduced to begging on the streets,
Relying on the kindness of strangers for the smallest morsel to eat.”

I emptied my wallet, giving it all to the man,
As he took it, his touch lingered on my hand.
“Thank you, from the bottom of my heart,” said he,
“May God bless you as much as he’s blessed me.”

I never saw the old man asking for money again,
He died the next day, a drunken driver ran over him.
I still pass by that corner and smile,
That man taught me the most important lesson I’d learned in a while.

Trysh  L Thompson

Runs

runningxxxxxxxxxxxxx
Never seen anything quite so free
Runs for fun
Runs because she can
Hair flowing
Legs going in every direction
My breath catches with every step
In case she falls
Nothing I can do though
I have to let her run
And for her to know
I’ll be there
To pick her up.

Gabriel Denver

On Race’s Ism

Malcolm_X
~

In Childhood
Stuck trying to find the right words
If something is wrong
Then an offense has occurred
And we each know the name of that song
~
We may not try
However simple the notion that crossed our mind
Whatever may have caused her to cry
Gives credence to this present bind
~
Look into the mirror each morning
And see a face that is ready to play
Calling all friends of all worlds abiding
Each other’s desires; each one’s way
~
We are a simple dream of childhood
Recognizing every person that crosses our path
Knowing our little neighbor, hood
Is really filled with love and knows no wrath
~
Child’s eyes watch the television
When a man named Malcolm X lost his life
He didn’t really understand that vision
Yet now innocence knew certain strife
~
His quiet world of matchbox cars
And riding a bicycle down rural roads
There were no Emmett Till moments; no steel bars
That suggested how a quiet world soon explodes
~
Coming of Age
~
Grandfather’s sun-porch on a late afternoon
It is April 4th and by evening
A world we knew that lived under the same moon
Now in a child’s eyes witnessed a blood-letting
~
Look into the mirror each morning
Recognize the horror that stands silent
Wash away the culling
Nature of this daily lament
~
Outside a world quietly anticipates
A brush of the shoulder
A passing glance that irritates
An individual mind’s moment of order
~
And in a flash the future is different
We look at each other with a certain fear
A society that seems no more reverent
Than a glance in the headlights by a passing deer
~
We are now afraid
Civil rights has become a long awaited
Long suggested sacrificial trade …
Years of intolerance; human tragedy abated
~
As decades pass we begin to recognize voices
Speaking of equality; shouting MLK Jr’s dream
A certain fog seems to embrace our choices
Is it a dream, or a fear now to actually scream
~
Present hypocrisy
~
A newscaster recently applauded
A verdict with biting analysis
A jury of peers apparently spoke and quietly lauded
A system of unequivocal legalese justice
~
In a classroom the teacher taught Langston Hughes
A poem about finding your heart
See there are many different, contrasting views
We just need sometimes a place to start
~
Hypocrisy exists if we design by our own will
Is it wrong to fight against the man?
When really it is the Man that speaks to fulfill
A spiritual reckoning; a delightful sermon
~
Might inspire our hearts to seek the soul
Of our existence; that human purposed
Together today teaching whole
Worlds might recognize each other as He proposed
~
Fight with a certain wrath the accusations
Plead for generalities to be ignored
And stand firm to agree with each other’s visions
To be explored, believe, lived, and favored
~
Common ground exists within our lives
To recognize each other’s eyes that shine above
The judgment and fury of angst, that deprives
Our elegant human hearts to share what is their love

                                                                 Thom Amundsen 2013

Please visit:
thinkingoutloudagain.wordpress.com

Bully

bullyxxxxxxxx

Bully

I don’t like you

You scare me

When you look happy

I feel threatened

I don’t care about you

Just give me attention

When I hate you

People think I am happy

You understand right?

When I slap you it matters

You’re my investment

I have to hurt you …

So I, uh, well I’m not ready

I won’t apologize

For living this way

Not caring about you

I mean

I don’t know how to

Any more

Than you know how to

Prevent me from

Treating you like a

Discard

Discord

Distance

Dis me

And I will slap you …

People watching

Need to know

I won’t back down

Until you are crying

Until you recognize

The lies that you believe

Are simply the

Why

The why

The lie is why

I want to feel strong

People like me

People choose me

I’m a safe bet

I’m an American boy

Thom Amundsen 2013

thinkingoutloudagain.wordpress.com

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