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xiv lines - Volume 1, 2017

Copyright Notice

 

xiv lines

Volume 1

 

Copyright © 2017 by 1824 Publishers

 

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or by any means, without the prior permission in writing from 1824 Publishers, or as expressly permitted by law, by license or under terms agreed with the appropriate reprographics rights organization. Enquiries concerning reproduction outside the scope of the above should be sent to [email protected]. You must not circulate this work in any other form and you must impose the same condition on any acquirer.

 

Cover Art: “xiv lines” – © 2017 1824 Publishers

 

Series: xiv lines Anthologies

xiv lines – Volume 1

ISBN 9781370812042 (ebook)

1. Gray, Ferrick Maclyne (Editor)

2. Various

 

 

xiv lines

 

Volume 1

2017

 

poetry … in just fourteen lines

 

Contents

poetry … in just fourteen lines

 

Foreword

 

A L Schers

Everything is Tickled Pink

Horizon Smile; a Purple Blush

Kindle that Smouldering Look

Light Transcends even the Darkest Age

Love Those Little Things

Only We Can Make that Choice

Reflect on Those Horizons

Warm Away that Earthly Pain

 

Alima J

From Oxford and Cambridge

Calling Angel

Colours of My Sky

Dreamland

I Am the Smoke

I’ll Take You to a Place

If You are a Poet

That’s Where I’ll Be

The Kiss

You Took Home a Beauty

 

Aphorim

Mutantkind

Taste Testing

 

Archie Papa

Along the Path

In this Place

Inside Out

Piece by Piece

The View

 

Carolan Nathan

The Bard

Abandoned

Heat of Summer

Headless

It Seemed I Could Know Everything

Nothingness

Remember

The Comings and Goings of Civilizations

Trailing Through the Midnight Sky

 

Clytemnestra Aa

Unleash your Demons

She Ploughed

 

Elusive Me

Beyond You

Blurred Stars

Fading Dreams

Healed Love

I Make this Wish

Let Love Find a Way

Love So Rare

Poetic Knight

Sweet Ariel

Sweet Whispers in Dreams

 

EqCi

Vampire’s Love

 

Garry Spooner

Venison Trophy

Dandelion Wishes

Early Days of Fall

For John Doe

Men of God and God of Men

Mother Nature

Replenished Heart

The Inevitable Sonnet

Tides of Time

When Willows Wept

 

Greg Holmes

It All Didn’t Seem Right

Time is Patiently Measured in a Garden

 

John Griffin

For Want of Love

 

Kanta Roy

I Bend on Thee

 

Kelly Rose

A Cruel Dance

Mistress of Spring

 

Kyle Vine

Lost at Sea

 

Laughing Waters

Cherry Blossoms

Harvest Moon

Morning Ray

Raindrops

Unspoken Words

 

Lauren Hicks

Shut It

 

Lion Love

Fourteen Minutes of Fame

 

Mark A Bryan

The Law

Calling Home

Camelia

Fairies and Angels

Fighting the Cold

Finishing Touch

Mind Work

My Mansion

Our Treat

Stand by Her Promise

 

Mark Flood

The Bridge

Water Falls

 

Matt Aguilar

A Meaning, of Love

Falling through the Clouds

Her Beautiful Darkness

In Streams

Orchids in Winter

Rivers of Melancholy

Softly You

To the Heartbeats of the Moon

Whispered Meadows

Will My Love Touch Her

 

Michael Montoya

Distant Waters

Fading Sunset Reflections

Let Me Write You The Words

Love

What You Left Behind

While You Dream

 

Niamh Serendipity

A new Canvas, Sized and Primed

Deep … is their Love

Demoted by Men; Goddess to Saint

Éire; So Steeped in Celtic Magick

Enchantment from a Wingèd Archer’s Bow

Hope is the Brightest Star

Spring Walks; A Carpet of Her Own Making

Those Colours Ride; Within the Light

To … He Who Waits

True Beauty Blooms in Silence

 

Paul Murphy

Flood of Storms

 

Portia Burton

A Familiar Tale

Chorus

Envy

Four-leafed Clover

Giggling with Glee

How I Long to Wander

My Poems

Prayer for the Mothering Sunday

Resigned

The Aftermath

 

S L Jennings

Divine

The Fisherman

 

Saskia Jonker

A Deeper Shade of Red

Behold

Stellar Love

 

Sumyanna

Awaiting Spring Rain

Counting Moments Till Sunrise

Exiled from Our Vocabulary

Faceless Voices

Fourteen Words

My Heart is Ready

Nature vs. Nurture and the Ignorance of Looking Away

The Dance of Silence

The Earth is Starved of Peace

Twist

 

Victor Garcia

Indescretion

 

Zoha Umar

As They Joined

Closer To You

 

Foreword

It is an honor and my privilege to present to you, the reader, the first anthology from xiv lines. This small group of poets resides in the realm of [+ Google Plus+] where work is posted and shared through the xiv lines website.

 

Out of all poetry, some of the most beautiful work has been written in just fourteen lines. Many of us will immediately call to mind the sonnet form with the very mention of fourteen lines, but there is a special appeal attached to a poem of fourteen lines. It seems that it is just the right length to express one’s self in so many ways. Some find this task easy and some find it more difficult; reasons vary from poet to poet.

 

Members of this group write in various styles ranging from free verse through syllabic verse to the structured and traditional sonnet forms. The poems are presented here for your reading pleasure and each poet’s work is together in the form of chapter. Poets are listed in alphabetical order as well as their work unless a specific poem was requested to be listed first.

 

I know you will enjoy the work of all the poets in this volume, and I hope that you will continue to enjoy the successive anthologies when they are published.

 

 

Ferrick Maclyne Gray

June 11, 2017

 

from the villa 1824

 

When fourteen lines are used to write a verse,

These fourteen lines, fond memories recall.

Just fourteen lines? You ask. Well what is worse,

To use these fourteen lines or none at all?

In fourteen lines, I pause to gaze a while,

In fourteen lines, I touch your tender cheek,

In fourteen lines, I see your loving smile,

In fourteen lines, I drown in your mystique.

But you may wonder, if I really mean

The things I say and are they meant to be,

And is it truly beauty that I’ve seen;

Well yes, and you mean everything to me.

A verse so simple, with a love so true:

In fourteen lines, I write my love for you.

 

 

Note:

All these poems are fourteen lines in length but may appear differently when viewed on smaller devices.

A L Schers

 

I’ve come to writing late in life, or maybe it came to me. The more I write, the more I grow to love writing. For most of my life, I’ve been an anonymous tower crane driver, largely plying my skills in London, though sometimes my skills are required elsewhere in the UK. It’s so nice to finally have a voice.

 

When I look out from my crane, I view the world from the ‘The Tower of Farsightedness’ though in fairness, I do most of my writing while commuting, from within the vessel of accelerated thought.

 

 

The work presented in this chapter are all original pieces by A L Schers.

Copyright is retained by the Author.

Everything is Tickled Pink

 

Nature turns out; so many shades of green,

At the same time; blossom colours trees,

Such beautiful spreads; like you’ve never seen,

Buds feed the wood pigeons; scent draws the bees.

 

Spring gathers pace; all is blooming anew,

Pale pinks and white; with dark pink or yellow

Grass rises quickly; lawns watered by dew,

Everything’s budding; in Sol’s golden glow.

 

Graphite grey shade, shorter in the morning,

Lush trees, make charcoal shadows; by the noon,

Skipping on the road; child gets a warning,

Sunshine in the park; is always a boon.

 

Love on the upping; couples holding hands;

Phlox heralds springtime; pink moon understands.

Horizon Smile; a Purple Blush

 

The wonder of a new day; at the morn,

Blackbird chortles sweetly; sings of the frost

As light glows dimly; lifting is the dawn

Rises in the east; night’s magic is lost.

 

Golden rays; mark love, in brightening skies,

Qualities of the day; are in the mind

That splendour, one should breathe; within the eyes,

Rise early, see such marvels; there to find.

 

Some slumber in their beds; so miss that time,

Creatures do rise, sun’s up; the new day wakes

To miss that molten gold; is such a crime

Regardless of who sees; the dawn still breaks.

 

Everlasting, unfading; yet unseen

Beauty of that dawn; rides amaranthine.

 

Kindle that Smouldering Look

 

Who of us, can see beyond; the season

To that place, where natures true beauty; dwells

From there, looking forward; gives the reason

To find a new lease; for gloom that dispels.

 

See beyond the winter; it’s nearly past,

It dragged on the mind; took hold of the soul

Tearing at the eyes; with its icy blast.

Its power almost spent; warmth shall extol.

 

The burgeoning springtime; leaps to the fore,

Bright colours, of delicate blooms; spring forth,

Those hardy flowers, from bulbs; we adore,

They shall weather late frost; borne of the north.

 

Look gladly, the sun rises; yet higher

Spreading its love; filling hearts with fire.

 

Light Transcends even the Darkest Age

 

Swirling within; the mysteries of time,

A golden individual; shines through

To the poet, that flame; she, sparked the rhyme

The muse, that inspired language; words so true.

 

Expanding the mind; beyond the narrow,

Sparking brightest thought; exceeding mundane,

Deserving your name; fiery arrow

Kindling the arts; that liberty might reign.

 

A goddess; she wrought creativity,

Transmitted through; the hammer, the anvil

Guides the blacksmith; in his activity

While bending, glowing iron; to his will.

 

Illuminating; your own, long lost page;

Brigit, your light, yet shines; to a new age.

 

Love Those Little Things

 

What could be, more delicate; or perfect

Than new born raindrops; falling at the dawn,

The rising light, of morning; they reflect,

Yet, would you see them; with your curtains drawn.

 

Wake early, meet the morning; rise and shine.

Don’t dally, in your bed; don’t waste the day,

Seek wonders; that are; truly genuine

Procrastinations thief; be held at bay.

 

So rise up, with a mind; to see the world,

The only one, to stop you; is yourself

Under bedclothes; you may find, a dream-world

Though up and dressed; you’ll find a greater wealth.

 

Shine brightly, in the morning; like the sun,

And love, even the rain; day, has begun.

 

Only We Can Make that Choice

 

We have one mother; of which we may speak,

She is nature, this planet; she’s our home

From deepest ocean; to the highest peak,

Those are the borders; in which we may roam.

 

Miracles exist; in each realm, we see

Evolution; creates, endless wonder,

That tiniest microbe; or tallest tree,

Wondrous world; dark skies, gathering thunder.

 

Those colours of; the most serene rainbow

Are but the pallet; for so many things.

All those fantastic creatures; we, well know

Those that walk, slither; or glide on their wings.

 

Yet, sentience; surely comes with a price;

It’s up to us, to be; loving and nice.

 

Reflect on Those Horizons

 

Springtime, rolls in quietly; like a wave,

It rides, that calming ocean; of the sky,

Its tides affect the way; creatures behave,

So, time to choose a mate; shall soon be nigh.

 

Time to sire, a brood; to be immortal,

That, their line, may transcend; the depths of time.

Chronos, the guardian of that portal,

Internal clocks, silently; ring their chime.

 

Among those oceans; of many lifetimes,

We chart our courses; to disparate shores.

Search for the reason; put words into rhymes,

Seek victories, endure loss; hope, for draws.

 

These are our lifetimes; what we consist of

Spring sails, the tides; blown by beautiful love.

 

Warm Away that Earthly Pain

 

An exotic beauty; standing there proud,

Tattooed with peonies; upon her back

Alluringly, she hides, behind; her shroud,

Not modesty, nor virtue; does she lack.

 

In Hellenistic style; she strikes her pose,

And so creates; that classical picture

That I, could do no justice to; in prose

So rhyme, will have to do; for this sculpture.

 

Beautiful scenes; we may carve out, with words,

Then twist them, like a flowers stem; to form,

Then hope, that they would sing; just like songbirds;

So show; their reader; to a place that’s warm.

 

Bathed in beauty; see, through a poet’s eye,

There’s love to find; souls soar, beyond the sky.

 

Alima J

 

Hey, I’m Alima J, native of the East, born in the West. Grew up in the East End of London, now living in the West of the country. Confused? You will be.

 

I’ve been writing poems throughout my existence. My ambitions, hopes, dreams and wishes haven’t been fulfilled. So I reflect all (some) of my thoughts into my poetry, but not all of my poetry is a reflection of me, so don’t mix the two.

 

I had a brilliant childhood and I guess I never grew up. Most of my poems are of a playful nature but I occasionally delve into the dark side. I wanted to be a nurse, a forensic, a film producer to name a few but none of it was happening. I hope one day I’m known for something. I’ll be happy if it’s for my writing.

 

 

The work presented in this chapter are all original pieces by Alima J.

Copyright is retained by the Author.

From Oxford and Cambridge

 

From Oxford and Cambridge, I travel far and wide,

above the towers of paper, filling the void each side.

Bring forth the battle with the modern-day quill,

Illustrious words, create suspense and thrill.

 

Salvation I seek in the power of the word,

stories and poems, a voice to be heard.

Free your mind! Don’t falter and stray.

Imaginations told and thoughts to sway.

 

With my wings spread wide, I was full on flight.

With the pen I was armed, ready to write.

A persistent poet…with a requisite to think.

I’ll spin fourteen lines, without spilling any ink.

 

With the copyright symbol, I stamp my name.

I own, I concur! and nothing will be the same.

 

 

Calling Angel

 

I sat alone beside a fallen tree.

Unknown that I would lose a child, I mourn. 

To re-unite, to God I make a plea.

Wet tears on fleece, emotional and torn.

Cascading tears transforms to crystal drops.

I wish that I could hold you once again.

I cradle empty arms, the song ne’er stops.

I hear your voice call out to me, in pain.

You look alluring as you fly in light,

My hands together; rain to cease, I pray.

Beloved child of mine in silk and white,

Beside me, sat and wiped my tears away.

Sweet angel with majestic wings; fly free.

I give my life away to God, for thee.

 

Colours of My Sky

 

I’m sitting high up on a tree,

I see you looking up …

to take a picture of me.

 

Can you take a snap before I fly?

I am quite fidgety, so …

take a shot of the colours of my sky.

 

I don’t like the flash in my eyes. 

You are truly misinformed …

it’s the shiny stuff I despise.

 

A coup de main where songbirds have sung,

I am not as beautiful as you think …

I’ll rummage the nests and eat their young.

 

So take a picture of me and my sky,

where I’ll be flying free … flying high.

 

Dreamland

 

When I woke up to the morning light,

I said goodbye to my dream at night.

My counting sheep have gone to sleep.

They jumped over the gates one, two, three.

 

The fields are jewelled with flowers, bloomed.

The lush green trees rustle together in tune.

The skies are blue and the grass is green.

The afternoon sun is coming to scene.

The birds are tweeting the songs of nature.

Let’s get ready for a new adventure.

 

‘Til the night returns and I dream again,

come lay on the grass, hold me ‘til then.

Into lucid dreams, we’ll make them grand.

Close your eyes and fall back into dreamland.

 

I Am the Smoke

 

I am the smoke in the woods

The fulfilment of your desire

The attack in your heart

To your body I will set fire

 

I am the muse in your mind

To set eyes on me is wanting danger

You will risk becoming blind

 

I am the firestarter

That burns a thousand lives

I play with the undead

I will pierce with sharpened knives

 

So contemplate your every move

I’ll be waiting in every corner

Every gully, crevice and every groove.

 

I’ll Take You to a Place

 

I’ll take you to a place where no one has been.

You’ll discover what no one else has seen.

Where the water is clear and pristine.

Where the valley is velvety green.

The mountains are sky high.

Hold me, don’t be shy.

Together we’ll fly.

 

Together we’ll fly.

Hold me, don’t be shy.

Climb the mountains up high.

Walk on the valleys velvety green.

Swim in the water so clear and pristine.

You’ll discover what no one else has seen.

I’ll take you to a place where no one has been.

 

If You are a Poet

 

If you are a poet,

liberate your words.

A villanelle, a sonnet,

with stanzas and verse.

Write me your poem,

with rhythm and rhymes,

let the words within,

be perfection in your lines.

 

If it’s the poem you love,

you felt with your heart,

the beats in your lines,

the words of your art.

Then I am the poem

and we’ll never be apart.

 

That’s Where I’ll Be

 

If you’re falling asleep,

then come looking for me.

Deep in your dreams,

that’s where I’ll be.

Down by the waterfall,

at the edge of the sea.

I’ll be swimming with the fish,

that’s where I’ll be.

Deep in the forest,

on top of a tree.

I’ll be singing with the birds,

that’s where I’ll be.

You’ll be safe in your dreams,

Because that is … where I will be.

 

The Kiss

 

I’m still searching for it.

Nothing could replace it,

I don’t think anything ever will.

 

The way he kissed me,

he blew my mind and soul,

precious metals couldn’t hold.

 

Years on years I grow with it.

Remembering, wanting, hoping,

wishing, I know it won’t come true.

 

I can’t accept my existence.

The kiss that destroyed me &

everything that I’m supposed to be.

I won’t conform to anybody’s wishes,

all I want is his … unforgettable kisses.

 

You Took Home a Beauty

 

You took home a beauty wrapped in satin ribbon.

Safe home, gently immersed in water,

concocted with toxic dreams, no longer thirsty.

The thorns unguard with your touch,

intertwining, intensifying,

the vibrant red velvet bloom.

From the moment you lift,

ecstasy fills the oblivious wonder.

The soft velvety petals melt from the warmth

of your fingertips awakening the scent.

Undressing, sending shivers down the spine.

Hedonism until the last petal falls.

Then you whisper …

We will meet again.

 

Aphorim

 

The work presented in this chapter are all original pieces by Aphorim.

Copyright is retained by the Author.

 

Mutantkind

 

I had to keep half the mad hiss

alongside the blind song of madness

enchantress

a blooming fog looming long

across the stone walls of the fortress

we forget

we forfeit

our bodies to atonal rest

eyelids closing as we bought these movements

in the dusk we stuck our breaths to stone currents

bodies in atonal rest

it hides the pent up

freedom

inside you I rent

 

Taste Testing

 

please don’t uncross your legs

it’s a burden to ask you to undress

the way the lamplight lays

languidly pressed

against your lipstick

makes me look anemic

and those discreet heels

look like roses

bathing in your sun dress

I’m thinking

you don’t ever sit

looking at the barstool kissing

all the right places

I need a drink

 

Archie Papa

 

 

The work presented in this chapter are all original pieces by Archie Papa.

Copyright is retained by the Author.

 

Along the Path

 

We are what we think and what we feel

we are everything we’ve learned until now

 

Although we share the constant pulse of time

we may move in unique and different ways

the energy of thought and emotion

 

We possess powerful energy

with it we gain perspective to envision reality

our sight to navigate within it

 

We move energy into the present

at the same rate history spills into the past

 

Likeness of energy is the gravity of attraction

and so the bonds of longevity we endure

 

Powering memory of unique mixtures, feeling and thought

bonding together those which leave markers along the path

 

In this Place

 

These simple words might be all I have

in this place

better they should tell of who I am

and not who I was or wish to be

We are sharing time

in this place

without knowing how much of it

we might have left to give

In this place

the here and now have met

as you and I bear witness to the miracle at hand

A soul will find the words

a heart has come to say

in this place

 

Inside Out

 

I am a world all in my own

aware of my time and space

by a gravity of truth

knowledge collects

my surface the stardust you see

I’m fluid as water bearing gifts of life

I’m solid as stone testing time

aware of my surroundings

from the depths of my core

to the clouds that pass over me

I am within an atmosphere

where the storms of reality rage

silence in balance its transparency

to imagine the stars I may see

 

Piece by Piece

 

If I could just hear you call my name

all the pieces that fell away

might finally come to rest

With only the sound of your voice

this world would fall silent

of meaningless chatter

in chaos drawn perfectly still

 

If I could once again look in your eyes

the passing of memories

from soul to soul

as hope gathers pieces

from these shattered dreams

 

and love would again

make them whole

 

 

The View

 

As memories are a mind’s view of points in time past

from imagination and dreams we witness

a vision of points forward

 

We record points or frames of time

from a continuously moving viewpoint or platform

 

Memories are a series of still frame images the mind holds

a medium of blended energies of thought and emotion

projected through the light of the soul for the mind’s eye

and so brought again to life on the platform of the present

 

Our minds overlay the fabric of time

to realize the motion of our own unique energy adrift

 

From the unfixed platform of the present

the mind sets path markers in memory

like buoys in time

 

Carolan Nathan

 

The work presented in this chapter are all original pieces by Carolan Nathan.

Copyright is retained by the Author.

 

The Bard

 

the Bard and i one wondrous day

to London we did wend our way

to write a play for good Queen Elizabet~

make words dance

prance

like high stepping horses

elegant~

 

streets of London town

muddy were they

no pavements yet were made

yet saw we only coloured flags waving in the wind

welcoming us~

 

our words shone like golden suns

waiting to be heard and seen by the Faery Queen~

 

Abandoned

 

once

your arms

me tightly held

i spent my days

my nights wrapped in them.

your body strong and so hard

many sweet pleasures we did together share

till another came took you away from me.

now i weep at the passing of lonely days

my endless nights filled with nightmares, ghostly forms

strange shapes and sounds abound, come knocking at my door.

i scream but no one hears for you have gone, leaving me

and all that is left are memories to comfort me, assuage my pain

and i feel my hatred rise like ire blood red and thick and noisome.

 

Heat of Summer

 

Heat of summer

now full blooms

no escaping

the tides of men~

swept to indifferent shores

they march an endless road

leading to nowhere so it seems~

 

Time waits for no man

Soon aging will appear~

but now vigour rises high

in bodies strong

sap flowing through veins

thick red moist

an endless flood …

 

 

Headless

 

headless

heartless become

each day more

as if to end

breaking like waves at sea

feathers flying through the murky air

alight to be buried deep under ground

hidden in plain sight

you too walk a path leading nowhere feet dragging

chains upon your back are your creations made through time

manifesting now in rings of steel and copper and iron ore

ropes you pull attached to heavy stones more of your deeds made manifest

nothing can escape Wheel of 84 as it turns capturing all of your doings

still like so many others you keep repeating time after time over and over again

 

It Seemed I Could Know Everything

 

It seemed I could know everything

Could be anywhere at all~

Pictures appeared to me

So fast they flew

Like multi-coloured balls

Turning

Twisting

Bouncing up and down~~

 

Lengths of tantalizing shapes

Reaching out

Never ending

Always beginning

Timeless in their Being

Lands beyond all knowingness~~~

 

Nothingness

 

where can you go when nothing left to see

vast emptiness remains

daylight filtering.

what can you say when voice is gone

muted sounds eschew

nothing else.

what can you hear~

no sound is heard

only beating of your heart

sad melodies.

legs carry you away~

feet burn from desolate land

fingers splayed

who are you anyway?

 

Remember

 

remember

you will

a memory sublime

time of much delight

pictures vibrant in your mind.

 

faded now maybe time doth that

a way to cover pain and anguish

changing what once so precious was for you

for time clicks on altering all perceptions once true

and garbed in sackcloth and ashes you cry alone

wondering why and how created you that moment of goodbye

 

in the deep solitude of your home, curtains drawn, doors barred

no one admitted sign hangs on the door for all to see

you go on day to day wondering when moment of release will arrive

 

The Comings and Goings of Civilizations

 

Deep beneath the desert sands

Lost civilizations lie

Tales they could tell of times gone by

Most interesting would they be

 

Perhaps if we let our minds run wild

Imaginations too

We will see the tumbling ruins again

All in perfect shape

 

Across our planet Earth these civilizations occurred

Each culture important in its right

Bringing forth the evolution of man’s so called might

Steps in upward process going

 

sometimes down into the pits of hell

epic stories there to tell

 

Trailing Through the Midnight Sky

 

trailing through the midnight sky

stars shine bright~~

moon opens

full becomes

then dies.

 

sparks of infinity

each minute

containing universes

as we do too

 

Schools of Mystery

wisdoms profound

shared by wise men

through time have come

 

since the Beginning~~~

 

Clytemnestra Aa

 

The work presented in this chapter are all original pieces by Clytemnestra Aa.

Copyright is retained by the Author.

 

Unleash your Demons

 

Unleash your demons

Sabotage all values

Shoo righteousness

murder sanity

Smother rationality

Just for a while …

covet for a moment

When love disobeys. Rebels

Poses a threat to subliminal core

Infuse your all

Profuse your all.Refuse any call

to embrace an armistice …

It’s your war

And am your demilitarised zone!

 

She Ploughed

 

She ploughed

Her heart

Raked dead beats

Where She found slivers

Of her shattered

sighs

among words.

She lives there …

In that haven,

She’s warm

She’s safe

She’s dreaming

There,She is

Sentient

 

 

Elusive Me

The pen-name Elusive Me was born from a need to free myself of all my complexities and boundaries in order to write freely. I believed if I could be anonymous in all ways I would then be uninhibited in creating and writing poetry that would liberate the soul.

 

Poetry is a creative outlet for deeply felt emotion and my unrelenting curiosity. I live to write and write to live … it is an extension of me and a tool of self-discovery. I found my voice in ink, and grew wings to dream beyond reality’s gravitational hold.

 

I generally feel every line as I write – particularly for the more emotional ones … and especially the free prose. Often there are subtle and some not so subtle layers in each poem.

 

Love and emotion, is often expressed in my signature sensual writes and if you could give yourself a breathless moment to let the words have their way with you – a sea of sensuality and intoxicating emotion will wash over you … I’m told it’s a very pleasant experience. Let yourself feel again … you know you want to.

 

How I make others feel about themselves is most important to me … Hearing that I have reignited and reconnected many to the deepest parts of their being, heart, mind, body and soul is deeply moving to know and enriching to my own being.

 

The work presented in this chapter are all original pieces by Elusive Me.

Copyright is retained by the Author.

 

Beyond You

 

Sweet reflections deceive with thy warm smile,

A broken heart, merely slivers of glass,

Afloat among lit stars made to beguile,

Thy true orbit, all memories surpass.

How I long to turn back the hands of time,

To undo such beauty once found in you.

The depths of thy soul reflected in mine,

Hopelessly lost to our obscured view.

Oh weathered painting how thy colours fade,

Impossible fate, mine heart still holds tight,

Blindly, seeking thou warm sunlight in shade,

Mere whispers of stars within dark of night.

Behind this smiled façade mine tears dost hide.

For lost in memories I yet reside.

 

Blurred Stars

 

Distant lights like fireflies glisten bright,

As stars upon the backdrop; slowly fall,

Sweet sounds drifting soft ‘pon a summer’s night,

Mesmerizing lullabies to sleeps call.

Gentle rains have blurred behind the glass view,

As heavy eyes fight the impulse to sleep,

Grey shadows play across the nightscapes hue,

As breath surrenders to thoughts tumbled deep,

Dreams unravel like smoky silken threads,

Plying deepest wishes hidden from day,

Leaving resting bodies upon their beds,

Freeing souls to swim in the Milky Way.

Sweet dreams to all souls blessed with slumber’s gift,

May all your wishes heaven sent, be swift.

 

Fading Dreams

 

O softly, softly dreams are spun in gold

In threads of light that seep from early morn,

‘Til ebbs of love are held between the fold

And breathless sighs give flight to greet the dawn.

Horizons flow in skies of liquid glass

Reflections capture rays of prismed light,

Enraptured clouds of silver rose and brass

Now drape the skies and wave goodbye to night.

Awaken slow my love, let dreams still play

For I have not the strength to say goodbyes,

Let’s linger soft and dance in night time’s sway

‘Til we are safely held in bonded ties.

In dappled tears that smear the edge of wake

Leave nothing whispered from our hearts to take.

 

Healed Love

 

In star dust ‘pon soft wings of butterflies,

A soul’s reflection finds a way to see

What’s lost in broken threads of you and me,

Refracting parallels of gentle sighs,

A symphony of unified replies,

To love the fractures once believed our scars

And see love’s light reflected as the stars,

Alighting hurts once held in shadowed cries.

Let healing find a way to give us wings,

Entangled hearts with edges once were frayed,

New fibres threaded strong to let us bring,

The sum of our potential freely played,

In joy of new found freedom let us sing,

A thankfulness for all the things we prayed.

 

I Make This Wish

 

I wander through this dappled light of grey,

Devoid of all the wonder I once felt,

I find it’s been so long since I have knelt,

An echo calls from yonder ‘sif to say,

“Remember me, I never went away.”

Up to the stars, humility to gaze,

Filled with tears, gratitude now plays,

I find a way to let the echoes sway,

A whispered voice, I call upon his name,

“Hold me tight, don’t let me wander far,

Don’t let me be distracted by the game,

Let me dwell, in depths of who you are,

Then linger soft, ‘til I become the same,

I make this wish, upon your brightest star.”

 

Let Love Find a Way

 

In softest voice I hear you whisper true

Of inner thoughts you hid within your heart,

Each tear that falls is special, for in part

They fall in secret trust to me, from you.

Our every heartbeat felt, as if we knew

That one day every fibre of our core

Igniting love, our ink to spell out more

Than any whispered word could least imbue.

For in our ink our quills told how we felt,

It drew the breath from lips as kisses play

Beneath the skin, and causing hearts to melt

Ember’s notes of love; sweetest disarray.

A rush of need; on bended knee we knelt:

Let binding vows of love now find a way.

 

Love So Rare

 

The gentleness of fingers linger light,

Upon a lover’s skin now bathed in glow,

Give rise to words that melt the dark of night,

And set alight cool embers once burnt low.

From blackest velvet, kisses steal the show

As starry skies lit dim compared to eyes,

Which twinkle soft as bodies to-and-fro

And fill the heavens with symphonic sighs.

Caresses climbing soft ‘pon quivered thighs

As warm breath hovers hot, fingers entwine,

Their fevered moans now sound as tensions rise,

Now joined; two souls in love, embrace divine.

Two broken hearts once thought beyond repair,

Healed as new by the strength of love so rare.

 

Poetic Knight

 

Thy ink flows upon mine skin in sweet plays,

Words etched with embers that burn deep and slow,

Heartstrings melt, silken threads like golden rays,

Thy heat radiates ‘til I’m sunset’s glow.

Heady is thy cursive script like perfumes,

Stirring inside the need to inhale deep,

Intoxicate mine heart so love consumes,

Each word hidden treasure, to chest I’ll keep.

Oh knight whose metal, cast in finest mesh,

Whose sword is fashioned in words made sublime,

Thou art dost entwine touch to mind and flesh,

Thy words ripple beyond measure of time.

Thou hast found the way into mine mind’s seam

Am I now lost to dream within this dream?

 

Sweet Ariel

 

Like ocean waves, tears crash forth from her eyes,

Soft light refracts to catch her broken dreams,

He whispers love, to gently heal her seams

And weaves a song, to lift her sorrowed cries.

Now Neptune calls to wind; bring forth sunrise

And wraps his love in clouds of softest creams,

He dulls the roar of waves to gentle streams

And with his rod, the rising tide now dies.

Sweet Ariel, why dost my sweetheart frown?

You see that i have calmed this raging sea,

Come down from heavens gentle, calm embrace,

I’ll wrap thee in the finest seaweed gown.

All creatures now, know you belong to me,

With me my queen, it’s time to take your place.

 

Sweet Whispers in Dreams

 

As sunlight splashes soft across your day,

I’ll whisper wishes dipped in dreams that sigh

And all the visions sleepy minds do play

Will fade before first light as if too shy

For you still fill my heart with longings deep

And cause my soul to dance in arms wrapped tight

My lashes fair, still softly closed in sleep

You gift, sweet flutters, joys to fill my night

I feel my soul call yours beneath star’s glow.

Do you too wish to taste of our first kiss?

Does your heart echo loud, of Cupid’s bow

While holding tight to dreams of our shared bliss?

Why is it day is less than night now seems?

Could it be fate would tease us with our dreams?

 

EqCi

The work presented in this chapter is an original piece by EqCi.

Copyright is retained by the Author.

 

Vampire’s Love

I smear myself with fresh blood all o’er

Exanguination … from my bleeding heart

To entice thee my dear vampire lover

Come take me … my sweetheart … come as thou art

 

For the love of thee I’m the devotee

Alluringly long for thy loving touch

Make me a vampire … immortality

I’ll satiate thee with a virgin’s blood

 

Thou art my King thy wish is my command

My dream come true to satisfy thee

Taste my sweet blood as I worship thy hand

Bite me …suck me and asphyxiate me

 

Tonight, I sacrifice for thee, my King

Die in honor, my soul cheerfully sings

 

Garry Spooner

Hello, my name is Garry Spooner, (born in England 1961). I now live in New Zealand, and have done so since 1967. I have been regularly writing poetry now for two or three years. I also hold down a full-time job, which along with my domestic responsibilities, curtails my reading and writing time somewhat.

 

I dabbled a little in poetry as a child, but that phase came and went. I am primarily a self-taught poet, and have found the kind and encouraging comments from other poets on line, a great help in my growth thus far, and one day I hope to have a hard copy publication of my work available. My earliest recollections of poetry come in the form of Dr. Seuss, then as a teenager I came upon the writings of Edgar Allan Poe

 

Feel free to visit my Google+ page (+Garry Spooner) or Facebook: Garry Spooner musician and poet. Thank-you for taking the time to read my poems.

 

The work presented in this chapter are all original pieces by Garry Spooner.

Copyright is retained by the Author.

 

Venison Trophy

As Autumn comes and summer is no more,

Up in the hills the hinds are all on heat,

It’s then the hunter listens for the roar,

In search of antlered trophies and their meat.

Awake before the sunlight hits the ground,

A stalker with his rifle close at hand,

With stealth, he creeps and utters not a sound,

Although he’s ventured miles across the land.

Till presently he sees his handsome prey,

And crouched downwind he aims his rifles sight,

A stag with all twelve points on full display,

He concentrates with all his strength and might.

He puts his rifle down to take a shot,

A picture is the only thing he got.

 

Dandelion Wishes

I puckered up my lips and blew a kiss,

Those dandelion seeds flew in the air,

Imagining your face brought me such bliss,

Then scattered all around and ev’rywhere .

My wish for you a love who holds you dear,

One who will put you first before himself,

A man who’ll wipe away each fallen tear,

Who’ll count you as his only one true wealth.

This man alas he surely can’t be me,

So in another’s arms your heart will beat,

I hope he opens up your eyes to see,

And makes your stammered heart to be complete.

For you and I will never be as one,

No other outcome, what is done is done.

 

Early Days of Fall

The mist came rolling o’er the hills,

A cloak sits fitting close.

Within its hazy veil it spills,

Morose, moist, overdose.

 

Sheets of grey, display today,

No sunshine smiles reign down.

Instead fine days have passed away,

Soon leaves will start to brown.

 

As days decline toward the chill,

Anticipating fall.

And trees release their garb at will,

Till none are left at all.

 

Fog will lift again sometime,

Revealing golden sun sublime.

 

For John Doe

Today I met a homeless man at church,

And pity fell upon my hardened heart,

Compassion was his one and only search,

So to the cross is where he thought he’d start.

His mother’s ashes laid to rest last night,

Then for his cigarettes he had been rolled,

His wallet stolen poverty his plight,

And many more misfortunes that he’d told.

This man had mental issues plain to see,

But was it just a ruse to earn some cash?

If not for Grace this person could be me,

Society had placed out with the trash.

Oh shame on us who turn and look away,

From those who struggle each and ev’ry day.

 

Men of God and God of Men

He touched my forehead to impart a blessing,

His finger dipped in oil, he marked the cross,

‘Pon hearing contrite words my lips confessing,

Forgiven heart disrobed of all its dross.

A man who meditates the word of God,

Upon his knees, he intercedes for us,

And comfort from his staff and from his rod,

Of all his sheep, there’s none superfluous.

It may have happened many years ago,

He suffered for the sin of all mankind,

Now crucified to wash us clean as snow,

This selfless act to which he was inclined.

But Grace is never cheap, it cost him dearly;

Through sacrifice the price is seen more clearly.

 

Mother Nature

Such beauty and diversity is blessed,

Of kingdoms on the earth both tame and wild,

With plumage on the birds so neatly dressed,

And antlers, horns and stripes so aptly styled.

A mountain wears a hat of pristine white,

While oceans and the seas are bathed in blue,

The midday sun shines down so blinding bright,

Yet sunset yields in shades of ev’ry hue.

Thus Mother Nature gives us all we need,

But sometimes has to put us in our place,

The tallest tree grows from a tiny seed,

And mocks the progress of the human race.

So treat the planet well, with all respect,

Or reap the harvest sown by your neglect.

 

Replenished Heart

Strip not me to the bareness of my bones,

For in the air my soul would question why

Skeletal is this cage of sticks and stones,

Enfleshed by ev’ry single tear I cry.

Indulge my many layers and my walls,

You know I’m buried way down deep inside,

So when the talking stops and silence falls,

There’s nowhere left for me to run and hide.

But maybe if I trust you with my heart,

And give my parched and withered soul to you,

The moisture of your essence might impart,

New life like grass bejeweled with mornings dew.

So touch me now in places that have wept,

Your tenderness a treasure to be kept.

 

The Inevitable Sonnet

A day will come when I shall breathe my last,

Upon this walk of life our time is brief,

Our presence in this present will be past,

The future taken from us by the thief.

So let us not defile the gift of life,

Nor take for granted all that we’ve been given

Embrace the joy of peace and resist strife,

So that one day we’ll rest secure in heaven.

O death the great deceiver with his sword,

Will one day call our name and bid us come,

He’ll take our souls to weep before the Lord,

Before the Throne of Judgement We’ll stand dumb.

For all who live will one day surely die,

And to their loved ones, have to say goodbye.

 

Tides of Time

Just as Canute could not hold back the sea,

The hands of moments cannot be forestalled,

As waves roll in eroding all we see,

Around our hearts so intricately walled.

Yes time itself has one hand on the scythe,

The reaper holds the stopwatch in his hand,

And on the breath of death he strikes so blithe,

To take your soul unto the promised land.

So in the time allotted to your days,

Break down the barricades around your heart,

Kick off the heavy boots of your malaise,

Put on a smile and let your frown depart.

Give all you have to life without regret,

To be a mem’ry no one will forget.

 

When Willows Wept

Beneath the weeping willow tree we sat,

Into each other’s love-struck eyes we stared,

Reclined ‘pon Mother Nature’s leafy mat,

Our lips so close that ev’ry breath we shared.

The gentle brook meandered at our feet,

I cupped your breast you did not shy away,

The essence of your love did smell so sweet,

O how we felt that time stood still that day.

So long ago it all seems now since then,

A distant reverie that still remains,

My mind I cast back to my youth and when,

The wind and willows whispered their refrains.

These trees remained for oh so many years,

Bowed down their boughs to feed the stream with tears.

 

Greg Holmes

 

The work presented in this chapter are all original pieces by Greg Holmes.

Copyright is retained by the Author.

 

It All Didn’t Seem Right

Hearing you leave on the last syllable.

All that was there fell silently away.

The deepest blue sky turned miserable.

Showing a face of a darker shade of grey.

Nothing was nothing, beyond my sight.

The trees the flowers ready on the grass,

waiting for the rain, it all didn’t seem right.

The stones kept their secrets of the past.

Locked in layers of light and dark contrast.

Dreams, all rose as if one flock of birds,

knowing not why they do take to the sky.

Trailing away with that last sound heard.

Can’t ever believe what I heard her say.

You know it didn’t mean to rain that day.

 

Time Is Patiently Measured in a Garden

Time is patiently measured in a garden.

Within a circle of possibilities where

speculation enhances each encounter.

Encapsulating chance moments

in a wondrous appeal for attention.

As the golden eye slowly awakens

and illuminates the soul’s reaches.

The spirit grows along with the garden.

So we find it is with all living things,

as happens with the true love of beauty.

This never fades with the tender care

of one’s own sensibilities over time.

 

So we mature along with the seasons in passing.

With winter’s nudge memories are everlasting.

 

John Griffin

The work presented in this chapter is an original piece by John Griffin.

Copyright is retained by the Author.

 

For Want of Love

For want of love not coin my heart does beat,

My thought my quill and ink my flesh and bone,

A heat a stress you cool my soul your treat,

I weave my words a skill for you I hone.

 

Once I wished on a star in sky above

Found you adrift upon a cloud not far,

To me was brought my very own white dove,

A test, ne’er to say once, au revoir.

 

Now take my hand hold tight as I bend knee,

Don’t shy stay calm and take my gaze with you,

Feel not the dread, feel no fear nor to flee,

Take on you my true love, make one our two.

 

Share with me now the end of all our days,

Welcome the growth and colour life displays

Kanta Roy

The work presented in this chapter is an original piece by Kanta Roy.

Copyright is retained by the Author.

 

I Bend on Thee

I bend on thee, kiss thine back,

Kneel thine warmth of vein,

Soul inseparable on life’s deck,

No past no present no future again.

 

O, thou heaven, I claim thee,

In poignant glee, mind soaked in sweat

Ear drank lute of resonance free,

Choked skin to skin the best poet,

 

Winged thousand eagles to thine

Fairy fancy land we to May,

A completion of couple again,

Thou contemplated the very guy,

 

No poet, but poet thou mine,

Eyes sandy, yells but begs nosing.

 

Kelly Rose

The work presented in this chapter are all original pieces by Kelly Rose.

Copyright is retained by the Author.

 

A Cruel Dance

Raised with violence and harsh spoken words,

She embraced fairy-tales, roses, and romance,

Always seeking the different and absurd;

It’s better than performing a cruel dance.

 

Fantasy led her down the path of pain

Where self-hate and ignorance reigned supreme,

Unable to cope, she felt quite insane,

But that’s what comes from living in a dream.

 

Tired of the dark, she sought a new path,

Self-reflection led her to face her fears,

And slowly her inner pain and deep wrath

Left, leaving room for hope’s light to appear.

 

Still, she embraces roses and romance,

It’s better than performing a cruel dance.

 

Mistress of Spring

She is moonbeams

And dappled sunlight

Renewal and

New beginnings

Gracing the land

With fragrant blossoms

Buzzing bees

And dandelion flurries

As children play

In Spring’s garden

Blowing happy bubbles

Laughter floats

Touching the heart and soul

She is Mistress of Spring

 

Kyle Vine

The work presented in this chapter is an original piece by Kyle Vine.

Copyright is retained by the Author.

 

Lost at Sea

Dark clouds drift overhead,

The mast of the ship half buried

All trace of sunshine or rain has fled,

But yet still forward it was carried.

The waves crash and the oars seize

The wooden decks have lost their paint,

Sail worn and tattered from a constant breeze

Travelling in search of foreign Saint.

A man or thing who can change the tide,

Help the boat continue it`s course

With all the waves splashing over the side,

When the only signs of help seem to come in Morse.

Final destination too far away from view

The uncharted course a constant mystery.

 

Laughing Waters

The work presented in this chapter are all original pieces by Laughing Waters.

Copyright is retained by the Author.

 

Cherry Blossoms

cherry blossom

gently flow

in the summer

breeze from

your fingertips

tangled

in my hair

echoes

of our souls

scattered across

snowy

mountain’s tops

slightly blushing

cheeks from your touch

 

Harvest Moon

harvest moon

shines over the lake

shrimper’s boat

 

shrimper’s boat

rocking on the waves

lily pads

 

lily pads

rolling dry edges

Cuban’s

singing the song

in the summer heat

 

in the summer heat

whistle blooms

heavy on the dew

 

Morning Ray

morning ray

sliding across my room

granny’s sleepers

 

granny’s sleepers

first thing I see

each morning

spotty fog

draping an oak tree

 

draping an oak tree

poison ivy

his breath on my skin

 

his breath on my skin

gives me chills

kitten’s meowing

 

 

Raindrops

rain drops

wrinkle the pond

landing ducks

folding wings

to rest

 

to rest

on the bed of grasses

midnight dew

sparkles

on my skin

 

on my skin

moonlight glows

in my lover’s eyes

I see myself

 

Unspoken Words

unspoken words

you kissed away

before they could

escape my lips …

you hushed me-why?

 

You

Kissed me

On my lips

I tried explaining

You pulled me closer

Silenced air trembled still

You hushed me right before

I could pronounce your sweet name

You kissed me on my lips how dare you?

 

 

Lauren Hicks

The work presented in this chapter is an original piece by Lauren Hicks.

Copyright is retained by the Author.

 

Shut It

Shut the door to this World

Shut out the Others

Shut out the Trash

Shut out the Pain

Shut out the Happiness

Shut out the Memories

Shut out the Truth

Shut out the Lies

Shut out the Time

Shut out the Reasons

Shut out the Confusion

Shut out the “Calling”

Shut “The Mouth”

Then you’ll Shut the door to the “Other World”

 

Lion Love

The work presented in this chapter is an original piece by Lion Love.

Copyright is retained by the Author.

 

Fourteen Minutes of Fame

Fourteen minutes of fame

Lead by the fortunate

One in its kind time

Fourteen minutes of fame

Never lasted once

If you never held the meaning in mine

The heart of true fame

Leaks of meaning that’s true

 

No wonder I’m seeking my shine

Nowhere else I was welcome

Welcomed but back in here

In my own words, while reading all of yours

The eyes, beneath the shelters of home

I strengthen my weakness.

 

Mark A Bryan

Hi readers my name is Mark Anthony Bryan. I was born in Jamaica 1979and I live in the countryside of town in Montego Bay where life is nice with lots of resorts.

 

My life was taught much of the basics; I knew this skill as a child, but because of hard times,

I relied not on lines. I now have time that I can write, and my focus is on poetry. I do hope to become a great poet, and one day at a time, I learn from the best,

 

I wish for you all to enjoy my writing.

 

The work presented in this chapter are all original pieces by Mark A Bryan.

Copyright is retained by the Author.

 

The Law

In front of danger I myself will put,

Events in life too tall to take advice,

A time to help some stranger lift their foot,

When changes do arise, we must think twice.

The world is taught by those who pass the test,

The test which teaches how to conquer hate,

In peace we lay at night, while devils rest,

Each goal we make in life is met by fate.

Wise counsel steeped in truth to lead the man,

And heroes that will always make us win,

A willing friend to bring a brand-new plan,

To stand with us to fight the curse of sin.

But who can find a brother blessed with grace?

In this world, peace just seems so out of place.

 

Calling Home

Although, life is seemingly interesting.

A step into the realm of forgiveness.

Bewitched by a beauty, nature foretold.

We witness the transformation of life.

Caretaker of the land, we form a bond.

Traveling distance giving loving hands.

Bright and talented, growth reach many lives.

Fair gain was the business, monument, art.

A day on the land, as like traveling.

Wonderful organism of life, live.

A southern tune that make believe we love.

Apology, me to say, how great, we.

Toward the future of the leaders, great.

Teacher, of faith, hand of gold, God bless us.

 

Camellia

O lightly feathered streams of love in air,

When suddenly you, welcome my hand dear,

A near end and love, held fast my soul here,

And with thoughts of me, you answered my prayer.

Beauty rose and quelled my fear with her touch,

Souls of darkness greet in the lighter part,

Through watery eyes, I still love so much,

Then gentle hands meet, in silence and warmth.

Anymore lonely hearts, their body lay,

And then through clouds of dark, answered a voice,

And thank you my love, we are her to stay,

If there ever was a doubt, you’re my choice.

Whisper sweet love into the night, like rain,

Then morning will find us both, without pain.

 

Fairies and Angels

Did I tell you, you were the angel,

I saw flying from heaven last night,

And in the late night you blew your breath freezing,

The air froze me inside with my eyes open.

I see you descending from the sky,

The beauty from your body shines through,

I was frozen inside the ice,

Trapped in the right place.

I was the right man on your mind,

Over me you blew more frozen air,

Until I saw you entering,

The room looked peaceful.

The voice eased all my fears,

When I heard the carol sing my name.

 

Fighting the Cold

The poor boy found himself in love with fools,

And always fair was mother what a dear,

A friend of many youths had girls in schools,

One day his life got dark what many fear.

The young man’s play was short he was in jail,

To many late-night parties, guns and gangs,

He tried to gamble life and ended fail,

And jail is hell it bites like viper’s fangs.

He went home Friday safe a wiser man,

A free man now today he holds his mom,

And his eyes show signs of a new plan,

As he stands dreaming life without a prom.

He wipes the tears that ran on his shaved face,

Because his wish came true he’s still on pace.

 

Finishing Touch

The greatest gift, life; love will be the start,

Believing in us will make us many,

But only when you are close to my heart.

Going to the beach made the car sandy,

I pray I did not make any mistake,

Going out with you is always like such.

I like you and wanted to share the cake,

And I knew you would enjoy yourself much,

Let us make a date for the wedding soon.

Take your time and let us make plans for life,

If you are lonely let’s look at the moon,

When we are back from vacation my wife.

But if you like we both can make a wish,

I wanted to say thank you with a kiss.

 

Mind Work

Deliver me to glory and then some,

They will never tell the story of love,

Sometimes seven and sometimes eight, a home,

Carry me to heaven, let us all move.

I see my place on land and seal my plan,

Whenever I’m out, I try to reason,

I’m heading back, to my place and on land,

I look around, the corner a lesson.

When I reach home, I say hi, and wait,

Returning only for a visit end,

And then traveling for miles, no profit,

Finding her safe was saying thank you friend.

News reach that I said hi just yesterday,

But I never wanted to leave today.

 

My Mansion

When wrong seem right and people see the fright,

And most of life is ready please, don’t run,

Then come the savior honoured by our sight,

A week has pass we vision life with fun.

A place of wealth we travel most believe,

We drove to see the system all a sham,

Just couldn’t believe babies live with grieve,

Not fair to say we save some, that’s all spam.

Most nights I’m home I live in peace inside,

My rule is save the people first then live,

We turn a new page walk outside with pride,

I carry life not hate when will we give.

My home is heaven hearts can all see love,

I leave all friends then fly so far above.

 

Our Treat

The fountain of love you are my savior,

Make the stars shine keep me always in space,

Give you my body lay there my Maker,

Let me be the one only key in place.

Let me be your healer open your mind,

‘Cause the journey is longer time is spent,

Make the love last longer stay very fine,

When love runs low make my voice be your strength.

I love to see you with me in the home,

Because you alone understand my plan,

I’ll stay and wait for you to leave the work,

The other way is empty take my hand.

Tell me if you like me, but keep my hug,

I have need for you because I’m your love.

 

Stand by Her Promise

When beauty cries behind her tears come shine,

Before it’s day can hold the answer why,

Because my love; her treasure sweet divine,

The softest speaker always wins the eye.

She pulls me in to sing the sweetest line,

She holds her breath as tears do softly fall,

To reach this far I carefully enshrine,

Her fight now lost as feeling do enthrall.

Because it was my mother whom I love,

Has love any replacement for good friends?

I throw my hands into the sky above,

Upstairs is God a healer that n’er mends?

This lady stands with me, she loves her man,

Inside I sing my song since we began.

 

Matt Aguilar

The work presented in this chapter are all original pieces by Matt Aguilar.

Copyright is retained by the Author.

 

A Meaning, of Love

You are the night;

The cool touch upon my flesh

Moon, high, or unseen by the human eye

The light of you, dew kissed my lids;

As slumber took my weariness, deep;

Into the thorns of darkness

I spoke, what is this?

A flame, burning blue, golden flickers grow,

you dance, with the shadows on my wall

The prettiest love, the most vibrant one

A grin, I’ve never wore before

Dip me in you, as you, you swim in my darkness

Changing the colours, filling the voids

Showing me, love, and what it meant …

 

Falling through the Clouds

Lay me on the shore in your harbor

Listening to breathing metals

 

The oceans heavy scents of flowers

Sprays the sky blue to seed your meadows

 

As I fell through clouds and sand comes calling

 

I feel you here as I drift into your mist

One of fine satin and darkness’ allure

 

Whispers of you in faint breaths

Heart beats of pleasures on lonely nights colours

 

Eerie blues and violent violets, a quite wondrous view

 

I hold you, as that of night

Under the shadows of the moon

Were we are safe from light

Gentle go we; into our turning sea …

 

 

For Love

 

In the gardens, deep in the woods

White moths dance upon the scented winds

 

As that of the iridescent green moss

stars shine bright upon the back of darkness

 

The light crept, unafraid, unabated

to the gilded coal black ghost

 

Wet in its sorrows

as it lept upon the coast

 

‘Neath haunted pines of strangled leaves

She brushed the stones

Blindly, eagerly

 

Unknowing of the otherness

In which our hearts …

 

for each other they cried …

 

 

Her Beautiful Darkness

She lay in fields of lilac scented mist.

Her hair, like rivers, flowing, sunlight;

As blue and yellow butterflies touch her softly with a kiss.

Fairest skin, pure winter snow in the moon’s wondrous light.

Arms reaching, keeping whilst catching the stars.

 

The sky vibrantly hued in a mulberry view.

Capturing galaxies in her eyes with a glimpse.

Twinkling daisies upon satin, touched in morning dew.

Through the fog that blocks the sea like a picket fence.

Founded beauty as rare as a moon, uncharted.

 

Southern wildflowers lick her finger tips

The night falls, her beautiful darkness she sips

Filling dreams in an ambient light

I rush to sleep to see her once more, night after night …

 

Orchids in Winter

O my beautiful poet

Drape your mouth upon mine

 

Let me taste your whispers

As the stars dance and the moon is high

 

Capturing light, like love in the blue cinder night

When darkness grips the reins of a hapless winter

 

Lusciously wet my earth

Like rain when it snows

Softly touching the orchids

 

As my shadow sheds its skin

Lay your light upon my soul

 

Melodies sing beautifully

Shine so azure, wondrously

it turns the night, into pure gold …

 

Rivers of Melancholy

Through the valley

Light, so distant

Broken rivers of melancholy

Years of darkness

Pulled with a glimpse

Beguiled, in skin so fair

Like dew on the moon

She wore those stars, in her hair

Drifting tides, swelled in her lagoon

One of kind soft colours

Sweet scented skin

Petal kissed of hushing blush

Time is ever growing

O my fairest, there is no rush …

 

Softly You

Could I wander among your road of stars

Like silent stones that tumble down a mountain

 

land in the field of violets

that lay at your feet in prose

 

Lines of rust, fall like fountains

Adrift in pebbles placed with love

 

Even in darkness, it came without a shove

Fields of dreams wafting my view

 

Clouds of berries blushing blue

It’s you, one so precious

As that of the lonely sea

 

Satellites of love,

the sun and moon

that speaks softly, of only, you …

 

To the Heartbeats of the Moon

Touched in ways of the rain

As you lay silent like stars

 

Will my voice touch your pain

Like the muffled highways distant cars

 

And the violets from my window slowly drive by

 

The pine shadows consumed the night

My mind masquerades a painter

 

As if Van Gogh brushed you behind my eyes

My lashes, wet like lit lanterns

 

Constellations swirl in view across my sky

 

Lay me still in your silent lament

Heart beats as you sweat and glisten

 

Let me touch softly, with light breaths

Gently caress the starry skies as you listen …

 

Whispered Meadows

When the face of the sky gleams

with tears like stars

 

Run blindly into the midnight sea

Let me kiss your soft neck,

 

like the whispers of the fairy wings

that flutter ‘neath the cypress trees

 

Leave not the body of your soul

but you, your entirety, your whole

 

Ascending the moon

like the shores of your cove so blue

 

Would you love me?

like dormant shadows glow in the echoes of tears

 

Rough hands glance your soul of gold

Like wild poppies in my garden’s meadow …

 

Will My Love Touch Her

Will my love touch her

As the moon does the budding flower

Water kissed, patted soft flesh of alabaster

Red, the tips upon her fingers luster

Words flow fluent to the taste of your lips

Will my love touch her, on the sands where I left the stones

The ones close to shore

Still, like a breathing lake, caps, white as bones

Deep in the pulses of your heart’s door

Words sail, viscerally like leaves as ships

Will my love touch her, softly, like shadows in my heart’s meadows

Careen down my bladed exterior to find me

Soft wafting waves of you in the still breeze as it blows

Holding each other warmly in echoes of our dreams …

 

Mark Flood

The work presented in this chapter are all original pieces by Mark Flood.

Copyright is retained by the Author.

 

The Bridge

The bridge lay ornately open

Beckoning with electric hum lines

As I stood as thought

and stared with heart beats

Fissures in the sky showing squinting gods

Star forms dashing through chasmic time

My spherical consciousness

exploded into wordlessness

Spewed upon the white sheet of reality

Great streaks of kaleidoscopic rainbow

carving flatness into runnels

Containers of being-ness unbridled

Singeing breath with infininance

Cracking shells of hardened living

 

Water Falls

Water falls as healing rain

The brows skin blooms in outward embrace

Silver coolness sinks slowly deep

As the mind’s eye drinks the earths spirit

Sips the soul’s saturation

Syphonic thoughts drawing in life

For the inundations of wanting lands

For healing tides

Caresses of lapping liquid tease out love

As warmth to walk again

Standing wholly under life-light

To reach once more

fearlessly

into the void

 

Michael Montoya

 

I am from Colorado, USA and have a bachelor degree in creative writing, and a minor in professional writing and write for my own pleasure. My wish is to open a tutoring Academy, in order to give back to my own community.

 

My dream is to teach children who are struggling with reading and writing to gain access to ‘one on one’ tutoring at an affordable cost.

 

I am passionate in my writing, imaginative, and can write anything from a play, to a movie script. I am in the process of finishing a manuscript about my own life.

 

The work presented in this chapter are all original pieces by Michael Montoya.

Copyright is retained by the Author.

 

Distant Waters

I hear the distant waters …

call my soul … tonight

the whispers bounce off the shadows

of the back alley, concrete street …

like waves of tides

searching for the shore …

each syllable … reaches

for my dreams

with grasping tendrils of elongated fingers

that caress my throat …

bringing forth the words

that I left on blank pages … old love letters

never sent … for the sake of a stamp

I lost you …

 

Fading Sunset Reflections

What of those fading sunset reflections

leftover scenes from erotic nights

started with eyes… sparkling

hands tangled together

melted bodies forming illusions

of lonely stallions

frozen in time…

We painted

fiery Red and yellow

Stars … from the edge

memories are the scenes

that remind me

of you …

and your fading reflection.

 

Let Me Write You the Words

Let me write you the words

that set my heart free …

they will be the words

that make you think of me

soft even tender with heavy

on delight … like the darkened sky

which still shines at night …

before mornings light

let me cling to your soul

love or passion known before

for to lose you once more …

would be the death of me

but once again sweet destiny …

you would set me free …

 

 

Love

Love … the word slips

stealthily through my lips

like a thief in the night …

softly padded … are the sounds

that show emotion …

just through one word … Love

 

Yet … still we give up

our sense of whom

those that lose their soul willingly …

pledged … none the less to our God

 

Still, we throw caution to the wind

for god’s and men … are but doomed

to fall under the sirens spell …

we call Love …

 

What You Left Behind

Your words drop like sweet rain

flowing into my brain …

electric pulsing …

exciting the senses … convulsing

it was the only thing

you forgot to take …

when you broke my heart …

now I am but a whisper

of wind … maybe sounds

that moves curtains

in memories … like music

spinning … floating across

space and time …

all the while … blurred in colors

 

While You Dream

while you dream … I searched

for the right words

to make your imagination

ease the want in your heart …

yet … all the words sounded like

hold me … pull me …

into your passionate dreams

with soft lustful lips …

you lay heaving breasts

upon my chest …

I kiss … the lips of longing …

and the Soul … I have searched for …

through many lifetimes …

is yours

 

Niamh Serendipity

The work presented in this chapter are all original pieces by Niamh Serendipity.

Copyright is retained by the Author.

 

A New Canvas, Sized and Primed

Sweet springtime rises; on a plant’s new sap,

So glowing gold is cast into our minds,

While verdant leaves; fill every sunlit gap,

Flora brings new life; to each space she finds.

 

Finding a perfect form; for every niche

Expands the beauty; of the year before,

Painting, a yet more; wonderful pastiche

Buds and tendrils; excitedly explore.

 

They give their nectar; to the flying things

That pollen that they spread; sparks life anew,

A buzz is in the air; on tiny wings,

And golden sunshine; brightens skies of blue.

 

Love springs eternal; new works are begun,

Nature imitates; shining like the sun.

 

Deep … Is their Love

Before the depths of time; in oceans deep,

King Neptune sought; to take himself a bride.

Salacia would; virginity keep,

Slipped away, to the Atlantic; to hide.

 

Gripped with a sadness; bore that mortal pain,

Sent forth his dolphin; to find his lost love,

Submariner searched; so love should regain,

Scouring the briny; and seashores above.

 

His faith, in the creature; found both reward,

Dutiful, it did return; with love’s catch,

Sailors plot Delphinus; when they’re aboard,

Navigators, star charts; finding that match.

 

Now, dolphins take their turn; drawing that pair;

Shell chariot glides; nets adorn her hair.

 

Demoted by Men; Goddess to Saint

Fiery arrow, the artist’s patron

She was a goddess; for ancient druids

For celts, would not relinquish; their matron

Mother to Creidhne; ores turned to fluids.

Brigit; deity of inspiration

Lighting the fire within the poets head

For her, all folk showed their veneration

Exalted; when language was only said.

She’s one, of the Irish patron saints; three

Brigid, Bríd or Brígh; you have many names

Filidhact; when the Celtic world roamed free

Afore Christian kings; played their power games.

Beautiful goddess; from fires of the past

Her love is the truth; that was set to last.

 

Éire; So Steeped in Celtic Magick

There, on the beautiful Emerald Isle

Live a faery race; called the Aes Sídh,

They are most keen of wit; with wondrous smile

So fair of face, yet in their minds sweeter.

Halls and palaces under earthen mound

That world within; magickal mysteries,

A realm that is real; and there to be found

Told as, mythological histories.

Home of the gods; Tuatha Dé Danann,

Then Aengas awaits; his goddess to come

Journey there also; if perhaps you can

Warm welcomes for all; with flute and bodhrán.

Éire, the Celtic kingdom of wonder,

Make a visit; Gods, shall surely thunder.

 

Enchantment from a Wingèd Archer’s Bow

Your beauty, to these eyes; has no compare,

I long to see you; when you’re miles away

Yet, when I’m close to you; I feel aware,

And should you have to leave; I wish you’d stay.

Every day, lived; with your company,

Lifts up the mind; needs no effort, at all

My heart, beats twice as fast; is so set free,

And when we laugh and smile, I feel your thrall.

That happiness, you bring; the heart invades

An ecstasy, that lifts a soul; up high,

Taking us, to sunlit; enchanted glades

Where songbirds soar; to sing, there in that sky.

When Eros shot that dart; from up above,

He knew, he had, first dipped it; in your love.

 

Hope is the Brightest Star

That chill, of a clear night; strikes at the soul,

Moonlight, shall not warm; the heart, nor love’s face,

Gulls rise, on the wind; by night, to patrol

With that wind, love sailed; away from that place.

Borne by the high tide; to where, she knows not,

To seas far away; where time is that thief

Drowning, of lost love; in sorrow, besot

Mirrors see loss; faced by only pained grief.

That tauntress rises; with each passing moon,

A cliff top, of yearning; lost by the sea

Awaiting news; which cannot come too soon,

Or love’s sweet return; that she might soar free.

Searching the horizon, seeking love’s light

Through her tears, the starlight shines; twice as bright.

 

Spring Walks; A Carpet of Her Own Making

Hues of strawberry fool; or full cream milk

With the light of springtime; comes, the blossom,

Those dainty petals; swell, soft as pure silk

Fruit trees; are no longer playing possum.

Woken, from their slumber, by warming rays,

They adorn their selves; with soft crochet shawl

Gathering portent; of, sweet summer days

Their pollen blends; with the last winter squall.

Laying their carpet; on which we may stroll,

Raising the soul; with the colour they bring

Beautiful flowers; for hearts to extol

Natures first chorus; to make the heart sing.

Flowers return; give meaning and reason,

Look forward, to love; drift on the season.

 

Those Colours Ride; Within the Light

A prism, can take on, so many forms

The shower of rain; that paints the rainbow

Refracted from the sun: as that sky warms

Shines brightly; and those vivid colours show.

 

Or it may be; that prism, of the soul

That separates emotion; in the heart

It finds out love; its virtue to extol

Sending hues, as rays; so to make a start.

 

A manufactured crystal; ground so smooth

With polished faces; that reflect so true

Converting white; with colours bold, to move

To refresh the mind; colouring anew.

 

Yet when that prism, is; the wondrous Spring

We see the love; in every living thing.

 

To … He Who Waits

What could be better; than vellum, so soft

As the ground, to accept; exquisite ink,

Tattooed peonies; fortune held aloft

Beautiful, human skin; blooms, inked in pink.

 

A living canvas; perfectly flawless

Becomes the backdrop; for an objet d’art

A highborn lady; seeking no solace,

Rewards remain high; when she risks her heart.

 

Lord knows, playing patience; is the long game,

She’ll tell her suitor; she’s washing her hair,

Inscrutable ladies; preserve their name,

He’ll have to word hard; for she’ll make him care.

Tales of love; from the highest echelons,

Flights of frustration; meet her chaperones.

 

True Beauty Blooms in Silence

There’s beauty; in the petal of that bloom,

It’s pigments; the delicate tender flesh

Coveting them; we bring them to our room,

Drink in their scent; when that stamen stands fresh.

Wondrous to the soul; certain you’ll agree,

Posies lift the mind; opening distance

Colours that they bring; set the senses free

Fragrant to the nose; reeling in the dance.

Sweet tinted marvels; of which minds may feed

Enhancing us, our being; by their own,

Natures pretty angels; born of the seed,

Cast seeds to the wind; that new life be sown.

Egoless beauties; trumpet not their self,

Transient bloom; this day, splendour is wealth.

 

Paul Murphy

 

The work presented in this chapter is an original piece by Paul Murphy.

Copyright is retained by the Author.

 

Flood of Storms

pretender I be should I fall from the light,

through stench in life’s gutters, imagination climbs

to reveal what I’ve witnessed, the soothsayer’s plight

telling stories on lines of my grime

drowning below are the fates of past’s failures

most be my own that I see on their face

words they shall leak from blood of lost labours

where love once was friend, now without trace

should I emerge from the flood of storms raging blood

no ark holds my hand when they have their own wings

I am the pains in the hearts, where no good

found they’re safe when I strum on their strings

pretender I be when the writer is free

I seek no clemency for my soul’s liberty.

 

Portia Burton

I am Portia Burton, undergraduate student of the Queens’ College (University of Cambridge). I am doing graduation in ‘Human Behavioural Science’. My parents live in London. I love poetry since my childhood and mostly read poems rather than any other form of literature. My most favorite poets are: Shakespeare, Wordsworth, Shelley, Byron, Keats, Sylvia Plath, Dylan Thomas, Rilke, to name a few. The writer I love most is Virginia Woolf. I have much to learn about poetry, poetics, and above all, about life! (smile)

 

The work presented in this chapter are all original pieces by Portia Burton.

Copyright is retained by the Author.

 

A Familiar Tale

 

Like some stubborn stones

Standing in a flowing stream,

Some things remain in the mind

Left incomplete or untried,

They remain rooted even after

A great time has flown by,

A familiar tale, isn’t it?

My granny used to say

Something like this,

I’ve heard my dad also

Giving out such sighs.

There are similar entries

In my diaries too,

And may be in yours …

 

Chorus

When my granny would hum to herself,

My mom would poke her to sing aloud,

Then slowly picking up granny’s refrain,

She too would start to sing that song.

 

Then granny would nod and signal to mom

To go to the piano and play those notes,

And as an amused onlooker I would tap

my foot gently to that curious rhythm.

 

Both granny and mom would then become

Two giggling girls like my classmates,

But I would feel sad to be left out

On the periphery of their enclosed world.

 

Noticing my pout, granny would smile and say,

‘Come, join us, Babes, sing along and sway.’

 

 

Envy

Whenever I go to my granny’s village,

I enjoy the company of a cute little girl,

Meseems she is cast in a fairy’s image,

Pure and innocent like a new-found pearl.

She accompanies me in my morning strolls,

Leads me to nearby fields and meadows,

Sometimes we race on the slopes of knolls,

Play hide and seek among oaks and willows.

She makes me forget my troubling worries,

And remember my own sweet childhood days,

Granny’s lullaby and strange bedtime stories,

Her funny way of singing the country lays.

I envy that girl, her innocence, and grieve

Oh, how in the fairy-tales I no more believe!

 

Four-leafed Clover

If you find a four-leaf clover,

You won’t remain the same,

You will forget many things,

Even your blessed name.

You may become a clownish cloud,

Floating away in haste,

Confused about directions,

Whither to the East or the West?

When exhausted, you’d lie down,

And may blend with the clay,

Only to rise up as a tree

Chosen for cherubs to stay.

So, drop down that four-leaf clover,

Ere it changes you even more!

 

Giggling with Glee

Giggling with glee, I would run

Across the fields, full of cheer,

Under the care of summer sun,

Like a delighted dancing deer.

Hoping the day would never end,

Under the canopy of clear skies,

All my time I’d happily spend

Running after naughty butterflies.

Alas, the summer lasts not long,

And so also the youthful times,

But I’ll go on singing my song

To the tune of the church-bell chimes.

The birds will pick up my refrain,

Flowers would say, ‘Miss, come again!’

 

How I Long to Wander

How I long to wander in the deep wood,

Once the winter gives way to the Spring,

To watch the squirrels scurrying for food,

And to hear a stream’s merry murmuring,

 

While it is running through the lofty trees,

Flanked by the reeds and bulrushes green,

Swaying in tandem with a playful breeze,

And girdled by the lilies- cute and clean.

 

There will surely be the pensive willows,

Checking their reflections like Narcissus,

Will ‘Puck’ be there be with his fellows?

There might even be the winged Pegasus!

 

‘Spring’! even that word puts me in a trance,

And makes me see the winged fairies’ dance!

 

My Poems

I don’t want to do anything else

But to compose some meaningful poems,

Pleasant to hear like sweet chiming bells,

Lustrous like the precious ‘Royal gems’.

 

They will speak only the language of love,

Also lend voice to a sad soul’s sorrow,

Sigh with the helpless wounded dove,

Who may not see the dawn of ‘morrow.

 

Following the path of some learned peers,

Whose poems are like the guiding stars,

Bringing hope to eyes clouded with tears,

Gently healing the wounded heart’s scars.

 

Devouring Time might wipe out my name,

Yet someone will surely cherish my poem.

 

Prayer for the Mothering Sunday

You know, my dearest mom,

My every poem for you

Is nothing but a thankful hug

For being there for me,

Sharing my smiles and tears.

As you often say:

I am your dream personified,

So I would say:

You are my prayers answered

In each and every life.

Hence, on this special day,

I would pray again

For getting born as your daughter

In all my future lives!

 

Resigned

‘They’ don’t understand, they never do,

They never see my point of view.

I try to reach out to them and explain,

But, oh, all my efforts go in vain.

 

I tell them that I feel depressed

But they shrug and say, ‘Take some rest.’

So I just sit alone in my darkened room,

Wrapped in some weird, unfathomable gloom.

 

But I’m not okay, something is wrong,

I feel as if I am nobody, I don’t belong

To my parents, and friends, to this life,

This thought cuts me like a sharp knife.

 

Resigned, I go out with a fake smile,

To face the wicked world full of guile.

 

The Aftermath

The white feathers

Stained with blood

Are scattered in the dust.

The stunned wind

Has held its breath,

Yet the straws

From the broken nests

Fall down

As if to embrace

Those forlorn feathers.

The saddened moon prefers

To hide behind the clouds,

Asking the girl looking at it

To go and protect her dolls.

 

S L Jennings

The work presented in this chapter are all original pieces by S L Jennings.

Copyright is retained by the Author.

 

Divine

Allay your fears abaft lost troubled years

Confide in me all you’ve seen of this life

Erase away your pain in tears like rain

Ring gospel choirs who sing praise over strife.

 

Alight oppressed desire, stir burdens bare

Touch worship’s temple stripped in confession

Sip now bliss naked at this altar’s kiss

Commune with me to drink rich transgression.

 

Resolve beyond belief sins to absolve

Without boundaries of dark versus light

Divine by heaven’s peace new beginnings

To guide within earth’s dawn our virgin flight.

 

Blind to find no more of night’s broken score

Let me turn your key to unlock love’s door.

 

The Fisherman

I threw my heart true into the ocean

in an amber bottle sold as magic potion

on raging waves I prayed for salvation

from a mad world born of man’s frustration

 

For forty days and forty nights alone

Cumbrous glum crests tossed my vessel wind blown

further away destination unknown

Blood drawn sharks forecast dark weather’s headstone

 

And I no usual damsel in distress cried tears

as I spied a lone ship to answer my prayers

A fisherman reeled me in to throw my heart back again

God’s lamb among men said life was for livin’

 

No forgivin’ when Love’s your action and your art

Salvation’s ark is built on earth’s one heart

 

Saskia Jonker

 

The work presented in this chapter are all original pieces by Saskia Jonker.

Copyright is retained by the Author.

 

A Deeper Shade of Red

 

My heart it bleeds a deeper shade of red

It’s cut in ways I did not know exist

And though I long to scream and shout, instead

I weep in silence for the lives now missed

I feel so powerless with pen as sword,

to battle what I wished had n’er begun

These senseless acts, where mankind moves toward

abyss of darkness, then to claim we’ve won

But what is there to win, when all is lost?

And love’s left searching for one sens’ble soul

to rise above the hatred and its cost

To once more trust that mankind can be whole

My heart bleeds ink of red in sad release

My pen flows tears of love and prayer for peace.

 

Behold

 

Behold her beauty when she turns and leaves,

For memory tides you over when apart,

Intoxicating smiles on summer eves

When you would feel the beating of her heart.

The interlocking of your love-filled eyes,

The palpitations as your bodies melt,

The peacefulness beyond the if’s and why’s,

The pure belonging that is fin’lly felt.

And though she may not ever see her soul

In simple shining splendor, as do you,

You may not ever balance what they stole

Deep down someday she’ll know your love is true.

So even if for now she cries and grieves,

Behold her beauty when she turns and leaves.

 

Stellar Love

 

In golden hues of tranquil sunset skies

Where dreads and daunting days have found their peace

Is where the marvel of their romance lies

Its depth but mirrored by the beds of seas

It’s there, where sun and moon unite as one

Their fusion sparking stars most everywhere

A stellar passion never brighter shone

And heaven graces them: celestial pair

No matter where life takes them day to day

Or what endeavors, keeping them apart

Their hearts assured they’ve found their blissful way

And meant to be together from the start

So should you ever see a shooting star

It’s them, sharing their fortune from afar.

 

Sumyanna

I had written poetry when I was younger to help myself go through difficult times. It was a way to feel on the page what I was not always free to feel in life. As a child, it is harder when you are not allowed the ability to express yourself. As I grew older, I grew out of the need to express myself, at least for many years. It is not that I did not need it – but I guess times were happier and I felt I did not need the crutch of my writing. However, last year I found writing again. It was not for any certain need, except that I truly missed allowing my thoughts to flow and having the opportunity to capture them.

 

I truly never expected to call myself a writer, but the more I wrote this past year, the more I realized that I needed to write as surely as I needed to breathe. It is hard to even understand myself, but I guess it is similar to when an artist steps up to an easel to paint. I find great happiness in creating something with my own hands. Also, when times are tough, I find solace in being able to express my feelings – getting them out there. I don’t always just say I am angry – but I write it across the landscape of a poem and getting those words out helps me get past any difficulty I must face. Other times, I just soak in the beauty of the world around me. This is where I get my strength.

 

The work presented in this chapter are all original pieces by Sumyanna.

Copyright is retained by the Author.

 

Awaiting Spring Rain

 

Dewdrops

wash the

tears of flowers,

heads bent in sorrow,

praying for long awaited rain.

Spring yearning beneath their fragile petals

in her bounty, their thirst is quenched.

 

In her bounty, their thirst is quenched.

Spring yearning beneath their fragile petals,

praying for long awaited rain,

heads bent in sorrow.

Tears of flowers

wash the

dewdrops.

 

Counting Moments Till Sunrise

 

The wind

whispers longingly under the moonlight

her breath

stretches far across winter’s back.

The earth

stands still, in silent slumber

as shadows

join the slow crawl toward morning light.

Snow releases

in masses, at the feet of trees and houses

I watch

from my window, hidden from view

I witness

the sun’s rays ripen across the horizon.

 

Exiled from our Vocabulary

 

Hear

The voices,

Those calling out.

Justice lays her head

And weeps at the sorrow

The pain filled memories many live

Disbelief wails at those who remain silent,

Settled in their nests to live another day

When will loud, angry voices carry those suffering home?

When will we begin to see these barely processed truths?

When will the veil of peace be widened across the horizon?

And time awaits an answer, as blood still flows across the border

While the poor, the oppressed, and the alienated still bend their broken backs

The wealthy pile money, powerful lay claims, and compassion is exiled from our vocabulary.

 

Faceless Voices

 

Lost,

she is –

among the many.

And no one listens

as faceless voices scream truths.

There’s nothing we have left behind

and a vortex of open wounds weeps.

And a vortex of open wounds weeps

there’s nothing we have left behind

as faceless voices scream truths

and no one listens.

Among the many,

she is

lost.

 

Fourteen Words

 

Fourteen words crawled silently across the page, hunting for meaning where meaning was lost

it was an abstract passage, a veiled flight of fancy, a wordsmith’s dream.

To the writer’s delight, words danced, crooned, and bounded in uncertain fashion.

The words required the author’s gentle touch to give them meaning

and the writer was equally anxious to start the task.

Pen raised, the words did wend their curious way.

A story was spoken, a tale was told

and inquisitive ear, did beg to listen.

This is where we find ourselves,

between the spoken, delightful dance

of words, glorious words

easing their sorrows,

searching for

significance.

 

My Heart is Ready

 

Above all the roar and din of the world,

Here is where you shall find me -

Counting the various paths of ladybugs across pine needle

Listening to the gentle whisper of breeze beneath shaking leaves

Delighting in the fragrant swirl of musty logs and dampened earth.

There is a silence that exists in my heart and no matter how hard I try to reach it,

It falters at the sight of passing cars, pedestrians, and busy crosswalks

Blaring signs of civilization prove too strong a passage for internal conversation

So I must wait in anticipation where my soul, once again, shall find its place

I find shelter among the silent forests and the wandering hillsides, where the world is lush and full of life

I find solace surrounded by the gentle roar of rivers meandering through the mountains

I find equal pleasure losing myself within the rush and roar of the open sea

They sing to me, a gentle melody – all that exists, upon the land and beneath her watery depths

Come sing to me – now, sing me a lullaby, for my heart is ready and the time is finally near.

 

 

Nature vs. Nurture and the Ignorance of Looking Away

 

I wish to find the golden promise of sunlight

it used to dwell on the faces of children,

whose only expressions were smiles in play yard fun

now, there are children living on the streets,

homeless and helpless – their tears unheard

some grow like weeds amid the gunfire, the drugs, the violence, the strife

and who wears the sorrow for where these children lay their head?

Or is it just enough to say, it’s not my problem to bear?

A child cries in the darkness of the night,

from being beaten, bloodied, torn

and somehow, we know no other way –

than to tuck our children into bed and say a prayer.

While we shelter our children from the storm,

we barely realize what future storm shall come, if we look the other way.

 

The Dance of Silence

 

Silence,

dances softly

on the horizon

at break of day.

You can find her traces

upswept in the gentle evening winds.

She finds solace, sleeping among the stars.

 

She finds solace, sleeping among the stars

upswept in the gentle evening winds.

You can find her traces

at break of day.

On the horizon

dances softly -

silence.

 

The Earth is Starved of Peace

 

Words

fall carelessly

in barren wasteland.

Echoes reek of silence

there’s nothing left of sentiment

but constant dripping of meaningless noise

and the complacent thunder of dueling tongues.

The shadows here grow long in quickened emptiness

and the earth, the stars, the firmament is wailing

as a mournful hollowness cruelly strums across their weary bones.

Why do we refuse to care? Why do we not act?

And there is no answer sufficient for the sorrow they reluctantly carry

wounds won’t heal, the damage is done, and earth is starved of peace

just because we could and because our haughty views refused to let us see.

 

Twist

 

Twist

the words.

Let them spill

from your insolent tongue.

I have exhausted my attempts

to understand your ire, your discontent.

You have left me speechless, hopeless, wandering.

You have left me speechless, hopeless, wandering

to understand your ire, your discontent,

I have exhausted my attempts.

From your insolent tongue,

let them spill –

the words

twist.

 

Victor Garcia

 

The work presented in this chapter is an original piece by Victor Garcia.

Copyright is retained by the Author.

 

Indiscretion

 

indiscretion perhaps once be,

transgressions, my mishaps, are beyond many

Crystals are mirrors to my eyes

diamonds stolen away, Behold any?

murmurs of twigs sense armor

Rumors bring me sudden laughter

Smile raises some kind of objection

one raises courteous attention

subject called abuse, don’t hence now

Titles are a misuse, quick don’t you know

aren’t we all mice, running about,

open to suggestions, ask me something

would you know, what’s my relation

Considering I’m alive, what else is there?

 

 

 

Zoha Umar

 

The work presented in this chapter are all original pieces by Zoha Umar.

Copyright is retained by the Author.

 

As They Joined

 

It was one

One tiny daisy under the glare of sun

a white satin of attention

Leading me to its petal when my thoughts run

Such a lovely fragrance, a fine pattern

Then joined you. Making it two

Two flowers of the same hue

Yet different through and through

Delighting, burning all my view.

Then joined he

Loving, hovering like a bee

Trapping my attention, making it a three

And as, as into all of it I entangle; I see

The more the instruments join, the worse gets the melody.

 

Closer to You

 

With each passing moment in time

As the days slip, as the clocks chime

An infinity breaks, closer I reach

Time traveled, distance breached.

With each falling year from my life’s cloud

The vapor diminishes, the thunder goes loud

And thus to your path, I step and I walk.

To the flowers you’ve kissed, I serenely talk.

Under the stars you’ve wished upon, I gladly hide.

In the home you’ve knitted, my soul reside.

Yet, yet when the vacuum of time pulls me forward

And I recall the old years with memories blurred

I know that day, we’re only getting closer;

The dead melody and the living composer.

 

© 2017


xiv lines - Volume 1, 2017

Out of all poetry, some of the most beautiful work has been written in just fourteen lines. Many of us will immediately call to mind the sonnet form with the very mention of fourteen lines, but there is a special appeal attached to a poem of fourteen lines. It seems that it is just the right length to express one’s self in so many ways. Some find this task easy and some find it more difficult; reasons vary from poet to poet. Members of this group write in various styles ranging from free verse through syllabic verse to the structured and traditional sonnet forms.

  • ISBN: 9781370812042
  • Author: 1824 Publishers
  • Published: 2017-06-11 06:05:40
  • Words: 16191
xiv lines - Volume 1, 2017 xiv lines - Volume 1, 2017