Though Jeanne is helping me monitor and the site, I felt the need to share this on her behalf as it’s really good, and belongs. 🙂
you, feathered friend
the only way to be
you come and go
leave a note
wander on your way
the joy you leave
wrapped in melody
yonder, where cattails play
and dogfish stray
and hearts long to stay.
to read more from Jeanne, check out at her new site: https://seasonsapoeticjourney.com/author/mstrgardener/
When the hurricane and the hot sun,
The flower beds they wilt and burn;
Drying up trees lively lush green,
Destroying nature’s tranquility serene;
A destined wind takes the petals away,
Shaking the trees hard, making branches sway;
The memories hidden in the lifeless dry leaves,
Are roughly washed away from the trees;
The precious moments that you weave;
One day, behind you will have to leave,
Remember always, nothing lasts long,
Not even this woeful painful sad song;
In a new little body alive and whole,
Stays forever the eternal blissful soul;
Nothing will ever last for long,
Neither happy nor a woeful song.
Copyright 2019 Chitkala Aditosh ( Chitkala Mulye)
for more from Chitkala, at The Words Untrammeled, please click here: https://wordpress.com/read/feeds/39918555
trinkets for mermaids
seashells gathered by children
so will my bones be
I think I wrote you into being
Or maybe it’s all my imagination
That I find you in every inspiring word
And every heart felt line
Even all the ones I wrote before
I ever met you
If you don’t believe me
Take a walk through my writings
See how much of you you find
When you’re finish with your findings
Tell me of your discoveries
Do you now see clearer
How much of you is in me
We’ve always been connected
And connected always we will be
Read more PurpleStar poems at: https://purplestarastrology.home.blog/
You have to drive with your eyes
If you want to get there alive.
Or you can kick your shoes off,
Take it easy and just ride.
Knowing every day you die a little inside.
Put your sunglasses on or take the time.
Be a passenger, honey, or read the signs.
Stay up to see the sunrise; see the colours; live a life.
You can drive this life
Or be a passenger and just ride.
© 2019 | Frank Regan, All rights reserved.
To read more of Frank Regan, visit him at Made of Sticks and Stones: https://wordpress.com/read/feeds/18732778
Image Source – Google
” Some people who call themselves wise, assume that innocent and honest people are fools. And this particular belief puts a big question mark on their wisdom.”
Yeah, they are sensible
Great and practical
Only believe in being representable
Something which is fashionable
But, Innocence is admirable
No matter what but unalterable
And, they call it laughable
Well, this is questionable
Why it is illogical
Something which is honourable
Not considered as valuable
Never understand this principle
I think it will be terrible
When decency will burst it’s patience-level
Of this deep ocean which is immeasurable
to read more at Ray of Sunshine, click here: https://norulesforthisgame.wordpress.com/
really simple and heartfelt piece I came across this morning. It begged for share.
She dipped her toes in the crystal blue
Warm shivers ran down her back
The gentle coolness relieving
All that was past.
She stepped into shallow waters clear
Slowly sank down to the earth
And just let the water drench
Her body with gentleness.
She closed her eyes in the trance
Tilted her chin to the sun
And let the magic
Carry her away.
Always hope. Always believe. Always love.
To read more content at Infinity Love Steps, click here: https://infinitylovesteps.com/
You taught me poetry doesn’t have to be
It doesn’t have to rhyme
every single time.
All poetry needs to be is a punch
into someone’s gut
strong enough to make them gasp.
“Poetry is a seed
and you are the sunflower.”
Strip a poem word by word
down to this bare bone,
and you’ll find that poetry
is just a couple of words deep.
Poetry is about when you read it.
Poetry is about how much you need it.
So I tried.
I wrote you a love poem about how I would
use the sky to wrap your Christmas presents,
make the moon sing you bedtime lullabies,
and watch you do your thing.
The poem was twenty three lines long,
and had a three word chorus
almost like a weird song,
or a very complicated confession.
As we lay on an old mattress,
my head on your chest,
I read my poem over and over
till I stripped it down to three words.
‘I love you’.
I couldn’t strip it down further because
‘I’ am important,
‘love’ is the confession,
and ‘you’ are everything.
I read this poem to you
right before asking you to marry me
and you gasped.
“Poetry is a concept.
It’s a sunset sky cut into a thousand pieces
by tree branches.
It’s the marrow in your bones.
Don’t write poems all the time.
Strip it down.
Your favorite game was strip-poetry.
You could sit for hours with a poem,
cut away its important limbs
and watch the heart still pump blood.
“Sometimes, you don’t even need words for poetry.
Just a kiss is enough for a love poem.
A slap on the cheeks of the guy
who touched you without consent
could be your poem and his trigger warning.”
You taught me poetry
and I love you for that.
for more Ustav, click here: https://myspirals.com/blog/strip-poetry/
More mind-bending thoughts are posted here Glitchy Preacher.