If you have a poem or poems you would like to submit , please e-mail them to [email protected]. I will be happy to read them and to post the more expressive and qualitative writing on these pages.
Turn to face another day and pray it turns out better.
The joker sat in judgement of the game being played
Decided that the edges of our tapestry were frayed.
Insecurity stronger than the simple need for fun,
Now the time has come to turn our backs toward the sun.
Farewell to conversation, goodbye to many years.
I close the book in silence and with a minimum of tears.
Jim Jenkinson.
Soundings
A soft Spirit, a still voice, sounds
As reality in a whorled seashell rebounds.
To hear the whisper takes a sensate nature,
One who can journey in joy, mature--
Passing understanding, a sense of peace,
Massing, this seaside trance, a new lease
On life, a celestial creation,
Like a nautilus, listening to the reverberation.
Above, the stars, swirling in space,
Shine on shore, an endless place--
A trace of silent steps upon the deep;
And one lies quiet, watchful, even in sleep.
Submitted by Susan Friesen 7/14/2003
Dedicated to poet extraordinaire, Richard Doiron
RainTime
The feel good feeling
of a rain
that comes quickly
pelting the windshield
and dripping in a little
through the slightly open
window
letting in that pungent
non-pungent odor
of moisture mixing
with the wind
and grass
and wood
and soil;
a smell that has a life
like life so sweet,
when you see a youngster
taking its first step
or the words come pouring
into a lively mind
awakening the senses
much as the rain does now,
when you know it will
go gently,
slowly dissipating
into here a drop
and now a drop again,
like a squeezing
of the last juice
from a fruit,
the pulp-like clouds remaining
parting for the sun
and there's my bow
of promised
life renewing
over and over
quickly gaining momentum
and slowly returning
to the reflective times,
when sorrows could weigh heavy
if one heeds not
the reminders
of that feel good feeling
of pouring.
Rocky Wilson (Montrose, CO)
Dear Steve...
My mother wrote a lot of poetry in the early 80's.. She was buying a house in a small town just south of here a few years ago, and she got sick, and lost her house. My sister and I were helping her move all her stuff out, and cleaning it, and she had a shed I was going to clean out. She said just throw everything away that is in the shed.... I found a folder with all these poems in it (I never knew she wrote poetry).. And I decided to keep them.. Some are really good... I will share one with you that I really liked...
REMEMBER ME
My life is swiftly passing
The years are flying by
I never seem to accomplish
something to remember me by
Many friends drift away
With the loss of each I cry
I hope my having loved them
Is enough to remember me by
When my life is all used up
and it comes my turn to die
I don't want to see any grief
Only love to remember me by
Submitted by tina 04/06/06
Moon Tides
In my heart there's a place
Only lovers used to go,
Like surging ocean tides,
Flooding a barren knoll.
Sometimes I close my eyes,
I never find you there,
Choosing instead to be just friends
In a growing trust that never ends.
Like all sails out at sea,
Windswept upon a lonely beach,
Morning calm creeps along the shore.
And then you touched me.
Now I close my eyes,
Only you are there.
Not even your moon tides
Can set you free.
Copyright Marcella Leff 7/4/2007
Moon Tides
In my heart there's a place
Only lovers used to go,
Like surging ocean tides,
Flooding a barren knoll.
Sometimes I close my eyes,
I never find you there,
Choosing instead to be just friends
In a growing trust that never ends.
Like all sails out at sea,
Windswept upon a lonely beach,
Morning calm creeps along the shore.
And then you touched me.
Now I close my eyes,
Only you are there.
Not even your moon tides
Can set you free.
Copyright Marcella Leff 7/4/2007
Intro: We all agree words mean something. That's why dictionaries
are made, bought and consulted. But all too often we carelessly
use words that bring sorrow, pain, confusion or even complete despair
into people's life. I'm convinced there has been more sorrow brought
to more lives by the careless use of the word 'love' than has ever been
through the deliberately destructive actions of hate
ARE YOU SURE ITS LOVE?
I love your skin, I love your hair.
I love being here and I'd love to be there.
I love carrots and I love peas,
And many other things I love beside just these.
I love lobster and I love a good steak.
I love chocolate, especially in a cake.
I love things on Earth, water and sky.
Some things I love and don't even know why.
But if the quantity of love is really this great,
Why do we encounter jealousy, bitterness and hate?
We love our families, clothes, cars and friends
And love couquers all and will 'til the world ends.
Hence there is one thing that troubles my mind,
And the answer is not simple nor easy to find.
What does God think as He looks down from above,
And sees how thoughtlessly we use the word love.
Truism: When all is said and done,
a lot more is said than done.
Submitted January17, 2009 by Larry Stone
I"ll Probably Never Be
I've wandered so far away from what I thought I'd be
I've changed my mind, my ways, my clothes endlessly
To find I'm really not so far from who I am right now
But I've wandered far from who I thought was me
I've made concessions and recessions for my memory
Sometimes the mirror blinds so you can't see
And yet I'm really not so far from who I am right now
But yes, I'm here, still searching for me
I won't let the lessons of the journey
mean less than what they are
an open gateway to that other world
And I refuse to listen long
to a tyranny of thought.......
that belongs not to me while I lie curled.....
in a ball at someone's feet, begging for release
from myself.
Because I'm really not so far from who I am right now
