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A World of Heavenly Fantasy

by Lisa Canfield Lisa925L@hotmail.com

Do Words Even Compare to the Beauty that I do Seek?

Do words even compare to the beauty that I do seek?
Among hollyhocks, and trumpet vine
Hanging climbs of light and peek?
Dragonflies lingering their gypsy flight
Across the star spangled banner of night.
And butterflies with their silken wings
Fluttering across magnolias as the nightingale sings
Trellis’s covered with wisteria fruit
Lilacs perfuming the air with their rich fragrant loot.
And the incense of freshly laundered air
Stirred up by a light rain and rainbow flare
Makes me want to sing, and dance!
In this paradise of garden romance.
Near me I feel the warmth of light
As the sun smiles down, in blinding sight
And it comforts me, like a loving lover.
Its arms wrapped around me tight,
in protection and cover.
Wild jungles of mimosas bloom, and burst.
The sleeping grass that awakens, no longer pursed.
And the anxious hummingbirds dart their swift escape
In these exotic trees, of bright pink cape.
And so, I wander, in this world of heavenly fantasy
With my spirit and soul, shadowing lightly along side of me.
And I smile, light and child.
As I continue my journey, through flowers – ever, so wild.

Sunday, May 14th 2006 - 09:48:46 PM


THROUGH BLINDED EYES

by Gloria L. Sarasin sara689@yahoo.com

So much I see and think I know,
All that’s shown before my eyes,
But so much is hidden there…
I see through blinded eyes.

Not everything is, as it seems,
Our eyes see just in part,
For we can see with only eyes…
We cannot see the heart.

We look upon a smiling face
And think that we see happy there,
But all the pain behind the eyes…
We’re often unaware.

We think we see a hardened heart,
But an injured one is gone unseen,
For we see through blinded eyes…
And not what lies behind the scene.

If I could learn but not to judge,
And try to keep an open mind,
That what it is I think I see…
May be because I’m seeing blind.




Sunday, June 26th 2005 - 11:10:22 PM


PANDORA'S LAMENT

by Gloria L. Sarasin sara689@yahoo.com

My life in torment now will see,
No rest upon my soul,
A woman cursed, no where to flee,
Not mountaintop, or knoll.

Where once I saw the world in peace,
It’s now a battleground,
And at my hand, saw ills release
From where they once were bound.

Oh, cursed be this woman’s soul,
For nowhere, solace be,
My mind now plunged into this hole
For all eternity.

A paradise, it once was mine,
No hatred, lust, or greed,
My heart knew love, and all was fine,
Nowhere an evil deed.

No cavern deep enough to hide,
I walk this earth accursed,
For sought to find what was inside,
For knowledge I had thirst.

Now evil spreads across the globe,
Puts black upon the heart,
And never more can I disrobe
For guilt I see depart.

Wretched I am, no peace in me,
Don’t look upon my face,
Wormwood I am for eyes to see,
I’ve cursed the human race.


Sunday, June 26th 2005 - 11:07:39 PM


The First December Snow

by Lisa Canfield Lisa925L@hotmail.com

A glimpse of white caught my eye
Behind the shaded light.
And so I ran to the window.
Cracked it open to see.
A wonderland of snow
A wonderland of delight!
Snow – white glistening snow
It’s sparkle and glow
Dancing like little fairies in tinkerbell dust.
Snow, white and shiny
Like a new wax candle burning
Mountains peaked
in gingerbread icing crust.
So alive and fresh, so soft and dewy
Like a feather down being quilted and laid.
So light and giddy, swimming in the
Loving strokes of the trumpeting sun
So cold, yet so warmly bathed.
And so I spy -
Over the fields, the tapering current
Of ivory crash along
The sidewalk salted ledge.
Prancing in the corners
Of every window and tree,
Birthing its sprinkling
of every limb and guttered ;edge.
And so I took my hand knit mittens
And my woolen cloak and yarn needled cap.
And ran outside to greet this new friend
Without a care, nor discovery map.
I made snow angels, threw snowballs
Even tried my hand at making a frosty snowman
With the boots as feet.
I ran around in circles, getting dizzy
As my nose turned bright red under the snow’s
Glistening treat.
Flushed colored cheeks, rosey and red,
Childish memories, running in my head.
Snow had become my new sleeping dreams,
It had become my soft pillow and bed.
Holiday’d snow, how fun, how lively;
How pretty, how sweet - how quaint. What a glow!
Nothing can compare to the first day of real winter,
To first fallen December snow!


Tuesday, December 7th 2004 - 12:50:55 AM


APRON STRINGS

by Gloria L. Sarasin sara689@yahoo.com

Life’s frosty chill lies over me,
Runs rampant through my veins,
No place to run that I can find,
The frigid air remains.

Sometimes I think if life could turn
I’d have it carry me
Back to a time when I was small
And sat on Mama’s knee.

The cold wind blows across my face,
I feel it enter me,
And seek a solace found with warmth,
But find insanity.

Return me now to that safe place,
The place where life still sings,
A time in life lived long ago
When tied to apron strings.

Sun tries to penetrate the cold,
I feel the warmth of rays,
But frigidness of life remains
And so does this malaise.

My mind drifts back and now I see
My Mama with brown hair
And I asleep so peacefully
While in her rocking chair.

Life will not keep my mind in past,
It puts me back in cold,
Where winds of life blow hard and fierce
And I keep growing old.






Monday, December 6th 2004 - 05:17:41 AM


TWO SIDES OF LIFE

by Gloria L. Sarasin sara689@yahoo.com

Disappearing ink on sheets of thin paper,
Short are the days we spend on the earth.
Flashes of time, the blowing of wind,
The spirit will fly, dust tossed about.

Days of our lives, like sands washed to sea,
Tossed by the wind to be here no more.

Grass will grow tall and flowers will bloom,
But tears only shed on the side where birds fly.
Our life, but a whisper, a moment in time,
And then will the shell set free life within.

Days of our lives, like sands washed to sea,
Tossed by the wind to be here no more.

Thin is the veil betwixt now and then,
Valley of tears and meadow beyond,
And yet to the valley we cling so to stay,
Our eyes fear the meadow where Lilly’s unseen.

Days of our lives, like sands washed to sea,
Tossed by the wind to be here no more.

A short journey between the two sides of life,
The one filled with sorrow, the other of joy.
The singing of angels will replace the tears,
And gone from our minds like disappearing ink.

Days of our lives, like sands washed to sea,
Tossed by the wind to be here no more…
To be here no more…no more.



Monday, December 6th 2004 - 05:15:56 AM


TWO SIDES OF LIFE

by Gloria L. Sarasin sara689@yahoo.com

Disappearing ink on sheets of thin paper,
Short are the days we spend on the earth.
Flashes of time, the blowing of wind,
The spirit will fly, dust tossed about.

Days of our lives, like sands washed to sea,
Tossed by the wind to be here no more.

Grass will grow tall and flowers will bloom,
But tears only shed on the side where birds fly.
Our life but a whisper, a moment in time,
And then will the shell set free life within.

Days of our lives, like sands washed to sea,
Tossed by the wind to be here no more.

Thin is the veil betwixt now and then,
Valley of tears and meadow beyond,
And yet to the valley we cling so to stay,
Our eyes fear the meadow where Lilly’s unseen.

Days of our lives, like sands washed to sea,
Tossed by the wind to be here no more.

A short journey between the two sides of life,
The one filled with sorrow, the other of joy.
The singing of angels will replace the tears,
And gone from our minds like disappearing ink.

Days of our lives, like sands washed to sea,
Tossed by the wind to be here no more…
To be here no more…no more.


Friday, December 3rd 2004 - 01:15:05 AM


Chinese Lantern

by Lisa Canfield Lisa925L@hotmail.com


glowing -
illumination echoing open wide.
soft hues whispering
between mahogany straight's
and narrow wood.
paper fire without smoke
but - with harmony.
And assembly.
Feng shui in motion.
Stilt of a moment.
an escape between light and dark.
where; dances play in shadows of quiet.
And rocking murmurs.
chinese lantern.


Wednesday, December 1st 2004 - 10:35:43 PM


Flesh Stones

by Stephanie Lynne Thorburn Amphora@vogue.co.uk


Currency, my will to power,
Blueprint, engage my heart,
Emotions in motion,
Reflexive intuition,
Repeal virtuosity,
Blessed talents,
Amphora absolute.
Fulfils the elements,
Fuel peace amongst a soul so sparse.

Flesh to stone,
A year has past,
Each moment entranced,
Beyond the dusk, eclipsed by day,
The sleep of the mortal,
Crave phantom contact,
Reveal ebony, a man of earth,
Aural seduction,
Affirms my path.


Tuesday, November 23rd 2004 - 11:44:28 PM


A Social Odyssey.

by Stephanie Lynne Thorburn. Amphora@vogue.co.uk


One recoils in haste from birth for the re-birth for the recantation,
Of voices adverse from deep inside,
Of your own emotional gratification.

It emerged a viperous thing as a Jezebel harleena,
That sensation of the nulled, neutrality quelled a King,
Within the sinful walls the empress of stagnation.

I ply my trade with pen in hand,
A protagonist of peace, endearing charm, a divine gift of expression,
Yet within labyrinthine walls we are placed,
A social abyss; etiquettes of carnal distaste, despotic dictates,

The moral doctrines and the repression.



Friday, November 19th 2004 - 02:52:06 AM


Nirvana Preachin'

by Stephanie Lynne Thorburn. Amphora@vogue.co.uk


Buddha retorts deep,
Conscience lame, profanity bleedin’,
Somebody’s preaching.
-------------------------------

Buddha defeats, sanguine speaks,
I climb inside the eye of a heart so beguiled, god help me,
The provocateur is enshrined,
The provocateur is sleepin’.
-------------------------------

Trust denied, blessed vacuum,
Aura of skin, textured velveteen, coarse Mecca,
The words of spite wretched enchanted hole,
I am kin to the lies,
I hear the Buddha man holler blind, he’s preachin’.
-------------------------------

A plan denied, I have no son, no child,
Arrest a soul,
My embrace is alive.
The Buddha man my god, too wretched, humbled,
Your words imprint, sincerity scorned,
Stripped lonesome bride.
A doctrine to nirvana,
Counsel from delusion or myth,
Less sacred words I won’t be keepin’.
-------------------------------




Thursday, November 4th 2004 - 10:46:41 PM


Reach out Your Hand

by Gloria L. Sarasin sara689@yahoo.com

When we find our own eyes dry,
We must remember others cry,
And not forget to reach a hand
And let them know we understand.

What price to give a part of you...
It will cost you nothing if you do.
A moments time to send some love
And say it's them you're thinking of.

A word of kindness sent by you
To help a heart that's feeling blue,
To give encouragement and hope
To someone trying hard to cope.

Just remember others cry
When you find your own are dry,
Let them know you understand,
To these souls...reach out your hand.

Friday, October 22nd 2004 - 08:44:23 AM


Divine Write

by Jaime Jay Knox jislands41@yahoo.com

Life is great,
Life is fine,
What is my fate,
Is it divine?
Intervention that is,
or so I read,
It's a place few go,
It's all in your head.
Your brain, I say.
It's how one shall think,
That paves the way,
For the cerebral ink.
To hit the pad,
To mark our say.
It's what we've had,
To learn our way.
Life is great,
Life is fine.
What is my fate,
It is divine.



Sunday, September 19th 2004 - 06:13:14 PM


Games We Play

by Mike Crisci terturn2@aol.com

Don't try to play these games
these games now are mine
Don't try to analize me
I leave nothing for you to find

These feelings you pretend
don't fool me at all
you think i'm a friend
cuz' i listen when you call

All these things you've done
has messed up my head
you've taught me to hide from you
as we lie here, together in bed

I catch you when you fall
I've yet to let you down
but, now I'm the one trippin' you
as I quickly put on my frown

You did this to me
you've made me who I am
I will now play with your emotions
cuz' now I know I can...

Friday, September 10th 2004 - 07:09:39 AM


Castle Dunrobin

by Lisa Canfield Lisa925L@hotmail.com

Castle Dunrobin
Heeding with purple phlox
The great house
That twist around pictish rocks.
That which rests on the north shore of Scotland.
Knows not a sound
Around its play of royal ground
There was a fair bit of light
So we drove to Duncansby head
With feathers in our hike
And lightness beneath our tread
There laid woodland leisure
Around formal arrangements of parterres
Were found.
Remotest great without a disturbance
nor a displacing sound.
Still unspoiled, moorlands rested at its bay.
Threading together the working hives as they did sway
Beneath a warming sun.
And the architectural soot that swept
Across the polished stone,
Is found still erected as the priority
Of Scottish castle’d home.
Gardens of spectactular eye feasts
To say the least.
Circular pools and fountains
To calm the acre’d beast.
Of Victorian charm, of Versailles faux
Castle Dunrobin is the ephiphany
Of French inspired chateau.
And so it rests, childlike yet entombed.
More than just a structure,
A beauty weaved in a spidery loom.


Monday, July 26th 2004 - 11:35:09 PM


Dear Noah

by Lisa Canfield Lisa925L@hotmail.com

Dear Noah,
I love you.
I love you more than I could
Ever possibly imagine, or say.
I love you more than the night
Loves to greet the morning sunlight
And day.
I love to give you sweet kisses,
And touch the tip of your cute button nose.
I love it when your cheeks flush
When I say “I love you.”
I love to see how it glows.
I love the way that you smile.
The way laughter fills you
With such happiness and joy.
I love you Noah, you are truly special.
You are my most favorite little boy.
I love the way you act silly,
How you love to run and hide and play.
I love it even when you sometimes act bad,
And try to get away.
I love when you read to me,
All of your stories and books about history.
I love it when you paint and write and draw
I love to watch as you try to drink
Slurpee’s out of a straw.
Oh Noah, I do love you.
Truly, I do.
You are my life, the reason why I live.
I give you my love.
My heart to you, I give.

Monday, July 26th 2004 - 06:53:36 AM


Tercera oscuridad

by Üzeyir Lokman ÇAYCI uzeyir.cayci@wanadoo.fr http://serran.site.voila.fr/

En la contradicción del odio
había una cadena
tendida en el vacío...
Las cifras
van coloreadas
por la luz de los prejuicios.
A medida
que las palabras se tensionan
y se convierten en trampas,
las luces de julio
se parten en dos...
Al comienzo
la amistad era tan poca
que ni siquiera en la mañana había saludo.
La máscara del egoísmo
ha caído
y es hora de estimar
el valor de las hipótesis...
En los campos del interés,
la cosecha de la avaricia
ha sido recogida.
Se hizo girar la rueda
contra el frío
de los latidos del corazón...
En la mañana
de la tercera oscuridad,
los vientos han soplado
en una sola dirección.

Üzeyir Lokman ÇAYCI
Este poema ha sido escrito por Üzeyir Lokman ÇAYCI ,
originalmente en turco.
Traducido al español por Mercedes Ortega González-Rubio,
a partir de las versiones inglesa y francesa.

Thursday, March 18th 2004 - 10:24:19 AM


Third Darkness

by Üzeyir Lokman ÇAYCI uzeyir.cayci@wanadoo.fr http://serran.site.voila.fr/


In hatred's contradictions
it is a chain
passing by emptiness.

Figures
in color
are at the brink of prejudice.

As one goes along
words become strained,
trapped,
the light of July
split in two.

Friendship was so slight
without greeting
at the beginning of the morning.

The mask of egoism
has fallen now.
It is time to evaluate
the worth of theory
in the fields of interest.
Greed's harvest
has been taken away.

The wheel has turned
against the cold
some heartbeats
from the morning,
from the third darkness.
The winds have blown
with unique meaning.

Üzeyir Lokman ÇAYCI
Paris – 20.05.2001
Traduit par by Yakup YURT en français
French free verse translated into English free verse
by Joneve McCormick – 2004

Sunday, March 7th 2004 - 09:32:55 AM


When Winter Muse Rests

by Vicki L. Walker OneRoseSwan@aol.com


When winter muse rests upon ivory snow's blast,
Wonders of me correlate from my chamber's past,
While earth rest to ease my penning class
I lie 'pon Ancient Of Age's nesting mast;

What Heaven found has my heart feel its mirth,
Where spices smelled sweetness 'pon this earth
Captured words in my regions of minding girth
Giving chimes a chance to fling in the wind to give birth;

Whether moon crystals moored in lonely groves,
Whispered stars light upon bosoms of sea's coves
Wand'ring footprints vie for this stepping stones in droves
Fairies, for goodness sakes, can n'er mistake the cloves!

Why have my muse left this parting dove
That boards the couth of my love?
Reeling in language that made muse go fly a kite above?
Ahhh!! The forcing of rhymes now search for muse's gruff!

By Vicki L. Walker
February 7, 2004

Tuesday, February 10th 2004 - 12:04:16 PM


Ma Muse,Ma vie

by Emmanuelle(frogs eater) manuela.olivier@laposte.net

J'attends l'inspiration,elle ne semble pas vouloir venir.
Ma muse est absente,à des kilomètres de moi.
Je n'ai même pas une photo de lui,ce visage qui m'inspire dans toutes mes entreprises.
Quand il est là, le temps ne laisse aucune trace sur moi.
En son absence mon visage se creuse, mon corps s'amaigrit, mon esprit se vide.
Quand ma muse ne sera plus,je ne serai plus qu'une matière brute.
Tourmentée,je serai.
Et plus jamais je n'écrierai

Friday, January 30th 2004 - 03:04:58 AM


Muse-ings

by Tami Sandlin crueangel@yahoo.com , angelwolfblue@yahooo

You are my muse's
latest obsession.
We sit in darkness
awaiting your arrival;
she, poised to pounce
on any little scrap
of inspiration
you would toss her way;
me, poised to take notes.
The images you inspire
would make a sailor blush.
The scenes change with her moods.
You look really good in black,
in handcuffs,
in nothing.
Tonight, you are the Marquis,
she is your newest victim,
an I am the voyeur
in her mind.

Monday, November 3rd 2003 - 10:40:16 AM


Muse-ings

by Tami Sandlin crueangel@yahoo.com


Monday, November 3rd 2003 - 10:34:23 AM


Listening

by Tami Sandlin angelwolfblue@yahoo.com

His voice was intoxicating.
Fine whiskey,
smooth, but with a bite.
Words poured
from his lips
into her senses
making her giddy and warm
with the first sip,
calm and happy with the second,
loose and free with the third.
Still she wanted more
and more and more
until she was punch drunk
on each syllable
and looking forward
to the hangover.

Monday, November 3rd 2003 - 10:28:11 AM


The Hunter Has Become a Guide for the Birds

by Üzeyir Lokman ÇAYCI uzeyir.cayci@wanadoo.fr http://monsite.wanadoo.fr/SEVGI

The hunter has become a guide for the birds,
his two faces
against two wings.
He has chopped down trees
to make a post
with small dried branches
for the birds to roost.
He has broken off flowers
to decorate this small tree
to cheer the birds.
He has put small stones
and large grains of wheat
on plates
so that the birds can eat.
He has constructed
posts with pencils
and towers with posts
from the ruins of the towers
so that the birds can take cover.
He has appended signatures,
each one different,
on dry leaves
with his two faces,
no one noticing.
After some time,
chasing the birds one by one,
he blows like a wind,
saying that judges and prosecutors
are his friends.
The birds, like many others,
quickly understand
and when the time is ripe
they emigrate
exchanging one thing for another,
finding another country,
agreeable people, trees,
grains of wheat on plates
and flowers of all colors...
while living peacefully there,
the hunter is of two faces
against two wings.

by Uzeyir Lokman CAYCI
Mantes la Ville - 1998
Traduit par by Yakup YURT en français
French free verse translated into English free verse
by Joneve McCormick

Friday, September 5th 2003 - 11:17:09 PM


Stopping Evenings

by Üzeyir Lokman ÇAYCI uzeyir.cayci@wanadoo.fr http://monsite.wanadoo.fr/SEVGI

Stopping Evenings
There is no longer light
touching my bedside;
those evenings have aged in my dreams,
one or two lines embracing my eyes,
a revolution in my veins.
I sip the evenings hidden in my dreams,
shadows hurtling into my pupils,
still looking for you
before a statue.
The evenings undulate
like the song of a bird,
my hopes lost,
falling at a stopping;
my sentiments drag along in my heart
and I say that evenings stopping
will never blacken.

by Uzeyir Lokman CAYCI
Traduit par by Yakup YURT en français
French free verse translated into English free verse
by Joneve McCormick

Friday, September 5th 2003 - 11:14:33 PM


Valley Of Dreams

by Dennis Pelliccia ospro@webtv.net http://community.webtv.net/ospro/ArtistDennis

This poem is in honor of Vincent van Gogh and his painting of Starry Night.


Starry, starry, starry night,
I lie beneath the glimmering sky
A cloud above; an angel's stare,
Comforting glow; the moon aware.

Starry, starry, starry night,
A country town in peaceful care,
The houses, steeple, Cypress trees,
People of warmth; a valley of dreams.

Starry, starry, starry night,
Tones of colour; a music blend,
Blue and yellow here and there,
My brush and easel; a tender glare.

Starry, starry, starry night,
A journey's end; no shoes to mend,
I don't regret my heart's bequest,
My work is done...perhaps my best.

Starry, starry, starry night,
Uphill is past, I can now rest.

Tuesday, June 10th 2003 - 05:48:22 PM


A Forgiven Hurt

by Lisa Canfield lcanfield71@hotmail.com

A Forgiven Hurt

Sometimes – there is a place,
A wondrous and miraculous place;
Where one must stop along the road of truth
And forgive.
It is where silence has a meaning,
Where happiness prevails.
And all anger releases.
I stop. I forgive. I release all hurt.
Yes, I forgive.
With my face smiling to the blinding sun,
I open up my wings.
Wings that feather evenly and openly,
So that I may be lifted like Copperfield up over
The road of redemption,
To fly;
Fly over stones ridden to sit by rivers
That flow hesitantly, quivering to wash
Upon dirty shores ridden with soot and debris.

Sometimes – there is a place,
Where worlds do not meet, rather collide,
To burn. Nothing is ever accomplished.
Rather, weathers like age; so crippling.
And so, I must – with a spiritual trust;
Cradle my heart heavy in my hands.
And fly away from those who listened
With deafened ears.
I lift up. Higher, and higher yet.
I must live again.
I must be the person I once was,
and am, again.
So, I fly, until I see the light.
The light of a forgiven hurt.

Saturday, June 7th 2003 - 02:10:31 AM


"Alan Rickman"

by Sarah Johnson Yarbrough Daisysue14@hotmail.com

Your eyes as beautiful as the bright blue sky
Your hair like the hair of angels floating in the dew
Your skin as glowing as a mass of sea

Your voice is like velvet as calm as the sea

Your nobleness and pide
Your strong character
The way you always play the villian
Yet you are not one one the flesh

Your voice is like velvet as calm as the sea

All these things come not from love or lust
For I am only fourteen
These things come from full respect
the full capacity
I only want to be like you
An actress with the voice of velvet
To be like you is my dream

Yours and my voice will be like velvet as calm as the sea



Wednesday, May 21st 2003 - 08:18:06 AM


A Homeless Man's Invitation to an Executive

by Jim Wells



You pass me every day on the way to your office; you leave your BMW and walk with confidence and assurance past my corner, and you give me a quarter but you do not see me.

I am not really human for you - not really.

But.

The bridge between us is not as great
as you might think.
Cross it
Just once
for an hour
or two
and perhaps you will see me as a person.

You wear an expensive suit and a silk tie
and a blindingly white shirt and shoes
that shine like black diamonds
and you carry a briefcase and

I sit on a corner and ask you
for change with a sweatshirt and old jeans
and sneakers with holes.

Two different worlds.
What can I have to do with you, or you with me?

But we are both breathing the same air.

So try it.

Try it? you ask with confusion, amusement and curious interest.
I am a
corporate-businessman-executive.

How do I try it?

What do I do first, you say, with a smile and some fear.

Your shoes.

Those shoes you spent $500 on to
make deals and sit at your desk
and impress the others in your office and
just had polished.

Those shoes you wear with pride,
clicking along past me only a few inches
from my face as I ask for change,
symbols of your success and prestige,
shining like mirrors.

Take them off.

Step out of them, and the expensive socks, too. Yes, that's right, untie them and take them off and start to cross the bridge.

Take them off? you smile and fear is in your eyes.

But what about my dignity, you say, as your eyebrows rise.

You will find out how much dignity you really have.

Leave them sitting on the sidewalk,

polished shoes alone, black socks stuffed inside,

while their owner leaves the protection and the staus they offer and enters barefoot, as it should be, into a new life. Just for an hour or two.

Step out of them, just for an hour,
and step into this pair of old sneakers
I have here, no laces, worn out soles -

just your size.

Just for an hour or two.

Now put the briefcase down and
take off your Rolex
and the gold monogrammed cufflinks
and the red silk tie
and the red braces
and the $2,000 navy-blue tailored pinstriped suit
and the starched white shirt

and I will give you a dirty tee-shirt and a sweatshirt and a pair of jeans so old they can stand up alone.

Here is an old wool cap you can put on over your $100 haircut.

And some dirty gloves for your manicured hands.

Here is a place to sit. I will teach how to ask for change and how to pretend you don't care when people look at you like you are dirt.

And here is a plastic cup. Now you are one of us.

Well, maybe not, but just for an hour or two
would you try it?

These are real hearts that beat inside these dirty sweatshirts. Do you really know that? Can you know it from where you stand
inside the protective armor
of your suit and tie?

You might if you joined me.

Just for an hour or two.

Monday, April 28th 2003 - 01:57:26 PM


Perfect day (to start a war)

by VenusHalley venus.halley@ladymail.cz

There's only few clouds
In perfectly spacious skies
Somehow I can't say loud
Questions which are in my eyes
I may sit here- far away
But I feel it's near
Waiting here nothing to say
Trying hide my fear
For those ones lost in vain
And world is going by
I pray there'll be no more pain
There's no use in asking "why?"
I still long for yesterday
World won't be as it was before
This looks like a perfect day
perfect day... to start a war

Sunday, April 20th 2003 - 08:16:13 AM


Severus Take Me

by Miss Layne Paige BluSkysBrngTears@aol.com

Once I closed my eyes
And had an absinthe's dream
of staring in HIS eyes
and seeing faeries green
against the deepest black
that I had ever seen.

With alabaster hands
and a face as white as death
in velvety demands
he bade me hold my breath,
and descend the darkened stairways,
though falling with each step.

His robes were scented thick;
an opiate's heady smell
and although I saw this trick
I followed him to Hell.
And in a soft despair, we loved
and we loved well.

His mouth tasted of licoriche
his fingers citrus-stained;
for the life of me, I can't tell which
tasted better to my brain.
And in mulled Anise abandon,
I begged him to do it again.

Waking in my bed
and finding no one there
I beat my aching head
and tore out my own hair...
And as I lay there, dying,
I found I did not care.

Tuesday, April 8th 2003 - 07:19:57 PM


Mrs

by lisa canfield lcanfield71@hotmail.com

LUNAR BLUE

Lunar blue.
Cycle of great unkown.
Ring of artic and callouses.
The horizons of Khonsu made
Home of your threads of night silkworms
And vaulted tapestry
To make beauty come to life!
How Lady Luck must have adorned you
To have given you such wealth.
Pushed by cockcrow;
Pulled by all that is dark and anew.
You dance freely;
Diamond injury at your feet.
Among a symphony of Camelopardus
And Cassiopei, Orion watching from afar.
You are the fire that burns in a constant yearn
To wound those who may feel spite
When guarded and drawn
But are quick to smile at shadows and umbra greys.
Etched in stripped air
It was the breath of Solaris
That gave birth to you.
Yet you still creep in your spirited bruise.
And hail to visions of such an almighty sight
You are Rah, moon god in the sky.
And you know that it was he,
Male Venus, in sensuality endured
By lavish malice,
That gave you such a life!
Upon lines of linear transparence
Far and away among the wide constella
Of trickled glass and dew
Was the mirror from which you stand before
Set adrift in pockets of fame and power
In waves that crash but do not fall.
You conquer, which is all.
Orb of cult phenonomen.
Wicca temptresses, disbelievers,
In your presence,
They renew their scented faith.
Of Momentum. Of life.
That has which sacrificed but regained.
Of those who have lost to time.
And to that which has failed to listen
To change.
Sphere of dampened Halcyon.
Slave to your cradle of magnificence.
You are but a planet born again to twinkle.
Sparkling a glint of ocean's cream
To strobe upon shadows and those who dream,
Of you.
Proud you should be to of such sweet honor!
Honey and sugar drip from your place
Up over earth and blackened skies
You have yet but to taste
Such victory.
Lunar blue. bleu lunaire
Star burst in an open sky.




Monday, March 17th 2003 - 03:06:50 PM


Don't laugh

by Adam Punk97798@aol.com

Don't laugh at me, don't call me names
Don't get your pleasure from my pain
In God's eyes we're all the same
some day we'll all have perfect Wings
Don't laugh at me

Tuesday, March 11th 2003 - 04:00:24 PM


Spirit Of Forest

by Vicki L. Walker OneRoseSwan@aol.com

Spirit of forest met with me upon
Blessings from within wind's passion
Formally sighing in wind's gentleness,
I heard it softly sing of love's
unstoppable compassion
O,! How it filled me into your heart
with your emotional belongings...
I have not yet spiel'd my web
to open my truest feelings
Of this being loved by
you, the spirit and being...
Strong-willed, I hushed, and being still,
I entourage myself to flow
within your leaning smiles,
By ponds of your willows wake,
and lonely swan's cry...
Whispering ripples invoked
laughter among pebbles,
sleeping among the Mississippi's
Cat-tails and reeds,
banking along the brooks
Of unbroken company of rocks
afraid to slide into the wakes...
I would become dispirited
if I didn't see you
by the golden-reds of oaks;
Longing to hear the vibrant
tenderness of your words
To go gently said into my heart
about your way of render'd wisdom.
But, it is as though
I am looking at dusted winds,
from shelling acorn's cups
into filling this storm of passiveness
I became so angered from not seeing you,
Building, bracing against
the wind's shivers of my soul,
Hoping it would abate quickly
before my lips let on with disdain...
Only until flowers do gently go
blooming into makeshifts
of sunbursts, enterwining this
Leaf of me into this spirit,
It will allow me to go
Gentle into your spirited forest...

Dedicated to the most

Wednesday, March 5th 2003 - 01:11:22 PM


Misunderstood

by "Haley" CDFBookgurlHP13@aol.com

For those of you who don't understand me,
You never have,
Never will.
You never gave me a chance to speak my mind.
No, wait! Actually, you did!
And when I let my feelings pour,
You took it wrong and got mad.
You said I was a horrible person,
But, you know what?
I don't care what you say,
I never have,
Never will.

Sunday, February 2nd 2003 - 01:47:04 AM


Painting Esteems

by Vicki L. Walker OneRoseSwan@aol.com

Cool clear colors stroll over
into small dots to dots
smoothing into a path,
as each one color is alone.
Life's eyes shaped
by the passing over
falling into errors
into water of time.
Pastel colors, warm and soft
lie upon the sky's pillows and soften purple
Violets beneath the dew of silver's grey
Color water's blue path
Smoothing and forming into
their own touches like God's
Weilding spieled palettes
molded and placed
where they like to see me,
By my hands, may I, by chance
make contact with your eyes?.
Re-shaping, ever erasinging,
into what hues my brush
I so much want to commend
the rainbow's originality
For its beauty, unseen and unknown,
even to Leonardo de Vinci
And Michealangelo.
They are the pinpoints of
the beginning of an artist
In sight, bleeding painful thoughts
bidding to order and making required demands
But God never left them to be in disorder,
Nor did Jesus discard and unwant.
Allow my rainbow to rest again,
To peril with the storm's reform
underfoot of all that must pass
over. Aye, the art is referring
to mirrors lone true reflections,
painting esteems lifts, or brings down
to a close but, remarkableness
Remains of a person's colorful mind


Friday, January 31st 2003 - 02:57:54 AM


Alexander the Great Macedonian

by VenusHalley Venus.halley@ladymail.cz

The Sun’s rising; country wakes up slowly to new day
Flying away without hope
Running away to another misery
Holding white flowers in hands and dreaming
About country which was here…country which will be here one day… I hope
Where are all the leaders? … They promised us better world
There was nothing in it… few empty slogans
We won’t leave, we’ll stay, we’ll believe in another heaven
When that day will come we give up all even us
We wait until dusk; these nights are never ending here
In one of them we may leave, absolutely yearn less
We have right to this country, because we made it
Will we survive now? Will we live to another age?
I’ll never leave my country, we’ll survive next year
We’ll stay, we won’t leave… there’s only small step to Paradise
And world is looking at us, like they‘d feel with us
But we need much more than few empty worlds
Our destiny is everywhere and seems so cruel
This isn’t Age of Aquarius… this is Age of Scorpion
Where are all the leaders, where are that times when we were super power
What now? We’ll sell our country for few peach blossoms
We won’t leave we’ll stay despite we don’t know what do to
No one will see us leaving… no one will see us giving up
No one see that we’re running away… staying with hope
That people can give us something what our Gods didn’t

Saturday, January 18th 2003 - 03:26:19 PM


If Ever

by Chelsea Morris Mombogirl9@aol.com

If ever there was a time I needed you,
Now's that time.
I have something I should say,
It's been lingering in my mind.
Last night he came over,
And we did some "naughty" things.
I know you're disappointed,
I needed to spread my wings.
Mom, I'm so lost and confused,
Please don't start to yell.
I don't regret a moment of it,
But all day I've been going through hell.
It wasn't supposed to go that far,
Dad, please calm down.
I know he's not what u want for me,
But he's the best guy that I've found.
I'm nat a baby anymore,
I proved that to myself last night.
I was sure I was ready...
But I realize I wasn't right.
Please sit down and listen,
Hear what I have to say.
Like i said, I don't regret it,
But it's been all I could think about all day.
He and I both agree,
That we went a bit far too fast.
Mommy, please don't cry.
Not matter what, I can't change the past.
Daddy, don't be angry.
We got caught in the moment.
I'm confused more than you could ever imagine,
And I'm so torn and bent.
You have every right to be mad
This may be true,
But Mom you must admit,
We only did what you used to.

Friday, November 29th 2002 - 03:28:55 PM


Dream

by Mary Lou Wayman marylouaries2985@hotmail.com

Dream

Oh, I have dreamed the undreamable, fantasies of Earth
And let my imagination soar on a spirit of wings;
I painted the sky with stars, and danced on clouds of mirth
I had seen beauty, and done a thousand things.

You have to seize the day – sing the song unsung
Sweet in the moonlit silence; breathing there,
I’ve ran through endless fields of corn, and swung
As the fragrant wind seeps through my hair.

But I have seen sunsets on Savannah Plains,
And swam the Aussie blue
In this dark, delirious place called mind
I know the echo of their story to be true;
For here, is where I let my passions and my dreams unwind.


Sunday, November 10th 2002 - 04:03:38 AM


Alone

by Cathy

Alone,
No one to protect me.
Trapped,
In my own prison.
Secluded,
In this lonely cell.
Abandoned,
No way out.
Alone.

Sunday, October 13th 2002 - 07:44:19 AM


ONE LOVE

by Matthew A. Bellows ibellows3d@msn.com

One love
One song
One life
Live long
One girl
One heart
She's my world
Hope we never part

Tuesday, September 24th 2002 - 02:24:40 PM


Alone

by Diane Ferra crescentmoonluna@aol.com http://expage.com/addictsandfanshangout

Alone

Sometimes you feel so alone


Thursday, July 18th 2002 - 12:52:30 PM


Shakespeare #37

by Erica Lewis goldenmonkey68@hotmail.com

As a decrepid father takes delight
To see his active child do deeds of youth,
So I, made lame by Fortune's dearest spite,
Take all my comfort of thy worth and truth.
For whether beauty, birth, or wealth, or wit,
Or any of these all, or all, or more,
Entitled in their parts do crowned sit,
I make my love engrafted to this store.
So then I am not lame, poor, nor despised
Whilst that this shadow doth such substance give
That I in thy abundance am sufficed
And by a part of all thy glory live.
Look what is best, that best I wish in thee.
This wish I have, then ten times happy me!

Wednesday, July 17th 2002 - 10:38:27 AM


Parkview 1969

by Kent Mackey kentmackey@37.com http://www.ilos.net/~rjl/index.html

Dawn’s melody
Carries through the dusk
From hopeless hour’s
Somber spell
I drift into your arms
Once more

Snowflake wonders
Bygone embrace
While moon and streetlamp
Play mystic hue
And as I mind the evening's love
I see only you

Kent Mackey
© July 2002

Sunday, July 14th 2002 - 08:24:12 PM


Allyn's Sonnet

by Erica Lewis goldenmonkey68

Passion arrives in his sudden embrace
it speaks to me in his smile and his eyes
it shows in his fiery touch and his face
wooing me gently to my sweet demise

with every kiss desire gains more ground
to conquer the wariness of my heart
should i be sure it is love i have found?
i fear my need for him as our lips part

My fear leads me to question the wisdom
of one heart relying on another
it's not fair to wager the heart's kingdom
on a few sweet kisses from a lover

as i protest, he leans in to dismiss
and destroy my argument with a kiss

Saturday, June 22nd 2002 - 11:13:35 PM


Anam Cara

by Erica Lewis goldenmonkey68@hotmail.com

a midnight wind assails the sky
in woeful sad refrain
bringing a song of sorrow
to brush my window pane

incandescent gleams of moonlight
lull me to a slumber
where i wrestle with my soul
and all it will remember

i fly on the song of the wind
in release and in repose
to the city behind the eyes
where dreams are disclosed

safe in the arms of Morpheus
i long to repair
to the leisure of a love
whose want brings much despair

he comes from far away
to hold me in his soul
the way that lovers do
as two halves of a whole

we merge in sacred dance
togetherness our goal
he pledges me his love
and plants it in my soul

we swim in each other's being
sharing each kiss and each breath
but all dreams end upon waking
as sure as each life has death

then kisses fade to sighs
that haunt neglected lips
like lucid veils of gossamer
that slip through fingertips

the morning light brings with it
rain that pours upong my soul
and dampens my ambitious heart
with needs i can't control

the world and all it's promise
like teasing stars above
has now become my prison
until i find this love

Saturday, June 22nd 2002 - 11:02:37 PM


Answer

by Elizabeth- Maire Nicole Baldwin slick1kid@yahoo.com

Answer me,
not with a nod of your head,
but a word from your mouth.

Saturday, June 22nd 2002 - 02:59:58 PM


Love Is Special

by Miranda Simmons miranda_likes_ac@aaroncarter.com http://hp.my.yahoo.com/

Love Is Like A Rose When You Are Feeling Blue,
Love Is Like The Sun Wen You Are In The Dark,
Love Is Like A Blind Person Seeing,
Love Is What Makes A Frown Into A Smile,
Love Is What Makes You Feel Good Inside,
Love Is What Makes You Cry At Times,
Love Is What Everyone Needs,
Love Is Special.

Friday, June 7th 2002 - 09:18:14 AM


CHILDHOOD

by ALLISON MIND32920@YAHOO.COM

Oh those days,
Those days not so long ago
Where joy and happiness reigned
Amidst the chaos that drained

Peer pressure, parent pressure
Always creeping in
Threatning to take control
Always trying to erode

Roosters crowing, dogs barking,
Cows mooing, cats meowing
All these sounds are here to stay
Some memories you never give away

Friday, May 17th 2002 - 06:25:27 AM


Call Me Friend

by Diane crescentmoonluna@aol.com http://www.expage.com/alanrickmaniacscozy

Call Me Friend




So beautiful is a rose, wavering in the summer’s wind
The moon gleaming on the newborn snow, shimmer, glimmer
Whist I walk, there you shall run
Be, see, know all

Away in the background, I do flutter


Watching carefully, a peering eye, a glimpsing spy


Where you are when help is needed counts


Notice, show, care always



Sigh heavily, that I seem to do often


I wish to be aside, giving you hope, ceasing to mope


Affectionate friendship, what does it mean to you?


Love, talking, showing feelings



But as I walk while you run, staring into a brilliant sun


The days pass by, years, months, weeks, but I’m never seeked


Am I invisible, so blank and transparent not to see?


Sad, lonely, crying, dying



But giving up would be bad to do, so I continue on watching you


We’ve argued, we’ve fought, even other friendships we’ve sought


But apart we never truly do become


Glued, staying, here forever



When black and darkness was falling before you


Did I not bring a sun, a light, a warming sight?


Has it been forgotten, so quickly, this past?


Confused, weary, so still



Once and forever more, they say, a true friendship will last


Mine always seems to be so short, here I shall retort


That saying cannot be so! I’ll claim wrong when it does at last appear before me


Angry, mad, scolding, fuming



Calmness will prevail, here I stand strong as metal


Another friendship gone, lost, but how much did it cost?


Only a pain in my heart, an ache, a sore


Deep, low, stomped on



But the days will go on, and so do you and I


No matter what, though rain or snow, I’ll never actually let go


I’ll never forget all those days spent together


Remember, recall, don’t fade



Call me friend, even if you hate my soul


Call me friend if you like me, then try me


Call me friend, no matter the age, looks, or differences


Understanding, truth, honest, integrity



What has this taught you, something about me?


Have you learned that I can love, care, share?


No, you have seen, even in the most perilous nights nothing can stop thee from trying to help, to understand


Helping, sharing, being there



So here I end my note, another whisp in the wind


It seems you may outgrow me, for I am young at heart and free


Don’t let life pass you by, but if you fall, I’ll help you stand


Friendship is thy name




Tuesday, May 14th 2002 - 11:50:40 AM


Shadowmarch, an episodic fantasy, is live and online. But it's more than just online fiction. The site itself will be regularly updated, full of goodies and behind-the-scenes information...  and the heart of a community that will shape the Shadowmarch story itself. It's also going to be a place to find out anything you want to know about Tad Williams, his old and new work and his public appearances...

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