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December 21, 2012

Submitted by scribbler on Sun, 2012-12-16 16:09

Here it's December twenty first
as I roll, drowsy, out of bed
grab a Coke to quinch night thirst
caffiene clears cobwebs from my head

Just the I hear a roll like thunder
as a roiling front approaches
blowing raked leaf piles asunder
they scurry 'cross the yard like roaches

The storm comes and then it goes
nothing much to speak about
so I put on my work clothes
open the door and head on out

Christmas Cracker

Submitted by Tam the Chanter on Sun, 2012-12-16 11:09

O K - so its Christmas - (A weary Hooray)
And I'm trying to write some verse for Christmas day.
I made a good start , and then fell on my ass,
When my muse upped and left me. HOW COULD SHE!! HOW CRASS!!

She said she got no thanks for all that she'd done;
I told her to get her tanks offa my lawn!
I laughed till I cried at her hectoring tone,
But miss her remarks now I'm left on my own.

Cathedral of The Pines...

Submitted by Geezer on Sun, 2012-12-16 10:58

In the “Cathedral of the Pines”
dark gives way to light
The smell of breezes fresh
fan away the night

As the light is changing shades
life begins to wake
Movement, little twitches
from the shadow snakes

Murmurs of good morning
the voices of the wood
Trickles of the stream
whisper; things are good

Life giving “Sol” has risen
touching all in turn
The father of creation
master of slow burn

"Pantoum For The Christmas"

Submitted by whitescatter on Sun, 2012-12-16 10:10

Everyone's searching for that magical star
As the world is waiting for that eve to come..
Others keep guessing where the three kings are..
The Giver of Light is just yet seen by some.

As the world is waiting for that eve to come..
Songs of the children fills up all the streets..
The Giver of Light is just yet seen by some.
On that eve,it will be all for those who fits.

Namby Pamby

Submitted by sueb on Sun, 2012-12-16 07:22

Namby pamby attitude
I'll be told I'm rude
pandering to criminals need
praising him for his greed
payout by insurance company
because he got hurt doing robbery
something is seriously wrong
victim lashed by judge's tongue
I'll be told I'm being radical
bring in someone practical

performing alchemy

Submitted by Seren on Sun, 2012-12-16 04:54

I have become
as spagyric art
A will-o-wisp of the pen

as each ink drop falls,
it reflects its alchemy
in my eyes,
like drawing fraternal twins
in a jade sky

I see a measure
of my sadness,
and my joy
presented as
balanced scales
perfectly level
they scatter apart
against a northern wind

tiger blue dragonflies
possess my mind
and the walls sweat
green moss
symphonic trumpets
herald the flickering

lifted and scorched
I separate to join,

feelings of a new

Submitted by Jayfrombk on Sat, 2012-12-15 23:48

Rose petals sit still,

Driven by the summer breeze,

Only stopping for clouds and you.

Your beauty stands still, freezing time and there after

Your love stands still.

Alone,

Never to be challenged nor minimized,

And while you never falsely advertise,

I still ask, How did i get so lucky?

I used to dream about love, and those dreams could not touch this surface.

Just to think of you, Humbles me, as you are unequaled and supassed only by God himself.

Your love is real...

Really real..

And the Angels Cried

Submitted by Rett on Sat, 2012-12-15 23:22

Intent faces, scrubbed and clean
In the classrooms bold and keen

The future engraved upon this land
In trusting eyes and busy hands

Horrendous noise and injured mind
And sorrow is all that's left behind

Smiling faces, peals of laughter
Walking now in the great hereafter

RIP little ones...

Bellavista Y Neruda

Submitted by Ross Hamilton Hill on Sat, 2012-12-15 21:53

Like a wise owl
Pablo came to me later,
after the Inca dancing and the fiesta of tables
al fresco along the pulsating street.

Youth like party lights,
girls expecting pleasure,
made for the night
with the beer bottles big and the men smoking.

BUTTERFLY HUNTING

Submitted by t. reflexion on Sat, 2012-12-15 17:28

In those days when we were children
We tried all manners of fool-around
Butterfly hunting brought real fun
Petals of paw-paw leaf at hand
The hollow trunk filled up with sand
The battle cry was sounded loud

We ran from wayside to the bush
Attacking all flying insects
Like unto war the kids charged on
Sand from barrels of papaya
Out to cripple colorful wings
The game was without twists and turns –
Not what it has turned out to be

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