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The stream (all workshops)

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The Sailor

Submitted by paul Bartoswicz on Mon, 2023-09-04 11:39

To feel the rhythmic pulse
Of the engines beneath our feet,
The heart beat of the mighty lady.
The smell of the salt air
In everything we touch,
Forever inscribed on our brains.
The rocking and swaying
Of the ship on the waves,
We walk with a swagger.

Meeting the grim reaper

Submitted by Clentin on Mon, 2023-09-04 11:18

Dark
Scarey
Dangerous
A man so mean
Dark and full of hate
Afraid to face himself
Alone within his sick mind
Having no more remorse or shame
A darkened smile shone on his poor face
Before he was led to his resting place

The Ocean

Submitted by Stevo on Mon, 2023-09-04 04:39

I have
Swum in it,
Sailed on it,
Lived near it,
Gazed over it,
Dove through it,
Took fish from it,
Been drawn to it,
Been healed by it,
Made love beside it,

No wonder it’s so hard to leave it...

Victory!

Submitted by Leslie on Sun, 2023-09-03 22:54

Helplessly falling,the blues had come calling
once again in her life.
No one to guide her, to simply stand by her.
In desperation she cried out.
But with patience she'd won as she stood
in the sun!
After many long years she was vìctor.
As she ran with her might into glorious ĺight
no longer would fear tell her future.

The King Of The Jungle

Submitted by Mr joghe on Sun, 2023-09-03 19:41

I am done walking the jungle
Like the pilgrim of the southern
On the pebbles of the river
Under the shadow of the trees
In comfort of the smelling grasses
That drenched with cow-dungs in the scorching sun
I rode the crest of the wave of the pleb,
When cloud overcasted
When nobody would give me a piggyback,
A ragtag boy singing alone,
Splashed the puddles and smashed down the weeds
When I ran like a late school boy.

GALLERY

Submitted by Twizzle48 on Sun, 2023-09-03 16:45

GALLERY

Jagged pink lines of lightning
In a boiling sea of jungle green
Off-white smudges lie in wait
In a thin veil with a silver sheen

If there’s meaning, it is hidden
Proud never to be in plain sight
As the eye relishes every angle
Understanding left from right

All works hang there in silence
Each a portal to another place
For some, an undiscovered view
Presenting an unrecognised face

A Tribute to 9-11

Submitted by Hon on Sun, 2023-09-03 15:57

An urgent need for
awakening call
When a tragic event strike
this great nation across
with a horror disaster
of trembling in fear
In the midst of a crisis
On the day of 9-11-2001
A sudden stage attacked
with a devastating news
filled with a flood of tears
led to a mourning death
of many innocent lives
with the passing loss
to the verge of despair
No words could describe
the witnessing scenery
of the deep condolence
by the shattered dream
of the sorrowful memory

A part of me

Submitted by Tyler Jakeway on Sun, 2023-09-03 12:59

Authenticity,
kept me warm in a blizzard,
electricity, inside of me,
summoned by a strange wizard,
courses through veins, addiction has lost power, underestimate it and it steals your reigns, ingesting bittersweet and sour Memories.

Torrential downpour, leaves the soul melancholic, potential hidden in the core, subdued by the need to frolic

I don’t want to whine and cry, but I fear the moments when loved ones die, it reminds you of your own mortality, when you are pushed from all sides,
then your introduced to hollow reality

When Stars No Longer Shower

Submitted by mark on Sun, 2023-09-03 12:19

Age, of course, is not about being old
or young.
It is about time measured.
My dad is eighty years old.
Old compared to what,
the universe,
God?
He does not think of himself as old
in the scheme of all things, but young.
Of course, in terms of human years
he would tell you he is old.
He is young at heart – trust me.

Memories

Submitted by Clentin on Sun, 2023-09-03 11:17

Memories of days gone by,
Fill me with warmth and a sigh.
A time when life was serene,
Before the world turned so mean.

Days we'd laugh and play and cry
Thoughts that never said goodbye
Our hearts were so young and free
Our friendships so filled with glee

We'd share stories of days past,
Creating thoughts that would last.
The joys of days were so pure,
The innocence to be sure.

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