Pathways of Life

Storm - Willowdown and trinimade

feeds@yuku.com (Willowdown) — Sat, 07 Nov 2009 05:50:02 GMT

When the storm comes on her liquid wings
she is breathless and expectant,
full of passion and promise,
restless for activity and release,
burdened with the tensions of her journey
over mountain and sea,
proud and furious,
playful and wild
- where is the suitor to woo
and win this turbulent bride?

Heaven help the groom who tries to tame her,
Who can know what will bring her to her knees;
Maybe a wind with gusts to match her own,...

Partnership - trinimade and Willowdown

feeds@yuku.com (Willowdown) — Fri, 06 Nov 2009 04:47:28 GMT

Tell her that the years have been kind to her,
That there is still that sparkle in her eyes,
Tell her that shes lovely in the morning
That shell be lovely til the day she dies.

Dont tell her that she used to be good-looking,
Dont tell her that the neighbours looking fine,
Dont say that her ideas are old fashioned
Or that her viewpoints are hard to define.

Love's no gaudy bauble given lightly in youth
Thats tarnished with the passing...

Better Than Real Life

feeds@yuku.com (dominae) — Thu, 05 Nov 2009 13:12:35 GMT

REAL LIFE

she tells me this
is real life
as she slides the
drink across the bar,
and I take a sip
and tell her that
perception is reality
and that she,
along with the drink
in my hand,
are merely
figments of my
overactive imagination
and that I`m really
a 54 year old man
zoning out at his
office job while he
fondles himself through
the right pocket
of his Dockers khakis.

For...

Poem for Caitanya

feeds@yuku.com (Willowdown) — Thu, 29 Oct 2009 01:16:17 GMT

Boy, Boy, will you remember
the seven yellow goslings
when you're an old man
and I'm long buried?
Will you remember
the skeletons we made
from old black paper
or how you smudged the Tree
I painted on the wall?
Will you remember,
with grandchildren on your knee,
the fate of Sion y Glyn
that great prince of boyhood
and his fondness for nuts,
like yours for nuts and raisins?
Will you remember Mr.Grumpy
or...

If Tears Should Overflow (for Willowdown)

feeds@yuku.com (Cottagerose) — Mon, 26 Oct 2009 22:05:55 GMT

If Tears Should Overflow
(for Willowdown)

If once again the banks are damp
with none to soak away the pain
I will dry one eye till the waters
flow freely again and you remain

Your tender heart recognized me
the mother whose hands lie softly
upon the shoulders of my child
always there for a child of Osisis

Let those whose eyes overflow
drop their love tears into the Nile
I will sweep them along their way
some tears...

Lord of the Castle.

feeds@yuku.com (Willowdown) — Mon, 26 Oct 2009 21:21:29 GMT

The Moon is shining on the battlements of Butterfly Castle
- deep beneath its seven levels of catacombs
a little gnome is repairing a broken clock.
Where is the Lord of the Castle?
Snoring in his bed!

The stars are playing chase between the constellations.
Look! - there is little Sammy Seraphim
Hiding beneath Andromeda's skirts.
Deep beneath Butterfly Castle,
an army of frogs in suits of Pond-crust armour
Are hopping about with...

A Personal Psalm ~ RC

feeds@yuku.com (DarkwingGoth2002) — Mon, 26 Oct 2009 11:57:00 GMT

O Lord ,
I sing to you
Of the sights of creation
Seen but felt unseen

And to the beauty
Of Zion's
Living waters and brooks
That I have been given
The pleasure of drinking

Left now to know
Its healing power
Inside my deeply calling
Spirit
And now healed heart

DarkwingGoth
Copyright © 2009
All Rights Reserved

The Prince of the Morning looked down

feeds@yuku.com (Willowdown) — Sat, 24 Oct 2009 22:22:55 GMT

From his Castle of Dreams
the Prince of the Morning looked down;
with the Sun in the West and the Moon in the East,
on his face as a smile and a frown.
One followed the other,
as trees turn to gold
and green fields to hay,
as children grow old and maids become wives,
and sailors in White Ships cross oceans so wide.

From his Castle of Sleep and rare Beauty
the Prince of the Evening looked up,
to where all the stars of the River...

Keeper Of The Heart

feeds@yuku.com (Cottagerose) — Sat, 24 Oct 2009 18:44:52 GMT

Keeper of The Heart

Awareness and acceptance
like the keeper of the Nile
she rules with tender hands
sometimes a sweet smile

No commands, only laws
made to ease their stay
to the end of life's journey
to love patiently is her way

She too will walk this mile
her sons to ease her sleep
to reunite with these parents
who hold her now to weep

sylvia sammons spivey
Nov, 2009
For my daughter Tanya...

The Little Bird that Carries the World.

feeds@yuku.com (Willowdown) — Fri, 23 Oct 2009 02:21:54 GMT

The little bird that carries the world
is sitting in a tree,
tomorrow he must make a nest
with twigs and bones and all the idle thoughts
that momentarily pass through the fragile brains of men...

The little fish that drinks the oceans
pauses briefly in his thirst.
Oh, how he would love to sleep
but the sea keeps filling up with tears
and liquid songs that poets sing
to ease the burden on their hearts,
with rivers of blood...

Manners Mangled! (A Rantogram)

feeds@yuku.com (PoeticPaul) — Tue, 20 Oct 2009 11:46:32 GMT

Charm is the preserve of the nerd;

High standards sadly lamented!

Primeava.

feeds@yuku.com (Willowdown) — Sun, 18 Oct 2009 22:06:04 GMT

I loved you when young gods
chased figures of mist and earth
over the newly formed continents,
giving the names of their heart's imagination
to rivers, mountains, forests
and the various tribes of men.

I saw the children of men raise temples
to your passing shadow,
to the broken fragments of your fallen beauty,
occasionally taking root in soil
or, rarer still, mortal flesh and mind.
I watched them bury their dead in barrows
...

Only Red Roses (Must Read Award)

feeds@yuku.com (Cottagerose) — Sat, 17 Oct 2009 01:34:14 GMT

Only Red Roses

He sent a dozen red roses to his papa's coffin
A papa who had whipped him black and blue
and sent him away to make life on his own

He still looked like the hippie he had been then
now, he was older and thinner, gone bald, sad
clothes from the seventies hung on his frame

He didn't seem to notice his flowers were alone
nobody else had felt drawn to let the weary man
go with sweet memories surrounding him

He...

What do they know of my love?

feeds@yuku.com (Willowdown) — Thu, 15 Oct 2009 22:08:03 GMT

What do they know of my love
the missile-broker, the merchant banker
the saint and the sinner
the seeker, the screecher
the whiner, the weeper and lonely midnight creeper;
the debutante, the dilletante
the doctor or the dreamer
the scientist, the satirist
the sex-starved sad old schemer;
the politician, the statitician
the mother or the whore
the footballer with golden balls
the bouncer at the disco door
the sergeant-major, the...

The Dubious Lands.

feeds@yuku.com (Willowdown) — Mon, 12 Oct 2009 21:34:27 GMT

The hills have shifted during the night,
the forests have gathered up their roots and walked
- streams and rivers are not in the places
where I saw them before I retired for my evenings rest.
Even the mountains on the far and hazy horizon
seem not as they were
and the air itself sparkles with a subtle and unfamiliar colour.
When I built my house upon this quiet slope
overlooking tranquil fields and meadows of corn,
I thought that I had made a home...

Memories

feeds@yuku.com (Jim AKA RapidFire) — Mon, 12 Oct 2009 21:22:20 GMT

Memories of an earlier time in my life,
occupied with anything but strife.
Childhood days, I shouldn't have got a day older,
seems like each "I dare you" act was bolder.

Jumping from a railroad trestle into the sand below,
one time my legs forgot which way to go.
Landed very solidly upon my rump,
have to tell you, it was quite the thump.

Couldn't sit down for about a week,
but would that end my dare-devil streak?
...

A One to One with Father Ted

feeds@yuku.com (PoeticPaul) — Mon, 12 Oct 2009 02:36:34 GMT

A One to One with Father Ted

The Dolphins Soul *2

feeds@yuku.com (Mothman Muse) — Sat, 10 Oct 2009 17:14:52 GMT

This is no dream
This I can feel
every stitch going in
only makes me heal

In the moments choices
Happiness is so real

and quickly fleeing...

Like Hummingbird wings
Defying gravity
love slows time down
so all can see

A Paradox and a pair of wings
for you and me

At the end of Ramadan.

feeds@yuku.com (Willowdown) — Tue, 06 Oct 2009 22:16:31 GMT

Soul tree in a ragged park
tied with coloured clothes and ribbons
talking to itself in the dark.
After the people have all gone home
the ghosts of dead seagulls rise up from the sea
to scavenge amongst the thousands
of disused plastic cartons and styrofoam trays,
half-eaten fish, bags of unfinished rice or chilli sauce.

In the morning the army of tired men and women with brushes
begin to slowly clean up,
collecting the plastic bottles...

White Darkness

feeds@yuku.com (Cottagerose) — Tue, 06 Oct 2009 02:14:08 GMT

All around white night mist lay
sending sweetness to the day
pouring dreams for me to find
from the darkness to my mind

Music played without a sound
bouncing echoes in the round
waltzing to night's hand in mine
a balance of all things sublime

The beauty of a woman shy
lifting shining, laughing eyes
a demureness soft as smoke
worn confidently as a cloak

Oh, the power of self esteem
to share with you my dreams....