THEME POETRY
JULY 2021 = JOY
GROWING OLD
Kassie Runyan
United States
I wanna grow old
hanging on to your arm
for support
as I stumble down
the cobblestone street
I wanna find my calling
and get rich
ok, maybe not that rich
just enough to buy a house
in the south of France
watching the chickens flutter by
as they try to fly
drinking too much wine
(us not the chickens)
and not worrying about the wrinkles
showing the passing of time
just the joys
as the sun sets behind
the rolling hills
THE JOY OF LAUGHTER
Mel Haagman
United Kingdom
https://www.facebook.com/girlontheedge90
The laugher that’s wholesome
Comes straight from inside,
The laughter that’s real
You’re unable to hide.
Nothing compares to laughter
When your stomach is in pain,
Even if you don’t feel it,
It helps you to stay sane.
The laughter where your cheeks ache
Is what I truly treasure,
You can’t overdose on laughter
There’s an infinite measure.
Smiling makes others smile,
Mirror neurons are so real,
And laughter has an effect
On how you deeply feel.
Reducing stress and even pain,
Immunity’s increased,
laughter is infectious
And endorphins are released.
Laughing is the best medicine,
In this life that can be tough
And if you can hold onto it,
It might just be enough!
MORNING RITUAL
T J Barnum
I raise windows at dawn,
hear birds call across the yard,
watch them sail past Palmas grass
to land in cypress green,
competing for honors in
Nature’s opera house.
Cool morning air brushes
tops of wild grasses,
rides flower bed borders,
delivers leaves to corners
and porches,
more punctual than
the morning news.
I measure out coffee,
let cats in, dogs out,
climb back into bed
to share your last moments
of lazy sleep.
Windows and my heart wide open,
birds bursting with delight
at the growing light,
coffee flavored breeze
stirring your tousled hair,
this is my best remembered
blessed touch of God’s new morning,
nestled here among pillows and cats
and your warm waiting arms.
EVE OF JOYS
Gerard Sarmat
Just like making use
of a fallow space —
which is way down
by our horse barn
— that surrounds
the old oak tree
and been there
for all 37 years
we have lived here
-- but now seems as
if fertile territory to
gather with friends
distanced because of
COVID -- I too feel
vital new Edens in
myself opening up.
JOY
Jonny Lindsey
United Kingdom
https://Instagram.com/JonnyLindseyTheFirst
Even as a boy,
The joy I thought I should have
About becoming a man,
Overshadowed by those around me
Being coy,
About the struggles they’ve overcome
Just to smile,
Through pain, guilt, fear, & the whole spectrum
That we aren’t told about as youths
I never knew that joy is fearless,
You may know the dangers of the world
Yet we still find it in life,
We know the mountains made from mole hills
From failures & the past,
Yet as the cracks appear on our weathering faces,
We can still find that fearless feeling of joy
Where we can,
With familiar faces I always trace back to it,
Chin chin to Joy
From me now as a man,
Right back to when I was a boy.
YOUR PICTURE
Amanda Noell Stanley
United States
https://www.Amandanoellstanley.com/blog
https://Instagram.com/amandanoellstanley
I ran the tip of my pointer
finger across the dusty glass,
once shiny square cover,
wooden frame too intricate
to hold you.
Smaller then – scrunched up,
holding your stuffed fish friend,
superhero t-shirt and velcro
shoes. You were three. A new
brother.
I caught you at the top
scooting from the platform
ready to descend the curvy
yellow plastic to meet a muddy
yard below. It hosted more grass
before the slide, before you.
A vertical merry-go-round, you
climbed and plunged – holding
your friend, green-bean grin.
I wonder now: was it the top you loved
most, the bottom, the trip up or down?
Was it that you got to hold on to
something? That someone was
watching you – noticing? What made
you smile that beautiful fall day under
the stinky pear tree?
Now, here it is, threshold moment
needs a good dusting. Placed on
the hand-me-down piano next to
my fiddle. I see you
when I do my own playing.
Scrunched up just like you.
JOYS OF LIFE
Dedicated to Karti’s 5th Birthday
Sonia Pal
United Kingdom
Blowing bubbles in the air, being innocent and fair
Jumping in the puddles, giving kisses and cuddles
Seeing the rainbows and drawing them on the doors!
Opening the presents received from the parents
Playing with balloons and sleeping in the afternoons
Watching cartoons and dancing to the favourite tunes
Walking hand in hand with MUM and taking a big jump
Maturing each day by sharing and caring without comparing
Counting the beads and Fred talk to read with due heed
Getting stickers from the teachers for being good leaders
Celebrating BIRTHDAYS after waiting for it EVERYDAY!
Splish-Splash of the bath and scrub-a-dub-dub with big laughs
Listening to a lullaby at bedtime and waking up at midnight
Holding on to the teddy bears tight and walking with great pride
Having little rides on Daddy’s back followed by a flapjack
Going on holidays with the family to add to life’s melody
Waiting for the Tooth Fairy and falling asleep too early
Having a picnic at the park and playing with football
Making a SNOW-MAN and saying, “I CAN!”
Crying over nothing, followed by the chuckling
Eating chocolates and candies like a grandee
Dressing up like super-heroes for the key-roles
Making chains and trains with ‘James and Shanes’*
Giving a high-five while learning to drive
Licking the ice-lolly quite very slowly!
Making up stories after breaking lorries!
Having playdates with favourite playmates
Playing endless games without any complaints
Joys of the life are to relish and cherish it ALL.
Through the NEXT stages of life and BEYOND.
*‘James and Shanes’ – friends
LEWIS IN THE GOLDFISH POND
Mike Ball
United States
https://www.facebook.com/harrumph
Transformed by his accidental baptism, Lewis sprang from the goldfish pond. For a dripping, sparkling moment. backyard magic turned him into a real boy. He never supplicated to mythical beings. Yet, Lewis played the Pinocchio role. Likewise dousing in wondrous waters required neither priest nor incantation. Lewis, a silly name (not his fault). Fearful mama’s boy (not his doing). Though awake, he nestled in a comforter of his mother’s protective attention. For two summers, I had seen him cry at everything and cry at nothing. He did not risk, not in trees nor rivers, not even on seed sacks at the co-op. Adventure for Lewis was poking a bean pole into the backyard pond. Its limited peril was two tubs deep, a bounded four by four by four feet. Perhaps the release to puerile fun led to his falling face-first to fishes. With the sudden spasm of the foolish, he leapt out laughing and wet. Very long water-lily stems draped over his frail shoulders. The magic of the pond waters instantly transformed Lewis. He was a real boy — for 23 seconds. His moment of boyhood passed. He realized he could not sustain the abandon of his brave youth. His tears washed off the pond’s magic.
JOIE DE VIVRE
Kevin Ahern
United States
I’m was talking to a friend the other day
And she asked me, having passed sixty five
What I liked now about being alive
“Is it the joy of erupting in hysterical laughter?”
“Accomplishing a goal you’ve long sought after?”
“The feeling you get with the coming of spring?”
“The beauty outside with snow on everything?
“Perhaps the experience of falling in love?”
“The patterns high up in the clouds above?”
“The tastes of dinner and a good glass of wine?”
“The feeling you get when you’re dressed to the nines?”
Before she went further
To her I confessed
The answer was simple - “Yes”
SILENT AND STILL
Claudette Martinez
Canada
https://www.facebook.com/claudettemartinezdesign/
https://www.instagram.com/claudette.martinez.92/?hl=en
#claudettemartinezartist
Scared shaken and torn,
shouting inside, angry vicious violent words.
Words and images that are now tattered, thinning and worn.
Silently scream,
scrape your brain, pull and dig till it bleeds,
Search and seek for something it needs,
Anything that will hold you still,
help you be found,
Keep your feet to the ground
Fill your lungs and finally breathe.
Take the moment,
take it it's yours!
Find space and strength,
calm kindness and grace,
That's where peace washes over your face.
ZEST
Lynn White
United Kingdom
https://lynnwhitepoetry.blogspot.com
We feel free again
out here on the wild heath
and we’re whirling and twirling
like a dervish
with the devil in us
reclaiming our wildness
that was hidden for so long
when we were
just hanging on
our spirits sapped
at home alone.
But we’re out now
feeling reckless
with excitement,
jumping for joy
leaping with faith
ready to go again.
CHEERS TO CHERRY BLOSSOMS
Nilofar Shidmehr, PhD
Canada
Unlike the rest of us in 2020,
cherry blossoms don’t stay closed.
Neither do they hide
during the lockdown.
Under the warm sun, they fill
the season with their flourishing,
and touch each other
with the tips of their branches.
They stand together in joy
against gusts of wind
and virus-shaped clouds
until they all fall.
WHEN I AM ALONE
Linda M Crate
United States
nature brings me joy
whether i am standing
among wildflowers
in the mountains
or swimming in the ocean,
walking in the creek;
or strolling through the forest
with a strong army of trees
and slants of magic
dancing through the sunlight
to kiss upon my skin stories of
old and new—
there's just so much peace
in breathing in fresh air,
of not needing to be anywhere at a certain
time;
of being able to unfurl like a lazy cloud
etched in a blue sky dancing with sunlight—
i know for certain i need nature,
but i am not so sure i need the company
of many people;
i find tranquility often comes
when i am alone.
A JOY TO BEHOLD
John Albiston
United States
at 6am we arise to pray
prayer starts our day
we then study the word
to gain great knowledge
to uplift one another
we share our plans
for the day ahead
people we teach happiness to
we get ready for the day
onward we go
as god's army
bringing joy to lost and weary
rejection comes our way
but still our hearts rejoice
our message to others is clear
hope, faith, and love
we share
one knock
on one soul's door
they let us in
how much joy we feel
as we teach god's word
their hearts are full
what a blessing it is to share
how great our joy was
on that blessed day
THE BATTERY – NYC
Jane Fitzgerald
United States
https://www.facebook.com/JanesPoetry/
https://www.amazon.com/Jane-H.-Fitzgerald/e/B01MSW2FLO
On many warm days
You will find a woman dancing
At the Battery
Her skirts swing out
As she gracefully moves
To the tunes of the trumpeter
She is not beautiful or young
Or rich or well known
Yet what pleasure she brings
To park seekers basking on benches
Canopied by whispering leaves
Glimpsing tiny light watery stars
She dances in perfect tune
To the Earth
In time with the wind
In step by step
To loving life
My feet eagerly fly
Across city block after block
Hoping to find her there
I hear the inviting rhythm
See flashes of flaming colors
And arrive with wondering awe
How can life be
So in touch, so complete
At the Battery
GRATITUDE 1969
James King
United States
https://www.jamesking-writer.com
Her name was the same as my mother’s
but I tried not to think about that when I felt her
hand and a jolt of hot electricity fired my blood
and shot it to two places, one of which was my face.
Would my cheeks set her hair on fire?
How incredible that just a few hours earlier she
laughed at my sarcastic jokes as we wrote Prayers
of the Faithful for the eighth-grade guitar Mass
at St. Rose. How amazing that she invited
me into her house and told me her parents
were out and her older sister was upstairs
on the phone with her boyfriend
and would be there for hours.
She said boyfriend like it was a promise.
Her hours sounded like a dare.
We were halfway through Love, American Style
before I finally, finally put my arm on the back
of the couch behind her, careful not to let it touch her
because I didn’t want her to think that I was thinking
what I was, in fact, thinking but still she had asked
me over knowing that her parents were going out
and her sister was upstairs for hours and why
shouldn’t I do this I was in eighth grade for god’s sake
and my arm was starting to hurt when it happened:
She reached up, took my hand, and intertwined her fingers with mine and with her other
hand gently stroked the top of my hand as we watched the show or, more accurately, she
watched the show and I wished Murph and Cleary and Kennedy could see this and then
I wondered if she had done this before with other boyfriends but as she leaned against me
and I felt her breathing and I smelled her hair all I could do was think whoever you are,
St. Rose, whatever you are patron saint of, St. Rose… thank you. Thank you. Thank you.
BLISS
Kathryn Sadakierski
United States
In the morning sunshine,
Birdsong radiates like rays of light
Reverberating through the skies,
And for a moment,
I put down my pen,
Quieting my thoughts,
Seeing inside,
And reflecting.
The world is
So busy,
With no time to
Reconnect,
Looking without seeing,
Thinking without knowing.
In the stillness of the soul,
There are many answers to be found,
A voice to be heard
If only one pauses to listen.
Sometimes inner light cannot be seen
In the day-to-day frenzy,
The flurry of activities,
Where everything competes
For your time and energy,
Attention
Pulled away from balance.
Simplify,
And restore;
See the magic of each moment,
Beauty in everything,
Focusing
On the abundance of blessings.
Understanding
Comes from peace within,
The joy
Of being present.
HIGH TIDE
Ed Meek
United States
When I was young, the two of them were young too.
At the beach at Brant Rock,
my father handsome and strong,
with his Elvis Presley hair
and Icelandic blue eyes, my mother,
slim and pretty with her majorette legs
and perfectly cultivated tan.
My father held me up
in the water and my mother
waved from her beach blanket
on the sand. This was before
my brother and sisters, those
uninvited guests, crashed
the party, back when my mother
was fun to be around
and my father was glad
to be home from the war,
working the only job
he would ever have.
Before we left we’d weave along
the shore, heads down
in search of shells.
I walked between them--
one on each hand. The three of us
happy as clams at high tide.
HINT OF HAPPINESS
Martina Gallegos
United States
https://www.martinagallegos.com
Lying in her bed, bedroom almost empty,
I listen to patriotic songs on Pandora, and
I feel peaceful without the clutter.
Out of the blue, my eyes begin to fog up,
and before I can ask why, tears start rolling
down my cheeks, and I can’t stop them.
I manage to get up and vacuum the bedroom
but think about texting my therapist
then decide against it, so as not to ruin her day.
I consider emailing a friend but realize, she,
too, is honoring loved ones who lost their
lives for the freedoms we enjoy, so I don’t
email her either.
I suppose I shed tears because I’m happy I’m
still here when others didn’t come back home.
I suppose tears can cleanse and liberate me
if the memories that torment my heart can’t.
And I wonder if shedding tears can lessen
the sorrow I’d like to exchange for joy.
Future plans bring up the hope for a chance
at better, brighter days without sadness
if only I have the strength to get up.
I’ve risen from the deepest of precipices
a handful of times and have overcome
many obstacles, so I’m no stranger to fighting.
I will continue to rise and succeed and find
my own joy in my daily routines.
JOY
Dimithri Wijerathna
Sri Lanka
The melodies of humming birds all around
Fragence of roses spread around the air
Butterflies flying in a row as colourful jets
Sky in blue carpet with small cotton balls
Sun glisten on grass twinkling the dew drops
Mind soothing with fresh air with new thoughts
I jumped out of bed with new ideas
Wow!!! My mango tree with fruits
Hanging around all branches
Sunflowers bending as to obey me
Happiness with nature
Heals my wounds in heart and mind
I sang the melodies of joy with birds
THE COMMUNION
Paula Brown
United States
https://www.facebook.com/doxzen
Last week,
even though the heat
of the summer (which broke
all known records)
was still raging (and humidity was
raining sweat down my back)
yet along came the wind
rustling up from the west
breezing through the ranch
with a faint touch of cool,
tossing a hint of fall
on that late day in August,
not caring that it was
a hundred something outside.
And at the same time
that the wind
was mustering forth
its unexpected foreshadowing
(sprinting past pens
full of horses
foraging their breakfast
of fresh cut Bermuda),
a family of quail gathered
to guzzle down water
from a repurposed feed pan
sitting next to the fence,
(replenished
each morning and night
for the wild ones residing
in this sun-drenched
situation).
But there is more to this story
than the wind and the quail
and the horses munching
on the other side of the fence,
because at the same time
that the quail were drinking,
a brownish-gray rabbit
with a puffball tail,
a youngster by size,
was slaking its thirst
unmindful of the quail, perhaps
noticing the wind,
and what a sight!
all together and unafraid
that thirsty crowd of life
partaking from the bowl,
until I rode up on my horse
and the sipping throng
scattered.
The quail hastened off
in their single-filed parade,
plumed heads bobbing forward,
the rabbit darting obliquely.
And the horse, oblivious
to the water cooler gang,
perhaps noticing the wind
as it teased and tempted,
though the summer
that day
just wouldn’t let go.
JOY IN THE GARDEN
Devika Mathur
India
https://myvaliantsoulsblog.wordpress.com/
My lawns do not speak of misery to me now-
The tea in my teacup is a blessing I count ways to sip it
Butterflies fluttering through black carcass as if pain never existed
they do it anyhow metamorphosis
I learnt it from them
from the birds in the orange sky about chest full of courage
about growing plants in the empty hallway,
honeysuckled- morning dew.
Tangles of creepers suspended ‘neem’ leaves
I say it to myself to touch the earth
to touch and run.
To feel and be alive.
For I have an eye of fire searing through the thin air
I say it again. Iteration.
Palms resting on my lap now,
I bend and flex to say a little prayer a prayer about survival.
a prayer about smiles and wild flowers. I say my happiness is a disease these days.
OVER THE HILL AND FAR AWAY
Andrea Schrosk
United States
I have become the kind of woman who leaves the refrigerator door open
I have become the woman who runs down the sidewalk grinning
Released from the heat of the day
At 9pm and not yet dark
My bluetooth isn’t dead so
Led Zeppelin propels me down the street
And why not hop the goddamn fence
And hit the playground swings
Pumping until there’s nothing but my pale blue shirt against the pale blue sky
WILD HARES AND HOLLOWAYS
Sarah Turnbull
United Kingdom
The gold and the green of the fields that surround you,
The last rays of late summer sun.
Rest for a while your adventurous heart
As the wild hares and holloways beckon you on.
You followed your heart and a map of the stars,
Bewitched by the nightingale’s song.
A wistful lament for the passing of time
But a nightingale never stays long.
Now a fox loiters slowly as stag darts away.
A barn owl takes to the wing.
'Be sure to tread softly as you pass through this place'
The wild hares and holloways sing.
THE LOVERS SONG SUNG BY THE SEA
Amanda Jane Bayliss
United Kingdom
https://www.facebook.com/groups/moresuccessfulsubmissionsbyamandajane/
The nightly walk by the sea
Offers something beautiful
To you and me.
The orchestra of the waves
The romance of the music
As we hold hands and kiss along.
Like two teenagers in love
Kissing and giggling
The world is our oyster
The pearl of our love.
Talking and dreaming
Of our destiny
A place created for you and me.
A place of our dreams
As we sing along
To the orchestra of the waves.
Sand between our toes
No wave too high
As we sing our little song.
Nightly walks by the sea
Forever they will stay
As our love will
Never be washed away.
JOY
Sarah Baldry
United Kingdom
I feel the sunrise, warm on my face.
And hear the dawn chorus.
Safe in my bed,
Pillows of lace.
I take a deep breath,
of air filled with floras.
I hear the car sing as you park her,
Music is heard by all who are near.
The butterflies inside me stir.
My love I am certain,
I know you are here.
As I open the curtain,
You look up and see me.
In my full naked glory
And I grab my kimono, so soft.
I run down to greet you,
Then you kiss me so deeply,
My heart is embossed.
RELIQUARY
Lisa Tomey
United States
https://www.facebook.com/lisajtomeyauthor
She snapped the clasp shut on the pewter box,
the one which held the sacred collections of her life
a reliquary of sorts, one might say,
since all things enclosed were of the highest spiritual value.
There was a deck of cards, some worn on the edges
from being clipped to her bike spokes,
making that motorcycle noise,
a skate key for tightening her roller skates to her shoes,
allowing her the freedom to roll about in good spirit,
a bottle of mucilage in case she needed
to glue together construction paper for paper chains,
a wishnik doll with the long hair and soft body,
holding wishes never spoken out loud,
a record adapter to allow playing of a stack of 45s,
all day long and into the night,
as the neighbors gathered around.
These were just a few things from her life,
but oh, the spirits they stirred up,
and when she sorted through her relics,
she was once again a young girl—
with no concerns for the day-to-day doldrums of life,
revived from the essence,
the memories of childhood
and the innocence and joy it held.
HOPING ON WANTS
Emecheta Christian
Nigeria
https://www.instagram.com/emechetachristian/
I want to love like I don’t know hate
I want to live like I don’t fear death
I don’t want to slave for money
I don’t want to taint my story
I want to be the best in what I do
I want to be rich and famous too
I don’t want to be remembered as one who just existed
I don’t want my name to also die when I am dead
I want to travel the world
I want to explore it as much as I could
I don’t want to believe those who say I can’t
I don’t want to believe that I can’t be important
I want to experience true joy and happiness
I want to fall in love and get married to an Empress
I don’t want despair to arrive and find the doors open
I don’t want to get my heart broken
I want to be self-reliant
I want to be no man’s servant
I don’t want to solicit for food or shelter
I don’t want to be enriched by loot nor plunder
CELESTIAL BLISS
Koyel Mitra
India
https://www.facebook.com/koyel.mitra.7982
Joy can be found when You come near_
With pure, boundless love; me You smear.
When I doubt Your feelings sometimes,
Your love flutters like the wind chimes.
In my hard times, me You hold dear.
When mind is filled with excess fear,
Your whispers of blissful love I hear.
I weave our songs of love in rhymes_
Joy can be found.
When the sun is bright and sky clear,
With immense joy I find You here.
Love gushes in me like enzymes
And soothes me in sleepless night-times.
My whole life, to You I adhere_
Joy can be found.
JOY
Sarah Baldry
United Kingdom
I feel the sunrise, warm on my face.
And hear the dawn chorus.
Safe in my bed,
Pillows of lace.
I take a deep breath,
of air filled with floras.
I hear the car sing as you park her,
Music is heard by all who are near.
The butterflies inside me stir.
My love I am certain,
I know you are here.
As I open the curtain,
You look up and see me.
In my full naked glory
And I grab my kimono, so soft.
I run down to greet you,
Then you kiss me so deeply,
My heart is embossed.
SENSES AND EMOTIONS
Alan Bedworth
United Kingdom
Waking up to the sounds of nature,
is a noise to treasure like gold.
Walking on sun-lit beaches
leaving just footprints,
gives a warmth inside.
Entering woodland looking for wildlife,
keeps your senses focused and alive.
The day you get married,
your bride at your side.
Love encompasses your hearts,
on this special day.
Holding your first child,
has your emotions running wild.
Thankful for that moment of
cuddling this cherished being.
All these examples of life.
emotions and senses.
Gives us joy in being alive.
GRAND GESTURE
Sarfraz Ahmed
United Kingdom
https://www.instagram.com/sarfrazahmedpoet/
https://twitter.com/Sarfraz76194745
When you stand next to me,
When it is just the two of us,
They’ll be no need for a celebration,
They’ll be no need for fuss,
They’ll be no need for a band,
Nor a grand a parade,
No need for music will be played,
They’ll be no statues erected way up high,
No fireworks star blazing the sky,
No posters,
No billboards,
No certificates,
No rewards,
They’ll be nothing untoward,
They’ll be no pin to burst the bubble,
The dream that resides this heart of mine,
Something that many search their whole lives to find,
For our love is something truly great,
Greater than any grand gesture of any kind,
WALKING IN THE PARK
Mantz Yorke
United Kingdom
The joy of a bright-washed morning:
a clear blue sky, the grass silvery
from last night’s rain, the low sun
burnishing beech trees’ copper
and birches’ gold – the kind of day
that prompts strangers to say hello.
We finish a slow circuit, surprised
to see a white cockatoo strutting
in the grass beside the car park.
I brush wet leaves from wheels
and load her trolley into the boot.
We head for home, exuberant.
HIDDEN PROMISES
Bill Chatfield
United States
https://www.facebook.com/PeterboroughPoetryProject/
let me be one of the people
safe and well under the canopy
of a midnight sky that lingers
through dawn
hide me from all dark unknowns
that lurk just beyond the edges
of my visible universe
help me to see through webs
of tangled discontinuities
to find the hidden threads of joy
waiting to be knit
into better promises.
THIS
Kitty Jospé
United States
http://www.foothillspublishing.com/2021/jospe.html
is simply to say1
I want my words
to reach you—
the way those beech leaves,
hanging on paper thin
under the fresh snow
touched me today…
and how they could
make you think of
a Japanese lantern maker,
or fashion designer,
especially when the sun caught
them with its light…
This… such a simple word…
as opposed to that, an equally
simple word, in woods
filled with fresh snow
where I swear,
it made a panther,
sleekly asleep on the slope of a pine
and a cat as king of the castle atop
a midsize hemlock.
This … I want others to understand this
quiet joy observing— how it
brings you peace—
where nature is maker,
not man.
1line from Joyce Carol Oates, This is Not a Poem
THE JOY
Viktoriia Zabroda
Peru
It was my turn to know the joy:
not motherhood, not acquisition,
not even fame or recognition,
or melting kisses of a boy...
You never know what life may send us!
It's just...He simply crossed my path
when I was polishing the grass,
sleepwalking in my worn-out sandals.
It felt so good to have Him near
without instruction or reproach.
He had his special approach —
I had no doubt, I felt no fear,
and He was patient with my blither...
Now there's a place my joy can hinge.
I will remember every inch
of that half-mile we walked together.
SCENT
Robert Armstrong
United States
she smells of sunshine,
of pretty things,
of things
that make me dream,
of better places,
then the reality
i find myself in,
of potted flowers,
of dreams,
wished upon
at night,
staring
at stars,
while lovers
dream,
impossible
dreams,
keeping reality
at bay,
with their
delights.
AM I DREAMING?
Laura Glaves
United States
Am I dreaming?
To be so loved
and cherished?
We speak softly
in romantic tones
and hold hands
as we stroll
through lush gardens.
We giggle in the backseat
of taxicabs
whisking us away
before dawn
to our next adventure.
We dance on rooftop terraces
to Parisian serenades
and dine under a canopy of trees
on the grounds of Versailles.
He kisses my hand,
and calls me his bride
after 30 years.
Am I dreaming?
No.
JOYFUL NATURE
Madhu Gangopadhyay
India
The dawn flooded the sky!
The toasted sun on the horizon arrived,
The actors of the dark delight, stealthily retired to rest.
They would till dusk to grace the stage of the cosmic hall.
The beautiful rose its petals unfurled,
The dewdrops glistening like the pearl,
Smiled and greeted the crimson curls.
The chittering of the morning birds
A melody to the aching ears
Such joys in nature abound!
That in human realm seldom sound
Selfless is the nature's love,
Showers benediction from above
Soaks each human with joys profound.
In mankind such is rarely found!
How the heart dances with joys when blushing twilight greets
Or when the carmine aurora is suffused with scented breeze
Joys of that kind fill the heart When men of honour display selfless art
Of sacrifice and valour galore;
Pride and elation multifold, inundate the mortal core,
With unrestricted pleasure the being soars
Let joys flood you whole drench you in its euphoric soul.
Like a thief is kept away keep all your mundane sadness at bay
Do not allow them to bother you,
With elan that know so few, push them away leave no trace!
Let delight alone colour your face.
Like Euphrosyne infused with cheer and mirth,
Stride this orb with grace, create a heaven on this earth!
Amanda
United Kingdom
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