Posted by: Ron DuBour | October 19, 2014

Back Home (Impromptu Poem)~by Melvina Germain


 

 

Back Home (Impromptu Poem)

The Mira,
a place I long to be.
To visit the happy, yes
some of my family.
O but the Pier is a place
I’ll never forget.
The whimsical sounds of happiness
delves deep within my soul.
Praise God I have the honor, to be
a part of a family much better than gold.

By: Melvina Germain

Posted by: Ron DuBour | October 19, 2014

UNMOLESTED~by Jernail S Anand


 

 

UNMOLESTED

i wished to remain unmolested
fresh and green,
like a leaf blessed with dew;

i trusted the winds
which gently bruised through me
and ended up with
enchanting music;

i called upon the waves
which too came holding a
flute;

and the fire
i called upon to stand by
and wait for my call
to roast my bread;

but i don’t know
when winds chose to turn into tempests
and waves lost their reason
and fire, which was waiting
to serve me,
became the agent of my extinction.

i wished to go back unmolested
fresh and green
like a leaf blessed with dew;;;;;

how was it possible
to live through this terrible
forest of fire
and remain unscathed?

dr js.anand
all rights reserved; 2014

Posted by: Ron DuBour | October 19, 2014

The Ark~by rldubour


This past Friday we buried my brother Mike, (the fourth within a 3 month period) the following write is for him and something that actually happened. I will always remember the good times and will miss him terribly. Love you brother!

 

The Ark

One day as I was working high up in the sky.
I looked down towards the street and saw my brother passing by.
Since he could not see me as I was hiding from the sun.
I decided that I would have myself a little fun.
I yelled out his name with a deep drawn out sound.
He just stopped in his tracks as he looked around.
I thought why not? Should I continue this charade?
As he continued looking around as if he was in a daze.
So one more time I yelled his name with a commanding sound.
He stopped again and did not move only looked around.
The longer that he stood there the more he looked confused.
I tried so hard not to laugh I really was amused!
He finally said who is this, this voice I cannot see.
I said my son this is God won’t you listen please.
It’s going to rain for forty days you have to build an ark.
And gather up the animals and store them in that park.
Again he stood there motionless, again I heard him speak.
He said I don’t know how to build an ark, as his voice was weak.
I said no problem son in your pocket I put the specs.
Just reach in your pocket, right now you better check!
He reached in his pocked and only pulled out change.
I said to him, check again I am going to make it rain.
Now he is even more confused and maybe even scared.
One more time I said to him, check again I know that they are there
I heard him say once again, why are you asking me?
I said to him my son you were the first one that I see.
When I thought he had enough I had to end this fast.
I said my son, don’t you believe? Why do you even ask?
And then I gave myself away, I said hey brother as I waved.
So glad to see you on this fine day.
He wanted to just kill me but I was way up high.
Now we just laugh about the day when a voice came from the sky.
R.L. DuBour

Posted by: Ron DuBour | October 19, 2014

AN INSPIRATIONAL MESSAGE~by John Patrick Boutilier


 

 

AN INSPIRATIONAL MESSAGE

We all too often make the mistake
Of living our lives like we’ll live forever
As a result we fail to partake
Missing special moments that will reoccur never

Grasp the moment, seize the day
Don’t let good opportunities slip away
We live our lives once
There are no replays
Too quickly lost moments
Become lost days

Lost days, lost weeks
Lost months, lost years
A million regrets
An ocean of tears
The false belief that all that remains
Can be measured in the depth of our tears’ stains

I don’t mean to imply in any way
That we can recover yesterday
But, I want you to know it’s never too late
You can still be the master of your own fate
You can have a far better life
With far more joy and far less strife
The choice, as always, is up to you
If you are willing some things to do

Give up the drugs and alcohol
Face your fears, one and all
Find someone to give your love to
Someone who will love you true
Ask for help when you need a hand
To hold you up when you can’t stand
Be the friend you want others to be
Improve yourself gradually

If you make mistakes, don’t despair
There’s no one perfect anywhere
Bumps are bumps, that is all
Even the greatest err and fall
Strive to do the best you can
Love and help your fellow man
Always seek to do what’s right
Try your best with all your might

Most of all you must toss out
The demon that we call self-doubt
Confidence is essential
If you’re to realize your great potential
If you use your imagination
You can impact upon creation
Take special heed to these words so true
You improve the world when you improve you

© John Patrick Boutilier, 2014
All rights reserved.

Posted by: Ron DuBour | October 19, 2014

my woe ,~by Akshaya Kumar Das


 

 

my woe ,

when words ditch
there is emptyness around,
I fail in my promises,
my vows of everyday,
for writing something new betrays,
the vaccum that accumulates,
needs an expression,
needs a liberation,
where do I go then,
the betrayal of my pen,
where to confess the pain,
the path where I fell,
gives me a wound,
the blank mind does not breed,
does no cultivate thought,
simply live a life of no purpose,
How can I afford to live ?
such a life of no purpose..

By:Akshaya Kumar Das 19/10/2014 7:23 hrs.

Posted by: Ron DuBour | October 19, 2014

The One Word…~by Akshaya Kumar Das


 

 

The One Word…

the one word,
that destroyed our relation,
was sharp more than a sword,
killing the relation in to two ,
even alive the corpse only exists,
till today it hurts,
I feel guilty,
Guilty to infinity.
No excuses could heal.
the wound I wrought in your heart.
the pain I wrote in you.
still exists never shall heal.
even if you forgive me,
It will never heal.
I live in remorse.
I live in grief.
cursing my existence.
Today when I admit my guilt.
confess my guilt,
even if you exist,
but I in your mind cease to exist.

By:Akshaya Kumar Das 19/10/2014 8:03 P.M.

Posted by: Ron DuBour | October 19, 2014

Every Tear~by Rik Bertrand


 

 

Every Tear

Every tear tells a story,
Of love lost in the night,
Of hurt felt deep inside,
That will never see the light.

Every tear tells a story,
Bout a heart being broken,
Bout souls ripped apart,
Bout hateful word spoken,

Every tear tells a story,
That you don’t want to hear,
That is better long forgotten,
That takes away all cheer.

Every tear tells a story,
Each and every one.
And after every tear is gone,
Your life is all but done.

©Rik Bertrand (OCT 2014 #40) tears fall nonstop… telling the story of who I am

Posted by: Ron DuBour | October 19, 2014

Oscar


Originally posted on Poesy plus Polemics:

Oscar Statue Photo from gaelonmedia.blogspot.com

Oscar Statue
Photo from gaelonmedia.blogspot.com

shallow courtiers
donning crowns for applause
pretending we care

View original

Posted by: Ron DuBour | October 19, 2014

Dressage


Originally posted on Poesy plus Polemics:

Dressage Photo from virginmedia.com

Dressage
Photo from virginmedia.com

rider and mount
regal bearing
engaged in an
elegant dialogue
formal attire
commands
glistening flanks
subtle artistry
airs above ground
lithe and light
through the jumps
stepping smartly
through forms
martial born
muscle memory
drawn upon
centuries turned
to a delicate
genteel ballet
barely tinged
by its ancestral
warriors charging
through battlefield
blades wearing
blood in their eyes

View original

Posted by: Ron DuBour | October 19, 2014

Waste


Originally posted on Poesy plus Polemics:

"Wasted Life" Digital Art by gearlock From deviantart.com

“Wasted Life”
Digital Art by gearlock
From deviantart.com


dicing time
nibbling life
busy building
false towers
on leasehold
of somebody
else’s estate
fallow shadows
of kernelstones
germinate waste
stillborn seeds
render naught
from what might
have been save
for misguided
priorities lost
to untended
potential self
sadly subsumed
in malpractice
of pride only
realized too late
one more man
none will care
to remember

View original

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