• The trees said to tell you- c/c this spontaneous poem?

    In stagnant pools that get no light they birth the next batch of the blight. They'll wipe us out by taking trees and other flora, through disease. They inject it deeply into the roots, for sunlight gives strength to the shoots, also alerting to the danger faced, enabling the sources to be traced. A wicked wave covers the land, not... show more
    In stagnant pools that get no light they birth the next batch of the blight. They'll wipe us out by taking trees and other flora, through disease. They inject it deeply into the roots, for sunlight gives strength to the shoots, also alerting to the danger faced, enabling the sources to be traced. A wicked wave covers the land, not crest of ocean or dune of sand, rather an invisible series of signals, piggybacking popular media-subliminal. The human mind cannot perceive but on windless days the quivering leaves show the fear that the elm, oak and birch feel. Don't believe me? Do some research.
    6 answers · Poetry · 6 years ago
  • A small price to pay, a poem would you c/c?

    Priced in pain, but picker's gain A label on my home preserve reminded me that I had picked plump, ripened fruit of blackberries, from thorny brambles which had pricked and stained my skin a purplish-red. Unfriendly was the Sunday heat which scorched my shoulders, left them sore, yet still I stayed avoiding bees to gather many,... show more
    Priced in pain, but picker's gain A label on my home preserve reminded me that I had picked plump, ripened fruit of blackberries, from thorny brambles which had pricked and stained my skin a purplish-red. Unfriendly was the Sunday heat which scorched my shoulders, left them sore, yet still I stayed avoiding bees to gather many, many more which clung in clusters overhead. Though blistered fruit was free to pluck I paid the price in reaper's pain, but in the dreary winter months, my autumn harvest proved a gain. Delicious jam for months ahead I thickly spread on buttered bread.
    17 answers · Poetry · 7 years ago
  • Poem for you to criticise if you would please?

    ...... I DO NOT WANT TO DIE IN BED .... I do not want to die in bed My bed is for dreaming in Loving in , laughing in, Sharing-thoughts in For reaching out in the dark , and finding loving arms in, My bed is for kissing , every part of him in , A place to rest in I do not want to die in bed I want to die ,standing up instead ... show more
    ...... I DO NOT WANT TO DIE IN BED .... I do not want to die in bed My bed is for dreaming in Loving in , laughing in, Sharing-thoughts in For reaching out in the dark , and finding loving arms in, My bed is for kissing , every part of him in , A place to rest in I do not want to die in bed I want to die ,standing up instead ''That's '' better'' " Isn't It ? @ Gold I don't have 'Facebook'' :) .. Thanks for posting I really enjoy your writing I write poetry for pleasure and enjoyment and the nice surprises I read from other authors like you and many more here at Yap .. Thanks :)
    8 answers · Poetry · 7 years ago
  • Do you like to read sonnets about love? C/C?

    (one I wrote a few years ago) Love Search If love be this then truth awaits your cries for love must give as much as it received. But you my dear, give lies, live lies, are lies and these are not the fires of love believed. So sad for we did swear upon our souls to hold and care and grow to old as one. How cold these words must ring... show more
    (one I wrote a few years ago) Love Search If love be this then truth awaits your cries for love must give as much as it received. But you my dear, give lies, live lies, are lies and these are not the fires of love believed. So sad for we did swear upon our souls to hold and care and grow to old as one. How cold these words must ring to ears that stole and took our vows to twist to make undone. Charade your pain and pantomime your mien and cry and wail and moan my leaving now. But know a love like yours is not my scene nor fakery attempts to make me bow. For love, a love that’s true, awaits out there and I will search to find it there, I swear.
    6 answers · Poetry · 7 years ago
  • Does your wedding ring leave a mark? Just a little rumination, c/c?

    My hand is swollen, I try to get the wedding ring off. Oh it seems it is almost welded there, of course, that is as it should be - this marriage is permanent, but I have to get the ring off. finally, with a great wrenching it comes free. I look at my finger, naked now and marvel at the deep groove still there. I wait four days. The... show more
    My hand is swollen, I try to get the wedding ring off. Oh it seems it is almost welded there, of course, that is as it should be - this marriage is permanent, but I have to get the ring off. finally, with a great wrenching it comes free. I look at my finger, naked now and marvel at the deep groove still there. I wait four days. The groove is still there and I think about sudden death. What if I died suddenly and there was an autopsy? Even without the ring, they would know I was married - from the groove in my finger. Our bodies can't lie to these people. They can know everything from uncontrollable factors. They would say, she gained weight, see how the finger swells above and below that ring band? See how the skin has a tan line? It makes me wonder. Perhaps if you are married for a certain number of years you are permanently marked? A sign of possession, yes, look I was someone's wife. And you haven't even said a word. Just your hand tells the story. Nancy - get a cat door. Then your cat won't eat you - and what would you care for the rest? You will be long gone and up in the stars. I have never had a tattoo. but I am thinking maybe I should just have this ring tattoed on my finger - then I wouldn't have to worry about getting the ring off. Oh, but it would hurt. I hate pain.
    18 answers · Poetry · 7 years ago
  • Are we just dreaming?

    Is this life just a recurring dream? The origin a fantasy, I woke and found My thoughts were bound To this strange reality. To understand Would reprimand The patterns i have grown To love and even own, These truths etched upon my hand Maybe tonight's descent Will quell my subtle lament A language unwritten, Equally as... show more
    Is this life just a recurring dream? The origin a fantasy, I woke and found My thoughts were bound To this strange reality. To understand Would reprimand The patterns i have grown To love and even own, These truths etched upon my hand Maybe tonight's descent Will quell my subtle lament A language unwritten, Equally as smitten, By the time so squanderously spent. Worth it? Or just a projection?
    2 answers · Poetry · 7 years ago
  • And what did you have for lunch today, c/c's welcome please?

    Untitled She attacks the ground with a garden fork, putting her back into it. Digging deep, releasing the suffocating grip of overgrown weeds. The soil breathes, she shakes off the surplus from caked roots, then tosses the offending greenery into a rusted wheelbarrow. He sits three feet away, on the shed step. Beady eyes fixed on... show more
    Untitled She attacks the ground with a garden fork, putting her back into it. Digging deep, releasing the suffocating grip of overgrown weeds. The soil breathes, she shakes off the surplus from caked roots, then tosses the offending greenery into a rusted wheelbarrow. He sits three feet away, on the shed step. Beady eyes fixed on her movements. Waiting, waiting. he inches nearer and with no sign of fear, alights on the freshly dug earth. Feathers ruffled, he steadies himself and sets to work. Seconds pass, a juicy wriggler of a worm protrudes, helpless in a closed beak. Pleased as punch, with his lunch, returning minutes later, eager to repeat the process. Waiting, waiting, for the fork to expose the earth, turning, turning and then inching nearer and nearer for a second helping. (categories - Diet, Health and Fitness)
    11 answers · Poetry · 7 years ago
  • Will you comment on Puppet Master please?

    Marionette,controlled strings pulled, no need for commands as one might bark to a subservient dog. Roughly carved from wormwood what irony, flat faced, garish paint,blushed cheeks left and right arms tested flopping, as if consigned. Joints well tended so as not to rust or collect dust "The show must go on" a poster stared at... show more
    Marionette,controlled strings pulled, no need for commands as one might bark to a subservient dog. Roughly carved from wormwood what irony, flat faced, garish paint,blushed cheeks left and right arms tested flopping, as if consigned. Joints well tended so as not to rust or collect dust "The show must go on" a poster stared at each quiet night. It's all about cause and effect. Lift one leg, then the other It's a dance directed disrupted at whim, not mine at night hung on a stand, slumped feet limp on some table not caring about being real, just silently praying for a pair of scissors.
    13 answers · Poetry · 7 years ago
  • Will Poets please write a tribute to Robin Gib ... from "the Bee gee" group? As in ... "Staying Alive" ...?

    It looks like I only gave him one "B" instead of two ... oops ... that was a bit rude? LOL ... oh well ... he know his own name. After reading these replies ... I must say ... that you are all such fantastic human beings. Of course I am okay ... I'm as tough as an old boot and as strong as any soldier. I march on. And ... I'm... show more
    It looks like I only gave him one "B" instead of two ... oops ... that was a bit rude? LOL ... oh well ... he know his own name. After reading these replies ... I must say ... that you are all such fantastic human beings. Of course I am okay ... I'm as tough as an old boot and as strong as any soldier. I march on. And ... I'm staying alive ... (lol) I am so delighted to find such a huge amount of love and kindness on yahoo. You are all so sweet and funny and kind and look at you all? ... loving me up!!! How absolutely magic ... thanks and thanks again. yahoo is so great ... I got friends here!!!
    6 answers · Poetry · 7 years ago
  • Will you comment please?

    Just rambling, not so poetic. A couple married 60 years sitting, she knitting he watched grass grow sighing, losing sight of so much the youthful touch and her blush when he did. Seeming sedate they still debate. "Woman your hair is thinning." She responded. "When you went out, were you sinning?" He tried to... show more
    Just rambling, not so poetic. A couple married 60 years sitting, she knitting he watched grass grow sighing, losing sight of so much the youthful touch and her blush when he did. Seeming sedate they still debate. "Woman your hair is thinning." She responded. "When you went out, were you sinning?" He tried to avoid. "This coffee is bitter, why can't you make tea?" She answered, "Do you remember the first time you kissed me?" He confessed, "yes" They could have gone on for hours but he mentioned, "Looks like we'll get showers." That sparked in her mind when they shared the same water and space and a smile grew upon her aged face. He got the hint "Let's go make love again." Lives not yet at the end. "Put on that gardenia smell." They tried of course perhaps some of it forced and ended too soon, but both were in a swoon as they fell asleep. Her last words that night, "I always forgave your snoring. You always woke wondering where all the bruises came from. A secret I never revealed." But he was already exploring his dreams.
    9 answers · Poetry · 7 years ago
  • Will you please answer a brief poetic question and perhaps add a stanza to it?

    Have you ever, in the dark longed to reinvent love’s spark, in the endless time of night longed to hold your lover tight, whisper words of poetry let your heart and soul fly free? Reminder: I don't give TDs. I plan on saying this every time I post. Reminder: I don't give TDs. I plan on saying this every time I post.
    Have you ever, in the dark longed to reinvent love’s spark, in the endless time of night longed to hold your lover tight, whisper words of poetry let your heart and soul fly free? Reminder: I don't give TDs. I plan on saying this every time I post. Reminder: I don't give TDs. I plan on saying this every time I post.
    6 answers · Poetry · 7 years ago
  • Would you please C/C my silly monkey metaphor?

    . Would You Play with Me? As a young parent I would try to build Mini sky scrapers in wooden block towns I thought that my children ought to be thrilled Instead they'd just laugh, and my buildings, knock down "No!" I would yell, "Not yet! I'm not ready" But they were a force I just couldn't stop Faster... show more
    . Would You Play with Me? As a young parent I would try to build Mini sky scrapers in wooden block towns I thought that my children ought to be thrilled Instead they'd just laugh, and my buildings, knock down "No!" I would yell, "Not yet! I'm not ready" But they were a force I just couldn't stop Faster I'd try 'till my fingers turned thready To this day I have not yet reached the top Thinking my children did not like to play With their father, a failure at building I'd start to pull back with nothing to say And be covered with kisses like gilding Our expectations were not quite the same Because I had missed the point of the game .
    7 answers · Poetry · 7 years ago
  • Challenge! Can you write a poem about the birds and the bees?

    Or any other creature besides human, as a love poem? He was rather gruff when she strutted her stuff and he kept that mood going all day. She stopped her proud prance and brought back romance and they went for a roll in the hay. He said she was too skinny and, with a snort and whinny, she gave him a hoof in the but t; because everyone... show more
    Or any other creature besides human, as a love poem? He was rather gruff when she strutted her stuff and he kept that mood going all day. She stopped her proud prance and brought back romance and they went for a roll in the hay. He said she was too skinny and, with a snort and whinny, she gave him a hoof in the but t; because everyone knew that simply wasn't true because of wiggly bouncy in her strut. A stallion must not dare insult a pretty mare; 'lest he wind up with a hoof-print on his a$$. After all, she likes a steed who will not follow her nor lead and has a bit of tact, finesse and class.
    13 answers · Poetry · 7 years ago
  • Would you please C/C my silly monkey poem?

    You say that you never play games and that you’re always real judging those who have fake names, hiding, secrets unrevealed We all must live by your standards and share the values that you keep? Honesty sounds easy for some but for others it’s quite a leap. So tell me, do you wear perfume? Keep the door open when you shlt? Do you ever... show more
    You say that you never play games and that you’re always real judging those who have fake names, hiding, secrets unrevealed We all must live by your standards and share the values that you keep? Honesty sounds easy for some but for others it’s quite a leap. So tell me, do you wear perfume? Keep the door open when you shlt? Do you ever put on make-up? And try to hide a bulging zit? It must be great to be like you never having anything to hide. For now I’ll cling to my fantasy and avoid the garbage trapped inside But if you look, really look close I promise that you will see Though I sometimes act like a monkey I really am... just me.
    7 answers · Poetry · 7 years ago
  • I started off rhyming this poem.. Will you c/c my poem?

    For My Brother... he lives in a world where angels hold up airplanes in the air for no fare he wakes everyday at seven has lunch at eleven and prays he makes it to heaven every friday he gets a chocolate milk and he might tell me how his imaginary friend felt at times I get really angry with him he tells me God lives under his... show more
    For My Brother... he lives in a world where angels hold up airplanes in the air for no fare he wakes everyday at seven has lunch at eleven and prays he makes it to heaven every friday he gets a chocolate milk and he might tell me how his imaginary friend felt at times I get really angry with him he tells me God lives under his bed if I believe in Him, he will let me in I envy how he so sincere how he believes everyone keeps promises you cry when your hurt and you apologize instead of argue he is transparent and pure in his own little world he is 10
    6 answers · Poetry · 7 years ago
  • A maudlin moment of poetic drama, not to be taken too literally, please c/c?

    A cold wind blows through my soul, a shattered glass moment to add a time-marking stageshow, dripping with blood on the caked crust of memories dried black as the pinpoints of your pupils. Closing curtains on the stars, the symbols of infinite wonderful possibilities, full moon eye that watched benevolently while I conformed to your... show more
    A cold wind blows through my soul, a shattered glass moment to add a time-marking stageshow, dripping with blood on the caked crust of memories dried black as the pinpoints of your pupils. Closing curtains on the stars, the symbols of infinite wonderful possibilities, full moon eye that watched benevolently while I conformed to your demands albeit for sake of dignity which I caricature now, a freakling, a fool in face of my lost convictions wrought with insecurities. I harbor hope for the rerouting of my dreams loop through loops and walk a tightrope the net is there below me if I fall, will it hold me or turn to dust as feelings seem to do quite spontaneously, despite attempts to cement? Trace me in chalk and let the outline become animate, laughing maniacally at a circus-like wasted life, remember me You were the ringmaster, after all, I was the lion-tamer, and will always love the lion. Unlike you, he never harmed me...
    11 answers · Poetry · 7 years ago
  • What's your favorite Pastoral poem?

    I would like to think that I'm a naturalist and most recently, a pastoral poet. Hence, I love poems that are written in simple language with simple imagery, but contain extra-ordinary implications. So, what is your favorite Pastoral poem? "Minor Bird" by Robert Frost I have wished a bird would fly away, And not sing by my house... show more
    I would like to think that I'm a naturalist and most recently, a pastoral poet. Hence, I love poems that are written in simple language with simple imagery, but contain extra-ordinary implications. So, what is your favorite Pastoral poem? "Minor Bird" by Robert Frost I have wished a bird would fly away, And not sing by my house all day; Have clapped my hands at him from the door When it seemed as if I could bear no more. The fault must partly have been in me. The bird was not to blame for his key. And of course there must be something wrong In wanting to silence any song.
    4 answers · Poetry · 7 years ago
  • Will you comment on something perhaps not so poetic?

    There can be no blame placed on the vintner when we choose to drink bitterness from a chalice tarnished. The quill dipped into a well, too deep, for too long set to parchment, penning words thought to be strong might only leave indigo blood, drying disregarded. To hold regret, is a trap self imposed, harboring ghosts One... show more
    There can be no blame placed on the vintner when we choose to drink bitterness from a chalice tarnished. The quill dipped into a well, too deep, for too long set to parchment, penning words thought to be strong might only leave indigo blood, drying disregarded. To hold regret, is a trap self imposed, harboring ghosts One ascends, another retreats both slide and form us as they funnel our souls The wind we can't control might leave one cursing crying out to whom? returning with tear streaked cheeks to a home no longer there. TY all. I guess i kinda bombed in tryin to make these seperate vignettes, but whatever works is OK. Sigh, SNAFU, is that all you got?
    8 answers · Poetry · 7 years ago