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![Profile picture of twofiftythree]()
twofiftythree posted in the group National Poetry Month
expulsion
my hands fall off the keys
music still hangin
in the air above me
but my body loses it
bench shiftin underneath me
legs forgettin where they belongand I drop
knees crackin against the floor
spine snappin
as my head falls back
eyes wide and mouth open
that last note still ringin
vibratin thru my bones
holdin me…Read More1 Comment -
![Profile picture of Curly Grace]()
Curly Grace posted in the group National Poetry Month
Never-Ending Dandelions
A dandelion
is a weed
looking harmless
even beautiful.
Still a weed
overtaking the grass
choking out
all other life.Memories of you
are dandelions
spreading rapidly
overpowering my mind.
Taking root in all
facets of my brain
weeding my garden always
with every breath I take
you still live in…Read More6 Comments-
![Profile picture of redzone]()
Hi Curly Grace. It’s amazing how someone occupies our minds. There they are, whether we want them there or not. Hopefully, your “Dandelion” is a welcomed “weed”.
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![Profile picture of Curly Grace]()
Thank you, Redzone. I wrote this in 2011. So, the “weed” has been pulled out, lol, quite some time ago. Made way for better flowers though…
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![Profile picture of redzone]()
Better flowers, that’s the best thing about “weeding”. More colorful too, I’ll bet.
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![Profile picture of Harriet-Jacqui xx]()
Brilliantly expressed – I must weed my garden after that, before your poem infests my mind! HJx
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![Profile picture of Curly Grace]()
Thank you, Harriet‑Jacqui. May your garden stay clear, and your kindness keep blooming.
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![Profile picture of Harriet-Jacqui xx]()
Between writing and marketing my books, I grow-my-own fruit & veg on a plot next to the forest, the village cricket pitch and tennis club. Weeding my plot is just like painting The Forth Bridge (in Scotland , I live in England). As soon as I finish weeding it’s time to start all over again!
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![Profile picture of Fia Naturie]()
Fia Naturie posted in the group National Poetry Month
My Land
I was told this was home
I was given it on silver plater
They fail to tell me that I would have to steal itWords written on paper was crafted beautifully
Penmanship to die for
That was it…
The hidden messageTo die for
I can not take what is not mine
Can land really be mine
The oil and coal pillage from m…Read More2 Comments-
![Profile picture of redzone]()
In Indigenous culture and belief, no one owns the land, we inherit it and are part of it and must share and protect it, leaving it in better shape for future generations. I think this is a much better culture, belief, and morality than what we have in today’s world. I like your poem because it points to this kind of understanding. A very fitting…Read More
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![Profile picture of Fia Naturie]()
Thank you Curtis;))
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![Profile picture of Willow]()
Willow posted in the group National Poetry Month
he knows the sound of my breath
as it catches
hovering over his words
like a hummingbird
imbibing
on the intoxicating nectar
of his expression4 Comments-
![Profile picture of redzone]()
It is special when someone Knows and Sees you.
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![Profile picture of Willow]()
Truly 😊
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![Profile picture of Harriet-Jacqui xx]()
Beautiful: short, simple, and beautiful. HJx
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![Profile picture of Willow]()
Thank you 😊
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![Profile picture of PAR (Paulo Acácio Ramos)]()
PAR (Paulo Acácio Ramos) posted in the group National Poetry Month
On April 2nd, When All Lies Lose Their Nerve
No lie, not even the elegant ones,
survives the arrival of April 2nd.
It comes in quietly,
feverish but polite,
like someone who knocks softly
before rearranging all the furniture in your mind.Yesterday’s mischief still clings to the air,
smelling faintly of banana peel bravado
and the k…Read More - Load More Posts
Ouch! I really felt this! HJx