Category: Poetry

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Imagine if a Butterfly by Rebecca Woody

Rebecca Woody

Imagine if a Butterfly

 

Imagine if a butterfly could sing.

            oh! The joy that could fill the air.

A glowing aurora of voice would ring,

            the world couldn’t help but dare

To reach out to a sun-soaked flower,

            fingers longing for the capture.

Imagine if a butterfly could sing. 

Yet, instead, as one approaches,

            a fearful, flirtatious flutter encroaches.

A blur of blue and purple flashes

            upon the silky green.

Timid, silent, filled with fear.

never wanting one to hear

The God-granted mystery, to one so dear.

Only God can reveal the beauty

            in the rhythmic beat of the innocent.

Only He can reveal the beauty,

            oh! That day is imminent

When the butterfly will sing.


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The Gleaming by Jeremiah Sater

Jeremiah Sater

 

The Gleaming

Gleaming grandeur attracts the many,

drawing them into a forever trap.

Possibility of escape is rare,

though can be found when all is lost.

When escape is seen,

they often turn back,

never knowing life without

that gleaming grandeur.

Held tightly within its grasp,

at first they may have resisted,

while accepting the fate,

but now resting comfortably.

The gleaming grandeur holds them in awe,

blinding them from the things around them,

never knowing what truly should be seen,

trapped with the grasp.

They hold onto it,

serving it, rather than it serving them,

forgetting what should control what,

living forever in its grasp.

Forgetting their past,

and those outside the light of the grandeur,

they walk with the blind,

the blind leading the blind.

But can those blinded find the sight filled?

impossible is not impossible,

but first they must look past the blinding gleam,

to see that there is life beyond it.

The gleaming grandeur only controls

what the heart allows in,

bringing reality to perspective,

the grandeur loses its hold.

The gleaming grandeur will always remain,

near the heart,

waiting to enter,

to fade out reality, slowly regaining control.


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Extremes by Patty Apostolides

Patty Apostolides

Extremes

 

No man is an island
or an oasis.
Although at times he feels
alone,
maybe through lack of understanding
or by choice,
or by unexpected circumstances,
there are always others to
prompt and nudge him along,
to remind him that life is more than
just his little world.

No man is an ocean,
all encompassing, forever moving,
never at rest,
even though appearing calm on the surface,
underwater currents flow
from seething schools of fish.

Although at times he feels
overwhelmed
by constant juggling of events
or by waves of circumstances that
flow into one stress or another;
there are always others to
slow him down, to bring him peace,
to remind him that life can be lived,
one moment at a time.

To find balance requires a pacing of the self,
particularly when we witness
a time to grow and a time to rest,
a time to laugh and a time to mourn,
a time to cry and a time to heal,
a time to create and a time to appreciate,
a time to live and a time to die.

Life is a mixture of extremes that
can be chaotic if man dares not make choices
to find the inner balance of his soul –
where there is no time –
and learns to be one with his Creator.

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Temptation by Chelsea Kershner

Chelsea Kershner

Temptation

My heart fights your advances,

but my body yearns to be yours.

Smoldering stares left me paralyzed.

Every bone within my body

is no longer my own to control.

Left to crumble without your command,

I stand in my own skin,

begging for the words hanging from your lips

 to speak my name.

My spine aches for your touch.

Your ice cold fingertips,

are the only craving I need satisfied.

The veins in my body

are wired to light with the growl in your voice,

and my fragile neck is connected to be broken at your will.

The fight for control of my own body

has left me ragged and drained.

I have surrendered control of every inch

and yet I feel I have not surrendered enough.


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A Wish on Replay by Taryn Owens

Taryn Owens

A Wish on Replay

The silk of her voice floats
on the air around me
her voice deep blue, lovely purple
and elegant black

There is a whirlpool of passion I am caught in
as I close my eyes and allow
the emotion to carry me to a place
only God could have created

The rush of this colorful tornado takes
the hues from her voice and
paints them across my imperfect body
transforming me into an angel

And the shadows that had made
obvious my imperfections are
drowned in this beauty of an invisible voice

A protecting voice that warns
the shadows that made me unbeautiful
the vibrant paint becomes my clothing
my defenses and fear fall away
from this color that is music
that is voice, that is passion
that is love

Without warning the whirpool escapes
from the air that surrounded me
into a place I could never hope to touch
the finality of the end
replaces the tornado in the air
for a few breathless seconds

And then I smile

Only a hint of the angel
that her voice created in me

I walk over to the CD player

And hit replay

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The Fields of Time Lords by Cambria Puffenberger

Cambria Puffenberger

The Fields of Time Lords

Here in the Festival of Time

In which we mortals cannot chime

The early morning glistening

Of dewdrops among the bustling

Fields of Lords and Ladies rare

Gathered in the fresh crisp air

Alone for centuries, each one

Scarce be the time for fun

No one can count the years between

Their decisions to convene

Banished then are thoughts

Of loneliness in draughts

Stilled are the souls of those

Restless in this life they chose

Music, dancing, bright colors and moods

Easily overcomes the shadowed broods

The old and weary faces shed away

Replaced by smiles of the gay

As one who pried a glancing look

Upon the fields of Time Lords took

I saw life in stories that ancients had spoken

This beautiful race of Time unbroken


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Beginnings by Joseph Sturm

Joseph Sturm

Beginnings

Your love is life wrenched from your ribs and eyes,

and torn from sighs that move and whisper to,

the Earth, the ground, around, may die and lies,

a fitting memory of what you knew.

And in that pregnant apple you are mad,

wherein resides the bitter taste of flesh,

the blush directs the compass to the lad.

Conjoined, they are a thread within the mesh.

And from these seeds two seeds are sprung: they sang.

They sang of times and works and spoke of more,

yet green were eyes that ripped the voice and tongue,

a man who took your heart and nothing more.

So throw the rain upon the ground

and listen to its never-ending sound.


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Soldier by Star Dodson

Star Dodson

Soldier

 

Training intensely

Minding willfully

Trusting completely

Planning fearfully

Rising forcefully

Walking quietly

Sweating profusely

Watching cautiously

Beating rapidly

Praying sincerely

Aiming precisely

Standing steadfastly

Weighing instantly

Shooting orderly

Killing suddenly

Grieving instantly

War

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Waters of Me by KC Cargill

KC Cargill

Waters of Me

 

I will wait for the water, to wash me away

Take me adrift and send me out to sea

Across the oceans I will sail, but my horizons will stay the same

Aimless salty drifting

Divided by an abyss that’s as empty as my eyes

Anchored by an immoveable object as heavy as my heart

This is me, a crewless ship with a broken sail

Still afloat but no one knows how

So bring the rain, and bring the thunder

This ship no longer fears drowning in that which holds it up

It no longer clings so dearly to life, thus death avoids it

Sinking its only wish, the water its only friend

Blind in a world of pictures, there was nothing to see

But I see now, I see now….