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Healing Source

there is a power
in me that could
tame the worst
of experiences,
sealing a broken heart
ridding on the
mother of success
when failure knocks
there is a sanctum
right in my heart
where i turn to
to calm my frayed nerves
the pool of divine energy
that keeps me cool
in the worst of adventures
in all of us a healing source
powered by the our creator

poem by John Tiong Chunghoo
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A Thoughtless Man

Where did his thoughts lie?
At the bottom, destined to die
Before he could take ahold
And reshape their twisted mold
An everlasting, pungent taste
Of his own thoughtless waste
That inhibits his dreary mind
From seeking what he burns to find
Alas! A frayed thought or two!
Even if its color's a shade of blue
A thoughtless man can only see
A haze of perceptual impurity

poem by Matthew Peel
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The Master-Player

AN old worn harp that had been played
Till all its strings were loose and frayed,
Joy, Hate and Fear, each one essayed,
To play. But each in turn had found
No sweet responsiveness of sound
Then Love the Master-Player came
With heaving breast and eyes aflame;
The harp he took all undismayed,
Smote on its strings, still strange to song,
And brought forth music sweet and strong.

poem by Paul Laurence Dunbar
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Could

Could it be, that my love has disappeared?
Like a bird in a frenzied migration.
The monster that I have always feared
Has been the dictator of my nation.
Lost, like a ship out to sea
Caged, like a man never free.

Could it be, I'm lost in me?
Like my mind in a bind.
The insight I see
Is what causes me to be blind.
Torn, weak and frayed
Where my heart left, is where I stayed.

poem by Matthew Peel
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Clean It Up with Bleach

Every inch of the fabric has been soiled.
The stars do not appear as bright.
The stripes are frayed and not as tight!
The color blue is not as crisp.
And those who wore this now have quit!

The fit itself seems much outdated.
It's best to toss it than to save it!
Unless someone is known who craves it?
But the assessment of what here appears...
Is to clean it up with bleach,
And then use it for your tears!

poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Candy sweet kisses on rivers of red

Deep, and dark

the inner recesses of my mind

blood flows like rivers

on lolipop islands

Candy sweet kisses

..s so deep

you could swim in

the rivers

of my arms.

And i live there now

[...] Read more

poem by Katherine H. Belle
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Lonely and Frightened

lonely and cold,
my humble abode,
shaking with fear,
feel free to steer clear,

nothing but dread,
runs through my head,
trying to fight,
running from the light,

how did i become,
the most lonely, frightened one?
everything terrifies,
my lost,
scattered thoughts,

tears fall from my eyes,
even the gods,
wont hear my cries,

[...] Read more

poem by Alicia Roseberry
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Bag Lady

Chicago's North Side

This senior citizen
whose face is Rushmore still
squats with pigeons on the steps
of the Rogers Park Masonic Temple.
She wears a shawl this snowy day
and is beneath the visor of a hunting cap
a woman who has paused along the way.
Her shopping bags, stuffed, frayed,
and each square feature of her face confess
she speaks at best a little English.
Rested, she will rise,
a penguin on a floe,
and navigate her day.

poem by Donal Mahoney
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Not Religious....Sorry......

I love trying to write
I love my poetic friends
I love my children
My pet guinea-pigs, Keith and Dandelion
Green tea
And any coloured vegetable (cause i have too)

My man
My new flowery wellies
The bees that scare me to run
Saturdays throng
Sundays silence
What i do not love is being lectured continually about religion

I loved god and lost my sister
Thats (my truth) and Im sorry

We are all cut from a different cloth (and mine frayed)

poem by Karen Sinclair
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A Stray Kitten

In the spring he toyed with her
her ball of string was long
she tossed it high and higher
gamboling along.

In summer they were lovers
passionate and hot,
her ball of string was short,
she'd found a lover's knot.

By Autumn love had cooled
she found she'd lost allure
The string she'd played with
frayed and tore away.

By winter she'd been ousted
she shivered in the snow.
Her ball of string was cut
and she, a little kitten, froze.

poem by Ruth Walters
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