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JULY BIRTHDAY POETRY
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Jan | Feb | Mar | Apr | May | Jun | Jul | Aug | Sep | Oct | Nov | Dec | Poetry Home
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Jul 08
The Promise Incomplete - by Jeannie Wilkins
Presently, the spring winds are blowing through the gaping hole in my heart,
Where there’s jagged canyons, pointed precipices, precarious, perilous leaps,
But if you could but step out upon the ledge just a little further,
Reach out your fingertips into my hand,
I promise to stand firm,
And will not let you fall from my strange new land.
While I wander the subterranean night blindly,
Searching aimlessly for my bliss,
I awake as dreamers do,
Thrust into thick mud-like dark looking for a sign,
Reaching for a kiss,
But if you could but dip your toe into the warm rivers which flow freely
From every tear-laden crevice,
Wading in only partially until you reach my hand,
I promise to stand firm,
And will not let you fall from my foreign land.
For me, this new interior landscape is brutal, ragged rocks
Which cut me to the core,
Sometimes I lie bleeding, wanting no more than to reach the end,
Doubts creeping in along with exhaustion,
I see myself a blank page torn out of some finish not quite concluded,
This is unfamiliar terrain, where I stand waiting for the
Cleansing rain to wash me down,
But are you the shower I seek?
I believe if you could just peek around the corner,
Reach out that strong male presence,
Just until you reach my hand, then I shall promise not to let you fall
From my strange new mysterious land.
Jeannie is a singer/songwriter in the Denver area.
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Jul 12
Cigarettes and Christmas - by danielle galluzzo
Every morning I woke up to the bubbling and gurgling of the coffee-maker
You would curse as you awoke, not quite ready for the day.
You never liked the bitter taste that coffee left.
But you had to get your caffeine somehow.
I listened to every word of your phone conversations.
Intently watched the cigarette bouncing up and down in your mouth
as you spoke.
You never liked the stench that the smoke left
But you had to get your nicotine somehow.
After Christmas, you began to speak often of leaving town for a while.
I knew it wasn't a vacation, but the law that was the reason.
You never enjoyed the guilt that stealing left
But you had to get your money somehow.
Every day I think about what you did and read the letters that you
sent me.
I could almost see the shame in your handwriting and misspelled words.
You'll never understand the emptiness that you left
But I'll learn to forgive you somehow.
I am a 3rd year University of Oregon Student majoring in
Journalism/PR
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Jul 12
The Wanderer - by Deborah Deiger
Ever changing,
He is the beauty
The human flesh seeks,
He craves the changing passions
Of the desolate souls,
His kiss lingers on cold lips,
His touch radiates warmth,
Though he is long since gone,
His image disappears as he fades
Onto his next conquest,
He swirls with reckless abandon,
Wanderlust through the desert sky,
Wherever is fine as long as it's different,
The path may someday run deep,
But his soul will soar on,
On the breath of the wind,
The moonlight guiding him on his way,
The sunshine feeding his beautiful soul,
The stars watching in envy that he can shine
With movement, with a sense of travel
That will never end,
For he is the journey,
He is the getaway,
He is the home,
And he is everchangingly constant and unforgettable
I am a writer residing in Ohio. Above all else, I am a mother to a spirited 3 year old boy.
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Jul 12
My Son - by Roy Urquhart
Stuart, the milk-white boy
With hair like heady wheat
With blue cheeks in the Winter cold
And rose cheeks in the heat
The blood that rushes to his skin
Is much like his shy soul
That shows through despite itself
Sweet, hesitant and whole
46-year-old dreamer. Living in the North of
England. Still trying to figure out life and love.
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Jul 13
Mall Patrons - by Dan Provost
The old, ancient people who's beaten face reflects the wrongs of life.
Hoping to keep some respectability by scurrying around
Walgreen's - Independently purchasing a Candy Bar and a paper.
But each movement, each step and every simple desire seems hauntingly
barbaric.
As the old man winces in pain.trying to wrestle the paper from the
newsstand.
He taps his old wife on the shoulder and points the way to the exit.
But the mind goes with age I guess-so their first attempt to leave the
store becomes a tour of the Foot Care Department.
Wrong turn to paradise.
Dazed and weary looks on the old couple faces.as they try again to
steer the course.
Back to the exit.
As I leave Walgreen's, I see a young mother wheeling her baby in a
white stroller.
No father around to help I see.
No wedding ring on her finger I see (being 32 and unmarried, I notice
these things).
No motherly joy in her spirit I see.
Only a glazed self-involvement-While her head drops down to her chin as
the kid cries for his food.
Our eyes meet for a second as I briskly pass her.
Mental Pain?
Love in an instant?
Or another tale of a lost chance on a cold north day.
Two Thousand something.
I finally head out-on my way to the part-time telemarketing job I had
to take to make ends meet.
But before I leave, I see 100 more people-with 100 more faces of
despair and want.
A want to share a story.
A want of desire.
A want to feel something.
Something.
Anything.
Anything at all will due.
Anything at all will suffice
I live in Upton Massachusetts and I feel poetry is
a form of artistic explosion. My poetry has been published in such
e-zine's as Half Drunk Muse, Kung Fu, Word Salad, Niderngasse,The Swamp
and other small print and poetry websites.
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Jul 13
The Journey - by Jason Schwab
The sun finds an ice crystal,
A child concieved,
As the droplet released,
The child will breathe.
Off on it's journey,
To earth it will go,
As the child awakens,
It's now time to grow.
The drop cascades downward,
It knows not it's fate,
The child finds curiosty,
Endures emotions like "Love" & "Hate"..
The drop might find problems,
Thru the wind and the rain,
The child could encounter words...
Such as "Suffering" & "Pain".
As the journey is ended,
The drop gives new birth,
When the child is over,
It's simply a drop in the earth.
Jason died in an automobile accident, March 18th,
of this year, and the one thing he wanted most was to have his poetry,
published in a book, or written so that it could be read by those who
could relate. So we are sending you this from a man who has gone, but
wanted the whole world to be reading his poems.
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Jul 16
Memory Roots - by Tania R. Chase
We were brought together
By loving forces of nature.
And now...
Just as branches and leaves
Are borne by the tree
Each day that passes
Is a living, loving entity
In our wellspring of memories
That enrich the present
Nurture us
And make root
For the future.
I am a word lover and word player
who feels I have accomplished a lot if I've learned something new every day.
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Jul 18
Untitled - by D.L Burrows.
The ride that lasted till
the clock stopped.
My back is broken.
Same as my heart.
sleeping on the rocks
under a sky without stars.
walking alone
till the moon is forlorn.
To be in cold company
as we both cheat
the dawn.
I wear your reflection
in my mind.
So at least remember
my name.
Soon my watch will stop.
The time will not come.
Till then can i find comfort
in your strings,
your fingers and
forked tongue?
You are fit for a king
who spits bitter truth
in your face.
And if you forget what
it was you gave me.
Sleep on rocks
and bleed
just to taste.
I carry a floppy notebook and fill it with what my head allows me.
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Jul 23
Wind and Song - by Song Weaver
Waiting out the day
my dreams are all re-runs
looking through younger eyes
I see a world blessed with love
Tender moments dance so gently across my life
I revel in everyone of them
and nurture them deep inside
I am tightly holding on
for tomorrow I could be gone
like wind and song
Quiet moonlight fills
my lonely bedroom through
the night
secrets are like shadows
that fade in the morning
light
The sunshine tries
to humor me
in its golden wake
I embrace its warm certainty
and face another day
So tightly holding on
or I'll be gone
like wind and song
I am self employed, A singer at heart. I reside
near Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania, USA.
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Jul 30
Anxiety in Society (June 11, 1978) - by Cgagi Gladyng
Crime and ignorance in every street
While the children of the earth have not to eat
Warlords sacrifice many every day
To the games of illusions they play
Now we do have a choice
To speak your voice
And stand up against the Rat Race
That would destroy truths face.
An replace it, with
Anxiety in Society
So much too much enough
Anxiety in Society
The seed we need is love
Love so much
Love, love the seed
Of love is all we need
Love
Can turn Ignorance to understanding
And make selfish one less demanding
Find the lost and free the bound
The answers to all is found
No we must not wait
Children we are already late
But nothing is worst then never
And late is better then not ever
It is about time we use our mind
And change that thing
To stand and demand
Too much is enough
Anxiety in Society
Love the only seed
We need to feed
Love is all we truly need
So take heed and feed
Love the seed
Just a Inner Terrestrial of Earthly energy.
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