Monthly Archives: September 2014

Peregrines

Jane Dougherty Writes

The_Tuileries_Gardens_Paris_by_Edouard_Vuillard

Along the promenade

Between gracious quayside buildings

And the broad majestic river

A pair of falcons swooped low across the path

With shrill otherworldly cries

Like ghostly swallows

Out of season

Out of time

Their savage beauty out of place

Amid the tame scenery

Of gaudy municipal flowerbeds.

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Poet Bri Bruce Named ‘The Worthy Heiress of Mary Oliver’ for Collection ‘The Weight of Snow’

Bri Bruce Productions

2014 International Book Awards Finalist for Poetry
2014 San Francisco Book Festival Honorable Mention for Poetry
Featured on the USA Book News’s 2014 USA Best Book Awards Website

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In The Weight of Snow, author B. L. Bruce explores the many plights of the human species, from the mysteries of the heart and the inescapability of death, to the depths of human emotion. Told from the perspective of a poetic naturalist, Bruce shares her appreciation of the wild, illuminating the profound in the mundane while chronicling the natural world as both an observer and as an irrefutable part of it. Her poems focus strongly on image and locality, conjuring the imaginations of readers and celebrating the beauty in the follies of the human condition and its capacity to grip the soul.

PRAISE FOR THE WEIGHT OF SNOW

The poems in The Weight of Snow are heartfelt, skillfully written, and keenly observed fragments…

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REAPER’S KNIFE: A POEM

Jaimie Engle

deathofdeathAin’t no hiding from the Reaper’s grasp.

From babes first breath till old man’s last.

It seems life happens way too fast

when one man’s now’s another’s past.

Death don’t rap against your door

‘less it’s your time, and that’s for sure.

A gentleman caller, and not much more,

who takes the rich ‘long with the poor.

No running, naw. Can’t get away.

No hiding, chiding, games to play.

When Death comes knocking on that day,

know ev’ryting’s irie, mon; will be okay.

The Reaper takes your from this space

and leads you to the after-place.

Leave behind your flesh-covered case;

the life you lived, your only trace.

So smile, live, and love your life,

your kids, your friends, your husband/wife,

and only stress when it’s true strife

‘fore Death calls with the Reaper’s knife.Acceptance_of_Death___-652729

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THOUGHTS

jisbell22

thoughts

Thoughts in our head

directing our paths

never fully realizing

the power it has

success or a failure

driven by minds

thoughts running wild

taking our time

thoughts are the anchor

guiding our way

our hopes and our future

forever at play

so thoughts taken lightly

can dictate our life

they guide us to happiness

or a life full of strife

 

“A man is but the product of his thoughts, what he thinks, he becomes”

-Ghandi

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Nightfall just before the storm

Jane Dougherty Writes

Four short poems inspired by the hot, heavy weather of the last weeks, when the storm clouds build up in the evening, and the night is rocked with thunder.

PENTAX Digital Camera

Night falls
soft as a cat’s paw
on the heat-heavy
city roofs
whispering with
the cool breath
of the stars.

PENTAX Digital Camera

Night falls
And out of the darkness
Shines the moon
Black blanket
Scattered with stars
Sheds just enough light
To see your sweet face.

PENTAX Digital Camera

When dark winds blow
The memory of your face
Comes to me
Out of the past
And I shiver
In another’s arms

PENTAX Digital Camera

Storm wind sweeps the sky
Fire ships sail out of the west
Sultry sails thunder.

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When you call me

readful things blog

When I call your name
you are there
even when it cannot be

When I call your name
I feel the connection
you are here with me

When I look at you
I see the future looking back
When I look at you
I see all I’ve ever had

When you look at me
a crimson stain blushes my face
An appropriate response
to one who possesses every grace

When I dream of you
I wake to find a smile
Whether you are here
or separated from me by miles

You are all I ever wanted
and all that I shall need
that single missing piece
a love untouched and unhurried

Call it fate or kismet,
call it the heart’s free will,
but I’ve loved you forever
and promise I always will.

Me, it was a singular
for then there was no one
and then I discovered
you
you are…

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I Miss You (spoken word)

Poetry by Pamela

I miss you in the morning
With sleep still in my eyes
Your breathing so soft
As I fantasize

The breakfast table is empty
Without you, it’s not the same
There isn’t a day that goes by
I don’t call your name

My days feel so empty
With you so far away
Those little things I want to tell you
And ask “how was your day?”

But I think I miss you most of all
When day is done and the sun loses light
I miss laying in your arms,
Holding your hand and kissing you goodnight

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Rombald’s moor – my moor

Sue Vincent's Daily Echo

X ilkley weekend 030Tall the cliffs of stone
That mark the entry to my heart’s domain,
Wild and empty in its vastness
The solitude of living earth.
The wind lifts the heart
And bears it through the storm
To where the lichen crusted rocks
Cling to the clouds.
Part of my heart remains there
Scattered with the ashes of a lost love
Mingled with the joy and pain of memory,
Of childhood wonder and a lover’s kiss.
Deep the roots which bind me to that land,
Like the weathered pines that cling for life
To the purple hillside…
Genuflecting, but standing, still,
Naked in the mist.
Or the great stones,
Ice carved in aeons past
Into a landscape of dreams,
Marked by ancient hands
With figures of Light,
That I may stand beside them,
Millennia apart,
And recognise my kin.

Morning mists near Backstone CircleWe all have special places; places that sing to our hearts, hold memories…

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essence of life

Songs of Bee

an unformed body

with days planned before me

woven into my soul;

my name written in a book.

my inmost being

knit together in the soft silence

of my mother’s womb.

fearfully and wonderfully

created

in the secret place.

interwoven in the depths

of the earth.

hemmed-in

—behind and before.

i rise on wings of dawn

settle on the far side

of seas

holding fast.

my heart and anxious thoughts

already made known

and i know

that i am not alone.

light becomes dark around me.

darkness is not dark,

but light surrounds me.

this life is enough

and death will be timely.

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