Music Music – Your Ways (a song)...

Music is a gift
To grow as you feel
Blessings to uplift
Drama to give and heal
Soothing to the ears
With its soul
Misty in thoughts – it clears!
And never grows ol'

Somebody is playing
Day to a day song
With sounds never staying
In their silences for too long
Every love it finds
Gives a comfort to each click
Hope of two combines
With its emotional wick

It can be so powerful
It can be so passionate in its tone
Sometimes moments dull
Will make it quite alone
It’s for everyone to listen
Giving comfort to heal
Waves of blessings and glisten
Now and again quite so unreal 

Peter S. Quinn

ten cigarettes...

I tried to write something
that was almost worth reading
but this pen feels numb in my hands
and I stayed up all night
just to see if I could
I went out through my window
and onto the streets
to see them lifeless for once
it was everything that I expected
which was not anything at all
but I laughed all the same
just to ruin the silence
with a voice that almost echoed
but the wind swept it away
before it was brought back to me
as a voice I once knew
a phantom under the cold morning air
that would be drowning in the pale moon
if the street lamps were not so bright
a perfect ending to a poem
almost worth writing.


Wes Thompson. 

coffee...

I stirred my coffee

there's a movement here,

a moment of clarity,

a chance to recover what was lost.

An emptiness to fill the void,

a kick with both feet,

a plight that begins and ends,

a laughter with truth,

so help me God...

David Gerardino. 

friendships

Friendship, not really something you can buy;
but more like something you must earn,
friendships you buy, tend not to last long,
unlike friendships you earn, that could last a lifetime.


Friendships can only stay if you work together to keep them;
if friends can make it through hard and easy times,
and if they can trust each other till the end,
then that's what i call true friendship.


Great friendships can't be broken by simple matters;
some friendships even turn to love,
bur all friendships depend on one thing,
who you really are and really act.


Thats my definition of friendship.


Dang Xiong. 

Annabel Lee

It was many and many a year ago, In a kingdom by the sea, That a maiden there lived whom you may know By the name of Annabel Lee; And this maiden she lived with no other thought Than to love and be loved by me. I was a child and she was a child, In this kingdom by the sea; But we loved with a love that was more than love- I and my Annabel Lee; With a love that the winged seraphs of heaven Coveted her and me. And this was the reason that, long ago, In this kingdom by the sea, A wind blew out of a cloud, chilling My beautiful Annabel Lee; So that her highborn kinsman came And bore her away from me, To shut her up in a sepulchre In this kingdom by the sea. The angels, not half so happy in heaven, Went envying her and me- Yes!- that was the reason (as all men know, In this kingdom by the sea) That the wind came out of the cloud by night, Chilling and killing my Annabel Lee. But our love it was stronger by far than the love Of those who were older than we- Of many far wiser than we- And neither the angels in heaven above, Nor the demons down under the sea, Can ever dissever my soul from the soul Of the beautiful Annabel Lee. For the moon never beams without bringing me dreams Of the beautiful Annabel Lee; And the stars never rise but I feel the bright eyes Of the beautiful Annabel Lee; And so, all the night-tide, I lie down by the side Of my darling- my darling- my life and my bride, In the sepulchre there by the sea, In her tomb by the sounding sea. Edgar Allan Poe

smoker.

I billowed calmly as a cloud
Upon a course for acid rain, 
When in the fog of smoking crowd, 
My lungs collapsed in searing pain.


Full of soot and black with tar, 
I coughed in vain for chest to clear; 
At least my lungs had got this far 
Despite my years of toxic air.


But Smokers’ Lounge was home to me, 
Where fellow addicts puff with joy: 
Our pipes in hand, all friends are we, 
‘Let’s fine cigars now share, my boy!


‘So gasp away! ’ my motto cries, 
‘And light another cigarette
Before a further smoker dies, 
Which happens often – you can bet!




Mark R. Slaughter. 

i try hard not to fantasize...

I try hard not to fantasize
whose reality is it that i keep,
when i prepare to lay in bed...
thinking ahead i am there to sleep.
Suddenly finding myself awake,
with memories that seem to creep...
Holding me with wishes,
i wasn't alone but snuggling close...
With someone loved especially there,
just for me to never leave and love most.
Whose reality is this that i keep,
when i feel i try hard not to fantasize.
Or make attempts not to lie to myself.


Lawrence S. Pertillar

something to inspire.