People Who Died
Oak trees are tall and
Reach for the sky,
Blossoming dogwood
Can be pink or white and irises, yellow
Evergreens gently sway in a summer breeze,
As I look towards the sky, cloud covered or
Sometimes a deep shade of blue-
I feel alive and lost inside a world of my imaginings-
I am alone in a world where many loved ones have passed-
My father, warm, and strong and had a zest for life,
My mother sometimes happy, more often sad,
My grandmother, eccentric and funny and my aunt-
In my eyes, special and like a mother to me-
Oak trees are tall and reach for the sky,
Blossoming dogwood and irises, yellow-
It is the springtime of the year and I wonder
Where to have my loved ones departed?
Beneath the ground, near the roots of blossoming flowers, or
Up in the sky, towards where tall oak trees are reaching?
I see a rainbow on the horizon, and
The sun, golden, rising above the mountains-
Clouds giving way to a sky, cobalt blue in its hue-
Where and if people have souls or spirits,
Some do not know for certain, but I know, I am never alone,
Although my loved ones are amongst the departed-
Oak trees, tall, dogwoods blossoming in the early spring this year and
Evergreens shall be present for always-
Inside of my mind, my loved ones have never died,
I can still hear their voices in deep conversation-
I can almost feel their warm embraces- I am never alone-
I am never alone because I believe in spirits and carry them inside
My heart and my mind everywhere I go-
I see their faces in every blossoming flower,
Their voices echoing in every breeze-and one day
We shall dance together on the horizon, because I believe that
People really do not die as fond memories shall carry their spirits home-
And home is wherever I walk, what I see and in the beauty of nature, while
The rainbow on the horizon reflects that everlasting love in our souls…
poem by Claudia Krizay
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Reminiscence
A rose reminiscent of my father's garden
I found growing by a pathway outside my home- as well as
Another just lying upon the sidewalk-
I collected them and brought them home and
Placed them in a vase my mother always loved.
My mother and father always loved the springtime and
On this rainy Saturday afternoon,
I find it hard to believe they have been gone for twenty years.
My mother's spirit was as delicate as the petals on these roses-
My father's, as strong as their thorny stems that upheld them and
My own spirit, by them, always misunderstood.
Flowers are blossoming everywhere-
Daffodils and wild violets growing every place I look and
Cherry blossoms and dogwood seemly decorating the trees-
Bring back the fonder memories of my mother and my father-while
The rain and the sky so gray and overcast
Bring back memories of the sadness of being misunderstood.
It has been nearly forty years that
I had made my own special world in which to live and
In this world flowers grew not only just in the springtime months-
But all year around and in every place.
The real world was then, to me, a place I never lived in or comprehended, and
As long as I kept my mind alive inside the world of my imagination-
At that time, I believed that I had not a thing to fear.
Roses reminiscent of my father's garden,
Placed in the vase my mother so loved-
Upon this rainy Saturday day in March, evokes a few tears in my eyes and
Just for the moment I think of the laughter and good times we had together-
These thoughts are interrupted by memories of all of the anger, sadness,
Mistrust and disbelief that now overshadow memories of
These few pleasurable moments we not so often shared, and
I take these roses from the vase that sits alone upon the table,
Open my picture window and throw them to the rain, and
As my tears cease to fall and dry away- I say goodbye to all unhappy memories-and
As thoughts of my self-made world disappear,
I am thankful that I have a life in this world here alive, and while
I watch the rose petals flutter about in a gentle spring like breeze-
I leave thoughts of discontented past times behind me and
I realize that I have just been set free.
poem by Claudia Krizay
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On a Sunlit Night
Tonight I walk outside alone,
Hoping for autonomy from the world's intruders-
The sky appears as dark as night can be but
Tonight the moon is hiding and I believe I see pink and purple clouds
Tip-toeing out from the darkness, as the stars are disappearing,
Are fading behind these clouds,
I believe I see the sun- as its rays are fighting their way
Through the clouds, and pushing the darkness aside-
It is only an hour past midnight and
The trees are tall and golden, some are touching the sky.
I hear wild geese calling and I can feel the gentle late spring breeze, as it
Rustles the silken blue-green leaves upon the trees-
While I rejoice being safe in my solitude.
I am alone on a sunlit night, on a trail leading toward
That phantasmal land of my utmost dreams-
Branches upon the trees, golden or copper shaded
Are sparkling with dew as would be polished diamonds-
I sing songs of peace with the cicadas- releasing my fears to the wind.
As I behold the splendor of the sun against magenta-pink clouds, as it
Rises above the mountains, purple in their hue, I can see
A rainbow on the horizon, and the creek nearby sparkling and reflecting the light.
I am wondering if I have lost touch with all that is real, for
I have never seen pink clouds, purple mountains or a rainbow,
While the sun shines upon this world in the dead of night-
I am enraptured with the magnificence of this sunlit night, and
I have found freedom from the war my thoughts continually carry on,
The voices inside of mind are presently not cruelly commanding, but
Carrying on miraculously beautiful tunes from far away places-
I may have escaped reality or perhaps I am only dreaming, although
I feel as if I have abandoned my plight, and whatever the reason for
This amazing journey I am on, whether real or imagined -the reason hardly matters as
I have found all of the pleasure, placidity and freedom from pain and anguish.
Even if I were to awaken from this reverie, the fond memory shall always remain,
I shall close my eyes and will be able to relive
My phenomenal journey beneath pink and purple clouds of fortune, and
That special rainbow on the horizon illuminating the sky on that astonishing sunlit night.
poem by Claudia Krizay
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Flamingo
Proud and brawny you stand-
Alone but never lonely, as the sun appears on the horizon-
Your wings- magenta hued and
Your legs, long, stately and strong-
Leaves on the trees are feather-like and blossoming, though ever so slightly-
Spring is arriving early this year.
Being none but a Flamingo, The pond in which you stand,
Your shadow glancing at the sky,
Cobalt blue in its hue and cloudless-
You have not a care in the world.
I have been often told of my strength and courage,
Though not always proud-
Being human, I can foresee my destiny and
Fear more than storms, and other animals in the wild
That could harm me.
I was born under a different star than
Other people have been-
I live inside a world of my delusions,
So many have told me, although I do not care to believe-
The sun is rising above the mountains.
My dream would be to lift my wings-
If I owned them, and fly away from all that I fear,
But I have no place to go-
If only I could get inside of your mind and
Be alone to appreciate none but the waters I stand in,
The mountains behind me and the splendor of the rising and
Setting of the sun?
I have been compared to a bird with broken wings that cannot fly, or
A lion trapped within a cage- with no way to escape my doubts-
As I watch the sun disappear beyond the horizon at midnight
I fall asleep and begin to dream- in my dream I fly above the world so vast,
Without a care in the world and lost inside the world of my fantasies-
My dream is never to awaken- spring is arriving early this year and
To my dismay, the sun shall rise early tomorrow and alas, I shall awaken to
A world that has not been kind to me, as I open my eyes to a new day once more….
poem by Claudia Krizay
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Ladies' Walk
As children, we loved to go to Ladies’ Walk, if the weather was fine.
The Walk, itself, was situated at the top of town, atop a gentle incline.
To us, as children, the Walk seemed to stretch onwards, for many a mile;
It seemed to us, with our little legs, to be as long as the mighty River Nile.
The earthen path was covered by a canopy of tall, towering trees.
Aromas from the world of nature wafted upon the gentle breeze.
On either side, there were large fields, where horses often grazed.
From vantage points, down upon the town, we would stop and gaze.
My brother and I would often play a game of Hide ‘n’ Seek;
From out of behind the tall trees, we took it in turns, to peek.
We loved to collect conkers; I loved their smooth, shiny shells.
I was blown away by the patches of pretty, blossoming bluebells.
Often, I would find sheep’s wool, caught on the fence of barbed wire;
Of collecting nature’s trinkets and treasures, I never ever seemed to tire.
The tall trees had been there for many a year; some sported ivy-clad bark.
Some were etched with initials and hearts, where lovers had left their mark.
The path was said to be haunted by a man, who was headless, of course;
At dusk, he’d be seen riding along, mounted upon his trusty white horse.
At the very end of the pathway, there were remains of an old Roman road;
I could almost imagine the armies marching along, laden with heavy loads.
Upon our return home, we were always exhausted from being out and about;
We would sit on the floor, while mum cooked tea, and sort our treasures out.
Ladies’ Walk still exists, but from what I have heard, it’s changed somewhat;
But the special times that we spent there as a family, I have never ever forgot.
poem by Angela Wybrow
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It is Spring Time
It is Spring Time
It is spring time.
I can smell it in the air.
I can smell the flowers.
I can smell the grass.
I can touch the grass.
I can touch and taste the vegetable growing in the garden.
The weather is changing.
The weather is warming up.
The trees are blossoming.
The flowers are blossoming.
It is spring time.
Easter has passed.
Beltane has passed.
Spring and May is here.
This is the time to tend to your garden and planted some flowers.
Some people pray to God to protect their garden.
Some people pray to Mother Nature for protect.
I do both and I thank God for this planet.
It is Spring Time.
The animals and bugs come out to play.
The frogs jump around the pond.
The wildflower comes out.
The sky is clean and blue.
The sun is shining.
The horses are running free.
The sunflowers are growing.
When seasons the earth also changes it is a beautiful way.
Nature is every where.
It is spring time.
There is rain and storm.
The trees have leaves and it arms.
The trees are ancient.
An apple falls down from the trees.
This is what thinks spring time is for me.
Spring time is beautiful.
Spring time is when nature is beautiful.
It is spring time.
Spring time is here.
The rabbits come out, and hop round.
The bees are collection honey for us.
The tulips are blossoming.
The roses are blossoming, and looking so beautiful.
The lavender is purple and bright.
Spring time is a time to celebrate.
Spring time is a time to clean our environment.
It is spring time.
Spring time is a time when rain falls.
Spring time is the time when the seasons changes.
Spring time is when the plants grow.
Spring time is my favorite season.
Spring time is the time to be happy.
It is spring time.
poem by Crystal Chown
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Locked Inside
I have often marveled at the glory of the sun,
When it rises above the trees in full bloom in the summertime-
Innocently gazing over the magnitude of its mysteriousness-
I could capture each moment within my cupped hands-
Each moment that its rays pirouette, casting its shadows
Upon the grass that is nearly laughing as it sparkles,
While it reflects in its dew each ray at the dawning of every new day-
I am alone every morning when I awaken to welcome
The miracle of each new day-I am alone as I hope and wish that
Someday I can be a part of this gift nature has bestowed upon this world-
Being in motion with the gentle breeze that rustles
The leaves on the oak and maple trees which I can see
For miles and miles until they reach the mountains on the horizon,
Then meeting with the sky-
The sky, cobalt blue in its hue and there, not a cloud to be seen-
I see the trees, the mountains and the splendor of the sun at daybreak-
I can see the dew upon the grass capturing the sunlight, as
Each ray reaches out as would a cherub with her arms outstretched-
I can feel the gentle summertime breeze lightly touching my arms
In an almost sentimental way-
But locked inside the dwelling of my own small world and inside of the
Tenement of what could be none but delusions-
This splendor before me- I can only perceive-
And today I believe I can also see a rainbow coloring the horizon outside-
Robins, cardinals, wild geese and finches flying about as if they have not a care,
If rain were falling, my tears would not be known to any others only because,
They are so copious they would hit the ground with the rhythm of the rain as it falls.
I believe that there are two worlds that exist- one God created and that is the
Magnificence of nature, and the other, being the dark would of my dreams.
I have often surmised that there exists a lock that keeps me barred from all that is real-
While to this lock, I have yet to find a key to unlock and open-
I fantasize that one day I will break free from the inner dwelling of my madness.
I would climb a mountain and touch the sun above the horizon if I could.
I have painted a mural inside of my mind of the vastness and loveliness of this planet-
So many times I have believed I have found that special key that
Unlocks the phantasmal gate that separates me from all that is real, but
It is all within a dream and I t has been said that dreams often don’t come true,
But there are those alive who don’t even have dreams to wish upon, and therefore-
I shall be a wild bird flying above this land, beholding nature’s beauty, until
I reach the sky and even if only in my dreams-
I know I have a soul and won’t give up hope-
And we all know that souls shall never die…
poem by Claudia Krizay
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Reverie
There exists a place within my most vivid dreams where suspicion is unheard of-
Where lack of trust had never shown its evil countenance-
I follow this meandering river beyond
This territory illuminated by daytime stars- without the sun
Shining its orange-hued light upon the path my spirit follows-
The moon, stars, the gilded pond-
Seemingly violet in hue when reflecting the light of the moon at midnight-
I am walking alongside the river of my imaginings
Serpentine and deep in some ways as the
Ubiquitous thoughts and voices only I can hear inside my mind-
This realm of meandering rays of light
I follow and nobody follows me
Safe within my solitude, I am-
Only seraphs paint the sky a pale shade of cerulean-blue
As certain as the flowers are growing alongside the path beside me-
Although today-I am not afraid-
Flowers are non- threatening as they have no souls- and
Those who have no souls can do no harm-
Alive in this land where trees grow upward to reach the sky-
I do not fear:
Yellow blossoms dance in
An early spring zephyr and the trees bow gently
Within a gentle gust of wind-
The light of the moon is dim but magical
Unlike the garish rays of the sun-
Alone inside this place of my reverie, I am-
I see my reflection in the crystal clarity of
A pond of azure-blue reflecting the starlight-
Safe inside the world of my delusiveness-
Separate from humanity, I have escaped far beyond the mountains rising behind me as
The cloud cover bars me from reality-
Here inside my own small world protected by the ramparts of nature-
I am alive and jovial- I am not afraid-
Just happy to be singing my own songs and to be speaking my own voice-
With nothing to fear- alone, and content to be alive inside this land of my dreams-
Just to be watching the sun set behind the mountains as darkness overshadows-
I am not afraid…
poem by Claudia Krizay
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Shadows And Tall Trees
Back to the cold restless streets at night
I talk to myself about tomorrow night
Walls of white protest
A gravestone in name
Who is it now
It's always the same
Who is it now
Who calls me inside
Are the leaves on the trees
Just living disguise
I walk sweet rain tragicomedy
I'll walk home again
to the street melody
But I know, oh no
But I know, oh no
But I know...
Shadows and tall trees
Shadows and tall trees
Shadows and tall trees
Shadows and tall trees
Life through a window
Discoloured pain
Mrs. Brown's washing is always the same
I walk street rain tragicomedy
I'll walk home again
to the street melody
But I know, oh no
But I know, oh no
But I know...
(Out there)
Do you feel in me...
Anything redeeming
Any worthwhile feeling
Is love like a tightrope
Hanging from the ceiling
But I know, oh no
But I know, oh no
But I know...
Shadows and Tall Trees
song performed by by U2
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Life I Live
It has been said that blue is the color of the sky although others may say
Blue is an emotion when someone is close to tears-
Sad, melancholy and disheartened-
I look upwards toward the sky on a sunny day when
I don’t feel sad and blue.
Green is the color of the leaves upon the trees, although
I have heard others say they are jealous- green or envious-
I enjoy the trees, especially in the summertime,
Blown about in a gentle and cooling breeze-
The same leaves turn yellow, gold and orange in the autumn and
Fire blazes a bright red in color-
It is the fire of my spirit that burns
When anger plagues my troubled mind-
Rain falls and puts out the fires but
The rage inside of me is a shade of red that will not be tamed.
I look upward towards the sky on a sunny day,
As the leaves upon the trees rustle in the wind-
I pray for the rain to fall to quench the fury that burns my soul-
I don’t feel melancholy blue or jealous-green-
I have days when I enjoy the colors of the autumn foliage-
But the color red of rage defines the life I live.
Today I glance upward toward the blue sky and the leaves upon the trees-
Today I feel sad and blue and close to tears because
Of the pain that the fire inside of me that is always burning-
If the sun and the trees could laugh and send me good vibrations perhaps
They would cheer me and I could capture the colors blue, green, orange and yellow-
And perhaps even red as being bold and beautiful-
And with these colors I could paint a rainbow upon my horizon and
There would be no reason for anger to smolder my heart again-
I could laugh with the sun at the splendor of the rainbow against the sky of cobalt blue- And glad to say that raging fire of resentment
Is behind me now and I never feel sad and blue because
I have repainted my world with colors of joy, happiness and eagerness
To live my new life beneath that rainbow of contentment.-
Claudia Krizay
poem by Claudia Krizay
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My Father's Garden
I remember my father as being a warm person-
A strong man in many ways always working hard so that
My mother and I could have the very best-
He passed so many years ago but
I can still hear his laughter, and recall his gentleness-
As he was always there for me-
I still can see him working in his garden
At the time we lived close to the shores of Carmel –
I can still hear the leaves upon the trees rustling in the wind,
And the peaceful rocking of the ocean waves
Soothing me as they were lapping upon the shore close by-
I will never forget the joy the flowers he had planted
Brought to him, my mother and I,
As he seemed to be lost inside a world of his own,
Transforming a yard where at one time only high grasses grew
Into a kingdom of color and beauty for everyone to perceive-
I shall never forget the rose bushes-
Yellow, pink and red blossoms in their colorful hues
Enlightening to everyone’s eyes, as they were, and fragrant as well,
In all of their delicacy;
My father passed years ago- - a terminal illness snatched away
This wonderful being – tears still come to my eyes in past memories- as
I cannot comprehend that if a god exists-
How could he have snatched life away so quickly from
A person who had such a zest for life?
I shall never forget the moment he died, how my uncle
Sat upon a chair in the bathroom with his head in his hands weeping
When my father fell to the floor at his death-
Although he has parted from this world forever, fond memories continue-
People always die but flowers keep growing and live on.
Yesterday I cut a pink rose from a bush in the yard and
Placed it in a small vase upon the end table by my bed side and
As I drifted off to sleep this delicate and lovely flower carried me
Into the world of my fantasies- where my father is still with me always, and
I still feel his loving arms embracing me; I can still hear the rustling of
Leaves upon the trees outside, and I still hear the waves lapping upon the shore
And even though in flesh he is gone-
Departed from this world, he has left valuable reminiscences for me to treasure;
Whenever I stand in his garden I can still feel his presence, as in my
Heart and spirit, he shall always be very much alive….
poem by Claudia Krizay
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Summer Days
Summer days are warm, and wonderfully long.
Deep down, within my heart, I feel a joyful song.
Gone are winter days, with their dowdy browns;
The trees and flowers now wear coloured crowns.
The natural world displays its bounteous beauty.
The soft, summer breeze is fragrant and fruity.
Bees, butterflies, and other bugs, now take flight.
Days of summer, feel so very cheerful and bright.
The days of winter can be so deeply depressing,
But now, their true selves, plants are expressing.
Suddenly, the world feels like a much better place,
And the happy smiles are evident on many a face.
The world, all about us, is given a golden glow,
Which illuminates Mother Nature's vibrant show.
Following the winter months: all dull and dreary;
We're treated to a display that's much more cheery.
Winter woodlands appear so very bland and bare,
But, come the summer, they look fabulous and fair.
Shafts of sunlight shine down through the tall trees;
The leaf laden branches rustle in the summer breeze.
Some secretly wish that summer could last forever;
That, all year round, we could enjoy warm weather.
Once summer is here, you hate for it to have to end;
You warm to it, as you would, to your dearest friend.
poem by Angela Wybrow
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The Marigolds
The Spring is in her prime now and the lovely marigold
Are blooming in the blackwood shade so lovely to behold
On a warm day in October close to thirty degrees
With the sun glowing in the blue sky and warmth in the breeze
In the breeze the marigold are nodding in their beautiful golden flowers
They came to bloom in the early Spring in the cool September showers
A gift from Mother Nature for to look at and enjoy
I have loved Nature's beauty ever since i was a boy
Such marvellous things of beauty that Nature does create
Though most of Nature's wonders have their own use by date
A sunny day in October warm for the time of year
And the songbirds in the parkland sound melodious and clear
And partly lit by the sunshine in the shade of the blackwood trees
The beautiful golden marigold are nodding in the breeze.
poem by Francis Duggan
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Early Spring
Spring seems to have come early this year- I have always welcomed blossoming flowers,
Longer days and the fresh warm air outdoors,
Perhaps the early timing exacerbated the fear, and is reminiscent of the
Time when my life took a turn towards terror and misery-
I saw a daffodil yesterday in full bloom- yet in the first week of February,
On that day, as in extreme frequency, my thinking was out of touch.
Today my heart is screaming, desperate for some peace and comfort,
While birds are singing outside as a gentle breeze blows as in a whisper,
Even trees are budding while everyone is laughing, although
My spirit is weeping as rage sears my gut, terrified of the world surrounding-
The pain of falling upon the hard ground this morning does not hurt me as much as
The agony I feel that emanates from all of the people that wish me harm-
Inside the world of my thoughts, everyone who is laughing is laughing at me- and
I would kill them all if I were not so afraid.
I am always shouting, though in silence at the cruel people that surround me,
No one can understand the severe pain of feeling persecuted every time that
I step outside and the inner irate confusion of
Not knowing what is real from what is not.
My heart and soul bleed anger and tears apart the person I am inside and
Even the gentle spring like breeze will not dry the tears I weep inside or outside,
I hardly know who I am anymore- the people in this world have threatened me and
As beautiful as all that surrounds me today- there is no place for me to hide.
The lone daffodil I see evokes a smile upon my face for the moment.
I would pick it and take it home with me but if I did,
It would wither and perish as has I believe my inner spirit has done,
Spring has always been my favorite time of year, although
Its arrival may be somewhat too soon, just as
I fear the death of my soul might have been premature-
I see myself as a lone flower that has blossomed in mid winter and
Is confused to be outside amongst shorter days, and barren trees,
If spring’s rain begins to fall my hope is that is shall wash away my tears and
Quench the flame that burns inside of me, then amidst longer days and that gentle breeze,
I can be as a bird, singing amongst other birds happy to be free of the rage that once
Separated me from the rest of the world as I lift my wings and fly high above the trees,
Looking down upon a world so exquisite which is no longer a threat to my existence?
poem by Claudia Krizay
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I Don't Feel Like It
The sky is blue and a streak of
Magenta hovers beneath the early morning’s sun as
It rises over the treetops-
The air is cool, crisp and invigorating,
Blowing as a gentle breeze through the open crack
In my living room window, inviting me to walk outside-
Today I feel no motivation-
Today I fear the outside world
Today I cannot face-
Inside where all I can hear is the ticking of the wall clock and
The sound of eerie silence interrupting
The voices inside of my mind that wish me ill fate-
Today is just another day- I know today is almost magical,
There is so much outside that seems to be summoning- though
Today I cannot venture outward.
I hear the gentle morning breeze rustling the barren branches upon the trees-
I can recall my mother’s tearful voice and her frequently spoken words
“I don’t feel like it.”
Today I don’t feel like walking amongst nature’s bounty and
As my tears are falling down my flushed cheeks-
I remember my mother and how she didn’t care-
She didn’t care about whether she lived or died and
She didn’t care if the sun was shining or hiding behind clouds of misfortune-
And how I so believed she did not care about me?
The sky is blue in the early morning as
A magenta cloud hovers above the rising sun-
I have been told to try and understand my mother’s plight and
To bring her back inside my memory and wish her well-
My mother is dead and gone and
I cannot bring her back in any way – too much time has passed and
The voices inside of my mind keep telling me- she did not care.
I cannot bring her back- even if she were to become an angel in heaven-
No matter if the sky is blue on an inviting winter day-
I cannot venture outside and I cannot forgive my mother-
Some say I need to try and forgive her before the rain takes over and
Washes away even memories of all of good times-
All I can remember are her words as I repeat them-
“I don’t feel like it.”
Claudia Krizay
poem by Claudia Krizay
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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There Were Late Afternoons
There were late afternoons when as a child
I would see the tall popular trees
making the pale blue sky seem much higher
where they grew next to the old farm dam
with there branches whispering
in the early night breeze,
with doves and finches calling
from their nests in the shelter of these trees,
when an early moon would appear
and the evening star would suddenly start twinkling
blue-white in its sheer brightness against a darker blue sky,
like a mother goose leading all of the other stars.
There were early evenings when the sun
died with its deep red glow touching
the hillocks that were covered in sugar bushes,
and red flowering aloes,
when the scent of protea flowers was sweet on the air,
when blue changed to darker black,
when darkness came suddenly
and a myriad of stars sparkled all over the sky
while in the distance fires came to life
at the rural mud huts, while jackals
and dogs started to howl at the bright yellow moon,
while I knew that mother would be home soon.
poem by Gert Strydom
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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There Were Late Afternoons As A Child
There were late afternoons when as a child
I would see the tall popular trees
making the pale blue sky seem much higher
where they grew next to the old farm dam
with there branches whispering
in the early night breeze,
with doves and finches calling
from their nests in the shelter of these trees,
when an early moon would appear
and the evening star would suddenly start twinkling
blue-white in its sheer brightness against a darker blue sky,
like a mother goose leading all of the other stars.
There were early evenings when the sun
died with its deep red glow touching
the hillocks that were covered in sugar bushes,
and red flowering aloes,
when the scent of protea flowers was sweet on the air,
when blue changed to darker black,
when darkness came suddenly
and a myriad of stars sparkled all over the sky
while in the distance fires came to life
at the rural mud huts, while jackals
and dogs started to howl at the bright yellow moon,
while I knew that mother would be home soon.
poem by Gert Strydom
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Essence of my Dreams
Losing myself in flight on an early summer's morning-
In flight, unaware of the direction-
Unaware of the time of day, I know that
I don't believe in heaven anymore-
In flight above deep blue mountains-
But not weary of the sun's rays attacking me-
Never touching the sun and
Never finding my rainbow,
A myriad of colors are painting the sky-
Though only inside the world of my imagination.
Losing myself in flight and wondering-
If I will ever find safety and peace of mind here in the sky,
Amongst the scattered clouds that surround me-
I could hide behind a cloud to escape reality-
Reality that has become none but a threat to my existence.
Within the figment of my imagination-
I have wings that carry me high above the mountains,
Above the treetops and the ocean turning green as
Its waves lap against the shore-
A multitude of colors are decorating the land below-
Trees are never green but violet in their hue and
That ocean- green but never blue as are the mountains-
In flight I am losing myself in so many different ways-
Separating myself from the world into which I was born-
My mind is creating visions of far away places and
Inside the fortress of my mind, God has given me wings to fly with,
Although I do not believe in heaven-
Within moments I find myself lying upon the ground-
The sky, cloud covered as rain begins to pour down upon me-
I am a lost, lone, and confused spirit-
Threatened by sounds of cars speeding up and down the road behind me-
And people shouting while thunder claps and lightening strikes.
Voices inside of mind are commanding me
To lift my wings and take flight once again-
However I am trapped, being unable to fly, my wings having been phantasmal-
Though inside my dreams I can swim the ocean, searching for safety and familiarity-
Perhaps I shall find myself an island amongst the sea-
But alas only in my dreams-
And perhaps the rain shall stop falling and a rainbow shall rise above the mountains-
Inside the world of my thoughts I shall paint the sky blue and cloudless,
Lift my wings and soar back into the sky and look down-
Down at this world where I have always wished to escape from-
Happiness shall be found within the world of my imagination-
Violet hued trees - their branches swaying in the wind
May someday give me shade as I close my eyes and dream,
Then I shall burst into song, in chorus with the voices inside my mind-
I have peace of mind now knowing I can be anyplace I can fathom-
Because I am a person who though never believed in heaven-
Strongly believes in the essence of my dreams…
poem by Claudia Krizay
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Laura Lee and Her Rose
My name is Laura Lee
And I enjoy spending my time
Playing in the sunlight
With my little Rose,
The daughter of my dreams,
She came to me
As welcome as a lilac breeze
Four years ago when I was twenty.
I’m married to her father
Who is seven years older than me,
I was a young girl
And he was tall and handsome,
His words were sweet
Like tree-ripened summer fruit
And he made me feel loved
Like I never felt before.
When Rose was born,
The love that was inside of me
Was like a small seed taking form,
Blossoming into flower and soul,
Transforming me into mother
And no longer a little girl,
She was the petals of my heart.
But the father of my Rose
No longer appreciated the garden
From which his flower sprung,
The mother that gave him
Such a lovely fragrance
That will linger long into the world
With his same blue eyes,
He no longer kissed me tenderly like before,
I felt rejected and despised.
Rose’s father began offering
His sun-sweetened words to other girls
Even younger than me,
Staying out late into the night
Roaming the city streets
Seeking superficial pleasures
Instead of tending his garden and his flower.
My heart broke like delicate chinaware,
I wept in a world without rainbows,
The man that gave me love
Now treated me harshly and unkind;
I know, I’ll have to leave him
And find all my hope
In the flower that came from me
And the flower that will always be in me.
poem by Uriah Hamilton
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Eternity Means Forever
Have I been living too long in this world I was born into or
Am I struggling to come to terms with my life in a fabricated world, as I hear
Voices of many I have never heard before interrupted by
The reproaching voices of my mother and of my father?
Voices so angry and replete with disapproval
Overpower the music of
Angels that are singing love songs and hymns of praise only to me?
I see the world through clouded lenses and
When the rain falls, it obliterates what I do not care to see- although
When I close my eyes and look through imaginary lenses-
I see pink clouds, purple mountains and a rainbow-
I perceive the sun dancing to a delightful minuet on the horizon-
I feel a gentle breeze breaking the oppressive heat of the summer
That inundates that world I do not care to live in?
My mind is spinning about in a vicious spiral-
I cannot distinguish reality from the world into which I am trying to escape?
My mother and my father had always looked through blinders
Unable to see or to accept the person I truly am and
As far back as I remember I heard only words of disapproval
As I never lived up to their idealistic expectations?
In all suddenness I have come to realize that
Their bodies and their souls have disappeared from this vicinity
Although I am still trying to discern veracity?
I hear the rustling of leaves on the trees that surround me and now, as
I tell myself that pink clouds and purple mountains do not exist in reality-
But in my reality, they do exist, so I mount my phantasmal unicorn and ride into the place
Where that rainbow awaits me as I sing hymns with the angels
To the tune of that minuet played by a chorus of nightingales-
I know now what is real is that I have abandoned the reality
I had once seen through clouded lenses
Now comprehending that my mother and father are alive only
In some other far away place in time-while
I have been reborn into a world of my dreams from which
I never care to awaken- angry disapproving voices shall never overpower my thoughts
Because I have chained the door to their existence-
I shall proudly keep riding that unicorn and
Continue singing in chorus with the angels and nightingales,
Until eternity casts its magical shadow upon my horizon, but everyone knows that
Eternity means forever-
poem by Claudia Krizay
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Shadow of my Spirit
Shadows appear and disappear-
Faces behind trees are looking and I never knew,
I never believed in closeness being safe and
Eyes opened towards the sky were said to
Perhaps be taking in the beauty of the cherry blossoms or
Following the pathway of the wild geese in flight-
That is what they say and I would never ask because
Eyes opened to the sky are only open momentarily until
They are cast downward, downward ogling the pathway of my footsteps?
Shadows appear and disappear and faces I don't know
Are none but a threat as the pathway of their eyes
Follow the direction that I walk and I never knew, and
I never believed in closeness being safe-
My eyes are opened towards the sky
Only taking in the spirit of my soul
Dancing someplace in the heavens hoping
That this pathway I walk is a safe place to be?
Shadows appear and disappear and
Even when shadows disappear-
I still believe that all eyes are upon me-
Wild geese in flight and blossoming flowers
Can be beautiful to see but they have no souls-
My soul, my spirit lives deep inside my inner core and
It never felt safe and still to this day
Feels like a raging animal locked inside of a cage
Unable to escape? Unable to escape a body on the run-
On the run from a world that only wishes me harm-
My dream has always been to set my spirit free and to
Become a bird and lift my wings to fly high above
In the sky, journeying through the clouds and to touch the sun,
Then find a safe place where no one could take my thoughts away-but
As a bird I find myself with broken wings, and my own shadow is cast upon the ground
Pilfered by evil people who capture my thoughts within their sinister grasps and
This world is not my home-shadows appear and disappear- my own included-
I can see it upon the gravel pathway lying still- I wait until it disappears and
I find myself alone-alone and safe- a bird with broken wings who has lost her shadow but
I am safe in my solitude and when all shadows disappear, I finally have nothing to fear-
My eyes are opened to the sky watching the wild geese in flight-
They have nothing to fear, soaring high up in the sky and they can escape reality as
Their wings are not broken and blossoming flowers may be beautiful and they remain safe because God did not give them spirits to feel the fear?
poem by Claudia Krizay
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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