ajwrites57

Ballad of Me  With pen  in hand  (I dislike to type.)  sitting, dazed,  I take a swipe. Ink flows  onto  white-lined pad,  methinks aloud,  "'Tis not too bad!"  Rhyming  like  a super bard,  at times,  a poem  can come  hard. Chained,  to a chair,  I sit  and write,  on and on,  through  day  and  night. Coffee  flows,  like the ink, it helps me  focus, thoughts  to think.  Moonlight shines upon the page, nighttime writing  is the rage. Face  is growing  wan  and pallid from lack of sun, so now it's time I end this ballad.  © 2014 ajwrites57 A Long ❤ ❤ ❤ Image by:  Cali4beach via Flickr

Winter's way I have trod on wind swept,  snow covered lanes. My boot shod feet  have marched  on frozen planes. Wrapped in fur and wool  as shield from icy grip. Winter's way  welcomes weary pilgrim  on his trip. A path worn well  from hoof and cart, like a road run through  my barren, frostbitten heart, leading to the silent ice-clad stream, my blood flow's stopped,  as in a dream. Pines trees  whisper in the wind, heartbeat tells me, I have sinned. Lesson's lies,  my memories haunt, like frosted lakes,  drawn and gaunt. As heat-less sun  glows on high, so do daydreams  vilely taunt. Hope has flown like snow-geese migrants, frosted dreams  becomes life’s tyrants. Blizzard blows  beyond  blue horizons, as youthful goals  grow grizzled, wizened. The past  has ceased  like gla...

between between the lines of age, a bar from every cage, a line from every page, days of life, we swage. ★ ★ ★ between the hands of time, a ring from every chime, a line from every rhyme days of life, we sublime. ★ ★ ★ between the echoes of sound, a song from every ground, a line from every round, days of life, we redound. ★ ★ ★ between the rhythm of dance, a heart from every romance, a line from every chance, days of life, we enhance. ★ ★ ★ between the hands of fate, a choice between every gate, a line from every strait, days of life, we relate. © 2014 ajwrites57 A Long ❤ ❤ ❤ image:  By imelenchon If you enjoy this poem, you can find more of my writing  here.

In fears In fears In fears I fight with feckless fury,  losing lengthy bouts, unfraught with glory.  Endless days evolve into light-less fright,  daylight shines the same as night.  Forgotten moments remembered sorely,  feign a laugh in tearful mourning.  Unwanted faces fill my mind,  fractal memories, intertwined. Horror sounds a shrill alarm,  afraid, no escape from misery's harm.  Shiver, shake and tremble loud,  pushing back the blackest shroud.  Nightmares fill my waking hours,  sleep holds back restoring powers.  Unleashed monsters, from dawn to dark,  blinding billows of dark so stark.  Dread pursues from each direction,  never finding calm reflection.  Sagacious specters haunt my life,  with ferocious fervor filled with strife.  Shadows stalk my thoughts and desires,  singe them with infernal fires.  ...

the wound the wound, has pierced him full and deep, he feels it throbbing, in his sleep. the gaping lesion's liquid seeps as he moans but never weeps. a woeful tone escapes his lips, he feels the pulsing, painful drips. the weapon's handle that he grips, is held fast by his fingertips. the thrust she made, like a knife, cut his soul and took his life. the bleeding core, was not from strife, but from love's tokens that ran rife. he wore the wound with sinful pride, the cut was from his beaming bride. her love's the weapon buried in his side, he bears it proudly and love not denied. © 2014 ajwrites57 A Long ❤ ❤ ❤ image:  By Iamthebesttoday (Own work) [CC-BY-SA-3.0, via Wikimedia Commons

Cupid's Arrows Arrows Cupid's arrows fly at will, Seeking hearts to wound and thrill. The object of a heart's desire, a soul, ablaze with burning fire. No one knows when love will come, or which direction the arrow's from. So we sit and watch and wait, until the arrow strikes; true and straight. The arrows fly toward their marks, wounded hearts, flying sparks. Hearts, bruised, raw and sore, bursting love, wanting more. Beating, pulsing, throbbing true, beloved reaches, bleeding through. So we love and ache and care, because the arrows reach us there. Cupid's art affects us all, big, little, great or small. Hearts, blinded, made deaf, too. Love's power pierces through, deep inside of me and you. Boring deep, turning screw. No one left, all have known love has found us all alone. © 2014 ajwrites57 A Long ❤ ❤ ❤  image:  Léon Bazille Perrault [Public domain], via Wikimedia Commons

A G+ friend  +ashley bateson  said he read a  children's poem  I wrote to a five year old friend of his. She said she liked it, but said it needed a koala bear. So, I wrote a poem about koala bears. I hope she enjoys it (and all of you)! Koala Bears Australia is the place they stay, in the trees they spend their day. Plump and fuzzy koala bears, they have funny, hairy ears. If you call them bears, it's not unusual, the real name is of course, marsupial. Sharp claws help them to climb, see them in a tree sometime. Koalas like eucalyptus trees, love to chew upon the leaves. Sit in nooks or forks to sleep for eighteen hours, what a treat! A smell like cough drops fill the air, from the leaves they eat up there. Cheeks are stuffed, they eat so many, they need to find trees aplenty! When not in trees they run so fast, hurry, look, they run right past! Pouches are where baby cubs stay, on mommy's belly joeys love to lay. Do you h...

Winter's white  Happy Birthday! Winter's white on display, flakes and flurries at play, give us a snowman today. Delighted children's glee, snow-day means school-free, boots and gloves worn hurriedly. Sleds and snowballs, blessed snowfalls, Jack Frost's fun calls. Voila! Frosty appears, amid "Happy Birthday!" cheers snow rolled up by little dears. Dreams of "White Christmas", hope the snow won't miss us. 25th's snow don't dare diss us. When snow fun disappears, hot chocolate for us appears, frozen fingers, frozen ears. Winter fun can be found, when there's snow around, frozen kid's prints on the ground. © 2013 ajwrites57 A Long ⛄⛄⛄ Snowman Image by:  mnisbett

She She smiled and sent stars my way. I floated high on clouds all day. I drifted past the Milky Way! I hope I see her everyday. She blew a kiss in my direction. I caught it quick; her sweet affection. Every mirror shows her reflection. Her two lips are my resurrection She brushed against my arm. Electric! Her touch has made me magnetic. My orbit now is she-concentric. Around her now I act eccentric. She spoke my name out loud! Now my heart feels so proud. She picked me from the passing crowd. I wander in a daze; I'm wowed. She sent a poem in a letter. Now I know I shan't forget her. I never can feel any better. I am now, you see, her love debtor. © 2013 ajwrites57 A Long ❤  ❤  ❤  If you enjoyed this poem, please find more  here.

 falling without a net     Love is like a high wire-act, tumbling like an acrobat, falling without a net. Your eyes are like velvet pools, I'd dive in like so many fools, But I'm afraid of falling without a net. Your lips are like soft, satin sheets, I'd lie down where sweet skin meets, But I'm afraid of falling without a net. Your skin is like downy feathers, I'd wear them in winter weather, But I'm afraid of falling without a net. You smile is like a summer rainbow, I'd like to bask in its colorful warm glow, But I'm afraid of falling without a net. Your heart is warm and tender, I'd love to feel its fullest splendor, But I'm afraid of falling without a net. Love is like a high wire-act, tumbling like an acrobat, falling without a net. © 2013 ajwrites57 A Long Photo by:  http://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File%3AAcrobat.jpg If you enjoyed this poem, fi...

Love arrives Love arrives in stunning splendor, like fragrant flowers that you send her. Love arrives with trumpet’s fanfare, like all the words you said and will share. Love appears in surprising fashion, like gilded dreams and fiery passion. Love appears in amazing places, like in your hearts and on your faces. Love emerges in growing stages, like glowing coals to fire rages. Love emerges from silent waiting, like lonely nights anticipating. Love explodes in astounding emotions, like raging waves in pounding oceans. Love explodes in glorious hues, like painter’s palettes, reds and blues. © 2013 ajwrites57 A Long ❤ ❤ ❤  Image by:   By snty-tact, CC-BY-SA-2.5, via Wikimedia Commons If you enjoyed this poem, find more  here.

dry and brittle As the pages of life turn dry and brittle, I wonder how so much or how so little. How’ve the days just passed me by? What about what I did and didn’t try? How I’ve lived and how I’ve died, truths I’ve lived and lies I’ve lied. How’ve the days all slipped away? What about lost nights and days? Loves I’ve loved and loves I’ve lost, heads or tales, the coins I’ve tossed. How’ve the days of loving ceased? What about the loves released? Roads I’ve traveled near or far, wishes forgotten, upon a star. How’ve the dreams all gone astray? What about the long, forgotten way? © 2013 ajwrites57 A Long Image by:  By Fredericks at it.wikipedia, CC-BY-SA-3.0 from Wikimedia Commons If you enjoyed this poem, find more  here.

Vulgar Vulgar - a word that's hard to rhyme. For some, vulgarity constitutes a crime. Being crude is rude of course; some people just have no remorse for being gross in prose or rhyme, speaking, and perverse joking all the time. Some take pride, no shame they hide. Unwashed words are spoken in stride. But I'm not here naming names of those engaged in coarse word games. Or those who have a potty mouth, spewing forth verbs uncouth, spotty vernacular on display. Common words are oft’ in play. Indecent is their very best, common thoughts their words suggest. Lowborn language used to slight, the rest endure this awful plight. So here I venture to suggest, “Cease all plebeian, earthy jest!” (I wrote this on a blog post. I think it was one of  +Adrianna Joleigh 's out of control postings! I thought I needed to post something, since it has been awhile.) © 2013 ajwrites57 A Long If you enjoyed this offering, you can fi...

This poem is dedicated to  +Adrianna Joleigh   Woman Who Wanted A Shoe There was a young woman who wanted a shoe. She started with one, and then she bought two. With each one she bought, she had to make room. She cleaned out some space and swept with her broom. The footwear collection grew so immense, she added an annex surrounded by fence. She stacked her moccasins, mukluks and mules, "Out of my way, I'm shoe hunting, fools!" She adored sling-backs, slippers and sneakers. She loved a good pair that'd stun anyone's peepers. She loved to climb hills in sling-backs and heels. She'd rather be found in footwear than riding on wheels. She drew the line at work boots and waders, those for labor or searching for 'gators. The shoe fetish's growth was exponential. The footwear collection reached full potential. She proudly displays them for mankind to view. She’ll let you adore them if you donate a sh...