Lost in the silence,
Drifting away,
Deeper and deeper,
Peace,
Tranquility,
No sound,
Lost,
Yet free,
Escape the past,
Drifting into the future,
Soft lights,
Getting brighter,
Soft hands,
A gentle touch,
And then,
Awake.
Nestled among fragrant blossoms,
Like a young child,
Suckling at its mother’s breasts,
Tiny arms, clutching at warm flesh,
So it is with young love awakening,
Slow, tentative, and unsure,
Reaching out,
Trying to find its way.
I think it’s fun to be polite,
to say good morning and good night,
and thank you too, and if you please,
there are no nicer words than these,
unless perhaps it is hello,
or sorry I stepped on your toe.
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young poets corner
this poem is about bullying s: is for sadness which i feel NAME: kerry AGE: 12 LOCATION: newcastle |
| Pretty women wonder where my secret lies. I’m not cute or built to suit a fashion model’s size But when I start to tell them, They think I’m telling lies. I say, It’s in the reach of my arms The span of my hips, The stride of my step, The curl of my lips. I’m a woman Phenomenally. Phenomenal woman, That’s me.I walk into a room Just as cool as you please, And to a man, The fellows stand or Fall down on their knees. Then they swarm around me, A hive of honey bees. I say, It’s the fire in my eyes, And the flash of my teeth, The swing in my waist, And the joy in my feet. I’m a woman Phenomenally. Phenomenal woman, That’s me.Men themselves have wondered What they see in me. They try so much But they can’t touch My inner mystery. When I try to show them They say they still can’t see. I say, It’s in the arch of my back, The sun of my smile, The ride of my breasts, The grace of my style. I’m a woman Phenomenally. Phenomenal woman, That’s me.Now you understand Just why my head’s not bowed. I don’t shout or jump about Or have to talk real loud. When you see me passing It ought to make you proud. I say, It’s in the click of my heels, The bend of my hair, the palm of my hand, The need of my care, ‘Cause I’m a woman Phenomenally. Phenomenal woman, That’s me.
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| Footprints in the Sand |
 |
| One night I dreamed I was walking along the beach with the Lord. |
| Many scenes from my life flashed across the sky. |
| In each scene I noticed footprints in the sand. |
| Sometimes there were two sets of footprints, |
| other times there were one set of footprints. |
| This bothered me because I noticed |
| that during the low periods of my life, |
| when I was suffering from |
| anguish, sorrow or defeat, |
| I could see only one set of footprints. |
| So I said to the Lord, |
| “You promised me Lord, |
| that if I followed you, |
| you would walk with me always. |
| But I have noticed that during |
| the most trying periods of my life |
| there have only been one |
| set of footprints in the sand. |
| Why, when I needed you most, |
| you have not been there for me?” |
| The Lord replied, |
| “The times when you have |
| seen only one set of footprints, |
| is when I carried you.” |
| Mary Stevenso |
What is life, and what of love,
Moments when speech is not necessary,
There is no need for spoken words,
And the language of the flesh,
Is the language expressed.
Lips meet, hands reach out,
Frantic and searching,
Hungering for love’s fulfillment,
And one look says more,
Than a hundred spoken words can.
Lying in your arms,
Can you look in my eyes,
And see past me,
To the yearning in my soul?
Can you see what no other eyes can,
This hungering in my soul?
And when your arms are locked about me,
And I give in willingly to your desires,
Do you seek to please me, or just yourself?
Would you think it silly,
If I should cry in your arms?
If you wish to speak,
And I say I prefer the silence?
Would you think it silly,
If all I want tot do,
Is to lie in your arms,
Savoring your warmth,
Holding on to you as if there,
Is no tomorrow?
Will you ever really understand me?
This child-like part of me,
That clings to you,
As if afraid to let go?
She stood at the desk sorting papers
MY throat was parched, my lips were dry,
my tongue felt like paper, dehydrated
I begged her to change my IV line
“Can’t you see I’m busy?” she said.
”These papers are important, I have to
get them done before my shift is over,
maybe when I’m finished if I have the time
I’ll come and see to you.”
Trip after trip I made to the nurses’ station
My sight was blurred, my strength was failing me
They stood around pretending to be busy doing nothing
After eight hours they took their bags and left
while I laid in bed completely dehydrated and near death
They were no Florence Nightingale, or Mary Seacole
They were just nurses, no creatures, with hearts made of stone.
Believe in yourself,
And what you can be,
And not what others,
Think that you are,
Believe in your dreams,
And what you can achieve,
If you work towards your goal,
Believe in tomorrow,
And the hope that it brings,
With the dawn of each new day,
Believe in love,
And the one that you love,
The person you know him to be,
But the most important of all of these,
Is that you believe in you
I saw the line, I saw the hook,
But somehow I didn’t think,
I’d ever fall for it,
To me it seemed like just a game,
I could always swim away,
But somehow I got too close,
And got caught upon the hook,
I struggled to get away from it,
But the more I tried,
The deeper the hook did seem,
To dig into my flesh,
The line was long and the more I swam,
Into deeper waters I did get,
But still there was no escape,
From the hook that had slipped into my flesh,
It’s slowly getting darker now,
The sun has lost its shine,
I hope the hand that holds the line,
Will be kind enough to me,
To draw in the line, remove the hook,
And somehow set me free.
Author Marva Seaton 
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