Palace of Fallen Dreams and Loves

Palace of Fallen Dreams and Loves
by Vladimir Nicolas

In each person's mind, there is a sad kingdom, hidden in us.

In that palace colder than the coldest winter, very sad,

Your failed dreams, failed loves sleep there, forgotten

By the consciousness; they are alive, and waiting to bite us.

Failed dreams, dreams shocked by the reality you have no money.

You are not superman; you are not director, so you have no power.

Though easy to forget, they make us feel powerless, worthless.

Uneasy to forget, failed loves are ruthless bad creatures in person's mind.

Difficult to kill the sad memories, love is sweet, but love is grief-stricken.

Love is warm, but love makes weeps. So, failed loves are evil spirits, sad.

To forget helps each person's bravery. To forget saves the mind health.

After lots of failures, the dream turns true. At last, someone loves us, happy.

And a little far in us, the bad memories vanish in the nameless kingdom, but

That palace in each person's mind, it has never seen the sun to smell a flower.

BLOG Poetry-Kingdom URL: http://blog.sina.com.cn/s/blog_667205400100rsjr.html

The Hunt

The Hunt


A flash of silver,

A glimmer of gold,

A low growl,

In the midst of the cold.


The smell of the hunt,

The howl of victory,

The life-giving flesh,

The prey’s whereabouts no longer a mystery.



The long trek up the mountains,

The warmth of the cave,

The nuzzling and licking,

The feeling of having nothing to crave.


At the spine-shivering chorus of the pack’s howls,

The moon seems to jump with fright,

Then the night turns quiet again,

This is the thrill of a wolf’s hunt.



Tori Bannister Aged 11

The Cat And The Mouse

The Cat And The Mouse


Two sets of paws on the floor,

One predator,

And one prey…

The chase between life and death,

Has begun.

One increases their pace,

It’s tiny heartbeat quickens…

The other proud and fierce,

Over-confident in their stealth…

The smaller runs faster than ever,

The larger without a care.

And then…!!!!!

The quarry scurries into its hole,

The hunter outwitted growls in

distress.

The sound of relief so great,

That it is silent.



Tori Bannister Aged 11

"Welcome, old friend" by Jason Owings

"Welcome, old friend" by Jason Owings

Welcome, old friend
Share a meal
with me
partake in simple
conversation
I will turn down
your bed
should you choose
to stay
And when the dawn
breaks
if I find you deep
in slumber
or
your bed unused
I will say this
upon our next meeting
Welcome, old friend

"I became them" Brilliant new poetry by Shainur Ullah

When I studied them, I became interested 

When I became interested, I heard of them 

When I heard of them, I saw them 

When I saw them, I met them 

And when I met them, I became them.

By Shainur Ullah


COMMENTS:

notpretend
2 days ago
sounds like DMT applauded

ashw
5 days ago
Great poem, I love the progression. Great read! applauded

whiteheadedeagle
5 days ago
I like this exploration of how things influence us, and how it means that we become at total of all the experiences we have, whether we like it or not. A great concise shwoing of how that happens. Well Done! applauded

Sophie Alexandra
5 days ago
I don't know why but I really like this one 

TheWay
5 days ago
This is brilliant and insightful! I wouldn't change a thing. It is exactly how i feel when I discover a new (well,new to me) branch of history, new genre of books, or a form of art. Thank you for expressing that feeling of oneness to every new study in life applauded

kishorenovember
5 days ago
great poem.meditating on my beloved,i became her.weldone 

Lowell Poe
5 days ago
How interests sway our lives..
the progression of how we become influenced..
excellent.
Bless you always,

joyjit sengupta
5 days ago
This is how it all works!! Getting to the bottom of things requires getting there first, once there
one becomes one with them. I am impressed by this relatively simple equation that you have put in place
which is both effective and true at all times. 

Kung Fu Witch
8 days ago
You have a great gift for capturing much in the smallest of nets. One is then left to marvel at the valuable treasures therein. Excellent write and read!!! applauded

Soulhealer95
8 days ago
it is so inspiring indeed! makes a person want to grow grow grow.... till hes become the person he admired the most! grt wrk sire! applauded

Ambreen Hameed
8 days ago
Though very simple and you kept it short but was good indeed. Very good read. : ) applauded

C r p mcconnel
8 days ago
I am quite impressed with this little short read. Very well apt to interests of humans. This is so true in its context, I love it! Well done..
Rate this comment

Victoria Marion
8 days ago
I really like this poem, it is true and well expressed, doesn't have too many lines, its short and to the point but the meaning is conveyed very well.

Tyler Dory
9 days ago
That, was, beautiful. To be honest it was pretty good, but I'm kind of wondering who you're speaking to.
applauded

msjuicytech
9 days ago
mmm... very interesting... the very power of peer pressure at its best! Well penned.
Rate this comment

EJstar
9 days ago
Simple but efficient ! It pictures the stages one could go through once introduced to particular knowledge that one finds interest in , I suppose and when i met them ,i became them could be interpreted as the influence someone had upon you in a positive way .It could also be though them you identified something that you desired in life and wanted so badly to have .Once you saw that it is achieveble "i became them " .It.s as if when we see something we want in others we try to copy them or imitate them so we can have what they have to ! Hope this makes sense !

karm kaur
9 days ago
simple yet says so much. I like the idea a lot, a good poem. applauded

silentvoice16
9 days ago
I do understand that. I like the simplicity of that your write. Sometimes it only takes a few words to express an idea. Good write
Rate this comment

source
9 days ago
Awesome. That´s how it goes.

SMP
9 days ago
the poem can be interpreted in a dark foreboding sense or in the Sufi tradition of 'Oneness'.
Interesting! applauded

Frenchf
9 days ago
This is what I think about psychiatrists and Eire patients they all become mad because eh the are associating wi mad people all the time!
I found this really good.
Rate this comment

M. Douglas
9 days ago
This is an interesting introspection into the social structure and process behind the scenes of life. Very true and to the point. Nicely done.

Michael Dennis Rivers
9 days ago
interesting... I think maybe it should start with "I heard of them???
I like this because it makes the reader thin

Love Isn't Easy via katowonder.us

Love Isn't Easy

Love doesn't come easy,
It must be earned,
So don't give up,
And succumb to scorn.

Taught from birth
Anything worth having takes work,
Yet we want love here and now,
Without putting in effort.

We work hard for money,
Toil for material things,
Yet expect love to magically appear,
Like fairy tales and dreams.

We spend years studying,
For education, degrees, and to learn,
Yet can't understand to get up and don't quit,
The first time we get burned.

We can break our legs,
And break our bones,
But break our hearts,
And we run and rather spend our lives alone.

We choose to be alone and wishing,
Rather than take a chance at love's true ambition,
All because we fear that pain,
That a heartbreak can bring.

Happily ever after,
That's what we pursue,
Yet quick to give up,
When when pain comes to you.

I'm here to tell you,
Tell you today,
You wouldn't appreciate love,
If it came the easy way.

So open your heart,
Open your mind,
Love's treasure you have to hunt for,
If you want it to find.

Love....a term that means many things to many people.
For some it is something they search their whole lives for.
For others it's something too dangerous and painful to even touch.
For some it's a means to get pleasure. For some people, they don't
know what it is. But no matter what, love is the one single
thing that touches us all no matter what. Love Isn't Easy is
a collection of poems and writings on the triumphs and tragedies
of love from inspirational and reflective writings to
stimulate the mind, to erotic writings to put you in the mood to,
emotional writings that capture the pain that love can cause.
Read along as Kato Wonder takes you on a journey into the throes
of love but remember.....love isn't easy.

www.katowonder.us

Every Soldier Needs A Soul: Poems of a Soldier 3

"Every Soldier Needs A Soul: Poems of a Soldier 3" by David McDonald is a remarkable collection of war poetry. It's the last in a trilogy by this poet, who began writing poetry as part of the treatment for his combat related post-traumatic stress disorder following his many years of service in the armed forces. It marks a return home of the soldier. We tend to associate war poetry only with the World Wars and long-dead poets such as Wilfred Owen, but it is still an active genre today as, unfortunately, we're still fighting wars. "Is this what is man's achievement ...?" asks the poet in 'An Ending', and he goes on to say 'Can we not find better use, find peace ..."? If only we could. Soldier-poets like David McDonald remind us in the powerful, concentrated language necessary for poems of the horrible suffering that wars inflict, both mentally and physically on victor and vanquished alike.
There are poems in this book about the supporting women at home, the brave child at her father's funeral, burying a brother, an old soldier ending up on the streets, flashbacks and unseen injuries, to give a very few examples. These poems range widely in style and content, from anger to love, from the fanciful to the downright gritty, from the horrific to the charming and witty. My own favourite is "An Angel is Waiting for You" in which the poet describes how an angel will look after a soldier who has died in action "with gentle care".
You have to read McDonald's poems. They're modern, heartfelt, imaginative, entertaining and skilful. You'll understand that "a soldier is not different to you", just someone doing a job where he is trained "to do the worst that a man can". It's a tough lesson but so beautifully taught by this poet.



Tell My Rose

Don’t let my Rose hear of how I died, lying alone on this cold hill
Tell her that I died surrounded by friends, quietly and peaceful and still
Don’t tell her off the human horrors surrounding me where I lie
Speak gently when you say to her I spoke her name and gently cried

No mention of the bullets that tore at me or the shrapnel in my spine
Just the hushed mention of a death that was painless, mercifully short on time
Spare the thought of the blood I have lost no mention of the leg that’s not there
Speak with kindness and clarity tell of a kind nurse who stroked my hair

I want my Rose to remember the man she loved without restrain
She should always have the memories of me passing away without pain
Then I can face what painful death my God has set aside for me
I can wait until I die and then watch my Rose from above where I’ll be

A Heart Without Words

I read poetry with a passion and that can sometimes be difficult with what is on the market in current times, too many repetitive themes and styles with little in the way of real passion.

This Poet however is not in that league and finding his book and reading it was an emotional experience on a level I have scarcely endured, David McDonald writes from experience and opens his heart indeed his very soul. The poem “GOODBYE” pulled at every sinew of the heart leaving me bleeding the tears of regret for the words, “SPRING” on the other hand was a joyous discovery of a new beginning.

War Poetry is not easy to read but GOOD War Poetry is a privilege, when written by someone who has served and lost friends it is an honour to see his words so beautifully, sometimes painfully, written for the reader.

A full 5 stars and thank you for the book, I look forward to reading your others.


Debris of battle

Black waves crashing onto the beach, a moon shivers in the cold
The sea sends wave sighing, this a sight that has grown so old
Lapping on the sands in anger, the moon bright and sad at the scene
An ocean of rage surging onwards, how often has this horror been?

Salt water laps at the bodies, so many lay still only moved by the waves
Almost you think the waves move them, an effort for lives they may save
The debris of battle seen then gone, waves wash over and recede in disgust
Dead machines sit still on the sand, waiting for the march of the rust

The moon picks shadows in grotesque scenes, appalled that this still occurs
How often will the view lay out on the beach, can this be what man prefers
A sadness flows back out to the sea, death carried back by each wave
To be held in eternity for all to see, futility from dead and from the brave

War Poetry - Every Soldier Needs a Soul

By Helen Horsfall2 02-Jun-2011

Beautiful poetry by an amazingly talented man, so much warmth and heartfelt passion in each one. I bought this and take it with me every where I go, I get great comfort from it. Being married to a Staff Sergeant in the British Army it helps me try and understand from a soldiers point of view. I cant wait tilI the next book.


http://www.amazon.com/Every-Soldier-Needs-A-Soul/dp/1447739299/ref=pd_rhf_gw_p_t_1



Tell My Rose

Don’t let my Rose hear of how I died, lying alone on this cold hill
Tell her that I died surrounded by friends, quietly and peaceful and still
Don’t tell her off the human horrors surrounding me where I lie
Speak gently when you say to her I spoke her name and gently cried

No mention of the bullets that tore at me or the shrapnel in my spine
Just the hushed mention of a death that was painless, mercifully short on time
Spare the thought of the blood I have lost no mention of the leg that’s not there
Speak with kindness and clarity tell of a kind nurse who stroked my hair

I want my Rose to remember the man she loved without restrain
She should always have the memories of me passing away without pain
Then I can face what painful death my God has set aside for me
I can wait until I die and then watch my Rose from above where I’ll be

The Great War in Verse

Review By Suzanne Kingsley 06-Jul-2011

A gifted poet skillfully pulls the reader into the core of the words on the page and in doing so, gives the reader the gift of touch, taste, sight and sound as the words on the page transform into a life event shared. David McDonald is indeed a gifted poet. He is also a man of honour,truth, courage,integrity and compassion.

http://www.amazon.com/The-Great-Verse-David-McDonald/dp/1466399597/ref=la_B0058RCABW_1_3?ie=UTF8&qid=1338705133&sr=1-3


The Orchestra

Strange settled quiet blankets the field
Waiting for man to launch Armageddon
Trembling muscles and releasing bladders
Involuntary cries of “mummy” or “father”
As the Concerto gets ready to start

A hail of metal falling like ice
High explosive, poisonous gas
Perhaps something nice in green sir?
Rent ground and torn bodies
The start of the movement

Free flowing tears and bladders follow
Diving into the nearest crater
Head over hands
Not really much of a defence
The music gathers pace

Up over the top hit by hail
Hundreds hit by metal balls
Falling back to where you lay
“Up and at em son, take yer gun”
The conductors quickens pace

“Advance” as if it’s just a school walk
Struggling over the human debris
Red flotsam, human slop
Only the bullet acceptable for a stop
The orchestra as one

“Fall back” what there is left
Pick up those that are dying dead
The rain keeps coming scything the ranks
The blood of many continues to flow
A glorious symphonic structure

A hand that grabs you
The only one he has left
Face gone missing where he was shot
I’ll be back lied with expertise
The finale grows to its peak

Quiet descended upon the field
Can’t hear the noise of the wounded
Best not to you see
Not a bloody inch gained or lost
And the orchestra stands for applause

Bus Station Poem

This poem, by Thomas L. Vaultonburg, is typical of the poetry you might find at Zombie Logic Blog. 

http://zombielogicblog.blogspot.com/

Bus Station

Please don't steal my bag.

Please don't steal my blue bag
With all my poems in it.

Please don't try to to steal my
Blue bag with all my poems
In it and a bag of pepitas
And the number for my caseworker
Then feign confusion when caught
Because you, too, have a blue bag
That says Downtown Mental Health Center.

Please don't try to lift my blue
Bag with all my mom's cancer poems
And the name of my caseworker in it etc...

It's far too heavy.