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role reversal

Submitted by loved on Tue, 2012-12-25 09:15

wake up, my love,
the sun is up,
you are yet asleep…
the sun-rays are waiting for thee
as you awake the glow of my face,
you will really see.

wake up my love,
the time has come to go…

how on this earth you wish to stay,
yet have your own way,
without the soul of life,
which as we all know is honey.
for that to beget,
a son we have not yet,

so my love, go to work
earn some money.
when you come home,
after your labor and toil,
i shall wait with open arms;

HUSHED MORNING 

Submitted by Nordic cloud on Tue, 2012-12-25 08:05

HUSHED MORNING (25th December)

This morning when I woke,
was grey,
I thought the night had stolen day,
but no,
it was the snow that bore the light
so soon after Christmas night.

When even stars were hidden,
and clocks of white spun down
around our sleeping heads,
making softest sounds
in hushed quiet mounds.

............primi..ordinis........

Submitted by Esker on Mon, 2012-12-24 23:38

catcher in the sun
the gleam like shells
falling

brass ignitions
like chinese lanterns
rising

falling wishs
like dead stars

drive about full
the gut tension
glassy
past decorated
houses

brilliant meadows
gathered on tests
beyond the thunder
of the periphery

like tracer sickness
pumping in veined
valleys
burning hot in Love

we need the taste
of heaven
not nicotine
and Zippo fuel

Constantinople

The Air Is Rife With Singing Bells

Submitted by William Saint George on Mon, 2012-12-24 18:34

The air is rife with singing bells,
in this heart, there joy rings
yet in the deep is heard the knell
that weeps for passing things.

To ancient stories we must hold
to failing hope we cling,
believing all that we are told,
what joy this season brings!

The lion once lay with the lamb
digesting in his gut,
and to an end we must succumb
and pass this earthly rut.

Yet in this folly must we hold,
and to our faith, must cling,
believing all that we are told,
what joy this season brings!

that whimper we keep hearing about

Submitted by the_fool on Mon, 2012-12-24 16:20

schools are chained and padlocked
homes barred and latched up tight
dogs brought inside and hushed
even interstates snuffed of light

under blankets children hidden
slumped wives drivel drunk with fear
men despair in gibbered prayer
the unstoppable inevitably near

for the robots dance at midnight
till the bells all chime at dawn

law shut and shelved the books
clergy refuse to calm or collect
soldiers abandon silent generals
the front finds nothing to protect

Christmas Past

Submitted by Geremia on Mon, 2012-12-24 16:05

Christmas Past

Blinking lights,
blue, red and green
glowing dull under
golden angel hair
silver tinsel sparking
colors in refraction
tears of pine bleeding
through the air
Christmas time
When you all were there.

The Poet

Submitted by Rula on Mon, 2012-12-24 12:24

 

His quill and ink are meant to heal and save.
His hearty words to fill the void and gaps.
His soul and mind have lived along to rave 
the manly pride and noble manners' lapse.

His secret love, a poem's sound, a guide
that tightly held the dreams that long have dwelt
into the humans' forts of time-inside
when time attacked and botched what they once built.

Ill advised button pressing

Submitted by weirdelf on Mon, 2012-12-24 11:17

People press my buttons
I have so many I psychically resemble a Dalek

Unfortunately the response is similar
“Exterminate. Exteminate you fuckers”

Dream a Dream

Submitted by sueb on Mon, 2012-12-24 10:37

Wishing my life away, dreaming a dream
buying a lotto ticket, not just me
Imagining a win, the cat got the cream
Ah, pay me mortgage, buy a wee mini
Doing whatever I want, be a scream
A few donations, sort out family
oh wow, my life will be heading upstream
If only reverie was reality
all my old sins, I atone and redeem
old friends out of woodwork , a mystery
Suddenly remembered me, it would seem
Basking in luck, revelling in glory
Ah well, may as well dream here as in bed
try getting into black and outta red

christmas

Submitted by judyanne on Mon, 2012-12-24 10:05

The near full moon
hangs
pregnant
bright
on this starry Christmas-eve night

I think of the young Mary
about to labour the pain of creation
and hold her new babe

oblivious
to future agony
.

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