Life from the shore

The gentle tides have led me back to mellow shores
where I can live and breed in unforcing times,
through love and friends and the pleasure
of the deeds that form the path I'll leave unmarked.

And with two feet on the welcomed ground,
my eyes shall stare at the waves and the ships,
and the drowning, the swimmers and the drowned,
uncomfortable, desperate, but living through their time.

How will the old shoreman look upon his past?
Do the soft memories have the might to spark
a tender smile on the face whose eyes once hoped
to witness the storms, the wrecks and the wonders of age?

Old shoreman casts doubts on his still unravelled past.
The pirate boy cries for the life he's lost.
The shoreman sinks his toes in the warm sand,
and reckons he missed the things he loved the most.


Are you at sea or walking the shores? How will your Old Shoreman look back on his past?
Please leave your comments, feelings and feedback in the comment section below.

Today's Blackprint Poetry's recommendation:

Paul Tobin is an author and poet who reflects his need to write in his blog: Magpie Bridge. I've read some interesting reflections and reworks on his own poems there, and it really makes you feel as a part of the creative process. Make sure to check him out!

See you next time

Void

Who will find my dead dreams
when this void finally leaves my soul?
Who will temper my spirit
before my broken wishes choke my howl?

The pitch dark of nothingness
unravels through this hazy room,
to embrace me, hold me tight,
until I can no longer move.

To whom will I bequeath my hopes?
To whom will I leave my fears?
Darkness has left no one around me
and its tender arms keep pushing in.


Please feel free to leave your feedback and comments below!

Today's Blackprint Poetry's recommendation:

Susan Marie is a journalist, radio producer and poet from New York with a great blog that you should definetly check out. Not all of her posts are poems, but make sure to find them: I find their loose and experimental form extermely engaging. Visit her blog here:

http://susanmariepr.blogspot.com

See you next week!

Decay

I no longer know the streets of my city.

The smoke and the lust have covered its walls.

And the light, the forgotten light,

hides from the skies on clear days.

The cold glow of fluorescent gas lamps

now bear witness to the neverending pain.

The wise man, the enforcer and the tribesman

hide in the shadows casted by the blunt remains.

There are no more dances in the crossroads.

No more games in the parks we used to share.

Through the alleys roam the soulless in their rows

of death and sin and the feeble existence of despair.

Blackprint Poetry's recommendation:

Today's recommendation goes to Samuel Peralta and his blog Semaphore. Peralta is a well established and well-known free verse poet. He is an objective to all us poets who want our work to be known to the world. Gather your best poems and enter his blog for a lesson on how poetry should be made.

The Loss

My last tear fell yesterday,

and can't no longer focus on the pain.

Now I've pulled the blade through my heart

to slash the pictures of your face.

And the rising sun lights up

to mark the swirling path ahead

through the hills of deception and hope,

of joy, fear and the promise of Death.

But as Time unravels through,

down the slopes of life and up again

it will reach the high point where I may see

your steady road as it finds my own.

Blackprint Poetry's recommendation:
This week's recommendation goes to Poetical Psyche and his author Fred Rutherford. Pay him and visit at http://poeticalpsyche.blogspot.com and enjoy his work!

Tightrope

Keeping my balance, I walk

along this thin piece of thread

that streches from birth to death

above the fires of hell.

My bare feet hurt and bleed

and the fear is many a times

too strong: a missed step, merely

a slip, keeps me from

the everlasting burns,

the infinte scorching of

my human skin and the smell

of sweet, loving Death.

Maybe it's time I give up

and quit trying to hold my pace:

play around, feel the thrill

of the deadly heat upon my flesh.

Pick a card

Pick a card,
any card,
see it yourself,
and show it to everyone,
everyone but me.

Pick a life,
any life,
take a tongue, a face and a name,
and show yourself to everyone,
everyone but me.

Now choose your ways,
anyway,
just close your eyes and grab the tail,
or either stir the line,
by hastily ditching the trail.

Then find your days,
any day:
claim the Crown you know deserve,
or surrender to love,
living in your own humble mistake.

And meet Death,
the only Death,
unchanged in the comforts of a warm bed,
or found in the sharply fierce claws,
of a ravaging bullet’s bird.

Just pick a card,
any card.

Hurt me again

Hurt me again,
and feel the gentle warmth
of my crimson blood
steadily flowing the trace
of such a perfect face.

Hurt me again,
thy wounds shall never heal,
for they cut deep into my skin,
and bleed my soul out.

Oh, hurt me no more love,
and forget what was done,
for we’ll know it is time,
when crying upon two hazy smiles
we face our last sunset,
and vanish into the bright light.

Hurt me no more,
forget me and murder my memory,
for I’d rather forsake your gentle touch,
than have blood for tears.


Blackprint Poetry's recommendation
Today's recommendation goes to the blog My Beautiful Emotion and its even more beautiful author Kayleigh Jane, aged 17! Kayleigh's work truly amazes me: the choice of words, the themes in her poems... just incredible. Please visit her blog, it will be worth it:

http://my-beautiful-emotion.blogspot.com

See you next week!