source Witnesses of my journey, they look with road dust, worn is the sole, I feel when I walk, the stones and the heat of the asphalt. A while back they looked bright, now for work, submitted opaque,

August in silence August in silence August is born, school holidays begin without enthusiasm. The monetary availability just to buy part of the primary needs. The trips to the beaches, rivers or mountains

Hi, Friday poets and everyone reading. Yes, today it's #FridayPoets, a most inspiring iniciative created and hosted by @prydefoltz, which you can check here. You may want to join in. I've rereading Shelley's

Friday Poets Photo Attribution Why the fortune cookie ... well, because being a poet is a little like having a head full of fortunes, not a pocket-full, but definitely a head full. This a call out to all

The dull sound of silence Original poem Silent, shuddering, I'm here, in the shade. Deeper in the silence, more lost than my shadow who now knows, better than me,                     the road of dreams.

The hero's square The hero's square In the square of the hero afflicted people contemplate your face under a gray cloud in the stench of a homeland. The senses are shaken for the sad song of the pigeons

Hi, poetry lovers. It's #PoetryWeekend again, a space hosted by @prydefoltz. She's been doing a great job in promoting poetry writing. Today is #FridayPoets. I hope you can read and leave a comment. It'd

Friday Poets, Round 11 Tony Peters: Insane Poetry Reading and Wrestling It's Friday and the start of #poetryweekend. It is time to close-line that inner angst, pile-drive some word play, and bleed your

ease ties to taste breeze Poem by Bacus15 Photo from Pixabay

Smell of rain Smell of rain A wind in a swirl announces the storm at the door of the city. It is not yet the rainy season And the sun warmed the city From side to side Through all its streets The more

The Game Played gamblers, trestle up before claiming your seat at the table make sure the crescendo of your cha-ching overwhelms the cut                      of your bustle fortune will play sleight of

Hi, lovers of poetry and clocks. I hope you can read, and if you want to, leave a comment; I'll be happy to reply. ʘººʘ● ʘººʘ● ʘººʘ● ʘººʘ● ʘººʘ● ʘººʘ● ʘººʘ Source It's Time

Passionate eyes Passionate eyes I look at your profile as if the angels they are floating on the wall of the room. Like a flower wet with dew I see your naked side with exaltation. Why is the night so

Friday Poets, Round 10 credit Welcome, welcome all you fine scribblers of the lyrical type. It is the start of #poetryweeked and today is #fridaypoets. Did you write a poem today (Friday wherever you reside);

"So that the things I have loved will not turn into ashes, I have a hiding place where I keep them intact .... It is a place that is between the dream and the eyelids, in the top part of the tears,

Open Up and Say Ahhh analogs disengage, evacuate flutter away to the unseen glitchy, imagined code joints within the web of existence okay, I will say it although it has been said enough they fly away

On this day and at this time To the awesomeness of someone, I needed to take a bow Of a virtual grammatical descriptive kind. Which suddenly cast a glimmer on my punctuation dilemma This is the story as

Growing up on Bay Street was not always easy I had a mother named Callie Mae who just didn’t play Strong-willed was she, heads she bumped with me She popped the whip if I gave her any lip Fresh food from

All eyes were false Original Poetry I was never cumulonimbus, not even a cloud of breeze. I wanted to be more passionate           but defeated my ideas. From so much thinking, I decided to be someone

Friday Poets, Round 9 It's Friday and the start of something good: #poetryweekend. Tomorrow is #haikusaturday and Sunday will bring on the return of the dead with #deadpoems. Attribution But today is