Vaishali Vohra, Mumbai, Maharashtra, India

Time Will Move On

Time Is moving on
Then why time is not moving on? 
Struggle seems permanent
Days are same cloudy
Nights are same blind
Storms are same permanent
Sunlight is same unpleasant 

But I am standing firmly
fighting continuously
Wearing the shoes of dedication
The cap of determination
The outfit of motivation
The coat of implementation

Everyday,
heavy rain wets me with grief
sunlight burns my dreams
storm shakes my plans
snowfall drops my Actions

But,
I am standing firmly
Fighting continuously 

soon,
These dark days will be gone
These horrible nights will be gone
These deadly storms will be gone
N my success will be on
then, my time too will move on
Thus, I too, will move on
Until then, I will work upon
I will work upon 

(c) 2019 Vaishali Vohra

Gelda Castro (Gel Poetry Garden), Rio de Janiero, Brazil

I would like to share
some gentle thought as
the morning breeze, or
a few words that reminded
the taste of honey
Any exit that would allow us
to escape the sonic and visual
Bombardment of the huge city,
and that, by a few moments,
Would bring us the rights of
to dream of a healthier world...
More humane!

© 2019 Gel Poetry Garden

Sunita Hussain, Noida (National Capital Region), Uttar Pradesh, India

#Expressionsofheart

Be free from negativity

It pains to see people in pain,
Immersed in the pool of melancholy.

Important to cut down negative train,
Begotten ill to be well taken care.
Is it necessary to pass on
What we get from others?

Transfer of heat with thoughts,
feelings are not to be shared.
The cycle of hatred to be
stopped somewhere.

Replacing anguish with smile,
creating a difference with joy,
Can't we make it worthwhile.
Let there be living to enjoy.

© 2019 Sunita

Jamie Leigh Jones, Mount Olive, North Carolina, USA

Resilient Wings

The wooden floor soaks up her tears of pain as her broken, bloody wings swing from the chains
Wings once White that added glory to her name now ripped from her back torn apart and stained
Her thoughts and prayers so hollow without her wings so bright
Above her head they hang drowning out the light
Drops of her tainted blood drip down upon her skin
Sizzling as they burn and leave marks on her soul deep within
Chained and bound by despair and smothering grief
She just couldn't hang on any longer needing guidance and relief
Lost is she as her spirit and body grow weak
But to her feet she rises never swaying from her beliefs
Reaching out her hands as they tremble from her fear
She feels a warming presence so far but yet so near
She lifts her weary head to watch the blood stains fade away
And her wings of White start glowing as they lower from the chains
Hope enters her body as they begin to reattach and heal with grace
As light surrounds her body and lifts her from that lonely, darkened place

(c) 2019 Jamie Leigh Jones
Inside the Corners of My Mind Poetry

Clive Norman, Halsham, East Sussex, England, United Kingdom

Ratty

Poor old Ratty, how I love thee

Undeserved, is the reputation that precedes you

You’ve gone and got yourself

Spreading wildfires of disease, for being

Such a magnificent, beautiful, little meddlesome creature.

Born like all - life forms

Naturally, upon these manifested planes

Of illusionary and misguided perceptions

Of what is, and is not the truth

Of realistic, representative values.

Mankind, has always, had habitual inconsistencies

Blaming issues, continually, upon others

Irrespective of facts and realities

Fairness and equality, to all other life forms

Living wishfully, in peaceful harmonies upon this world.

In fact, it wasn’t poor old Ratty’s blameworthiness

Dubbing his species, with the labelling, pest, or vermin

When factually, it was us, that's the invader

Reducing thoughtlessly, in exponential expansions, across territories of every species, known to mankind

Tarnished with the same brush and stupidity, in killing poor old Ratty’s, natural predators.

I look forward to the day when so-called humanity looks back, heads bowed in unforgivable shame

The perpetrators, in reckless thoughtlessness and behavioural issues;

We’re the plague, the scourge, upon the earth;

And maybe, just maybe, while our species suffer futuristically from world mismanagement

In realising our foolishness, inappropriate behaviours, we sincerely apologise, to Poor old Ratty!

© 2019 Clive Norman

Craig Burt, Milwaukee, Wisconsin, USA

Thunder is screaming

Heart fearing
My room rattled

Skies darken, glooming
I wrapped myself tight in vainMy anxious feelings weep

#Cherita

(C) 2019 Craig J. Burt 

Maria Elvira Fernandes Correia, Sao Paulo Brazil

#cherita

This tread of dawn lights

It meeting you awakened
to the day of mine and verses

Quill and Ink on canvas drawing
sight of lyrics melody,
this our days wrap tales, feelings its samples

Copyright (c)2019 MEFC