Tag Archives: poetry

Breaking Day


You may have noticed that I love writing children’s poems. This one got published by Family Friend Poems.

Enjoy by following this link: http://www.familyfriendpoems.com/poem/breaking-day?utm_source=notification&utm_medium=poet&utm_campaign=htmlemail

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Blog Post: Tokoni Uti


Throne
 
The Silver-laced seat of power sits before the gold-plated crucifix.
The lesser ones sit in duplicates of six.
The stranger scans the room with trained eyes.
And charms the watching audience with precise lies. 
His lips quiver in reference to aged symbols.
His fingers circle in adoration of ancient enroll.
He sits steadily in the middle of comfort and torment.
And demands silence in the execution of judgment.
 

Guest Post by Eric Christopher Jackson


As you know, I always like to help out a new author, especially one who supports me in return 🙂 🙂

Today’s pick goes for Eric Christopher Jackson. He’s a dedicated human and poet who had a new poetry book released. Below is an introduction to his book, as well as a sneak peek at one of his poems. Thank you, Eric, for choosing my blog to promote your work.

Title: The Beginning of Me
Author: Eric Christopher Jackson
ISBN: 978-1490572048
 
Available on Amazon.
 
Without the ability to write, my life would become too silent. Without an avenue to express my emotions, my questions, each day would become void. Without an audience to hear me, my words would become prisoners inside of me. This is my poetry.
 
“The Beginning of Me” is a compilation of all the poems I’d written since New Year’s 2001 until mid-July 2009. At first, my poetry was simply a means to talk about the subjects I avoided including fear, lack of self-esteem, and questions about my faith in God. This eventually led to the subject of loneliness and a sense of depression that can come from that.
 
 

The most telling poems are entitled, “Cut” and “Finished.” The first dives into a fictional story that describes​ my personal struggle. The second poem is one of the few that speak to the reader from Jesus’ perspective. Both are meant to share the Gospel in a unique way.

 
 
The book is entitled “The Beginning of Me” because I had stopped writing for years and lost all of my previous works. This book is a rebirth of a gift I could have continued to waste.
 
“Cut”
 
It was night
Dark on this road
Hardly any light
But it’s where the Lord wanted me
I kept walking, losing hope
For signs of life
 
From the corner of my eye
Moonlight
Coming through the trees
Who did I see standing there
 
A woman, so beautiful
Staring
She called me
Without saying a word
I detoured, to follow
Ignoring His call
 
She moved slowly
Yet swiftly
I couldn’t reach her
I decided to try all I could
To touch her
 
Through the trees
Through the leaves
Muddy sand
Like a jungle or swamp
Moonlight, hazy

I came to an opening
There she stood
Calling me
Without saying a word
Who knew where I was now

She moved so swiftly
I hurried to catch her
But then…
The ground gave way
Beneath me
 
Through dirt, vines
Wood, I fell
And fell
And fell
 
Hitting my head on metal
Branches
Over
And over
Did I have time to scream
 
As my back hit a huge branch
I did flips
Landing on my back
To a distinct sound
 
Glass
I looked around
As I lay there
Broken, shattered

Glass, covered the ground
I screamed
And screamed
And screamed
Staring at from where I fell
Into darkness, miles away

Every movement
Brought more pain
I wanted to be still
But I had to get
Out of there
 
Then I held my breath
Because I saw
The woman I had followed
Standing there
Over me
 
Suddenly I was afraid
As I looked into her eyes
So dark, too dark
Black, sinking in flashes
Darkness beneath her skin
A skeleton of…
 
Him
Not a woman at all
A demon In disguise
Transformed into
Such beauty

I had been tricked
Fooled
By deception
From my eyes
Too late to see
The beauty, only skin deep

I felt even more pain
I started to cry
As the demon smiled at me
I realized where I am
Is not where God is
Where was I
 
Through groans
Glass sticking into my skin
Bleeding, aching
As pieces fell from my head
I stood up, on my own
 
No shoes
Barefoot
I walked across the glass
To the wall of branches
Vines, dirt
I had to climb
 
Passed the metal boards
I hit before
Passed the huge trees
Crying
No one else to blame
But me

At last
To the top
Back to the road
Oh no…
To His Throne

I held my head low
Walking through the great hall
Hiding my face from His light
Ashamed to say a word
Embarrassed, no place else to go
 
Tears fell from His eyes
I felt Him come close to me
Looking at me
Head to toe
Saddened by the look of me
 
What happened to you
My child, My son
You were doing so well
A new season has begun
 
I…I…
I failed You again
I took my eyes off of You
I followed this woman
This demon still comes
 
I thought he was a she
I was wrong
I fell in a ditch
My progress undone

Now I’m cut
Bruised and broken
I decided to come home
I’m ready for my punishment
No matter what it is

He put His arm around me
Led me to this huge crowd
Standing there in white gowns
Finally looking familiar to me
 
This is your family
These are your friends
You are in the Body of Christ
Never walk alone again
 
They will help you
They will comfort you
But I can’t face them Lord
Not like this
 
It’s okay
Everyone makes mistakes
Everyone falls
But they get up again
Never to fall in
The same ditch again
 
I don’t know
I don’t think I can win
My mind too far gone
My heart too cold
My soul too dark

My child
It’s been predestined
I have spoken
This is not the end for you

Jesus, unlike before
Please help me
To trust You
I don’t want to fight
Anymore…
 
January 1, 2008

Promoting a Guest


Do you guys remember Will Moorfoot? He wrote a guest post for me a while ago. Well, now he has a collection of poetry on Amazon. Check out his guest post again: https://margo187.wordpress.com/2014/02/28/guest-post-by-will-moorfoot/

If you like his poem, you should go to this link on Amazon and check out his collection: www.amazon.co.uk/collection-Romantic-poetry-W-A-Moorfoot-ebook/dp/B00K40LA7I/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1399191262&sr=8-1&keywords=W.A+Moorfoot

It’s “A collection of poetry inspired by the Romantic era of literature concerning itself with all manners of oddities from demons to cats,” says Will.

Visit Will’s blog for more http://constantinewrathings.wordpress.com/

Guest Post by Aya Nehme


This week, I’m keeping it all in the family, and hosting the post of my cousin. I have been always impressed by cousin’s poetry and today I will share one of her poems with you. She’s new on WordPress, so I would appreciate it if you hit the like and follow buttons to support her.

Summer Stories

They say every summer has a story
But never have they witness other than its yellow and blue
Neither its heat nor its long days
But I yesterday have witnessed the court and jury

Summertime fantasies and wild July
Which I thought will stay forever
To realize that September luck is no myth
Soon summer ends as I cry

Too many jaw drops
Too many disappointments
Too many endings
Too many pauses and stops

For me I only found hope in him
And had faith because of him
He stayed in my life with all the mess
But lastly he have gone back to being him

Insecure I feel
And all human kind seems to scare me now
For he wants what he desires
Even if his desires are on man’s account

I can’t have him
And I desire him or nothing at all
I am human, I am selfish
I run away from him

I can’t live with you
But I can’t live without you
But summer has ended
And we are a mess
Now it’s time to either let go of life or let go of me
So I let you to decide
For I cannot pressure you to stay when in us you have no clue

Sorry I feel for us
And tears I cry for our happy promises
I cannot but not love you
But in us I no longer trust

They say every summer has a story
But it’s no story when it’s a happy ending
It’s no story without the flashbacks
Flashbacks of hot nights, yellow sun, blue ocean, red roses, loud noise…
And love.
Mine ended with heat and endless nights
Still, I remember its glory

But will always remember that back to earth I shall come
And in reality I shall live

 

Bio: Lebanese by birth who dreams big. I'm highly inspired by a relative “Margaret Benison”; currently majoring Interior Design and minoring in Advertising; living in a mixture of ART and REALITY; party animal; has been in love with the same person for eight years; an amateur poet; an artist. A person who have been through not a lot but quite some ups and downs, luckily managed to overcome the obstacles and continue the life I started. 
Blog address: www.ayanehme.wordpress.com