"Poetry has been to me its own
exceeding great reward;it has given me the habit
of wishing to discover the good and beautiful
in all that meets and surrounds me."
- Samuel Taylor Coleridge
POEM OF THE MONTH
IF ONLY...
by Jhinuk Sen
by Jhinuk Sen
I want a tomorrow from a few years back, a yesterday from a few months and today in a few weeks- but only if loving you makes it easier.
I want the touch of your face from a few nights back, the smell of your skin from the mornings gone and the wavering thoughts from random conversations- but only if loving you makes it easier.
I want my lies wrapped around your fingers, the words placed like stones in your open palms and the haunting of doing without you- but only if loving you makes it easier.
I want you. Exactly the way happiness had placed you suddenly in my path and I had nowhere to turn but to you in the darkest part of night- just before dawn- but only if loving you makes it easier.
A blind despair clogs my senses- I am struggling inside. Fighting, crying, screaming- wanting so much to escape with you- while I should just stay here with you.
If only loving you makes it easier.
If only. love.
JHINUK SEN is a post graduate student based in Delhi, India. Writing poetry for her is a release of sorts. She writes in periodic spells and mostly settles on poetry for it creates the most tangible images. And she likes to believe that a word has more worth than all the actions in the world. She is struggling between passions and practicality. Basically - just waiting for the rabbit hole to show up some fine day. Contact
I want the touch of your face from a few nights back, the smell of your skin from the mornings gone and the wavering thoughts from random conversations- but only if loving you makes it easier.
I want my lies wrapped around your fingers, the words placed like stones in your open palms and the haunting of doing without you- but only if loving you makes it easier.
I want you. Exactly the way happiness had placed you suddenly in my path and I had nowhere to turn but to you in the darkest part of night- just before dawn- but only if loving you makes it easier.
A blind despair clogs my senses- I am struggling inside. Fighting, crying, screaming- wanting so much to escape with you- while I should just stay here with you.
If only loving you makes it easier.
If only. love.
HAPPY VALENTINE'S DAY
by Nell Berry
I gave my heart to you
the day we said “I do.”
I committed my life to you
and said “I love you too.”
You asked me to marry you
on St. Valentine’s Day,
I’ve been your Valentine
ever since and now I say,
“Will you be my Valentine
and pledge your love to me?”
I will promise to be yours
from now through eternity.
the day we said “I do.”
I committed my life to you
and said “I love you too.”
You asked me to marry you
on St. Valentine’s Day,
I’ve been your Valentine
ever since and now I say,
“Will you be my Valentine
and pledge your love to me?”
I will promise to be yours
from now through eternity.
NELL BERRY resides in West Virginia and has been married to Louis B. Berry for sixty years. She is a mother of four, grandmother of nine and great grandmother of soon to be eleven grandchildren. Her hobbies include cooking, sewing, crocheting and writing. She is a published author of one book, GROWING UP IN MISSOURI AND OTHER SHORT STORIES about her growing up years. She is a Christian who writes all inspirational poetry, song lyrics and short stories. Contact
~~~~~
HEARTS 'N' FLOWERS
by Betti Bernardi
My heart knew full flower,
Given
Sunshine, laughter and care—
Nourished by you.
Add years of loving moments,
Daily
Joys ne’er hidden under
The weight duty demands.
Love’s safe harbor, winning
Comfort,
Demonstrated, precious and filling
My soul with happiness codes.
Flowers, still, the yearning
Psyche.
Satisfied, yet, by love’s fires
Burning bright bodies--ours.
Nourished, now, the love we
Honor
Grows in steady concert sung.
Sings, too, lofty notes to future.
BETTI BERNARDI is a Colorado freelance writer with a background in Behavioral Science. Her articles have appeared in Collector’s News, Writer’s Guidelines Magazine, Fathers, Brothers, Sons Magazine, Mothering Magazine, Indy’s Child Magazine, Moondance, Antiques and Collecting Magazine, and Antique Weekly. Additionally, she has an article published in an anthology, and a short story published in Moondance. Her poems have been published in Country Kids News, Writer’s Journal, Once Upon a Time, Our Journey, Beyond Katrina, Shemom, Nomad’s Choir, CC&D (soon to be published) on the World Peace Australia website, and Family Celebrations. They have also appeared in her local newspaper, as well as eight published in collections and anthologies. One of her poems placed in the Southwest Colorado Women’s Poetry contest, and was published in an anthology in the spring of 2011. Contact
~~~~~
FEBRUARY GLOOM
by Patricia Crandall
My son
attempts to play
the flute
while I sing silly songs
creating lace-doily valentines
before his round, expressive
eyes...one is put aside
for teacher.
PATRICIA CRANDALL has three books in print: a thriller, THE DOG MEN, a historical volume, MELROSE: THEN AND NOW, and a poetry book, I PASSED THIS WAY. She is currently working on an adventure/thriller novel and a book of bottle mining adventures. She lives with her husband on a lake in the Grafton Mountains in upstate New York. Contact Website
VALENTINE'S DAY AT THE POST OFFICE
by Susan Marie Davniero
Valentine Day’s around
Lovers are found
Taking their part
Messages of the heart
Spreading the love
By mailman’s rove
Cards, candy, flowers
In loving showers
Postal tender
Gifts of sender
Yet, coming next
The e-mail express
SUSAN MARIE DAVNIERO is a published poet listed in "The Poet's Market 2011." She writes in traditional rhyme verse and has been published in various publications including Pancakes in Heaven, Coffee Ground Breakfast, Long Short Story, Great South Bay Magazine, Write On, The Poet's Art, Creations, Poetic Matrix, Pink Chameleon, Shemom, and others. She has also written essays and letters published in newspapers and magazines including the New York Times, Daily News, Newsday, Ladies Home Journal, and Saturday Evening Post. Her blog "Susan Marie" is her writing history. They don't know her; yet, by way of writing they might. She is never at a loss of words. She has found her place as a writer and a poet. With every poem published she is inspired to write more. Writing feeds her soul - literally food for thought. Contact
THE PATH OF OUR LOVE
As we lie under the stars,
and the sky and on the leaves,
we realize what's truly ours,
and follow our unwanted dreams.
We wander 'round searching where to go,
with our dreams in mind,
no matter where our love will grow,
away from our same kind.
Without our love we'll surely lose
our own path and our way.
If you walk in my shoes,
that's where you'll surely stay.
Don't worry 'bout our love because you'll never be alone.
~~~~~
by Mary Christina Morrissey
and the sky and on the leaves,
we realize what's truly ours,
and follow our unwanted dreams.
We wander 'round searching where to go,
with our dreams in mind,
no matter where our love will grow,
away from our same kind.
Without our love we'll surely lose
our own path and our way.
If you walk in my shoes,
that's where you'll surely stay.
Don't worry 'bout our love because you'll never be alone.
All I ask in return: Don't send me on my own.
MARY CHRISTINA MORRISSEY is fourteen years old and fairly new at poetry. She has recently begun submitting her work into magazines. Contact
I’ve seen this look in this girl's eyes
and in the bat of an eyelash
I saw a million men
dressed in white tuxedos
bringing her a single red rose
and then I realized I couldn't live my life
in the bat of an eyelash
her eyes vanished so fast
I was left with only a cloudy picture
playing over and over in my mind
the same endless tune
a paradise of hopeless love
and if life could be a stage
where Romeo and Juliet lived to be eighty
and my feelings of love
were only within me
I'd sleep a lot better at night
tucking the brown eyes of my baby
deep in my sight
a feeling I feel is a thought in her heart
and when her eyelids shut
she tore my world apart
you can take away my beating heart
for one last look
at her long lost eyes.
ta da!
MARY CHRISTINA MORRISSEY is fourteen years old and fairly new at poetry. She has recently begun submitting her work into magazines. Contact
~~~~~
BAT OF AN EYELASH
by Dean Pronge
and in the bat of an eyelash
I saw a million men
dressed in white tuxedos
bringing her a single red rose
and then I realized I couldn't live my life
in the bat of an eyelash
her eyes vanished so fast
I was left with only a cloudy picture
playing over and over in my mind
the same endless tune
a paradise of hopeless love
and if life could be a stage
where Romeo and Juliet lived to be eighty
and my feelings of love
were only within me
I'd sleep a lot better at night
tucking the brown eyes of my baby
deep in my sight
a feeling I feel is a thought in her heart
and when her eyelids shut
she tore my world apart
you can take away my beating heart
for one last look
at her long lost eyes.
ta da!
AUTHOR’S NOTE: This poem was previously published by the National Library of Poetry some time around 1997.
DEAN PRONGE is a forty-six year old writer who has lived in California his whole life except for a tour of duty with the U.S. Army in the late 1980's. He loves writing and is also very much interested in producing media, such as turning screenplays into film. Contact
~~~~~
by Edward Rodosek
It is so charming
to watch young couples promenading
along the park avenue holding hand in hand
embracing each other.
They don't care for crowds, all the others are ignoring.
Enchanted with the partner's eyes;
their talk is gently whispering or just tender smiling.
There is no number except two;
she is all his and he is hers too.
There is nobody but you.
Those silly couples are convinced
they undergo a unique miracle
that never occurred before
and which wouldn't happen any more
until the world exists.
They suppose that will last forever.
For their feelings are here to stay
nothing would chase them away
so they couldn't possibly fail.
Those silly lovers don't know
and also refuse to recognize:
life is not a luxuries banquet
as wise men realize long ago;
for each and every living soul
is bound to pay the price.
It's quite possible, however,
the youngsters are more clever
than all the sages who care only
how rich and famous they’d become.
Because just now is their charming time
more notable and fuller
than all the time to come.
EDWARD RODOSEK is a Senior College Professor at the University of Ljubljana in Slovenia, European Union. He is married and has one daughter and two grandsons. In addition to his professional work, he also writes fiction. More than a hundred of his short stories and about a dozen of his poems have been published in magazines in the US (including Long Story Short), UK, Australia and India. Recently, he published a collection of short stories in the US entitled “BEYOND PERCEPTION.” Contact
~~~~~
IF I HAD KNOWN...
by O.M. Grey
by O.M. Grey
I would have held you longer,
Slipping my arms around you,
Pulling you close to me, too,
Placing my cheek on your chest,
Stroking your hair, watching you rest.
If I had only known.
If I had known it would fade so fast
I would have kissed you deeper,
Absorbing your lips’ softness,
Losing myself in your kiss.
Drinking in all your desire,
Refusing to quench the fire.
If I had only known.
If I had known it would be the last
I would have stayed through the night,
Holding on to every breath
As if it would mean my death
To let you go.
If I had only known.
O. M. GREY prefers to live in the cobwebbed corners of her dark mind writing paranormal romance with a Steampunk twist. Her premiere Steampunk Paranormal Romance novel, AVALON REVISITED, is an Amazon.com Gothic Romance bestseller. She also writes short stories, relationship articles, and angsty poetry. Contact
~~~~~
MORNING COFFEE
by Kathy Humenik
He'd shuffle to the kitchen
Feet cold against the floor
"Please go make the coffee"
She sweetly would implore
He'd pretend annoyance
But how could he resist
A small request, so simple,
embellished with a kiss
"Please go make the coffee
Then come back to me
And while the pot is brewing
I'll hold you tenderly"
Just like mornings past
As daylight slowly dawns
He shuffles to the kitchen
He puts the coffee on
In his mind he sees her
Hears her gentle voice
While he performs the ritual
More by habit than by choice
When the coffee's ready
He pours a single cup
And sits sadly at the table
To watch the sun come up
He'd shuffle to the kitchen
Feet cold against the floor
"Please go make the coffee"
She sweetly would implore
He'd pretend annoyance
But how could he resist
A small request, so simple,
embellished with a kiss
"Please go make the coffee
Then come back to me
And while the pot is brewing
I'll hold you tenderly"
Just like mornings past
As daylight slowly dawns
He shuffles to the kitchen
He puts the coffee on
In his mind he sees her
Hears her gentle voice
While he performs the ritual
More by habit than by choice
When the coffee's ready
He pours a single cup
And sits sadly at the table
To watch the sun come up
~~~~~
by Anna C. Romano
Love is not always easy.
Love is not always right.
Love is not always feelings.
Love will last through any fight.
Sometimes love is a choice.
Sometimes love is a must.
Sometimes love has its rewards.
Sometimes love is a bust.
I will always love you and I will always care.
You make it hard not to, you are always there.
You give me your all and you never give up.
Even when I'm unsure you do not stop.
I may at times be difficult, I know I often complain.
I may at times be fretful, I probably drive you insane.
But you are always there for me,
Making the unsure hard.
And that is why and how I know I love you.
No matter in what way, shape, or form,
For you, your love, and your heart.
ANNA C. ROMANO is a writer from Hammond, Indiana where she will be publishing her upcoming poetry book "STORIES FROM MY HEART," a 5,944 word collection of poems about romance, life and personal experiences. These poems have all been inspired by real life events. It is her hope that both current and next generation children and teens will find them to be inspirational. She also believes many adults seeking relaxation will appreciate the reminiscence her work inevitably prompts. These poems are intended to be uplifting. In a world where teenagers feel marginalized and as though they can't measure up to the standards with which they're flooded by our modern media, she believes that her poems will provide a contrasting vantage from which they can appreciate true beauty and see how relationships work in the real world. She has won a citywide essay competition sponsored by the Hammond Reads organization. Her poem "KISS," to which she has retained all copyrights, has been published in a compilation by the World Poetry Movement called "STARS IN OUR HEARTS." Another of her poems, "INK" was selected as a feature poem by the online organization poetrysoup.com. Anna was invited by the In Print group as a guest reader at the author book fair held at Barnes and Nobles in Rockford, Illinois on September 10, 2011. Contact
ANNA C. ROMANO is a writer from Hammond, Indiana where she will be publishing her upcoming poetry book "STORIES FROM MY HEART," a 5,944 word collection of poems about romance, life and personal experiences. These poems have all been inspired by real life events. It is her hope that both current and next generation children and teens will find them to be inspirational. She also believes many adults seeking relaxation will appreciate the reminiscence her work inevitably prompts. These poems are intended to be uplifting. In a world where teenagers feel marginalized and as though they can't measure up to the standards with which they're flooded by our modern media, she believes that her poems will provide a contrasting vantage from which they can appreciate true beauty and see how relationships work in the real world. She has won a citywide essay competition sponsored by the Hammond Reads organization. Her poem "KISS," to which she has retained all copyrights, has been published in a compilation by the World Poetry Movement called "STARS IN OUR HEARTS." Another of her poems, "INK" was selected as a feature poem by the online organization poetrysoup.com. Anna was invited by the In Print group as a guest reader at the author book fair held at Barnes and Nobles in Rockford, Illinois on September 10, 2011. Contact
~~~~~
by Bill Roberts
I tip my glass, half filled with a nice
Bordeaux tonight, to all the girls
I lost along the way, beauties all.
Their sweet faces I remember,
even to this day, half a hundred years
later, but names - not a chance.
But I tell you, and please believe me:
they were gorgeous. And spirited.
And smart. And, most of them, funny.
Always fun. I can still see each one
laughing out loud, at something I did
that was foolish, something I said.
How in the world did I lose them?
Was it something I said or did?
I did and said a lot of foolish things.
No. It was simply....they were meant
for others, not me. I was meant for
someone else. And I found her.
So long, girls. Don't recall that I ever
said a proper goodbye. I know it's
too late, but thanks for being there.
~~~~~
TO ONE WHO GRIEVES FOR A LOSS
by Abigail Wyatt
its magic not undone;
it cannot shrink, or rust, or fade
but shines as bright as it began;
and, through the years and over miles,
love keeps a constant pace
however far you travel from
the sweetness of that place
when love first smiled
and spoke your name
and you beheld its face.
For love is never lost to death:
be still and you will hear
a breath that stirs the silence
to remind you he is near.
ABIGAIL WYATT writes for her life in the shadow of Carn Brea in Cornwall. Formerly a teacher, she now writes poetry and short fiction, performs with two theatre groups, and tries to stay out of trouble. She is a member of the POWOW Project which seeks to create and encourage creative opportunities for older women. Contact
~~~~~
DREAMSTRESS
by Jad Sheikali
Moist, velvet lips press firmly against my forehead.
Her dainty chin brushes against the bridge of my nose as she lowers
her face inches from mine, body pinned against my chest.
Her longing green eyes, staring deeply into my heart.
We disappear into an ocean of silk sheets and pillows,
our bodies flowing in perfect unison.
I whisper softly into her ear, kissing her neck and shoulders as I pull back.
Her longing green eyes, urging me to take control.
I wrap my arms firmly around her torso and slowly lay her on her back.
With my nervous hand I brush her long brown bangs behind her ears,
my other hand exploring her smooth, flawless skin.
Her longing green eyes, inviting and innocent.
Intense sensations begin to overcome her body,
her breath bouncing off my neck faster and faster.
An eruption of ecstasy momentarily leaves her paralyzed.
Her longing green eyes, relieved and exhausted.
I turn away from her. Need to get back to sleep.
For tomorrow I will wake up next to my lover,
and her longing brown eyes.
~~~~~
LOVE HAS NO FAVORITES
by Helen Fischetti
Love has no favorites
Anyone can try
Love pays no never mind
Never ask you why
Love has no favorites
Winter, spring or fall
Love comes at any time
Anytime at all
One magic moment it takes
Be ready for Cupid sakes
With an enchanting glance
Will bring your big romance
When you seek a Valentine
Keep this thought in view
Love has no favorites
It’s all up to you
AUTHOR’S NOTE: This poem was written by Helen Fischetti and is submitted by her daughter, Susan Marie Davniero (Fischetti) in memory of her mother.
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Helen Fischetti, Credit: Susan Marie Davniero
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| Helen Fischetti, Credit: Susan Marie Davniero |
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| Mom’s Gift With Us - Helen Fischetti And Her Family, Credit: Susan Marie Davniero |
IN MEMORY OF HELEN FISCHETTI
by Susan Marie Davniero
I hear my Mother playing the piano. Motherhood was an art to my Mother, Helen Fischetti. My mother, Helen Fischetti, was very talented in writing music, plays and poetry. My mother worked full time as a Bank Branch Manager. Her hobbies also included designing and sewing clothes, reading novels and playing the piano. A woman of many words? she wrote the songs. All the sounds of talent danced around her. To leave comments for Susan Marie, please contact Susan Marie Davniero
~~~~~
by Patricia Wellingham-Jones
choosing each costume for maximum impact.
Wearing curls in touched-up tresses,
earrings dangling or precious stones,
drapey clothes in feminine colors
to soften the juggernaut she knew she was.
Now she crops her gray hair short,
likes it wash ’n wear ’n ready.
First thing in the morning she tugs on jeans,
tops them with turtleneck and fleece in winter,
cotton with breast pockets in summer
to mask the un-bra’d mastectomy.
Not costume or trend-setting, just clothes.
But she does wear earrings.
PATRICIA WELLINGHAM-JONES has a longtime interest in 'healing writing' and the benefits people gain from writing and reading their work together. Her poems, stories and articles are widely published. Her chapbooks include “Don’t Turn Away: Poems About Breast Cancer,” “Voices on the Land,” and “End-Cycle: Poems about Caregiving.” Contact
~~~~~
NO I'M NOT!
by Joanne Oliver
I'M NOT IN LOVE no way not ever
It can’t creep on me I’m way too clever
Mastering any disguise at its will
Heartstrings remain so quiet so still
I'M NOT IN LOVE! It won’t get the better of me
From such nonsense I'm forever free
It can wail that he is the one I just won’t hear
Just won’t listen to how I should hold him near
I'M NOT IN LOVE it’s a trick of the light
Burning up a sweat it’s humid night
Pounding heart, sweaty palms I simply cannot sleep
I'M NOT IN LOVE! I would never fall this deep
I'M NOT IN LOVE! I'm not! I'm not! I'm not!
Like I'd react to a Mills and Boon type plot
It cannot happen not now not today
I'M NOT IN LOVE Please go away
I'M NOT IN LOVE why can’t you see?
Like he would even notice me!
DAMN IT! I am in love but what can I do
If there is a chance he might feel it too
~~~~~
MY VALENTINE DIVINE
by Nell Berry
You’re the Shepherd of my heart, Lord,
My Valentine Divine.
You’re the lover of my soul, Lord,
On whom I do recline.
In everything I do, Lord, in everything I see,
I pray, my first consideration, Lord,
of You will always be.
of You will always be.
To live my life to please You, Lord,
To my cry, Thine ear incline,
You’re the focus of my being, Lord,
My Valentine Divine.
In You Lord, I put my trust,
of which there’s no repine,
of which there’s no repine,
No complaint, no murmuring,
I place my hand in Thine.
I place my hand in Thine.
My hope is in You, Lord, on me,
cause Thy face to shine,
cause Thy face to shine,
Give ear, my sweet Companion,
My Valentine Divine.
NELL BERRY resides in West Virginia and has been married to Louis B. Berry for sixty years. She is a mother of four, grandmother of nine and great grandmother of soon to be eleven grandchildren. Her hobbies include cooking, sewing, crocheting and writing. She is a published author of one book, GROWING UP IN MISSOURI AND OTHER SHORT STORIES about her growing up years. She is a Christian who writes all inspirational poetry, song lyrics and short stories. Contact
~~~~~
by James Piatt
Flowers can wither and go astray, but
Amidst the dark days with their illusion
My love for you is without confusion, and
Our times together will always be gay.
When dreams are hollow and go away,
When another’s love lasts but a mere day,
When solemn oaths often become delusions,
Together our love grows strong.
In times of stress when love doth fray,
Our love for each other will never stray,
In months and years, with many intrusions,
We will continue to love without allusion, and
Our love will always be like a scented bouquet,
Together our love grows strong.
~~~~~
VIOLETS
by Roger Singer
of lights.
Burdened and standing full
he forms arbitrary thoughts.
His hands shine clean
like blank paper.
A thin tie separates his halves.
Polished shoes reflect
the curtains of dusk.
Crows from roof tops
voice repeated calls;
no one looks up.
Traffic moves and stalls.
Buses hiss to rough stops.
He has an elephant heart
and patient feet,
and a handful of violets
for someone.
ROGER SINGER served as a medical technician at MacDill Air Force Base in Tampa, Florida for three and a half years during the Vietnam era. While stationed at MacDill, he attended evening classes through the University of Tampa. When discharged, he began studies at the University of South Florida and attained his Associate and Bachelor degrees. In 1977, Dr. Singer attained his chiropractic doctorate from Logan College of Chiropractic in St. Louis, Missouri. He has had over 500 poems published in magazines, on the Internet and in books. His poetry has appeared in Westward Quarterly, Black Book Press, Avocet, SP Quill, The Unrorean, Underground Voices, Language & Culture and The Tipton Poetry Journal. Contact
~~~~~
CERTAINLY UNCERTAIN
by Patricia Crandall
The wind is springtime melodious
the sun, a reflection of light
yet on the ground late last evening
appeared a bonnet of winter white
PATRICIA CRANDALL has three books in print: a thriller, THE DOG MEN, a historical volume, MELROSE: THEN AND NOW, and a poetry book, I PASSED THIS WAY. She is currently working on an adventure/thriller novel and a book of bottle mining adventures. She lives with her husband on a lake in the Grafton Mountains in upstate New York. Contact Website
~~~~~
LOVE YOU
by Debbie Hilbish
love you
when the sun comes up
and when the moon goes down
love you
in all fashions
love you
round n round
love you
in the corners
love you
up and down
love you
with a noisy heart
that does not make a sound
Never doubt my love for you
there is
no place
it can’t be found
~~~~~
HEART-SHAPED COCOON (For Denise)
by Jason Sturner
A folding of your wings;
home from gliding
across
the clouds.
You’re weeping—
you’ve discovered
that eternity
exists.
Now you understand
why we hurt so badly:
You saw love without its veil,
and the gossamer threads which lift you,
which pull you straight down;
which brought us together,
which tossed us apart.
But we’re still in love.
We always have been.
We’re only transforming our love
into something new,
into something better.
Hence our lonely days, our poetic hearts;
in separate beds, in perpetual dark.
I once had wings
and that same urge to fly.
And I did, and I stood at the edge,
and I wept your same tears.
Yes, I once had wings too—
who do you think gave them to you?
JASON STURNER was born and raised in the western suburbs of Chicago, and currently lives in Knoxville, Tennessee. He has published four books of poetry, and his work has appeared in Nomad’s Choir, Time & Space Magazine, and The DuPage Valley Review. Contact Website
TRUE LOVE TRIUMPHS
by Floriana Hall
True love is tender words of endearment
Never harsh words of harassment
True love is knowing yourself and being true
To the special person who tries to know you.
True love is gentle and does not expect too much
Beyond kindness and respect and caring ways.
True love makes the lover a better person
Because of who they become when they are with you
True love does not make you cry
True love takes your hand and touches your heart
But sets you free to be apart.
True love makes life worth living
And if you find it, you will be forgiving
When even true love makes minor mistakes
Like forgetting an anniversary
Or acquiring some irritating habit
Because no one is perfect.
As true love grows older, there is compassion
And understanding greater than action.
True love lives on forever.
FLORIANA HALL is the author of twelve books, six nonfiction and six inspirational poetry books. She and her husband have been married for 63 years and they have five children, nine grandchildren and four great-grandchildren. Her nonfiction book, FRANCIS, NOT THE SAINT has recently been translated into Spanish (FRANCISCO, NO EL SANTO). Her poetry book SELECT SANDS OF RHYME AND REASON and young children's book SIMPLE PLEASURES are now available at Cyberwit.net and Amazon.com. She has published two new books including MISS FLOSSIE'S WORLD- Coping with Adversity During The Great Depression Then and the Recession Now (2011) and POEMS OF BEAUTIFUL OHIO - Then and Now (2011) which she compiled for THE POET'S NOOK. All of her books are available on Amazon.com. Floriana teaches poetry at www.LSSWritingSchool.com under YOU, ME, AND POETRY. Contact Website Website
~~~~~
MY VALENTINE
by Susan Marie Davniero
Here is my heart
Lest us never part
Love alters not
Passions of hot
No one ever loved
As my beloved
Wedded in time
My Valentine
Here is my heart
Lest us never part
Love alters not
Passions of hot
No one ever loved
As my beloved
Wedded in time
My Valentine
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| VALENTINE CAT, Credit: Susan Marie Davniero |
AUTHOR’S NOTE: For Valentine's Day I drew a cat illustration holding a heart sending the message of love. As a cat lover, cats can hold one's heart. The subject is love. Cat lovers and all lovers unite. Happy Valentine's Day to all!
~~~~~~~~~~~~~
february celebrity poet
Samuel Taylor Coleridge
(1772 – 1834)
nationality: english
Samuel Taylor Coleridge – Credit: Public Domain
LOVE
All thoughts, all passions, all delights,
Whatever stirs this mortal frame,
All are but ministers of Love,
And feed his sacred flame.
Oft in my waking dreams do I
Live o'er again that happy hour,
When midway on the mount I lay,
Beside the ruined tower.
The moonshine, stealing o'er the scene
Had blended with the lights of eve;
And she was there, my hope, my joy,
My own dear Genevieve!
She leant against the arm{'e}d man,
The statue of the arm{'e}d knight;
She stood and listened to my lay,
Amid the lingering light.
Few sorrows hath she of her own,
My hope! my joy! my Genevieve!
She loves me best, whene'er I sing
The songs that make her grieve.
I played a soft and doleful air,
I sang an old and moving story—
An old rude song, that suited well
That ruin wild and hoary.
She listened with a flitting blush,
With downcast eyes and modest grace;
For well she knew, I could not choose
But gaze upon her face.
I told her of the Knight that wore
Upon his shield a burning brand;
And that for ten long years he wooed
The Lady of the Land.
I told her how he pined: and ah!
The deep, the low, the pleading tone
With which I sang another's love,
Interpreted my own.
She listened with a flitting blush,
With downcast eyes, and modest grace;
And she forgave me, that I gazed
Too fondly on her face!
But when I told the cruel scorn
That crazed that bold and lovely Knight,
And that he crossed the mountain-woods,
Nor rested day nor night;
That sometimes from the savage den,
And sometimes from the darksome shade,
And sometimes starting up at once
In green and sunny glade,—
Read the entire poem at:
For the poet’s biography, see:
Quoted for educational purposes only.
All work the copyright of the respective authors.
All work the copyright of the respective authors.
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