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Welcome to Day 8 of the 2012 April Write – the Poets Jubilee Olympiad.

Today is a VERY special day. It’s a Free Verse day! Which means you are allowed to write a poem on whatever topic you feel a burning desire, need or inspiration to.

You may also continue on the same theme that another person has shared for today if you’d like to.

I hope you will have fun and really let loose with your creativity and share those poems you have been holding back so far this month.

But remember, no erotic poetry please, because we have a day reserved just for that, coming up soon!

Please watch the video and hear my piece called ‘My Little African Soul’

Day 8 of the April Write is a Free Verse Day, with no set topic to hold you back, post on this or any other theme you like.





13 responses »

  1. Gay Reiser Cannon (fb group member)

    AND NOW…

    another day’s
    yesterday all bud gooey
    today fully formed two iris hands
    bow to kiss lips over golden chins
    my apple crunches breakfast tart
    and sweetens morning on a branch
    a mockingbird makes new noise
    almost like the whir of fans or starting up
    my new red car’s motor and
    off to meet very old friends
    trilling heart to Tchaihovsky’s violin
    Pinchas playing concerto with Israeli
    orchestrating my day as I find them
    restaurant happy fills word by history and
    many by mixed up with moves and dogs
    children in swimming pools or moving
    where oh, Arkansas & fixing up
    served with salad and quiche
    again the new car honks and waving
    bye the music moves to Bobby Hackett
    I’ll Be Seeing You as I get home the
    afternoon filters poetry of my current
    floatlight and soft shadows
    thinking fluttery about how
    or maybe tomorrow’s an envelope
    colorwrapped of then
    but tastes of now
    waiting for the transparent
    texture of next

    (c)8th April 2012 Gay Reiser Cannon

  2. Tolu Agbelusi (fb group member)

    If they told me death was the destination
    I’d turn around, find another way instead
    If they said my blood would suffice
    I’d renegotiate, everything has another price
    If I could choose gain and just skip the pain
    They won’t have to ask me twice

    If I was God looking down
    Would I really come down to this?
    Beautiful people acting ugly
    Transient emotions trapping freed people
    Brothers killing brothers just for money
    Prosperity preachers getting richer of the poor’s pocket money
    I would not come down to this
    But he did

    Seeing the cross he kept going
    Perceiving their thirst for blood
    He was forgiving
    Seeing me as I am
    He was accepting
    There was no negotiating
    No relenting
    He just took the pain
    Said I was worth it as his gain

    So my Easter is everyday
    I know I can’t repay him
    My Easter is everyday
    I’m thanking God Jesus saved me.

    (c)8th April 2012 Tolu Agbelusi

  3. Mark Paleologo (fb group member)

    city of light

    she sat back
    red dragon dress
    with deadly pumps
    i was in
    survivor’s boat
    cool with a splash
    bourbon cologne
    and no anchor
    she coos
    too close
    with fabulously french
    paris is ours
    glasses removed
    the way the light
    dances on the tips
    of each wave are there
    and i am drifting
    further from land
    my hands make
    a decision the
    small of her
    back allows
    where she starts
    where i end
    this light
    i say
    becomes you

    (c)8th April 2012 mark palelogo

  4. Shani Cruz (fb group member)

    This month has brought
    out the best and
    worst in me
    I stick it out
    with conviction
    while others fade
    behind dishonesty
    I wonder who will
    take my 100 %
    and triple it
    without judgment
    obligation or a
    sense of pity
    (c)8th April 2012 Shani Cruz

  5. Justice Clarke (fb group member)

    No Face Killer by Flowetic Justice

    The silent stalker that lurks in the shadows of the mind

    hidden away in the recess of the mental fabric

    held sinfully warm under the shroud of self loathing

    he is there within us all

    for three are moments when we all begin to fall

    the voice that wails so cruelly when we fail

    the decisions made have consequences of unseen weight

    the wrongs done to the good

    provide the fuel for the murderer in the hood

    the nightmares that plague us time after time

    in the murky waters of where the mind creeps

    hold the key to the cell containing our world of buried fear

    the secrets held behind the public smile

    the diary of the dirty deeds done so very cheep

    some of us are still cursed to weep in our slumber

    while others build their walls of bricks and lumber

    as the killer with no face patiently waits

    and looks for the exit into the reality of your day

    so he can lead the way

    he is there winking from the corner of the room

    when the clouds turn smokey gray

    he flicks the switch that causes the lights to flash

    when one thinks for the briefest of moments

    they cannot go on

    when you hear the sadness of the sirens song

    when you see yourself cast upon the river Styx

    in the fallen floating memories of sifting ash

    this too shall pass so it has been said

    but the killer with no face dances gleefully in your head

    the time when those of us ingest poison into our souls

    when the veins constrict from the needles twitch

    when the lungs burn hot from the putrid smoke

    and the harsh winds of addiction blow

    he is there with each breath puffed hard

    into the billows of a ghost ship

    that sails on the shivering rivers of the dead sea

    waiting for you

    waiting for me

    to board the solace of it’s empty decks

    God help us all

    when the elixir of false bravado is consumed

    and your head begins to swoon

    until the rooms tilts on it’s axis

    and the crime becomes the the sum of the common practice

    and the wheel is turned

    in the steel juggernaut of gas and oil driven death

    weaves in the lanes in preparation to strike the innocent

    so the windshield shatters and nothing seems to matter

    he is there riding shotgun

    hoping the next turn will meet the dead end

    our sinister friend

    the no face killer

    and if by chance you survive the drunken race

    he will still be lurking


    until you learn that life is a gift given not to be taken lightly

    for the killer with no face waits nightly

    held tightly in our psyche

    he is there in all of us so we must pray on bended knee

    that he shall never be free

    for we will become one of the many victims

    whose names are written

    on the hollow halls and grimy subway cars

    lifeless billboards and tenement walls

    stained words of remembrance

    grafted in their bitter sweet assemnblence

    but how soon they are forgotten

    flesh in the cold wet earth slowing rotting

    while only one visitor comes to the tombstone

    unswayed in the rain by the cold grey grave

    the journeyman of the mental slave

    as he whispers into the chill of the cemetery

    Lord help me and save me

    from for the killer with no face

    Thoughts of a Single Man 2012tm

  6. Tarringo T. Vaughan (fb group member)

    These Words

    Sitting here thinking, reminiscing
    about how back then
    the world seemed cruel and life through my eyes
    was filled with rules – I was a young child,
    age of five and so newly alive,
    taught early the streets as a source to survive
    I write these words
    so glad I’m alive

    and as I look back at what I’ve been through,
    life was hard and struggled was true
    but I faced the challenge
    to become someone new

    sitting here listening, hearing
    my heart beat proud
    with palpitations of my life
    thumping out loud.
    Nothing came easy, even from the womb
    I was scared;
    the ghetto was my playground
    and everything around me flawed – I was a young child,
    age of five and so newly alive,
    trained to stand on my own feet
    driven and able to survive
    I write these words
    so glad I’m alive

    and as I look back at what I’ve been through,
    life was hard and struggle was true
    but I faced the challenge
    to become someone new.

    Sitting here watching, seeing all I’ve done
    I was able to overcome
    Just to become someone.
    I no longer speak with a silent tongue
    as my heart studies the portrait
    of a mother who died young.
    So many thoughts and memories
    of how we had it so rough
    it is because of her that I grew to be tough—I was a young child,
    age of five and so newly alive,
    allowed to battle defeat
    and with strength I did survive
    I write these words

    So glad I’m alive.

    © 2012 Tarringo T. Vaughan

  7. Halim Flowers’ write for Day 8
    (written from inside a Washington DC prison)

    At night sometimes……..
    I think of you
    And if you are alone
    WHY are you alone
    Or maybe that furry creature
    Is asleep beside you
    In your bed to keep you warm
    I often wonder
    How someone so wonderful
    Could not experience the wonders of love
    So close
    So often
    Every night
    But then I’m reminded
    Every night before my eyes close
    How cold this world is
    And how warm you
    But how evil it all seems
    To have someone like you
    Sleeping all alone
    And even though it would make me violently jealous
    I often do wish
    That it was someone else there
    To keep you warm
    Even if its not me
    Even though I know that he will never be good enough for you
    But before I doze off at night
    And I’m alone in bed
    I’m selfless
    Because I don’t want you to feel
    What I have felt
    For the last sixteen years……
    The feeling of loneliness at night
    And in the morning……

    (c)8th April 2012 Halim A Flowers

  8. Karen Stally (fb group member)

    I see in a mirror darkly
    knowing only partly
    feeling the fullness of this weight
    the entire sweet wholeness
    of this state
    i’ve waited…
    and waited…
    i’ve been learning patience
    as i wonder and search for where my next break is
    or when i’ll stop
    stop breaking
    just STOP.
    it almost feels …
    like a state of weight – less – ness
    as though
    out there
    billions of light years away…
    there’s- just – me
    astronautically floating
    m o t i o n s l o w e d
    observing planets stars and galaxies being born
    unfazed by the miracle of THIS life
    existing quietly
    pushed to outside of it
    learning the melodies of angels
    the harmonies
    im soaring with eagles
    seen the scurry below
    as they run and they run in search of gold.
    (c)April 2012 Karen Stally

  9. Bayley Marina

    I want to feel the words on the page
    The images they create to blaze
    I want to have them guide the way at the end of a very long day
    I want to have them dance around in my head
    Create colours and those little swirling things
    I want them to touch the inner me
    the me that is always waiting wanting to be free
    Free to explore the pen on the page
    Free to enjoy the colours of the day
    Free to stop and think
    Free to watch the day
    Free to not have to play
    Free to think of a different way
    I just want to feel the word on the page
    See them in a purple sunset haze
    So please continue to play
    Extend your ink for me to see
    As I need to feel something, today
    so won’t you please put some words on the page
    let them crease my mind in a multitude of ways
    (c)8th April 2012 Marina Bayley



    Even whilst the evidence stares them in the face
    Even when the whole world’s watching the case
    Even when the perpetrator admits their guilt
    Even when they spurt out vile abusive filth
    Even while yet another of our children lays slain
    Even then they look for someone else to blame

    Blame the youth
    Even though in truth
    They know they did nothing wrong
    To them it’s a game to play along

    Blame their parents
    Blame their garments
    Blame their communities
    Blame their families

    Blame hip hop and rap
    Blame the hoodie and the hijab
    Blame ‘stay at home’ mothers
    Blame absent fathers

    Blame religion and culture
    Blame race and colour
    Blame language and dialect
    Blame it on a lack of respect

    But ignore the governments that failed the youth
    Ignore politicians that peddled lies not truth
    Ignore the cuts that removed support for parents
    Ignore the revenue from purchase of the garments
    Ignore the cuts to services and communities
    Ignore the poverty and stress for the families

    Ignore the bosses’ profits from hip hop and rap
    Ignore the prejudice of attacking the hoodie and hijab
    Ignore the high cost of childcare impacting the mothers
    Ignore the positive role of the good fathers
    Ignore the enrichment through religion and culture
    Ignore the beauty of different races and colour
    Ignore the history that led to different languages and dialect
    Ignore the blatant disregard hypocrisy and disrespect

    Of blaming but not accepting responsibility
    Of murdering but total lack of accountability
    Of pillaging, stealing, injustice, corruption
    Of deepening poverty and deprivation

    Ignore but you can never cover up and sweep away
    The brutal taking of lives and not expect to pay
    For failures to prevent or see that justice is served
    Because we will ensure our voices will be heard
    As we speak up and out with the truth
    Against the demonisation of our youth

  11. Lana Joseph Blue Sliding Doors
    “By LJ”

    Past pains leave ghost shadows lingering to plague the strong
    admitting that I could no longer be strong was not an option…
    I had my share of feeding egos all day long

    At the head of the line, eager to welcome another vision…
    there I was waiting to wear the crimson veil of another story
    even then… I continued to give God the glory…

    At what point does one stop spoon feeding the dead?
    I always believed that soul busters only deficated on the willing… and I was not
    Can a soul ever grow tired of eating lies filled with lead?

    What possible gain can one achieve by staining arteries with colorful dye?
    Do they not realize that we too have seen the Matrix… and choose to say NO to the Bull shyt?
    I’ve been through Blue Sliding Doors and I came through by truths eye

    Those ghost shadows spilled blue black blood over me
    I chose clarity over strength… for I had been strong for way to long… no longer
    that’s when I knelt down on bended knees and cried out master please

    I was slipping to that place between dead and undead…
    clarity is a good thing
    I broke through the blue… my veins bled red again
    No longer did I need to house the enemy in my blind bosom

    I needed no more dead caucuses trying to steal what does not belong to them

    my angelic sacred inner voice… god within… r
    eminded me that I am His

    and He is Alpha and Omega…
    those who show disdain is not my beginning nor end

    because I chose Him… and the inner god me… the war is already a Win
    because I chose to Exit the Blue Sliding Doors… I chose Victory

    I waved good-bye to my past… there’s no need to look back
    there’s no need to always be strong to survive when you have Him


    Because all I need to do is keep stating Facts and tell the truth!
    ~And So what! This is my life!

    F@ck it to those who cannot understand me…
    becaue they are too busy brewing negativity

    Now It’s cool… because I’m through
    I said bye-bye to blue sliding doors.

    Copyright © 2012 LJ
    MCN-LN69321960QAJS All Rights Reserved.

  12. Chelle Lee “PUT IT ON ME”

    Got me smiling
    At the very thought of you
    I’m caught up
    In your sexiness
    And the crevices
    Of your sweet caress
    The tenderness
    Of your kisses
    Have me missing you—
    I’m addicted, boo…

    Our bodies intertwining
    Into a slow, sensual grind
    And I’m craving you
    Like candy—
    When you plant me
    ‘Round your hips
    Have me biting my lip
    While I ride—
    And cum runs down my thighs.

    Don’t know what it is
    But, you ‘bout it, daddy…
    You had me
    With the long stroke
    And banged it out
    ‘Til the condom broke—
    I’ll gladly take it
    But, truth be told?
    Hoping this lasts…
    Without moving too fast.

    (in dedication…)

    “The Missing Ink”
    All Rights Reserved ® 2012

  13. Justice Chikandamina

    IN YOU

    In you i have seen me
    Life did come to form
    Now i breath these lines
    Punctuated with firing desires
    Would you blame me
    If without mincing my words
    I simply took you by the hand
    And spoke directly
    Looking you straight in the eyes
    “No more time wasting
    I really want to be your Sire!!!”
    (c)April 2012 Justice Chikandamina


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