The Sun Shines So Brightly:A Facebook Poetry Anthology by Frances Ayers-Editor (read with me .txt) 📖

I can hear harps on mid air
Lifting me up from this prolonged despair
Angels hum on my mind
Leaving my tears behind.

Beyond my wildest imagination
And this silent revelry
Their voices bring me such inspiration
Though these eyes somehow still go misty.

Their sweet voices enveloping my whole being
Though clouds continue to bring me much rain
When I get to hear their soft whispers in my ears
I can’t help but close my eyes and in a minute
There I am floating mid air.

When my angels sing
Heaven is brought right in front of my eyes
The silent sweet echoes of the past
All forgotten the ills of yesteryear's.


Elizabeth E. Castillo  2010


Dowell Oba

A skilled Nigerian Poet with a smooth uplifting flow in poetry,I hold a Bachelor of Arts and Education degree in English and Literature, from the great University of Benin, Benin City, Nigeria. My first poetry collection has been published in the USA by AuthorHouse, and is entitled, "Ocean Tide" (2011).Publications that have featured my poems include the"International Collaboration on Light and Dark" compiled by Joe Robinsmith (2011), and the 2010 World Cup edition of the ZAM Africa Magazine, Netherlands.


TEARS

Eyes stay drenched with moist,
Is gradually filled to brim.
One grain of tear comes rolling,
Unusually, without sorrow in sight.

A tear for a heart shattered to bits,
A tear for a life torn between pairs,
A tear for a mind depressed from fright,
And a tear for a loss enormous to bear.

But there's a tear shed for neither,
Solicited for a victory against odds,
Shed in delight, without sorrow in sight.
It's a tear of surprise shed in applauds
On a slow walk onto the platform;
Dazed by name echo on microphone
In conferment of an award deserving;
With heart overflowing in measure
As tears come rolling down,
Honorably welcomed in joy.



MERCURIC LIGHT

Conformed to the steady glow
Of an undying flicker,
Luminous, guided
By a mercuric light.

Shone for a while
On mirror reflections,
Quelling thy twilight,
Lasting evermore.

Drowning drowsily
And quenching in shimmer,
Shone for like ages
Reluctantly fading.

Hale and hearty,
Existing with a glare,
Vanished to the wind
In unguarded vigor

Re-igniting thy flicker,
I'll gaze into the sky,
Through thy subconscious
For my mercuric light.



REDISCOVERY

I itch to travel
Beneath the clouds,
Under the sun rays
Below the skies;
Swinging my arms
Into the mountains,
Down from marvels
Within the climes.

I yen to dignify
Beclouded scenery,
Beyond thy visions
And blurring perceptions;
Retaining vigor
In every bright sparkle,
Far from reflections
Within the climes.

I wish to quantify
The immensity of splendor,
Beneath the sun
In every shadowed lane.


James Lam

My name is James Lam, I was born in Lagos State, Nigeria on July 13, 1982 into the family of seven. I grew up studying dictionary vocabularies.I furthered my studies at the University of Lagos State to and majored in Security Operations and Management.My writing talent is divine and always inspired by my best friend the
‘Holy Ghost’.I Am the initiator of Poem Action, a custom based poetry impartation. I am a volunteer member of a Teenage NGO-where I care for and inspire children. I love caring for the children.

Like Jonah’s Pain

Inevitability of pain pound like Jonah.
Agony of the mind with endless pain
When the wind cries with voiceless pain
When you refused to listen like disobedient Jonah.

Patience and long suffering
Is the fitted for surviving pains
Patience with hope bring
Power to gain after pain.

You must be fitted to survive every pain
In this perilous hours.

It is not survival of the fittest
But the fitted for survival of the die minute.



You Are Born To Fly

An indefatigable power of endless galaxies,
An inseparable mystery, an endless
Journey of indefinable infinity, through
The starry stars, shooting above the shooting stars,
Over passing the “North Pole Stars”, through
The endless passages of the cosmos.
This is YOU!


Sandy Rivera

My name is Sandy Rivera, I live in the Midwest where we always have such beautiful autumns.I began writing poetry as a young teen.Poetry for me is a form of mental therapy;without it,I would probably have gone insane,but I also write it because I enjoy it immensely.I have had a couple of poems published,and aspire to have my own anthology published one day.I also have another book that I have written for my daughter entitled: Love Letters to my Daughters.A book I wrote which is dedicated to my kindred spirit and my lovely sister-in-law,is entitled: “The Colors of You”.I don’t prefer to write in any special form of poetry,though I do like to write short stories in verse. There is poetry in everything that is living, and it is in all of us, you just have to know how to get it to surface. I love to read poetry.I read it all the time. My two greatest mentors or muse’s if you like are Maya Angelou, and the one and only Jesus Christ. So that is really about it.I don’t want to make this too long.I just hope the poems I submit are enjoyed as I enjoy reading everyone else’s poems.


A Knock Upon My Door

There was a knock upon my door, opening it, there stood my Lord, in He walked closing the door behind Him; He looked at me, and then lifted me up from the floor, this is what He said:

“Daughter, why do you weep so and why have you fallen from faith and given in so to such woe?” “Get up and straighten yourself, for you have a much longer way to go.” “Did you not know that I would come, when your call I heard?” “Did you not know that I feel your pain and sorrow, in your every word?”

He spoke to me so softly, His voice was a melodious song to my ears, I felt so reassured, His soothing voice calmed my many fears. His eyes, oh His eyes, so clear and filled with love for me in my time of need, but then He spoke again.

“Rise up daughter, and come with me,” and He called me by name. His hand touched me ever so gently upon my cheek, then in a voice so tender and filled with mercy He said: “Do not fear my child, come rest in my arms, for I am the strength and the love you seek.”

I saw the undying love for me in His eyes, as He held me tenderly, I felt His warmth and it comforted me. My heart was filled with such happiness and love, that He, the Lord Jesus came to me from Heaven above.

I had to ask Him: “Oh my sweet Lord, is it home You have come to take me?” “Alas, my daughter, it is not that time, for you have many verses to weave and words to rhyme;” “there are many tasks left for you to do;” “Care for the ill and helping the poor, all of this and so much more.” “I’ve come to you now in your time of need, hoping you will understand and know you must tend the garden and sow the seed.” “The seed of love and new tomorrows, so you begin to weed out the pain and all of your sorrows.”

“You shall reap the rewards of all good deeds, then you will have all that you need.” “Remember, I am always with you and not very far away, call upon me and I will hear your every word you speak unto me.”

Sandy Rivera
© 1994

Oh How I Love You

When you were just a baby and I held you close to me,
I thanked God for sending you and I was as happy as can be.
And as each day passed, as you started to grow,
So did my love for you, more than I could ever know.
When you took your first step, spoke your first word,
It was the most beautiful sound that I ever heard.
The years passed quickly, as they always do,
My how you’ve grown and I’m so very proud of you.
You are smart and beautiful, so caring and sweet,
The best little girl a mother could ever hope to meet.
Sometimes we get angry and don’t always agree,
It’s okay, because it’s a part of growing up
And you will always be special to me.
You fill my heart with joy and laughter,
And happiness is all that matters.
Watching you grow has been purely pleasure,
My darling daughter, your love I will always treasure.
Oh how I love you.
© Sandy Rivera 2:94

(written for my daughter Jessica when she was just 7 years old, from my book Love Letters to my daughter)


HOUSE OR HOME

Houses are made of wood and stone,
But love is what makes a house a home.
Houses are but walls and beams,
Homes are built with love and dreams.
Time can wear down the wood and stone,
Anger can tear down the home, and let love stand alone.
The walls will crumble and the beams fall,
The ruins of love are the ashes of it all.
No crystal ball can tell what the future will bring,
But hearts that truly love, a song in the home will sing.
Fate has laid the trail we take,
But love creates fate that happiness makes.
Anger begets anger, and the heart of the home will break,
When the heart breaks, the home is no more, and nothing left to take.
It is hard to rebuild the home from ashes of the past,
It is just to sad that the love here, didn’t last.
So is this a house or a home?
I can’t answer that, because I am all alone.

© SR:99

Words

Nary do I tarry; nor do I rehearse,
A poem or a story, I have written in verse.
Would seem to sound; quite terse,
I would be afraid, put upon me, a writer’s curse.
Dare I say then, I know I could not write another verse.
When I write, it comes spontaneously, the thought,
It is a feeling, an emotion inwardly wrought.
Sometimes, I can write boldly; bright or very coldly.
Or when I am feeling serious and sensitive,
I write soft and quietly, feeling passive and pensive.
I write what comes to mind, no matter what I find.
I am who I always will be; an ever changing tide,
Always becoming, as a new me emerges; never arriving,
Yet, I know who I am at each interval of change,
Whether I accept the new me, is a part of me thriving.
I am not, or ever have been, a great conversationalist,
But through verse, I can scribe all that is in me,
It is in a way for me, a creative place, where I am free.
I don’t go about thinking to long, I just pen the words down,
Not really caring to much, about how it will sound.
I don’t know where the words come from, they just whirl about,
I pen them down in verse, just to get them out.
I write what I feel, I write what is real.
I don’t care who reads it, or what they think of it.
I just write the words as they come,
For me, it