Poetry Wall

Below is the (soon to be) grand Poetry Wall. Feel free to post your poetry to appear below; please also write your country name below the poem. Copyright of your work remains with you. World travelers will stop here to draw forth imagination and emotions from your poetry. Scroll down at the bottom of this page to enter your poem. You will need to be logged in.

  1. The Faith of Fishermen (On St. Peter´s Day)

    In adoration, from the promenade, I watch
    Giant rosary beads bob all along the bay,
    In dawn´s liquid gold they lay,
    Pulled in by the hands of old disciples of the purest faith;
    “What will the nets hold for us today?”

    In reparation, on the esplanade, they work
    Giant rosary beads pass softly through their hands,
    Pausing and praying at every knot
    A purer faith there cannot be;
    “Cast your net and wait and see.”


  2. Martin Knox

    The National Debt Revisited
    -That Special Purpose Vehicle-

    Furtive schemes were formed in frenzied viral cultures,
    Flouting hard-won citizens’ rights,
    While our hard-earned silver’s seized
    By opportunistic, unconscionable vultures.

    60 billion of debt attached
    To a debt-ridden, muted citizen,
    Secret deals were hatched
    Outlandishly and preposterously political.

    While in the very safest hands,
    Bets were honoured at the starting price-
    All wagers well respected,
    In our rapacious, investors’ paradise.

    It’s not too much to expect
    That bankers do a well-paid job,
    And show a modicum of respect
    For those of us they rob.


    Our respected Minister’s stumped,
    Harvard Attorneys ascend the stairs,
    In pinstripe, well pressed suits
    And pseudo-sophisticated airs.

    Now, that’s the Special Purpose Vehicle,
    That’s the Henry VIII clause,
    Another moronic Executive Order,
    Exploited furtively to sustain,
    A disturbingly, anti-social cause.

    Republic of Ireland
    28th October 2017

  3. i am peace s p e a k i n g

    come talk to me in the woods
    run to me in the forest of greens
    breathe me beneath the uprooted trees
    watch me inside the nest
    of mother and offspring

    i stay in the drizzles
    when you mourn and weep
    i will send snowflakes
    and touch your frosted cheeks
    i am in the hallelujas of all faces
    i am in the oil of your lamp
    i am not away
    i am with you
    as you open and close your eyes

    i roam between the jails and justice
    sometimes inside the cells of unwanted voices
    i am trying miracles
    between the thrones and throngs
    i have loved you and loving you
    from stones, boulders and towers,
    i was there when the waves
    cast away the sand of fading hopes
    moving me to the ivory coast

    i am in your heart
    rejoicing in silence.

    ~Caroline Nazareno-Gabis ( Ceri Naz) 3/02/2013/PHILIPPINES

  4. AnEvening

    A yellow-crimson glow stalking,
    From brown mountains at horizon.
    The half hidden Sun rays,
    A gleam of hope for the morrow.
    The birds, homeward, in a row,
    Like a bow in the twilight sky.
    The lowing herds slowly walk over the grey pavement,
    The herdsmen plod their weary way.
    The dust clouds all over, cloaking the vision thickly
    The mysterious early black time;
    The trees acquire a cloak of ghostly figures,
    Behind them glimmering of eve lamps,
    Coming from distant houses, signal the parting day.
    Faint church bells remind the presence of The Almighty,
    The aura of spirituality all over indicates the futility of life.
    Look! The evening star “Hesperus”
    Giving bright early light in the west,
    His companion, the half crescent moon,
    A delicate soothing image in the starry immense.
    Now the Sun goes for his westerly adobe.
    In the village, wise and elderly are interacting
    On a stony –round pavement below a banyan tree.
    This is divine dusk time, reminding the inevitable to
    You, A Feeble Mankind.

  5. The Way

    2500 years worth of practice is the amount.
    Calm, still, and silent: there is a behavior.
    Don’t judge, don’t advise, and don’t compete.
    Don’t preach, don’t be violent, don’t be prideful.
    Practice the way everyday in all it’s manifestations.
    How to practice truth and faith in all our affairs: awareness, relaxation, meditation and creative visualization.
    The ultimate self-improvement is the way.
    Because we belong to life, not the other way around.

    Michael Taylor, Canada


    Her voice –
    With a melody that echoed through the dark chamber,
    She sang her song as the nightingale wept,
    Her red lips rounded, her throat suspended;
    A soprano of notes floated onto the humid summer night.

    All was silent in that moment-
    The crickets lulled as if hypnotized by a siren’s call,
    The breeze enslaved carried the tune across the village square;
    Men boozing held beer bottles to their chests,
    Women cooking sighed as they mingled posho with tired arms,
    Toothless babes smiled recognizing the sweet lullaby

    Like forever did we listen;
    A heavenly solo that one would die to hear,
    Suddenly – the song came to a jarring halt
    And just as the night before,
    a blood curling wail
    pierced through the darkness
    The villagers nodded their heads in unison exclaiming
    ‘That is Nyamwezi, the deranged widow’

    By Paula Biraaro

    silence black silence surrounds,scare danger and dark is only around,
    bold, fearless is getting fear of unsafe and scare ,
    innocent ,dry eyes are wetting with rolling tears,
    charm happiness finds the sorrow its soul,
    glowing flowers of spring loves the barred autumn,
    loving drizzling of rain stops years back,
    fresh white color of snow is looking black giving fear of it,
    hating the spring which loves the autumn,
    real spring of love is nowhere to find ,somewhere gets lost ,
    hoping spring to come and autumn to go,
    the waiting hours are too long,
    perhaps in its wait, the seeds would die,
    with the hope of love spring to come


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