** POEMS OF THE DAY – WORLDWIDE POETRY **

** POEMS OF THE DAY **

** SELECTED FROM THE WORLDWIDE POETRY FACEBOOK PAGE **

..

EACH DAY I WILL SELECT A FEW OF THE BEST POEMS POSTED ON MY ALL NEW FACEBOOK PAGE

WORLDWIDE POETRY 

CLICK HERE TO VISIT THE WORLDWIDE POETRY FACEBOOK PAGE

FOR A CHANCE TO SEE YOUR POEM DISPLAYED HERE SIMPLY VISIT AND LIKE PAGE LINK BELOW, AND POST YOUR BEST POEMS

LINK TO FACEBOOK PAGE: CLICK HERE >> https://www.facebook.com/worldwidepoetry

CLICK HERE TO VIEW MY FACEBOOK PAGE

LINK TO FACEBOOK PAGE: CLICK HERE >> https://www.facebook.com/worldwidepoetry

(ALL POSTS WILL BE SELECTED ONLY FROM THE WORLDWIDE POETRY FACEBOOK PAGE, BY POETS WHO HAVE ALREADY LIKED THE PAGE)

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THE YOUTH OF TODAY 

POETRY BY BARRY MOWLES

..
Our modern world is changing, and everyone is busy blaming the youth of today;
But how can we blame the future, when it was us who made their world this way.
..
Our street corners are full, as our children think that it’s okay to walk into the darkness with a knife;
When did we stop teaching our kids that the greatest ever gift, is quite simply LIFE
..
.Footballers earning a million pound a month, whilst children in Africa sit crying their hunger pain;
Pier pressure is weighing down our future generations, as they begin to buckle under the strain.
..
Our children are now living in a virtual world, with MSN, Facebook and Twitter, they no longer need to speak face to face;
If only they knew time was so valuable, and a lost childhood is the one thing that no one could ever replace.
..
Girls desperate to be thin, as their air brushed idols kneel at the toilet throwing up their breakfast, lunch and tea;
A silent generation sits texting on the latest mobile, whilst playing their PS3.
..
Faces hide behind hoodies, but not all youngsters want to go out and cause a riot;
Each of us is born with a hidden gift, but our future children have just forgotten how to find it.
..
We are leaving a broken planet to our children’s children, whilst our Governments just spout hot air, adding to our global warming;
With the worlds ice caps still melting, and our wildlife slowly disappearing, this is starting to sound more like a global warning.
..
Older generations demand respect, but its one way traffic, as respect back is something they do not show;
Instead of teaching our children how to fly, we tie them down with yet another ASBO.
..
Frustration and neglect flows through the streets of this concrete jungle, the one place that we now all call our home;
Bullies and racists still torture their victims, leaving them to cry in the shadows, all on their own.
..
Plastic surgery changing bodies, changing faces, as the years pass the dreams we all had as children slowly fade away;
Before long the dawn of a new generation will begin, and no doubt people will still be blaming,The youth of today.
..
BARRY MOWLES

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ARKAJYOTI SAMANTA

Modern day living
Humility is reduced to
Offering match box to buddy
For smoking
The day sails into darkness
Daily happenings, I know
Yet, I repeat, I am fine
On occasions, I trap
The reticent life
Push and shove to get in line
For a living…

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Ancestors

JANE LYNAHAN KARKIN

Your skin is dark and beautiful –
the color of coffee
and of cocoa –
the warmth of honey, sweet cinnamon 
and allspice, and the rich tones
of mother earth.

My skin is pale and lovely –
as moon glow on a field of clover –
the dusty hue of ocean sands –
a rich mix of vanilla and cream –
and the glints of sunshine
on a single snowflake. 

Your skin remembers
the lush, tropical jungles teeming with life –
and the vibrant sounds of drums
in the vast expanse
that is Africa.

My skin remembers
the green valleys of Ireland –
the smell of peat fires –
and the chill of the wild Scottish highlands 
with their distant music of bagpipes.

Your skin recalls
the chains
and anguish of slavery.

My skin recalls
flight from oppressors
and a famine consuming a country.

We hold our ancestors
close within our hearts.
Though different, we are the same.
We embrace one another
as one multi-hued people.

© April 2 & 6, 2013 Jane Lynahan Karklin

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YOU DON’T SEE ME (AND I DON’T SEE YOU)

Kenneth Norman Cook
It begins with a turn of the head.
The eyes shift away, pretending not to see.
Think of something else. Shut off the ears.
Gotta get home. No time to bother.
Clamp the lips tight, and don’t say a word.
Walk away quickly, and blend into the crowd.
Nothing to see here. Nothing can be done.
Eyes aimed straight ahead. Ears gratefully distracted.
Refocus the mind… Walk fast… Get lost… Get away.
Out of sight now.
Out of ear-shot.
Out of range.
Out of danger.
Out of there.
It ends with a smile, and a sigh of relief.
The eyes take in the welcome sight: Home.
Open the door, and take in the sights and sounds.
Absorb it all… It’s over… It’s gone… You’re home.
“So, anything exciting happen today?”
“No… Nothing… Nothing at all.”
— Kenneth N Cook

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Awakenings

ELIZABETH CASTILLO

A cast-away soul in his solitary moment,

Floating into a never-ending circle of uncertainty

In denial of all things hitting him in the eye

Or could it be that he just can’t dare to face dire reality?

A deep-seated fear sets in rooted from the world’s cruelty.

Shielding himself from dark forces,

But wake-up calls are beyond his control

He wants to awaken from this abstract dream

Mysterious vibrations preventing him to even scream

Delusions overwhelming him in every heart beat.

A spectrum of enveloped ideas only his mind can conceive,

Out of this swirling darkness he awakened from being naïve

Bid adieu to his grueling nightmare

Awaiting for the dawning of a new day

To see the light welcoming him again.

Elizabeth E. Castillo Copyright 2013

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The Great British Weather

STEVE TANNER

Sometimes it can get you down, you can be at the end of your tether 
But what would us Brits talk about, if it wasn’t for the weather
It makes people happy or it makes them sad
Whether its good or whether its bad
It doesn’t matter if you’re young or old
No one likes to feel the cold
When it’s good you can have lots of fun
Picnics, walks , sunbathing and basking in the sun 
Walking on the beach and holding a hand
Flip flops, shorts on in the sand
Me looking cool with my shades
Kids making sandcastles with buckets and spades 
Not a single cloud in that blue sky
The temperature is soaring high
BBQ’s, Beer Garden or Ice Cream
Will it stay like this all summer, I can only dream.
Everyone wishing it could stay that way 
Then looking up and seeing the sky turn grey
Children can still play in the park or street
They can’t do that in wind and sleet 
Stuck in now it’s pouring with rain,
Kids are bored, and become a right pain
They are driving me insane
I cannot cope with no more rain
Kids jumping in puddles on the way to school
Wearing their Wellies, and making mum look a fool
She’s the one that’s soaking wet,
Can’t wait to get in and have a coffee I bet,
Walking in the blowing wind, 
Scarves, hats, and pale skinned
Some people don’t like the Thunder
The duvet they hide under,
Sometimes it is quite frightening
Especially when there’s fork lightning
Counting elephants to see if its coming or going away
Children scared and to God they pray.
The country comes to a halt when we get snow
Sledging down hills, the way to go
We can throw snow balls, and build snowmen
My toes think, it’s minus ten
Stay safe and try to stay warm
To clear the air, we need a storm 
There could be mist and freezing fog
He’s not going to walk himself, that poor dog
It’s cold, and on the ground there’s frost
A hot chocolate is needed to help me defrost
For your favourite weather make a wish
If your old enough to remember Michael Fish,
There’s nothing you can do, so don’t get annoyed
It’s not the fault of our Sian Lloyd
Don’t let it get you to the end of your tether 
Cos you can’t predict the British Weather.

STEVE TANNER

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Silence has that voracity

ARKAJYOTI SAMANTA

Pain, pleasure and word
The trinity
Silence has that voracity
Subliming urges
The truth to sprout
No wonder, it touches the heart
Every iota of creation is unique

ARKAJYOTI SAMANTA

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2 comments on “** POEMS OF THE DAY – WORLDWIDE POETRY **

  1. Pingback: *POEMS OF THE DAY – WORLDWIDE POETRY * …. a brand new feature | Poetry by Barry Mowles

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