14 lines — Vol. 1: Issue 4

poetry … in just fourteen lines

Continuing with the beauty of poetry in just fourteen lines.

When Willows Wept — Garry Spooner

Beneath the weeping willow tree we sat,
Into each other’s love-struck eyes we stared,
Reclined ‘pon Mother Nature’s leafy mat,
Our lips so close that ev’ry breath we shared.
The gentle brook meandered at our feet,
I cupped your breast you did not shy away,
The essence of your love did smell so sweet,
O how we felt that time stood still that day.
So long ago it all seems now since then,
A distant reverie that still remains,
My mind I cast back to my youth and when,
The wind and willows whispered their refrains.
 These trees remained for oh so many years,
 Bowed down their boughs to feed the stream with tears

(N)ever — Ferrick Gray

To never see your beauty deep within,
To never live your dreams,
To never think believing will begin,
To never love it seems.
To never know the one to hold you tight,
To never feel their touch,
To never lay beside that one at night,
To never sense this much.
To never taste the kiss that lingers long,
To never hear a sigh,
To never be protected or belong,
To never truly fly.
Now with the one you’ve long been looking for;
Each never becomes ever evermore.

Sweet Ariel  Elusive Me

Like ocean waves, tears crash forth from her eyes,
 Soft light refracts to catch her broken dreams,
He whispers love, to gently heal her seams
 And weaves a song, to lift her sorrowed cries.
Now Neptune calls to wind; bring forth sunrise
 And wraps his love in clouds of softest creams,
He dulls the roar of waves to gentle streams
 And with his rod, the rising tide now dies.
Sweet Ariel, why dost my sweetheart frown?
 You see that i have calmed this raging sea,
 Come down from heavens gentle, calm embrace,
I’ll wrap thee in the finest seaweed gown.
 All creatures now, know you belong to me ,
 With me my queen, it’s time to take your place.

A Man’s Day — Mark A Bryan

A dive, in the under water castle,
The cave was still open, when, I came near,
I swam journeying inside rock Basel,
Small matter of life, swam pass me bare.
The water was cool, flowing steadily,
I can see sun light again, bright as day,
Quick I reach the top for air readily,
That was wonderful, I lay on the bay.
Did not look back, I walked dreaming of cone,
I wanted to relive some youthful wish,
Who say dogs, go to heaven is a clone,
Free diving, again will be a nice dish.
Going for a drive should be easier.
Got home parked, the car and felt much lighter.

A Sleepless Night — Mark A Bryan

O take me lady dear, lest I lose love,
For if I wait, my soul will fade away,
So great the need, your body sweet, my dove,
And leave your garden never this, I pray.
Baby, in your eyes, can I see, my face,
Make your beauty, always brighten my day,
May I give you, this rose, come to my place,
Can I close, the door and ask you to stay.
Let hate, be buried and love, the winner,
Will my date, be the most, perfect lady,
May we sit at the table for dinner,
Still I, love to hear, you say grace, baby.
Let my next wish, come true and be my wife,
Love is the, reason I need you, in life.

What You Left Behind — Michael Montoya

Your words drop like sweet rain
 flowing into my brain …
 electric pulsing …
 exciting the senses … convulsing
 it was the only thing
you forgot to take …
when you broke my heart …
now I am but a whisper
 of wind … maybe sounds
 that moves curtains
in memories … like music
 spinning … floating across
space and time …
all the while … blurred in colors

Hope Is That Brightest Star — Niamh Serendipity

That chill, of a clear night; strikes at the soul
Moonlight, shall not warm; the heart, nor love’s face
Gulls rise, on the wind; by night, to patrol
With that wind, love sailed; away from that place.
Borne by the high tide; to where, she knows not
To seas far away; where time is that thief
Drowning, of lost love; in sorrow, besot
Mirrors see loss; faced by only pained grief.
That tauntress rises; with each passing moon
A cliff top, of yearning; lost by the sea
Awaiting news; which cannot come too soon
Or love’s sweet return; that she might soar free.
Searching the horizon, seeking love’s light
Through her tears, the starlight shines; twice as bright.

Enchantment from a Winged Archer’s Bow — Niamh Serendipity

Your beauty, to these eyes; has no compare
I long to see you; when you’re miles away
Yet, when I’m close to you; I feel aware
And should you have to leave; I wish you’d stay.
Every day, lived; with your company
Lifts up the mind; needs no effort, at all
My heart, beats twice as fast; is so set free
And when we laugh and smile, I feel your thrall.
That happiness, you bring; the heart invades
An ecstasy, that lifts a soul; up high
Taking us, to sunlit; enchanted glades
Where songbirds soar; to sing, there in that sky.
When Eros shot that dart; from up above
He knew, he had, first dipped it; in your love.

Kantate — Ferrick Gray

Within my holy sepulcher I lie
And yearn the resurrection of my voice.
My tonic vocal chambers qualify,
To sing your mind, well-tempered and rejoice!
Though cold, my iv’ry fingers warm to yours,
Each touch anticipates the rendered sounds,
And contrapuntal hands meet sweet applause,
As sounds effuse through silence — Silence drowns!
But now, my voice released, it shall not fade,
And ever in your mind will thus remain,
To reminisce of harmonies we made
When we as one, our union did ordain.
 Now let me sing our song; a passion rare:
 And Silence! Come, repress me, if you dare!

Love Song — Mark A Bryan

Nature sing her songs for many to hear,
And my lover cared, she always drink beer,
For her love is like a garden, sweet air,
But her romance, she know, touch softly dear.
When daylight find us in bed, lovers wake,
We give each other kisses,rest in bed,
I know that she is a healer, mind sake,
When I am home I make a wish ahead.
All night I was waiting, what did she said,
We tried to prepare breakfast and got bent,
And I said thank you baby and I fed,
When I tried to do the dishes, we knelt.
How she always like to see me, now life,
What did I do wrong, that made her my wife.

Mutantkind — Aphorim

I had to keep half the mad hiss
along side the blind song of madness
a blooming fog looming long
across the stone walls of the fortress
we forget
we forfeit
our bodies to atonal rest
eyelids closing as we bought these movements
in the dusk we stuck our breaths to stone currents
bodies in atonal rest
it hides the pent up
inside you I rent

Poetic Knight — Elusive Me

Thy ink flows upon mine skin in sweet plays,
Words etched with embers that burn deep and slow,
Heartstrings melt, silken threads like golden rays,
Thy heat radiates til I’m sunset’s glow.
Heady is thy cursive script like perfumes,
Stirring inside the need to inhale deep,
Intoxicate mine heart so love consumes,
Each word hidden treasure, to chest I’ll keep.
Oh knight whose metal, cast in finest mesh,
Whose sword is fashioned in words made sublime,
Thou art dost entwine touch to mind and flesh,
Thy words ripple beyond measure of time.
 Thou hast found the way into mine mind’s seam
 Am I now lost to dream within this dream?

Practice Pentameter — Garry Spooner

Alas no time to write today at all,
The hours ticked by a race against the clock,
Now sleep is close, and to my bed I crawl,
I pen some lines to stave off writers block.
It started as a quatrain nothing more,
The lines just came and wrote themselves for me,
I knew not what my writing had in store,
Just practice pentameter can’t you see?
But dreams are calling now my precious friends
And on the morn I’ll rise before the lark,
The stars now burning bright as night descends,
I hope someday my ink will leave its mark,
 I leave you with these metered lines I wrote
 Goodnight I wish you all here in this note.

Nevermore — Garry Spooner

A cask of sherry, amontillado,
This room where sharpened pendulum doth swing,
A dream within a dream or is it so?
Maria’s hymn he wrote and he did sing.
The raven came a rapping at his door,
He napped in weariness and bore his grief,
Then called out in the darkness to Lenore,
This tapping growing louder, his belief.
He flung the shutters wide the bird flew in,
Beguiled his soul with just a single word,
Was talking with this raven such a sin?
To quoth the raven nevermore absurd?
 The writings of this master of the quill,
 Were penned by his own hand with such great skill.

There is no limit as to how many pieces appear from a particular poet. These poems are added in the order they appear in our community.

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