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WELCOME TO WEB POETS PAGE 21


A SUMMER SUNSET



How nice it would be if it were summer again
With the soft touch of a warm night breeze
To take the chill out of the Autumn wind
And we could watch the sun set over the lake.



For what could be more beautiful
Than the fiery glow of the sun
As it brushes the clouds with
Shades of deep pinks and soft reds
That sets the sky aglow

The fading touch of summer light
Reflects across the stillness of the lake
It's mirrored surface drinks in
The blackness of night.



As the last bright rays caress your face
The cooling sun sinks behind
The shadows of the mountains
To end the beauty of a summer sunset.
by Jeanne S. Ashley

CONFUSION
Voices running in my headLeaves no room to thinkGuess I should have stayed in bedCause this life really stinks.

You realize you don't belongAnd wonder where you should beKnowing your life is all wrongNot clear enough to see.

Have to stop asking myself whyEverything feels so badWith each day that passes byYou only end up being sad.

It's time to push through the treesAnd leave the world behindWanting and needing to be just meIf it takes forever to find.
Copyright 1996- Jeanne S. Ashley

TO FEEL YOU
You enter my soul And caress my body Feeling and exploring it’s depths With each touch. The heat and friction Consumes your fire The gentleness Turns to passion. Desire builds till You can no longer control it Your soul explodes And it’s beautiful To hold you in my arms. Copyright 1996-J.S. Ashley

UNSHED TEARS
MANY UNSPOKEN WORDS ARE SEEKING POWER TO SPEAK MANY UNREAD POEMS ARE SEEKING HONUR OF MEED MANY NIGHTS ARE SEEKING DAY TO MAKE THE DREAM COME TRUE MANY DEATHS ARE SEEKING LIFE TO GET THROUGH MANY LOOSERS ARE SEEKING GOALS TO WIN MANY ENDS ARE SEEKING WAY TO BEGIN MANY RESTLESS ARE SEEKING PATH OF TRANQUILITY MANY UNEQUAL ARE SEEKING PLEASURE OF EQUALITY AND LOOKING ALL THESE THINGS AROUND ME MY UNSHED TEARS ARE SEEKING PERMISSION TO ROLL DOWN ON MY CHEEKSBY FARAH
THE BIG RED BALOONThis is my big red balloon Its like a flower bloom I like it very much I never pop it I always hop it My father bought it for me For the sum of ten rupees I throw it up and down Its just like a painted clown ......RIJAA........
RIJAA IS FARAH'S 6 YEAR OLD DAUGHTER
CLICK HERE TO GO TO FARAH'S POETRY PAGE FROM PAKISTAN

POEM BY SHERYL
The Prayer I woke up this morning in a room not quite my own, And I knew in an instant it was really not my home. My parents, standing over me, were crying. And I read it in their eyes that I was dying. My mind was very foggy, but I recalled the distinct memory of it all. An invitation was received in last nights mail, and to join their fine affair, I would not fail. We arrived at the house at half past nine, and I felt I never have a better time. Until our exit, three-o-three I think, I ignored the driver who'd had a wee bit much to drink, but myself, not wanting to be tardy, sat back as he drove wild from the party. And now, with blistering tears running down my face, the only thing I can feel is deep disgrace. I felt a cloth being pulled over my head, and a empty scream echoed "I'M NOT DEAD" The doctor said to my crying mother, "it seems she was a victim of drunken driving" I never wanted it to end this senseless way so much to live , someone to love, please let me stay! The tears I cry now are inner shed It now comes over me that I am dead. My heart is beating, can't you see? What is this thumping pain inside of me? Protect my family, Lord I pray For when I meet up with them some day, I'll beg and plead, for can't you see? I never thought it could happen to me. Amen!!

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