Keep it alive

It was a poignant tale of cruelty

People called her abnormal all her life

She was just lost trying to find her way

Who were others to judge her she asks

What is normal and what is not

Those mighty people trying to sit in judgment

They need to look at their own lives first

One can be extraordinary and different

There are no normal and abnormal people

Stop putting labels on others

Look into your hearts to find compassion first

Your daily word Prompt;




Word of the day Challenge;




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Here’s To All My Olden Heroes ~ A Poem By Walt Page, The Tennessee Poet

Walt's Writings

Could it be
That I am just a child in time?
On a sleigh ride
Along the path
Of those who have gone before?
My heart remembers
The fire’s glow
Was it all real
Or just an imagined memory?

I am standing on the watchtower
of the Castle of The Ancient Ones,
looking out over battlefields
stained with the blood of my ancestors.

I raise my glass to the olden heroes
all of those who’ve gone before.
Thanks to them we have the freedoms
All the ones worth fighting for.

~The Tennessee Poet~

©Walt Page 2019 All Rights Reserved

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That Virus – a poem by Paul Vincent Cannon




“The very design of neoliberal principles is a direct attack on democracy.”  Noam Chomsky

That Virus

that virus which has destroyed
all that was collective and community
has diminished the courage of politicians
and elevated the narrow-minded profiteers
who have washed in the blood of our lives
and feasted on the carcass of hope,
a despicable breed of thugs.

©Paul Vincent Cannon


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The Butterfly, The Bee and The Tree

Charmed Chaos

“We have forgotten how to be good guests, how to walk lightly on the earth as its other creatures do.”
—Barbara Ward

The Painted Lady does not dream of fleeting fame
when flitting from flower to flower,
instead she savors every delicious sip
as she lingers amongst colorful blossoming bowers.

The honeybee does not seek righteous glory
for his life’s work gathering golden pollen
as he disperses the tiny grains to our crops
and creates amber rivers of flowing honey.

The majestic trees did not ask to be
the fallen heroes of this mistreated planet
yet indeed they deserve this prestigious honor
for they purify the very air we breathe
and grace us with their magnificence.

Author’s Note: For more information on pollinators, please visit and on how trees make a difference, please visit

Poets United Midweek Motif: Glory

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A Faded Romantic's Notebook

I did not discover you.

Before our eyes met

your existence was already remarkable,

your beauty already exquisite,

your body perfectly defined,

your clever mind full of wonders.

I did not discover you.

But I like to believe

I did discover

the sublime



sexual submissive




© the author writing as Romantic Dominant

Art by Marcos Beccari

Not a brand new post. Yet probably true. Of you.

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