Poetry in eMotion

Poetic society for all active poetry lovers

I Will Not Be an Astronaut

Space makes me think of my mom.

Ever since she was a kid,

in fact, ever since she could breathe, chew and sit,

she wanted to be an astronaut.

At some point in her life,

she started to hide

her dream.

She was convinced

that she was the only one

– that she was weird.

Can you blame her?

It’s the world we live in.

Thanks to her, I love sci-fi,

The Day of the Triffids, and the stars.

And while I’m certainly not gonna go to space

(I mean, I’m terrified of even the wide-open sea)

I dream of far-away worlds,

I write, and maybe as a gift to the little her,

I always want to celebrate my weird.

Hartvíkovice

There used to be a campsite,

Place that would just invite

You to return,

Watch the campfire burn,

Play the guitar and sing the night away.

All in all a feast, joy and holiday,

Forests, waters, grass, harvest air,

And almost a love affair.

Game as such over. Those days are gone and out of reach.

The decades created an abyss

And no bridge.

Tell me something beautiful

Tell me something beautiful and you’ll find a variety of colors. 

Tell me something beautiful and you will find peace. 

Tell me something beautiful and you will find beautiful music.

Tell me something beautiful and you’ll find my sweet lips. 

Tell me something beautiful and I will love you. 

Tell me something beautiful and you will find a beautiful blue sky. Tell me about clean air, laughter, love.

Tell me something beautiful.

Tell me about good food. Tell me about a good movie. Tell me about a nice house, a car. Tell me what you love.

Tell me. 

Tell me something beautiful. 

And you will forgett the bad and horrible.

With her


I sat there with her. 

I sat there with my love.

I sat there with my wife.

I realized the moment.

I realized the gratitude. 

I realized the right essence about her and gratitude to her. 

With her, the moment is fuller,

life lighter,

life nicer. 

Heading together towards eternity,

to freedom, to love. 

You can keep your love easier 

by setting your common goals 

and then just walking, 

walking steadily to the stars.

Writen by Tomas Waginger from collection of poetry “Freedom”

Overjoyed…?!

Overjoyed? Maybe…. Sometimes

Over the moon – not right now

Overcome by feelings – not so much lately

Over-achiever – never been and never will be

Over-demanding I may sometimes seem

Over-aged for many a thing, I guess, but not the fun

Sometimes it’s better to overlook some things

Overcome obstacles? That’s what I’m here for

Get over? Surely I will

Hope it’s not an overkill

Come What May

Sid – the humping Seagull

Gazing at the wonder of the skies,
Powderpuff clouds drift silently by.
Almost at once distracted am I,
By rhythmic, resounding, erratic cries.
Such is the hubbub, of a birds demise.

Perched precarious, upon his prey,
Fiendish behaviour, promiscuity.
Such is the like of, ‘Sid’s’, debauchery.
‘Humping Seagulls – come what may.

Breda Ware

Masquerade

Masquerade

Mysterious faces hidden behind veils.

A

Silhouette, not tortilla flat, but hills just begging to be won,

Quarantined in clothes that’d better come

Undone.

Eyes wide smiled,

Raw look, but…

A love bite – how would it be from what’s under the mask?

Dare ask? No.

Emotions masked.

Mysterious faces hidden behind veils.

A

Silhouette, not tortilla flat, but hills just begging to be won,

Quarantined in clothes that’d better come

Undone.

Eyes wide smiled.

Raw look, but…

A love bite – how would it be from what’s under the mask?

I never

Dare ask.

Masquerade

You the abusers, you know who you are,
With your multi million homes,
Driving top of the range, expensive cars.
Well to do toff’s, habitually spend,
Berating others, with your ‘yuppie friends’.
Narcissistic, know all’s,
You think your the best.
Egotistic, morons, give it a rest!
Animus towards others, less fortunate than you,
Revile them as low life – your ‘golden rule’,
‘Keeping up appearances’ – with kindness,
Such is your disguise.
While animosity shows in your eyes.


Breda Ware.

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