Under the Greenwood Tree

Good morning guys (evening to those hailing from the northern hemisphere).

It’s a beautiful Friday morning here in Namibia, the sun is shining, the clouds are not crying, the birds are singing and the trees are dancing.

I’m breathing and lucky enough to have come across this beautifully well-crafted poem by Upashna.

I didn’t want to keep it all to myself, and so I’m sharing it with you. Hoping you enjoy it too.

I sit under the Greenwood Tree The Barn Owl plays the symphony. The thought of you possess my mind It aches in places, undefined. The sands of time slip quick they say Each grain for me is yesterday. Rummaging through the days bygone I hold on to the fondest one. I sit thus till the […]

Under the Greenwood Tree

An Ode To The Fish In My Dish – Lazarus Shatipamba

They say, there are only forty fish in the sea. Swimming from coast to coast, away from the big boat- Belongs to the fisherman keeps it free of flea. So that on the oceans calm waters it will float- When at night he goes out with all his gear to cast, His net in order […]

An Ode To The Fish In My Dish – Lazarus Shatipamba

Grateful

A room without books is like a body without a soul.

Marcus Tullius Cicero

Luna

I never grew up with a father.
That taught me to be a bike rider.
Nor did i grow up with a mother.
That sang me into a deep slumber.
I only had a grandma.
That taught me how to read.
As well as a grandpa.
That taught me how to lead.
Them will i forever,

Be grateful for.

Lazarus Shatipamba is a wormy bookworm that rarely ever sees the sun(except through the eyes of many a fictional character). His days are mostly spent stuck between the pages of a good book.
When he isn’t busy gathering dust in the library, then he is most likely writing some poetry(some of which may or may not be fictional)
β€”β€”β€”β€”β€”β€”β€”β€”β€”β€”β€”β€”β€”β€”β€”β€”β€”β€”β€”β€”β€”β€”β€”β€”β€”β€”β€”β€”β€”β€”β€”β€”β€”β€”β€”-

If you would like to have your work published in The Poetry Bar send your poem, a few words about yourself and the link to your blog…

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Sunset Kisses Can’t Heal a Heart

But they can certainly soothe a poets painπŸ™‚

If you’re going through hell, keep going.

Winston Churchill

Something In The Rain

The honey glazed sky

Sends rays of bittersweet memories

That kiss my porcelain skin.

Reminding me of your

Deep and rich

bourbon eyes,

And the way the stars

Have nested inside them.

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