Liquid Poetry Lounge

I'm so very thrilled to welcome five very talented poets today to my blog. Feel free to post a comment.
~ Share Love ~ Alisha




Collen Ross is an American artist and my very special goddess friend. Everything this lady touches becomes beautiful. This is how she describes herself on her Facebook page...born with brushes in my hands and have colored my entire universe as of last Saturday 3 P.M. I just love her!

Check out some of her gorgeous paintings and enjoy her poetry.




Peachy sky scooped clouds of cream/Grasses so high--Nearly Pricking those lucious balooned dreams/ Cannot tug or tear it/Ten toes counted twice/ Today’s tomorrows/Take me into love’s flight/ Carpets of clover Landing at your door/ Knocking/Get ready/Changing your mind’s sight/ lime jello tulips,/ scented roses in blues/ Inhailing romances/Life is all a bloom /Kiss me
~ by Colleen Ross





Michael Dupuis was born in Bangor, Maine. He writes erotic fiction, paranormal, horror and is a romantic poet. I just adore his work. Thank you for sharing today, Michael.



-- Hurt --

Golden drops of hope tumble into the void of my soul
swallowed by the darkness within this emptiness
the hurt is ever present, my warm blanket, a comfort
when the frightening unknown of love appears
hurt is never far from me, the safety of the pain gets me through the high times
hope dissipates into the ether
love evaporates into the truth
hurt is here to hold me
it will be there in the end, the one thing I'll always have as my own
it was the first thing I ever knew
it will be the last thing I ever know
usher me into the everafter
the infinite
the hurt

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-- Heart in a Cage --

Heart in a cage

Sweet blue eyed angel, with your heart locked away
Until I break through your fears, right here I will stay

The great poet said, “All life is a stage”
But there's no second act when your heart's in a cage

It's patience I lack and patience I learn
I work everyday, so your heart I can earn.

Love can make miracles, and all things come true
I have faith in our love and such faith in you.

My sweet blue eyed angel, no matter how hard you fight
There's nothing can happen, that our love can't make right.

Push me and fight me, run far and fast.
None of it matters, my love's going to last.

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-- Thankful --

One foot leads the other as I walk my long dark road
Unbroken and unbeaten, I yet can bear the load

My hope is dwindling slowly, but my faith still shines strong
I trust in those around me and pray I am not wrong

A life I cannot yet lead with passions unexpressed
I can do no more to reach my goals than to give my very best

Undaunted in the face of adversity still I soldier on
I seek to find some small progress 'ere my hope will soon be gone

Needs I have, some are fed with ease and yet,
The needs that I hold deepest, unsatisfied and still unmet.

To feel my strength and express my passions are the needs I hold so dear
Weakened body without release feed into my fear

Will ever I be strong again, expressed in mind and deed
WIll I remain this weakened shell a dullard, full of need

To flex my power and feel release, to reach and take control
To be so frail and fragile is taking such a toll

To touch my love in passion and be touched with heat in turn
To feel the need of a lovers care will set my soul to burn

And so I meet each day in thanks and with greatful prayer
Thankful just to be alive and to breathe the precious air

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-- Sunrise --

The ending of the night
The dieing of the darkness
Into the void light shines again
Hope rekindled
Love is risen, awake again
The sun rises
The warmth returns and ends the cold
Fear cannot betray this love
Our shackles broken
Free again
to live
to love
to learn
Sunrise



Cathy McElhaney is a writer and poet. Ask her who is going to the Super Bowl. She is a huge football fan and one of the coolest ladies I know.



A Tribute to Degenerate:
I remember you well,
The stories you'd tell.
So strong and tall,
A friend to all.
Loved by many,
Though you had not a penny.
I remember your laugh
And your sexy smile
And who could forget that degenerate style?
I remember how we cried
When we heard that you'd died.
The memories will never quit,
Of the one and only Degenerate.

The Drifter:
He has no home,
I am sure he was born to roam,
This man they call The Drifter.
His love is the woods, the mountains and streams
He lives his life, the life of dreams.
This man they call The Drifter
He is searching for the reasons
Of life, love and the four seasons.
This man they call The Drifter.
I met this man today
And I listened to what he had to say
This man they call The Drifter
He taught me to search for my purpose
To go deep below the surface
This man they call the Drifter
His deep blue eyes
made it hard for good byes
This man they call The Drifter
He's gone again and headed your way
Please listen to what he has to say
This man they call The Drifter.



Michael Coddington is a race car driver, loves to sky dive, goes deep sea fishing and owns forty-eight acres of land in Africa where he guides tourists on safari. He drinks single malt liquor scotch, wears a smoking jacket and juggles a harem. Every once in a while he jots a random thought down and calls it poetry.


Life is dark destructive and evil Full of misuse and abuse. They say times have changed but time remains the same. We're blinded by conformity a regular schedule of the same things day after day after day. We waller In our own self pity. Blinded by inebriation or influenced by sweet drugs nearby 1 day in a blink of an eye life as you know it will pass you by like a twinkle from a star in the sky. Times have changed they'll say but time itself remains the same. Life is grand beautiful Sweet to taste soft to the touch.




Gloria Brady is no longer with us but she was a very dear friend and the cousin of my sweet, cherished friend, Barb Mazzuca. Here is what Barb had to say about Gloria and the poem below.

Barb: This women was my heart and she left not only me, but a lot of folks way too soon. Many didn’t know her love of the written word. She wanted to write children’s books and loved to write poetry. Unfortunately like most of us life always had a funny way of getting in the way of those dreams. This is one of the poems I have of hers, I’m not sure when she wrote it, but I do believe it was after she found out about her cancer. She was not only one of the bravest women I knew, she always had time for people regardless of the situation that burdened her. She will be and is missed and I am so happy to be able to share a bit of her with you and to see a piece of her work published. Thank you, Alisha. I am fortunate not only have my memories of her, but also her words.




Someone Has Died Today
By Gloria Brady


It saddens me

To hear of a death

Of a friend…

Or even someone famous

A support group member

A relative


It weakens me

For anger is there and resentment

And loss

And sadness

And there is pain



It frightens me

The unknown

The emptiness

The darkness

Those who are left behind


And yet, it reminds me

Of the wonders

Of my life

The joys, the colors

The laughter

The people who walk and who have walked with me


It strengthens me

There is peace

There is wonder

And all around me there is light

For you are there