Poets whose work may be found on this page include:  Miriam Carstons; Laurie Benedict   (runningwoman2001@yahoo.com); Deb Abbott ( debabbott44@hotmail.com ); Dreamcatcher; Francesca Carrier; Cierra ( cierra45@yahoo.com ); more to come.

NOTE:  All poems and writings posted on this web site, whether they are accompanied by an explicit notice of copyright, or not, are the exclusive, copyrighted property of their author, and may not be reposted, or in other ways disseminated, without permission of their author.  Please enjoy, but also respect, all acts of creation put up on this site! - JRS  



The Force Of One For Peace  (By Miriam Carstons) 

A Day At The Beach  (By Laurie Benedict) 

Unpainted Canvas  (By Laurie Benedict)  

In The Hands Of A Sculptor  (By Deb Abbott)  

Don't Live In The Past  (By Dreamcatcher)  

Caught In A Cycle  (By Francesca Carrier)

Wings Of Grace  (By Cierra)  

The Temple Of Angels  (By Cierra) 



The Force Of One For Peace  (By Miriam Carstons)  


Let us Just Love
Let us strive to Love Singularly
every single minute of every single day.
Let us Singularly strive be kind
to every single person
every single animal
every single plant
every single minute of every single day.
Let us Singularly be kind to Eachother and Love.
In that way we are an Individually Combined Spirit
of Force for Peace at Every Moment.
Sending it out. Putting it out there
every moment of every single day. One feels
like they're doing it alone at first,
but One is not. For in One, there are many.
Using the number one all the way through.
The most powerful number there is;
the Force of One for Peace. Let me Just Love...

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A Day at the Beach  (By Laurie Benedict)


My mom is sick again and I don’t know why

I live with my grandparents when she’s away

I miss being with her and am confused

But today is great day

My grandfather is taking me to the beach

Leaving my sister and brother with my Nana

We have the ocean all to ourselves

The seagulls are playing a game of their own

Swooping and diving, they call out to each other

My grandfather and I play a game in the warm water

And when a big wave comes our way

He quickly scoops me up in his arms

We laugh quite cheerfully, he’s cheated the wave

Taken away its chance to knock me down

The water that splashes my face tastes salty

And the sand feels gritty underneath my bathing suit

But I don’t mind because today I’m special

I get my grandfather all to myself

He’s taken only me to the beach

To play in the waves


© 2002, Laurie Benedict

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Unpainted Canvas  (By Laurie Benedict)


Mother Nature presents her blank page

An unblemished white canvas

Awaiting an artist


Most certainly a contest will ensue

One between beast and one between man

To covet the privilege of the first stroke


Tire tracks mar the pristine picture

Man it appears has won the first round


A blanket of white erases the unwelcome image

The ground lays ready and waiting to see who will be next

To paint a picture worthy of such purity


Paw prints weave their way on a course for warmth

An abstract of mission


The wind, always the critic

Blows the surface clean once more


Sturdy boot marks crisscross a path

Following their way back to the start


The traces of man and beast do not remain long

Nature has decided that none shall win her prize

A blanket of white is laid out once more


© 2002, Laurie Benedict

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In The Hands Of A Sculptor  (By Deb Abbott)   


In the hands of a sculptor, she began to grow
Into the woman she had always known
Lay just beneath the surface of her exterior
Waiting, impatiently, for the touch that would free her.

The first time he saw her, his eyes probed within
Seeing only what was to be and not what had already been.
Gently, he made his way towards her being
Anxious to unveil what he was truly seeing.

Amused, yet delighted, she let him browse within
But, just enough, to let her know he'd come back again.
Respect had already grown between the two, you see,
For one to know, the other to see, was all that needed to be.

Her medium, a little cracked and dried, was not quite ready.
So, she prepared it for him, giving time for his hands to steady.
Then he heard her silent voice whisper from within, "Come to me."
A look of appreciation filled his eyes as he reached out to touch what was yet to be.

She felt his thumb slide down what would be the contour of her face.
And, she was pulled, ever so gently, from a place somewhere beyond time and space.
Yet pliable she allowed herself to be.
Offering for him to find what, as of yet, she could not see.

His hand moved slowly but with a resonant beat
As his fingers dug into her, exposing a gentle heat.
He allowed her to create her own form.
As she came to life unbridled and untorn.

Gently smoothing her rough edges, he began to see
The image in his mind come to be.
The soft gentle merging of the essence of her soul
Spoke of a living story that was yet to be told.

She caught the scent of him that first day when he formed her nose.
She likened the smell to a spring day when the wind gently blows.
She began to hear when his fingers traced out her ears.
His soft rhythmic breathing erased any and all unfelt fears.

As he stroked her with his affection
She found herself releasing all of her defections.
And what became beneath his hands
Was more than either could have ever planned.

As his thumbs pressed out the molds for her eyes
She wept the tears of angels dripping from the skies.
The windows of her soul were to be revealed
Never again would their living waters be concealed.

His touch became especially tender
Wherewith her lips he began to render.
He paused, as if in a trance
As her lips, along his finger, began to dance.

His fingers spread as his hands caressed her cheeks
He felt her energy, so strong and yet so meek.
He felt himself resting his lips upon her own.
And he thought he heard a delightful little moan.

He felt arms encircle him that were not of his creation.
And a body formed out of the haze with perfect animation.
She became then, all that he wanted her to be.
And through his touch, she became more than what she could ever see.

He lifted her gently from her pedestal, twirling her about the room
She giggled ever so lightly just having come from her tomb.
With eternity resting in her eyes, she gave him the vision to truly see,
In the hands of a sculptor, it was his touch that set her free.

©  2002, Deb Abbott

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Don't Live In The Past  (By Dreamcatcher) 


Live in the moment

The universe with starlight gems

Filled with many oceans and dreams

Live in this moment….

For it is beautiful….

Listen to the wind for it speaks of this

Don't live for the past…

Live in the present, for it is beautiful

Move yourself forward into the future…

For that is beautiful too….

Feel your heart beating,

You live now in the moment

And for the future…

The universe with starlight gems

Filled with many oceans and dreams

Live in this moment

For it is beautiful

Listen to the wind for it speaks of this


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Caught In A Cycle  (By Francesca Carrier)  



My life is like a huge ocean
never ending with lots of dark circles.
Rough waves, turbulent streams
through the light of day to the
darkness of the night.
From the highs and lows, never knowing in between.
Yet my intensity, velocity
knows no substance for which
it lies. Once in a while a
ship will pass, a few sea gulls will flock.
The rain will descend upon the
strong winds, forcing upon
my mind a never ending cycle.
For the light that shines on me,
from the radiant sun light or
the glow of the moon, which
mood may never be quite settled.
I go on for infinite measures
of which I know no extremes of the silence.
The stillness of my heart.

© 2003, Francesca Carrier

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Wings Of Grace  (By Cierra)


Emerging out of the forest of protection.
Finding my way out of the moss and fairy light.
I see the meadow of deep concentration and comfort.
Descending through the clouds I see a cluster of many fall leaves of many colors.
Vibrant red, translucent gold, iridescent yellow descends on me.
At first I think it is just the fall leaves blowing in the winds.
Then my mind comprehends the beautiful angel wings that carry these messages from Heaven.
I do not know his name but his wings say everything.
He dips and turns, blessing the meadow with his presence.
He floats and soars.
His wings touch every blade of grass that I admire.
I am blessed to be a witness.
I am blessed to be alive in this form.
He goes onto the sea where he will bless every wave.
He moves onto the mountains where he will bless every peak.
I run and try to follow, his majestic wings lead me to my heaven.
Come, come with us as we fly to every part of this beautiful planet to give grace and love.
He says, we can make a difference.
I know that we can heal this world.
Love is the only answer.
Light is the only cure.
God is the only way.

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The Temple Of Angels  (By Cierra)  


I awoke from my sleep to hear the ocean loving the shore.
I walk to my balcony, my body covered in sweat from soul searching dreams.
My hand grips the marble railing for support and I see the moon traveling to me on aqua waters.
The wind, so wonderful, so cool, awakens my spirit.
I hear violins, could it just be the ocean speaking?
I look below, translucent blue beings walk along the shore, each holding a bow of light.
The music, rich and powerful, draws me to them.
I run from my room, my body now magenta in color and hue, hurries to greet them.
I descend down the antediluvian marble steps, I must prepare the temple.
I am humbled that these messengers of light are visiting on this wonderful night.
With my mind, I call on the sacred roses to drop their petals to adorn the floor.
With my heart, I light every torch.
Suddenly wings of gold and stardust can be seen dancing to the music of God.
All the shadows of the room are lit.
How delightful, the violins reaching their crescendo, the rose petals swirling in the beautiful blue robes. The angel's faces show pure rapture.
May I dance, may I join this heavenly moment?
Yes, they say, come with us, dance with us.
I am now dancing, dancing with God, dancing with heaven.

© 2002, Cierra

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