Poetry
These are copyrighted works. Use without express permission of the writer is prohibited.
Artistic Modern Interpretations,
Stories & Poetry Celebrating Angels & the Angelic World
Advertise on our
Website!...
180 x 180
$20 per month*
(3 mo. min.)
*10% Discount on 6 mo. Ad
*15% Discount on 12 mo. Ad
*25% Discount for Entrants
Send Ad Artwork to:
Advertise on our
Website!...
180 x 360
$35 per month*
(3 mo. min.)
*10% Discount on 6 mo. Ad
*15% Discount on 12 mo. Ad
*25% Discount for Entrants
Send Ad Artwork to:
Advertise in our
Magazine!...
Download Discounted Rate Card

First Place
Jeremy Bressler
Titusville, Florida, USA
"Sweet Embrace"
Look high, look low, but you may never know that Angels are all around, you may not see them nor feel them, but faith leads us to believe that they are real, for we feed on that piercing electrification that will energize our eyes and send a chill down our spine that intensifies the sensation inside our mind, and lets us glow from head to toe, even though it makes you want to shout out loud describing the way you feel inside, that at this moment in time, you cannot hide your pride over the fact that they are here for you to help you shine through this difficult time, although they may never show their face nor their hand, as you take a stand you’ll understand that their embrace is grace for they are here on the Lords’ command, sent to take you by the hand, where their might of touch can turn sorrow into a powerful tomorrow, Fear need not be for peace and tranquility comes free through serenity, a joy from within lets us see that no matter how bad life can be, even when pain and misery are present company, the gift of love from above is given from the risen one, For He is the only one that cared enough to send his son, since time cannot be won, judgment day will come, until that moment life carries on, because this is possible through timely and thorough devotion, for we read this is where Angels showcase their emotion to our devotion, which leads us to seek help in our lively adventure, it is human nature to ask how, when, and why until the day we die, While offering help to someone in need is up for discussion, and where the thought of entertaining a stranger brings us to question our intention, as the voice inside our head says…should we stay or should we go, For we know no notion of what is in motion, we would love the ability to see the reaction of the Angels that rejoice in all creation, for the illumination that would be over all the nations would point us in the right direction, where as they bring light into action, the glory of a heavenly creature stirs up the night and strikes up a light that burns bright to fright off all evil, for we will not fight the world alone, as we cannot weasel out of what must be done, leaving no stone unturned no work undone, As we turn our heads to the sun to ask questions of lessons learned, through the pain of the burn and emotions torn, we mourn no more as we read that Angels have an interest in all that we have done, as an expression of love we prepare to share the thought of a blessed being, which is done with reasoning and without doubt, seeing how they can care for all is where we bare our true emotion, knowing one day we will all be in the heavenly nation, that no matter how hard we try, we all cry, because there is never a dry eye when Angels are nearby.
Second Place
Ann Ilton
Boca Raton, Florida, USA
"Angel Dust"
We are all in transit to a star
Coming and going like wisps in
A night of tears,
Beckoning the future,
Stepping forward
Gently folding the tips
Of angel's wings
That flutter in the light,
At the portal
Of a dream, Awaiting
The image that fades...
Blades of grass that shrink
Into sheaves of ice
Molten in summer sunshafts
Bathing the earth in the
Liquor of their verdant beings
To pass silently into the
Darkness,
And in blessed disbelief
We enter the Light
To smolder on the edge of
Consciousness, awakening after
Millennia of slumber
From a reverie, of life.
To the light beyond
Angel dust
Awakening to eternity
In transit
To a star
Third Place
Dennis M Suchocki
Scottsdale, Arizona, USA
"Waving and Smiling So I Could See"
I’ve been fortunate to have experienced
the presence of an angelic visitor
twice in my lifetime.
On a yellow school bus of all places,
my first day of school and
my first time.
Looking back, nerves and the unknown
contributed to a need
to be put at ease.
I saw an image as I approached a seat in the back.
He sat last seat right on the aisle.
I passed in front, “excuse me please.”
No halo, wings or signs of angelism.
But the aura felt,
what he was, was known by both.
At first I avoided his eyes
but I felt his on me.
A feeling of peace and warmth.
The day started sad, tears by Mom.
I hated to leave her, but the bus drove away.
She was waving and smiling so I could see.
But now I felt better.
I felt ready to learn.
The angel grinned looking at me.
I was given the name Michael
after the courageous warrior above.
He was given a task and he had won.
He appeared to be a much younger version
of that brave heart.
Not fighting, but preparing for learning and fun.
It began with a “Hi” and went on from there.
We laughed, talked baseball
and I gave him a stick of Big Red.
Gosh, what fun, a friend right away.
The ride seemed so short.
The school lay straight ahead.
I got up to leave and said, “after you.”
He looked up at me and replied,
“go on and have fun, remember our ride.”
“I’m here just for now,
others need me too.”
I felt very sad inside.
I also felt privileged.
Here was an angel
watching out just for me.
Looking back as I left,
I saw him and, like Mom,
he was waving and smiling so I could see.
Number two was not pleasant.
Again Mom was there, not waving and smiling.
Mom had just passed.
Every child thinks their parents
will always be there for holidays and celebrations
and that traditions will last.
But in truth and in faith
we know that things will occur
to change us and sadden us all.
Nothing is forever here on earth.
Perhaps that is why my angel
made his second call.
He knew that a need
had again reared its head.
He came unannounced appearing to be older.
I stood alone for a short time
after the service just looking down.
He placed his right hand on my shoulder.
I looked at him, he had aged just like me.
Not young now but as he had before, he smiled.
His eyes, aura and warmth aglow.
“You are sad and you cry,
but you also believe this is best.”
Of course he was right, I know.
She was my Mom from womb to tomb
and now she was gone.
But my angel came to say . . .
“She is only gone from you now.
Look forward to seeing her, and you will
another day.
That is my story,
happy and sad that it is.
An angel has touched me twice.
I sincerely hope it happens to you.
The experiences will be remembered.
They were needed . . . they were nice.
Once more we bid adieu.
He appeared, gave me comfort and
once again he was there for me.
As before he had to leave.
He looked back one more time,
he was waving and smiling so I could see.
Honorable Mention #1
Jo Barbara Taylor
Raleigh, North Carolina, USA
"Painting Angels"
…all things lost are in the angels’ keeping
Helen Hunt Jackson
I paint angels in December. The spirits
of Christmas and turpentine penetrate
my hands and angels invade the premises.
Choosing the proper angel for the wood
is essential. Weathered or sanded smooth,
rectangle or square, depth and plane
of a board dictate which seraph will appear,
prim and passionate Elizabeth Bennet
or spirited, spunky Nancy Drew.
A deep-color astral sky makes the angel
conspicuous, like a diva in the spotlight
on a shadowed stage. Angels are tomboys
in dotted swiss, debutantes, grandmothers,
honky-tonk girls. I use the right brush
for the task: a flat to lay in white wings
tinged in blue, a small scruffy for head
and hands, a wider flat for the robe,
any rainbow color, and both ends of a liner
for midnight eyes, a cranberry
mouth, sun-blessed cheeks.
I attend the details: ruby slippers, lace
on a polka-dot dress, eyelashes, yellow
hair on a dark palette, the golden halo.
Painting an angel-axiom, words befitting
the celestial sister is a game of whimsy
and design. Prayers and poets offer
wisdom that must fit and decorate
the grained canvas and touch
the aura of the image, invite a believer
into the company of angels.
The mess of paint, the myriad brushes,
the lingering odor of turpentine, the call
of holiday rituals pronounce angel-painting done.
The gift of time for attention to detail is lost,
but all things lost are in the angels’ keeping.
Honorable Mention #2
Landry B. McKee
Las Vegas, Nevada USA
"Angels"
Worlds away, but right by our side.
We try to escape them, there’s no place to hide.
They hear us laugh, they watch us cry.
They rejoice as we live, then welcome us when
we die.
We can’t hear them, joyful noises their only sound.
Holding love and sincerity for all abound.
Existing since the beginning of time.
So genuinely devoted to godly and human kind.
Delegates from the almighty one above.
Free to wander earth, like a forceful dove.
They are trusted beyond any other soul.
Moving throughout the universe,
with wings of gold.
Put here to guide us through this affair called life.
We all need their love and their sacrifice
.
Without them who knows how earth could be.
Please let me have mine for all of eternity.