Yes, that is what it says - PotD.

Poem of the Day.

Tukker has enough poems for a few months on a daily basis, but only a dozen or so he deems good enough for posting.

So, the Poem of the Day may become Poem of the Month, or maybe Poem of the Season, perhaps just Current Poem.
Not found in From the Attic.

This poem can only be found here.
A few reviews from Authors Den:

"Tales of the Lady"
Lovely write Albert, a cosmic journey through a dream. Thank you, From the Heart of an Artist, Quiet Storm
"Once Again"
Nice imagery and message about looking over one's life. Just wonderful. Thank you, DLM
Very nice and its message is much for the weird tale seeker (such is myself). You have a knack for this and hope you will fall into it; ignoring the reality of people and modern 21st century stories, you have a talent for the purely odd, go for it and it shall always live. CDO

Both poems can be found in From the Attic The actual reviews here.

Tukker's e-mail is at the bottom of the main panel.

Poems posted: 22 February '10
Poem of the Day


I awaken.
Still, I am tired.
Every morning I arise to find the ketch only a little closer to shore.
Extensive sightings and calculations record it's movement.
Yet a quick glance at dawn produces a false image of the ketch receding.
My heart sinks.

Suddenly voices intrude at every opening,
crowding the serene darkness.
The air tightens,
breathing becoming harsh.
A touch of a gentle hand and the tears slowly dry,
breath easing.
My mind wanders constantly of the sea;
of the beauty,
of the terror,
of the solitude.
Concentration of terra firma concepts is erratic.
The gentle hand is now gone.
I fear I am losing my mind.

Visions of utopia flash before blatant insanity.
I sit still,
conversing with a wall.
The answers bouncing back in question form.
Swells rise and fall,
the tide pushed by the wind and other unseen forces.
Close to the surface,
they push against reality.

I stand at the edge,
the abyss before me echoing the sobs and laughter.
And somewhere,
far below,
are the rocks where so many dreams lie broken,
their blood tinting the sea.
I will not lose any more dreams to the rocks below.

Just for coming, here's a bonus poem. Enjoy, Al


The industrial revolution
The start of the pollution.
Materialism turned us
Away from mental evolution.

Mechanization was the
Answer to world hunger.
But there's corruption, greed,
The best ideas now plundered.

It was the separation
Of people into classes
That turned those self-
Proclaimed into asses.

Economy is now a religion
A paper deity fueling the engine
Mindless consumption
The driving ambition.

But pointing fingers does little
To alleviate the matters much.
It's with nature and the planet
That we must be in touch.

Compassion is lost,
Save for those close to you.
Most struggle to survive.
Just what in hell are we to do?

The answer's out
On the astral plane.
God! let me get the words out -
So I can love again.

We'll have to start over
You just wait and see.
A nuclear winter could
Cause such a tragedy.

God! I could write
Both day and night.
These circles 'neath my
Eyes are an awful site.

And with all the words out,
I could once again, love again.
'Tis during the wee hours
That I wield my pen.

It's been said by philosophers,
Poets, and maids alike,
That all thoughts exist
In an astral light.
If we all could simply love
It would be pure white.