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Written by: Abdulhafeez Oyewole     Read Poems by Abdulhafeez Oyewole

Form: Didactic | + Fav Poet | + Fav Poem | Comment | Email | Print

A Bid For Change

We wish to make a wish,
And our wish for now is change,
Our sons and daughters are dying,
Our kith and kin are suffering,
Including our awaiting rain
That is about to fall.

In the womb of her mother
You can hear her call,
A call which is for us all
Not only have midwives fathomed it
We amateurs can as well see through
As she will not stop until her victory is sustained.

Since hands still exist
And the tongue never gets sick
They are to work for a purpose
Assigned to them by divine nature

If to the manifold to be beheld,
We will not be sick to make a move;
If to a level of meeting our end
We will win,
We wouldn't hesitate
To take a bold step

For we are Nigerian future leaders
And want nothing but a better Nigeria.
We only have a unique manifesto,
It is a bid of change for a better Nigeria.

Written by: ahellas Alixopulos     Read Poems by ahellas Alixopulos

Form: Free verse (vers libre) | + Fav Poet | + Fav Poem | Comment | Email | Print

Domestic Violence

Tonight, on the news!
If it bleeds it leads
and soon we ignore it.

Another young girl dead 
and found in a local field.
What twisted genes can
evoke such pain?
Embarrassed to be male,
is what I claim,
and yet I know
in the dark corners 
of our souls lurk
such possibilities.

Old lady in Orinda
raped and murdered.
News for the day and
quickly forgotten.
These are,
now, our normal
expectations.

Like primates on the
Savannah,
we nudge the bodies,
a bit,
and go on about our
business

Written by: Albert Price     Read Poems by Albert Price

Form: Rhyme | + Fav Poet | + Fav Poem | Comment | Email | Print

THE HAND, A Mechanical Genius

To God I am thankful for many gifts;
But none more than a creative mind,
And the hands which are the finest tool,
With abilities to create that I easily can find.

As a child I first learned to cherish
My God-given opposable thumb,
Knowing how versatile a device
It is for whacking a fortuitous homerun.

And stubby fingers were early to meet,
And with artistic freedom employ,
All the many vividly colored crayons
To make graphic forms and scenes to enjoy.

And off running into the world of nature,
My hands kept quite busy in work and play.
Without them I found that I couldn’t climb
Nor protect myself in the occasional fray.

My hands loved to tighten and repair my bike,
Seeming to be a mechanic of special training,
Taught by a higher intelligence unknown
For handling every task without complaining.

With maturity the hand becomes more adept,
A magical marvel for all creation to behold.
And in God’s world of many forms to grasp,
It becomes an unique gift worth more than gold.

Then you find there’s nothing your hands can’t do,
‘Cause God has made them in His special way,
With the same loving care you make toys for a child,
Who might find nothing any better for hours of play.

We need to show God that we feel very blessed,
That He was the architect of this precious treasure;
So that we may join with Him in majestic fashion,
Giving the world with fervent impact endless pleasure.
 

Written by: Andrea Dietrich     Read Poems by Andrea Dietrich

Form: Quatrain | + Fav Poet | + Fav Poem | Comment | Email | Print

Children of the Year

By leading us with strength and truth,
he earns great prominence,
and February's Cupid too,
who celebrates romance!

Though Irish charmed
and mild at times, it's also obvious
that when she either comes or goes,
March is tempestuous!

Lovely April brings her poems
with romance, sun and rain,
and year to year, she surely sings
Earth's happiest refrain.

Fair merry May loves motherhood,
so. . . sparing no expense,
she spreads her arms and gifts us with
creation's opulence.

Coming after May is June,
who, sweet and fairly young,
pledges love to summer's sun
as wedding bells are rung.

July, great fun, shows up to play.
A patriotic one,
he lights up skies with fires that fade
into oblivion. . .

The king of lazy afternoons,
although he has his pride,
August hasn't much to add
to what July has tried!

September goes from hot to cool
in very little time,
sees children off to school
and gives the bards new cause to rhyme.

October waltzes in, and with
her magic, paints the trees,
then dons a witch's hat before
she leaves with frightful ease.

November, though he's gloomy,
has great harvests he must tend
and brings a time for thankfulness
before he nears his end.

Although December is a man
grown cold and very old,
he brings the joy of the greatest
story ever told.

With trials and our past behind us,
hope can reappear
within the form of January,
first born of the year!

By Andrea Dietrich

For Joyce Johnson's "Your Very Best Poetry Contest"
(one of my first posts when I joined Soup over a year ago
but one that I never used in any contest yet)

Written by: Anne Currin     Read Poems by Anne Currin

Form: Ballad | + Fav Poet | + Fav Poem | Comment | Email | Print

The Shepard Called Our Soul

Let's not lose sight of who we are,
Let's strip off all this wool!
Inside ourselves is where we'll find 
The shepard called our soul.

By Anne Currin

Written by: Bernard Colasurdo     Read Poems by Bernard Colasurdo

Form: Couplet | + Fav Poet | + Fav Poem | Comment | Email | Print

Missing You

I look across the bed… you’re not there… you’re dead.
I look across the bed and see…you’re no longer next to me.

I reach over and try to feel your skin,
and remember all the joy there had been…

but my hands come back empty…trying desperately to hold on,
barely clinging to life now that your gone.

And I let out a cry I’m quite sure heaven hears,
Or will it linger in limbo for all of my years.

How lonely this bed, where imprisoned I lay.
How long can I take this day after day?

They say that in spirit your right next to me.
But that is no comfort for it’s blackness I see.

They say that it’s time to move on with my life,
But they have no clue of my pain and my strife.

You were my best friend, my angel, my love,
You were hand picked for me from above.

You were the one who’s soul I adored
Whatever I did you were there to applaud.

You alone knew me inside and out,
And the love that we shared left no one to doubt.

For you were my angel sent from above,
To care for, to lean on, to cherish and love…..

So I’ll go back to bed where imprisoned I lay,
And hope for a joy that visits someday.

Written by: Brett Chase     Read Poems by Brett Chase

Form: Haiku | + Fav Poet | + Fav Poem | Comment | Email | Print

rainstorm

abundant with joy
the earth trickles with delight
water after rain

Written by: Charles Clive     Read Poems by Charles Clive

Form: Lyric | + Fav Poet | + Fav Poem | Comment | Email | Print

My First Car

My lawyer drives a Jaguar,
a slim and glitzy marque.
He seldom ventures near the Law,
(the work's done by his clerk),
buts sends in bills at Partners Rates;
that avaricious shark.

My Broker's Merc is spanking new;
it takes his fishing rod.
He, as of right, once gently slipped
in shoes his father trod.
All pomp and circumstance he struts,
this self appointed God.

Accountants' BMWs
have litres by the score.
Mine's filled his up with gadgetry
and Wilton on the floor.
And now he's had his Coat of Arms
emblazoned on the door.

I used to have a set of wheels,
a Morris Minor van.
It was a dear and much loved friend
which ran and ran and ran.
I polished it with tender care
and was its greatest fan.

Alas!  It's gone to pay the bills.
But why?  I cannot see.
All day they guff and huff and puff
and then demand a fee.
I do not want their 'sound advice',
I want a car - for me!

~




For Carol Brown's 'First Car' Contest by Charles Clive.

Written by: cherl dunn     Read Poems by cherl dunn

Form: Free verse (vers libre) | + Fav Poet | + Fav Poem | Comment | Email | Print

THE CATHEDRAL OF STONE

Within the cold gray stone,
It lives a spiritual humming,
A strumming rhythm of natures
Raw essence.
Breathing rock inhaling, exhaling
As the earthen elemental surrounding
Conscious thought.
Knowledge’s smoothed edges, leave
Reasons rough coarseness exposed.
Humanities deaf ear, hears only, 
The hollowing of the four winds,
Shutting out enlightenment's truth.
Natures dream weaver touches 
Heaven,
With her softest silken finger tips,
And gods canvas falls unto earth.
 Behold a tapestry deepest blue,
Lit by universal stars.
In the stone circle,
Mankind lifts innocence vial,
Revealing ignorance blindness
Of sight.
And feels humiliation smallness.
It's singular aloneness, individuality,
Quest for immortality exists,
On baron grounds frosted soil.
In stillness silence, behold the
Ring of fire.
Lighting divine spirits to flame, 
Flickering embers alight igniting
Destiny's spark.
Intellect, intelligence a rebirthing
From deaths black darkness.
Within the cold gray stone,
It lives a spiritual humming.
A strumming rhythm of 
Natures raw essence.
Breathing rock, inhaling,
Exhaling.
As the earthen element’s
Surrounding conscious thought.
A cathedral of stone, 
With one disciple
Left in prayers knelling position.

BY: CHERYL ANNA DUNN

Written by: Chuck Keys     Read Poems by Chuck Keys

Form: Free verse (vers libre) | + Fav Poet | + Fav Poem | Comment | Email | Print

If only I could stay and hide,

If only I could stay and hide ...

                                                    Authored by Chuck Keys         

If only I could stay and hide,
Inside a fragrant red rose, soft and true,
Smooth as air, warm as the summers day,
With no fear or wear and tear.

If only I could stay and hide,
Inside a drop of water, crystal clear and pure,
Quietly encased yet able to view all there is,
Where definition is soft and pliable.

If only I could stay and hide,
Inside a piece of chocolate, delicious and free,
Surrounded by its sweet and tender aroma,
Charitable in its feelings of sensual luxury.              

If only I could stay and hide,
If only I could…
If only....
If...

Written by: Constance La France     Read Poems by Constance La France

Form: Verse | + Fav Poet | + Fav Poem | Comment | Email | Print

rose

in the hush of dawn
the sweet rose of yesterday
slowly bows her head



Written by
Constance La France
June 8, 2010

Submitted to the contest  Any Rose Will Do
Sponsored by Poet~Destroyer

Written by: Dan Kearley     Read Poems by Dan Kearley

Form: Lyric | + Fav Poet | + Fav Poem | Comment | Email | Print

Sea Of Poetry

Thoughts fill my head of the beautiful poetry I read
I find them so inspiring,they truely are indeed
To see these other people out here floating free
Out on this sea of poetry,there's poets just like me
Some people write with sadness,others write with glee
I write with a bit of a rhyme that you can now see
Keep on doing what your doing,it's such a pleasure to read
Out on this see of poetry,I find words that fulfill my need

6-30-11
(7)

Written by: Danielle Wise Baxter     Read Poems by Danielle Wise Baxter

Form: Rhyme | + Fav Poet | + Fav Poem | Comment | Email | Print

Emotional Me

Sitting, standing, needy, and demanding
staring nervously at my hands, then my feet
passion rising like summer heat

Written by: Deb Wilson     Read Poems by Deb Wilson

Form: Rhyme | + Fav Poet | + Fav Poem | Comment | Email | Print

As The Mind Wanders

What goes through your head when you can't sleep?
Some write poetry,some count sheep
I replay music I listened to
I wonder,what should I put in the stew?
I worry alot about paying the bills
I try to remember,did I take my pills?
I pray for everyone I know
I wonder will there be sunshine or snow?
I rehash the movie I just watched
I'm critical of the project I botched
I think about cleaning I should do
Line up my problems and think them through
I think of all my friends and family
Mostly though,my thoughts are rambly!

Written by: Debbie Guzzi     Read Poems by Debbie Guzzi

Form: Free verse (vers libre) | + Fav Poet | + Fav Poem | Comment | Email | Print

Da's Girl

Ringleted and pink cheeked, the girl child sat,
Upon the bench next to her Da and his cronies.
The Goliaths munched greasy burgers and string fries.
Dirt smudged her upturned face.
Like the remnants of the grime covering Da's overalls.
Baseball caps and factory-embroidered jackets;
Spoke of tractor pulls and manure piles ripe for the garden.
A bunch of salt laced potatoes dangled from her mitt.
Droplets of gooey ketchup dribbled from the corner of her lip.

Uncles surrounded in a girth of love so large
And as her tiny paten leather feet touched the floor
Her hand reached for Da's and the blankie.
All was right with the world.

Written by: DEBRA FALGOUT     Read Poems by DEBRA FALGOUT

Form: Light Poetry | + Fav Poet | + Fav Poem | Comment | Email | Print

To The Moon

To The Moon

Holding ones little hands into the night
We look up to the stars
"Mawmaw , I see the big ball" she says
I reply, "Lets go catch the big ball"
She runs, both arms reaching up high
Funny almost into my neighbors bushes
Realizing she could not catch the big ball
She looks up at me and then says "I love you mawmaw"                          
I reply "I love you too"
"Big, To The Moon"


Written by:  Debra M. Falgout