M y eyes see what your heart is feeling
Y our feelings you write out as poetry
P ain, love, joy, wonder, inspiration
O nly you can help me see, hear,and feel you
E ven though only words you have written they
T ouch my heart and mind deeply from within
R equiring me to write a poem so full of feeling as
Y ou become my poetry I write from my heart
S mile, laugh, cry, whisper, or shout
O pen your heart, mind, and soul
U tter your words on paper or screen
P oetry is where I see and feel your soul
Tons of comma fun!
contest of Russell Sivey
Written by: Carol Brown
3rd Place Winner
Pen in hand, against the paper,
An artist must be left to bleed,
Inner thoughts become written words.
No better way has been found
To empty out a soul.
With growing eagerness,
I add fuel to the fire
To induce passion's flame,
Hoping the blaze never dies.
Forever and a day, and longer,
Inside my heart the fire burns.
Revealing to another soul
Every spark of my inspiration.
Halloween: Safety First Then Fun!!!
By the Poets Listed After the Poem
Happy day getting candy treats while dressed like spooks and goblins.
Angels, genies, princesses, too, put “loot” in their bags and tins.
Look both ways when you cross the street. Always stay close to your friends.
Lighted homes. Festive decorations. Porches. Pumpkins. Invite!
Oh, be leery of the dark, where ghosts and spooks stay out of site.
Wear bright costumes that reflect at night! Not lose or tight. Just right!
Every child must be aware that some goblins inhabit homes.
Each year we hear of razor blades placed in a child’s candied cones.
Never!!! Ever!!! Eat your treats 'til Mom says, “OK, little gnomes.”
Stay safe! Look around! While you walk, beware of witches and bats.
Always, ghosts and goblins watch. Looking out for sweet treats you drop.
Fear? If they happen to appear parents, quickly call the cops!
Enjoy laughter, hot chocolate, and other treats with your friends.
Take care not to play tricks that could hurt others or cause offense.
Youngsters, polite and respectful, great delight they do dispense.
Fun you will have! Enjoyment too. Be sure that you are careful!
In all situations, “Trick-or-Treaters” beware! Need HELP? Shout!!!
Remember say, “Thank you” for treats when you’re out and about.
Stay clear of Spooky Soupers as they write with their crazy pens.
To write in verse, some witches curse. And drive sanity ‘round bends.
The madness, “Dearie,” is very clear; they strive to make amends.
Hooting owls and wild black cats wildly eat from your mum's pumpkin
Eerily, creaky zombies leave their tombs and walk down your streets.
Night, bubbling soups, you must beware, might be made of your own feet--
Frantic frenzies and fabulous fun begins just before dark.
Under that moonlit chilling night, “Trick- or-Treaters,” find their mark.
Nearby neighbors anticipate. Waiting with treats is a lark!
Contributing Poets in Alphabetical Order: Charmaine Chircop, Carolyn Devonshire , James
Frazer, Rhoda Galgiani, Sean Kelly, Karen O'Leary, Patricia Prescott, Dane SmithJohnsen
If I were to write about love
I would start with a word
I remember before my grandmother died
she would recomend
I get a job in the writing world
the acting world
and then she's gone.......
I remember the rain....
how one life affects another.....
if i were to write about love....
i would start with a word....
Music calms the angry heart, its glorious rhythm penetrates the dark, the way I feel when the sound waves seep through my hair, consumes my soul with a suttle stare, my feet so happy, my body enriched with vibrations, my soul so at ease, I'm here for the taking.
I play from my experience, I put on a show, my hidden words entangled with the things that I know, smiles surround me, they glance by my feet, their inner beings amazed by my beat.
I beat my drums, I play my strings, they show me their affection, this is where I get my wings, they say I can fly, it seems I can soar, my music so perfect, they keep asking for more.
I do what I love, and they love what I do, music is my life, I am so happy that I can share it with you.
M any of you soupers already knows this friendly New Yorker
I n writes and friendship he`s an outstanding and stand up guy
C entral Park,Strawberry Fields..could it be his invention?
H e inspires and has taught me to write from my heart and soul
A nother days goes by,another write is born right out of his Golden Pen
E ndless rivers of artistic ink,flowing like strong creeks after a long winter
L ive and let live should be tattooed on that dude`s forehead
J ourney has started there`s no stopping now..
F lying zigzag between rainbows,how many beside MJF has been inside a rainbow?
A nchored in poetry his mind drifts all over the planet-searching to find friendly spirits
L ennons` soul visit his work from time to time..
O rdinary people here at the Soup has cherished his work over and over
T he timeless poems he produces displays a unique creativity
I n dream poetry and real life he strikes a nerve,the reader something to ponder
C entral Park..Strawberry Fields..is that your poetry office,Mike?
O ver and over his Golden Pen delivers spectacular work..
* Take care MJF,have a peaceful and great NY week over there!
September 25th 2012
J ust write a poem...that's what it said
U nderstanding not a word that has come into my head.
S o I just started to write some words to see
T hat they might just fit this category.
P roperly written in words that you'll read
O ver and over I hope to succeed.
E ven if I can't say something witty or trite
T hen again, let my words say that I've given it a fight.
R ight now I can't say that one word here even flows
Y es, fighting for words is all a poet does.
November saying hi
October says bye
Valediction for succession
Enter like a magician
Moving things from best
Bringing them to your chest
Edit and expunge the worst
Rewrite the trailed test
Touching the keys
Yawning as the hours went by
Perfect lining on the sheet
Elefants, butterflies and other things written on the paper
Working most of the time
Read the finished piece only to find a missing word
Inicials at the bottom
Top of the page has the date
Talented typing fills the air
Endless beauty is here
R estless words on the sheet they go
P rose unfolds revealing the deepest inner desires
O nly a few words transcend into a multitude of meaning.
E ven after he explains something is lost in translation,
T he simplest things made beautiful by the words, they
R eminding us we’re not alone, increase
Y earning to become one with the experience
Laying in my bed
There is nothing in my head
The night is growing mysterious
Time is going crawling by
I can see the pitch black sky
It’s silent every where
But I can feel the cool of the night air
I’m listening to the annoying tick tock sound of this wall clock
This still night made me realize, how lonesome we are
Just left in the lurch…In the middle of the night
L ooking lekker
E ating lekker
K nowledge is lekker
K indness is lekker
E ducation is lekker
R elaxation is lekker
With what I have to work with is all I need
Or do I? as I choose to write this with speed
Rule of thumb I have to emphasize the words I use
Do you think so? or should I just choose?
Portrait is a fascinating word it has so many meaning
Overview of this word is this I say; accent, highlight, illuminate, and stressing
Revealing more words to use is what I will do
The meaning of Portrait is what I will view
Random words that make the word Portrait now I will say
A word that means the same yet makes it more pleasant to overlay
I will now say some words or two; accentuate, feature, punctuate
These words can either be used or can be put on debate
Raging winds around her blowing
O that's the lassie of my heart [she's]
Braving angry winter storms [my]
Esteem for Chloris [but]
To Mary in heaven
Behold my love, how green the groves [I'm]
Up in the morning early [me]
Robbie Burns the Scottish bard [has]
News lassies, News
She says she loves me best of all.
All the lines in this verse are either Burns poems or songs..Mostly about the women he loved. I have added a few word at the end of some of the lines to make it easier reading.
Dan Cwiak - Dedicated to *** Constance ***
The Rambling Poet's work titled: Throbbing With Life
In thinking of a contest poem with ~~~ RULES ~~~
Consideration must be given to them,
Or the poetry written will not fit
Under their *** UMBRELLA ***
Lonely, the poet feels encumbered by
Doing his work for such a ~~~ CONTEST ~~~
Nothing else can upset the delicate balance
Of words, rhyme, and *** METER ***
To enter a contest is a challenge
For any poet to attempt ~~~ YET ~~~
In so far as subscribing to the rules
Necessary, he must make the effort with
Devotion, thought, and ***STRONG WILL ***
This is the strength of the poet's
Heart as a writer and wordsmith,
Endeavoring to complete his ~~~ TASK ~~~
When I try to write something clever
Or get on with my writing as a *** QUEST ***
Rigid are the thoughts that cross my mind,
Descriptive are those that only ~~~ ESCAPE ~~~
Such that I am mindful of the burden laid upon me.
To some, it may come easily to their *** BEING ***
Others, like me, have a more difficult task as the
Disharmony of thoughts, words, and feelings
Evolve into an imperfect type of ~~~ PERFECTION ~~~
Very often, the expressions are only those
Of the emotional guilt I may have for the subject.
Too often, however, I begin to use *** Poetic License ***
Even though, I should not take that liberty.
To those who can claim the poet's glib words,
Or the gift that they have, often proceed to ~~~ GIVE ~~~
Yet, such is my life as poet. Such is the ~~~ CONSCIENCE ~~~
Of my soul. Oh, but to shed myself of these thoughts,
Under the banner of the poetry that I *** WRITE ***
Enthusiastic he is
Loves your say
Insouciant he is
Gifts you away
Inspiring he is
Buck-up he says
Legit he is
Engrosses your days
Beloved he is
Admires you in a way
Charismatic he is
Habituates your lay
Efficient he is
Leads your way
Opposite he is
Retains your nee
Help is something I need
Even though I refuse it
Let me learn how to accept it
Please, don't give up on me.
Poems can come in many forms, in free verse or in rhyme;
Our pens keep busy with its forms to write it all the time.
Each person has his style and form, and nothing is exempt;
To me it is a lot like soup, with smells that lure and tempt!
Right now I’m sitting at my desk to write it one more time;
You know, I think God gave this gift to me to make these rhymes.
So here’s another yet to add to my e’er growing file
Of thoughts, ingredients succulent to satisfy a while.
Until the last breath that I draw, I will consume this treat;
Poetry soup tastes good, you know, so grab a spoon and eat!
Dedicated to Poetrysoup.com, acrostic of the web site name.
THIS ONE JUST CAME TO ME SINCE LEARNING OF THIS SITE!!
"Letters tumble into words from this writer's mind.
Some come as smooth as a spring brook waterfall,
Others sear my brain as they graze by so closely."
All of them meaning something and then again nothing,
But we understand the meaning of each one don't we?
Collectively sometimes they can be so confusing,
Deciding what another is truly saying very daunting.
Especially when the deepness seems shallow in content,
Followed by the brilliance of just plain old speak.
Great words spilling in different directions hard to follow.
How does this amaze me as I read so many friends works?
I will never forget the lovely expressions which have graced my eyes,
Just to hold them briefly has honored my existence.
Kindred poets embracing each others thoughts so gently,
Loving what they didn't write yet still feeling a part.
My dreams becoming part of theirs and theirs mine;
No questions asked and really none that matter,
Open minds melding into another in joyous acceptance,
Pleased at the wonder that one's adverbs evoked.
Quantity living only in the stretch of imagination;
Rivals created somewhere in a corner of the brain.
So sad those who don't even try to understand,
To live and let live the one tried and true answer.
Undulating wishes stroke a thought and sometimes better;
Visions that never end and others fading quietly.
Wonders of inspiration that can keep this poet from sleeping.
X a least used letter which seems so very lonely.
Your love the very thing that flies this burning spirit;
Zorro marks this spot Z where I end this lengthy piece.
(hoping you have enjoyed this acrostic alphabetic adventure within my imagination)
Copyright © 2014 Robert William Gruhn - All Rights Reserved
"A poem to me is the essence of any thought,
Being built from its foundation into tower scraping sky.
It can fly like no other bird to places never seen,
Even spaceships can only dream of taking its place."
© 2014 Robert William Gruhn
SOMETHINGS ON MY NECK.
I have somethings in ma neck,
I plot a while at ma desk,
I ask, and seek,
How will I cope with things that I have on my neck.
I was given a test,
A trial and a vet,
I thought for some minutes,
A while and some seconds,
Then, I later put all at rest.
Now, am coping,
Using all my strength.
Poetry is for me
As i write it for all to see
I can write the words
Without being disturbed
I put my feelings in it
And never want to quit
It's about me and my life
That i think about with all my might
It helps me get through
With things i do
I write it from my heart
That it feels like a dart
Poetry can be happy or sad
As long as it makes me glad
Write it each day
With so many things to say
Even when days are gray
Poetry is for me
To let me be me
The treasures that I have found
Helped to improve what I now know;
Every word helped me come around
To write with pleasures I can show.
Remembering the writer's who have taught
Each one of us just what to do;
As we learned those treasures brought
Satisfaction to many, including you.
Until I became a member in here
Regular things in life weren't so much;
Every new friend made things more clear
Showing us how to write with a touch.
If I were asked to do it again
Finding the greatest treasures on earth;
Only then I'd ask where or when
Utilizing the chance for all it's worth.
Now that I found a treasure of friends
Dreams and destinies have no ends.