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.
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