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Couplet Write Poems | Couplet Poems About Write

These Couplet Write poems are examples of Couplet poems about Write. These are the best examples of Couplet Write poems written by international PoetrySoup poets

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Details | Couplet | |

I Don't Write Poems

I don’t write poems, 
I drink them like wine, 
I become tipsy 
with each coming line. 

I don’t write poems, 
I breathe them like air, 
I become so happy 
when each one I share.   

I don’t write poems, 
I live with them; 
they prolong my years, 
they are as true as I am. 

I don’t write poems, 
I weave into verses 
sadness, joy, tears, 
prayers, love, curses… 

My poems talk and sing, 
Sense of living they bring. 


©Larisa Rzhepishevska (Odessa, Ukraine)


Details | Couplet | |

Blinded by Right and Wrong

I stood on a hill and screamed for peace...
Lost in the noise were friends that teased...

A mask that hides what's wrong and right...
Too many stones thrown that blinded my sight...
 
Wolves that prowled with a sheeps face and a devils soul...
Crept slowly in the dark where the truth was never told...

My cape is wrinkled and torn and bloodied from the day...
A battle well fought where being right lost its way...

Then left with a heart with blood still there to drain...
No need to ask the question, I'd do it all over again...


I don't write stories, I don't write make believe... I write what's in Me....    Michael





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Undressed Words

“Undressed Words”

Another story yet told…
Painful memories I couldn’t hold…
They take a backseat in my mind…
Missing words I still can’t find…
You had a pocket full of goodbyes…
Each one caught with a sigh…
We stood long in the rain…
Where tears blend in just the same…
Cracks in a heart that the eyes can’t see…
Faded scars that still may bleed…
Drips on my pages too express…
Into poetry that stays undressed…














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God Forbid

My life is very insular, I move from page to page
never straying far from words which prance upon the written stage.

like a sputtering engine my tongue tangles on a phrase
I rub my eyes, red and raw, I can't remove my aged gaze.

My fingers curl and knuckles gnarl as velum dances right
I read, I write, I think and pause, I can't turn out the light.

Compose, I will, adjust I must, each simile an anchor 
to a life much analyzed, but lived with little rancor.

like the scribes of ancient Rome my fingertips are worn
yet I persist with joyous bliss for I know I must go on. 

My form has bent, bowed and curled to meet the need of the word
God forbid, I went through this lifetime never being heard.



Details | Couplet | |

A blessing in my life

I usually write in couplet rhyme
Its simply what I do it's not by design
It's just the way the words seem to flow
Into my head up out of my soul
I love the ones that are full of light
See they are what brought me up out of the night
People prove they care by the things that they do
So I write this light for all of you
I write it because I wish you to know
True beauty is born with-in the soul
The soul is a thing that cherishes the light
Do you not embrace the stars through the dark of night
Well as you do know my words are true
They may twinkle bright but not as bright as you
You are angels who covered me in your prayers
Let me know I'm someone worthy of care
I hold you all in my heart just like my wife
Like her you are "a blessing in my life"


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SOUPS ON

         Writing is my challenge each day
     But it's not the words or what to say.

     It is the connection with other writers here
     Because I feel I'm not worthy or equal I fear.

     The talent expressed by so many others
     Often makes me want to hide under the covers.

     The gems that are written and ones that I read
     Are so inspired, personal, and give me a need.

     That's why I come here every time
     To see what others have put in their rhyme.

      Carolyn always has a message for me to ponder
      And others write things that make me wonder.

      I often race to the "New Poems"  just to see
      If by some chance there's one by which P.D has destroyed me.

      And Carol, Bob, Nick, Emily, Wilma, and "the Sweetheart"
      Write things that sometimes I just can't pull apart.

      The Doc has written so many things
      I am amazed sometimes at the thoughts he brings.

      Others are here who write so well
      Their words do me so oft compel.

      For like unto them I want to be
      Writing words that have meaning for others to see.

      Will they be worthy I say when I'm done
      Or will they be read by others, as I've intentioned.

      You know I feel so many emotions just now
      Because of all these writers, I just don't know how.

      For they are a driving force for me
      And part of my challenge each day is to make them see.

      That because of them I have to write
      Sometimes into the wee hours of the night.

      To pick a favorite writer is...well a difficult choice
      So I pick them all, because they shout with one voice.

      "Write, you fool, then write some more"
      Words I hear and cannot ignore.

      So I choose them all...all here in this group
      The ones who have made me hungry for Soup.

      There, I've said it...and you know that's not in haste
      The Soupers that are here are the best of all to taste.


      



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Why I Write

I write what I can't say
sometimes there's no other way

I write so I don't forget
when it's gone I'm left with only regret

for things I lost
for tiny thoughts

for things I need
that are meerly seeds

seeds that grow 
into the pages of my soul


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I Would Write a Song {resubmit}

So much of my life I spent doing wrong
If I could write music I would write a song

I have done things a man shouldn't do
These words are written for they are true

If you open your heart and look to the sky
Ask of the Lord then hear the reply

It won't come in words not words you can hear
It may come with a smile or fall as a tear

I found an angel said bye to my ghost
After I lost everything I gained the most

I found the Lord through the poems I pray
Sometimes it’s best to just give it away

I write out my words for they help me see
Simple is best for simple is free

Think of yourself just never think down
Your mind holds the music just listen to the sound

Everyone you meet has something to say
Be sure to include them in the prayers that you pray

All that you do and all that you see
Shares in your story and your destiny

When dealing with others do what you do
Just be kind and gentle to those you do it to

Everything is nothing that it shouldn't be
As a seconds a second and a tree is a tree


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Letter To A War Widow

With warmest regards and the saddest lament
I write this small note with the best of intent

The newspaper’s account of your husband’s death
Made me feel as if I was short of breath

As the son of a Veteran who twice went to war
I’ve often wondered, what my life would have had in store

If my father had not returned home one day
And I had to share my grief on public display

I was not born the first time he went away
And was just ten when he left again, somehow feeling betrayed

I didn’t quite understand why he had to leave
It took a while to learn not to grieve

I read that you have two little boys, just six and eight
I can’t imagine what you say to make their restless dreams abate

My mind used to play out my greatest fear
Misplacing his last tape recording, saying his coming home date was near

On return tapes to him, I played guitar and talked too
Trying to make him feel like he was home, even if untrue

I write this note to help me remember
That even though my father returned in December

Many that go off to war, do not
And sons, daughters, spouses and families are caught

In a process of grieving that abates only with time
It takes as long as it does, there is no magical chime  

To help you and your sons with your journey that I feared most
Enclosed is a contribution to their foundation host

Not at all a fair trade, just to help provide for their well being 
I know you remind them that their father’s love is all seeing


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Impossible Task for a Dreamer

Can't write about Christmas or New Years Day,                  Written just for Paula's
Or Easter or Kwanzaa or any other Holiday.                        Contest :)

I've written too much about war, about love,
and depression and sex both deserve a shove.

I guess that I could just swallow my pride,
And sneak in a write about suicide'

But Paula don't want these kinds of idolitry,
She wants us to write a poem about poetry.

How do you write about what you never said,
Or the way that words rattle around in your head?

Or how hard those words are to make a pen fashion,
Or how when they're written they seem to lose passion?

O Poem, what can I write about you?
I think until my thinker turns blue,

I come to the end of a poem about poetry,
But it won't rhyme.


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The Art of Listening

I was read to as a child,every night at bed
Fairy tales, short stories, prose, or poems is what was read
Beatrix Potter, Mother Goose, Childcraft books were chose
But my favorite things to listen to were poetry and prose

I learned these things all by heart knew,when to turn the page
Mom thought I could read quite young ,was advanced for my age
But I was a fooler to those around ,cause I would memorize
Each page that was read to me, my reading was just lies.

I was fortunate to have a Mom that was well versed in liberal arts
I was read all sorts of things and would recite different parts
I listened to many poems from Percy,Keats,Frost and Thoreau.             
Wordsworth,Longfellow, Lord Byron sometimes we wouldn't know.

When a child is read to when very young they get well versed in rhyme.
Then writing them as they age is something that fills their time. 


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Stanzas of Love

I write of celestial moons and flying carpet rides,
Of seasonal hues and rising tides.

I write when golden light fills the skies,
And emerald hills enchant my eyes.

When the aroma of thulian roses scents the air
And wind blows the willows like Pele’s hair.

I write of all things that remind me of you,
How I’m sheltered by your shadow in all I do.

When I hear the call of a turtle dove,
I smile at the mellifluous voice of the man I love.

As a glowing garnet sun sets on a calm sparkling sea
Your love songs will echo eternally.

Our love will remain pristine and pure
As our souls combine and forever endure. 

© January 20, 2013

For 'My Valetine' Contest Sponsor: Suzette Crous

Decodeing secret message:
This message is to my mate when we met on one of my flights, hence the
flying carpet rides. The tides are because we live on an island in the Pacific.


Details | Couplet | |

all about Sashi

Jan2012
By Sashi. Prabhu (ZEAUOXIAN)
I am not afraid any more, I am not afraid any more. I have cheated my fears alright, I have broken up with my doubts uptight. I am not afraid any more, I am not afraid any more. I got engaged to my faith last night, I married my dreams at the sight of first light. I am not afraid to get up today, I am not afraid to wake up to another day today, I am not afraid to open my eyes and see today, I am not afraid to climb out of bed today. I am ready to walk into the gardens in the heavy rains, I am ready to open my nose and smell of mud from wet terrain I am ready to face the world all alone, I am ready to do anything to walk up the stepping stone. I am ready to say anything to anyone, I am ready to talk to anyone under the sun. I am ready to yell from mountain tops, I am ready to dive from ravine drops. I am ready to walk for a cause, I am ready to run to protect environmental laws. I am ready to touch taboo objects & subjects I am ready to work on regressions of y on x I am ready to understand tangled issues, I am ready to wipe all tears with tissues. I am ready to taste tropical fruits, I am ready to chop, boil and eat bamboo shoots I am ready to jump out from a moving truck, I am ready to pull my allies from loads of muck. I am ready to be creative again, I am ready to write and spill out my joys and pain. I am ready to sing and hear my own songs, I am ready to correct my own wrongs. I am ready to throw a stone afar, I am ready to play my own music for all with the door ajar. I am ready to write notes about me, I am ready to put them up for all to see. I am ready to whistle whilst I walk down the alley, I am ready to bring out tunes and them create verbally I am not afraid any more, I am not afraid any more.


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AWSOME SITE

I thought that this would be an interesting topic to write
As some thoughts about this year's awesome events came to light.

Recalling the year's events made me pause
Yet several "awesome" events gave me cause.

In thinking about one particular thing I would say
That finding Poetry Soup has made my day.

Not ever knowing how addictive it can be
To write my thoughts in words for others to see.

And then there are the friends I have found here
Who's poetry sometime will bring me a tear.

Oh, I laugh at some, cry with some, even get quizzical 
But it only makes my fingers want to get physical.

My brain starts to ache as I work up a lather
Typing words into rhyme as fast as I can gather.

Yes, it is a gem of a site that I see
But the real gems are the others who write poetry.

Their words are more elegant than mine
And I often wonder how they come to them sometime.

When I read their work it is more than a cure
They express the thoughts which are ever so pure.

Like distilling fine cognac from its brandy base
The words that I read all fall into place.

So it makes me want to make my own work better
And to them I have become a debtor.

For the words I write come from inspiration
And some of the contests exact great consternation.

You see, I don't know an Iambic from a Pentameter
But, that's what makes me want to try harder.

So I write words in ways that I think are good
Hoping that my thoughts can be understood.

Many a comment passes the site each day
All, to me, are special when sent my way.

I appreciate the thoughts of others who will take the time
To read the words I have tried to rhyme.

So in looking for something happy that happened this year
This "Awesome" site makes me want to cheer.

Poetry Soup may not give you the zing,
But then, next to sex...it's the next best thing!

HAPPY HOLIDAYS TO ALL !!


Details | Couplet | |

My Country Song

I think I'll write a country song
about the weasel that 'done me wrong'
We'd have been married thirty years today
if he hadn't had a penchant to stray.

I got the pickup truck, so we'll leave that part out
but there's lots of other things I can whine about.
I can hit a few notes on this guitar of mine,
now I need to come up with some catchy line.

Country songs need to have a refrain,
something so catchy it'll stick in your brain.
They're all about liars and cheaters and such
and cheapskate dates who want to go dutch.

I'll make a fortune when my song's a hit.
My inspiration was my ex the ....jerk?
Yes, I think I'll write me a country song
about the weasel that 'done me wrong'.

I'll put in a verse about socks on the floor,
then casually mention his red-headed .... friend?
Maybe I'll say that he broke my heart
I'm still not quite sure where to start.

Most of what I write may even be true.
I could mention his cologne smells like... aqua velva?
Yes, I'm sure I can write one if I try.
It'll hit the charts and from there just fly.

I know I can write a country song.
Anyone can when they've lived this long.
We all have something twangy and sad,
something good in our past that turned out bad.


* any resemblence to actual events is purely coincidental

** and thanks Nancy for the blog that inspired this


Details | Couplet | |

The Smallest Most Powerful Tool

I hold you close to me and I don't know why.
You give me strength and purpose I can't deny.

Like a dry sponge, you allow me to pour,
My soul into you and you never close the door.

You are part of me, like my arm or my hand,
So tired I become, can't even stand.

My eyes glass over with water from my tears,
Doing this with you helps me fight my fears.

I hold you so tight, with the grip of steel,
Never to let you go, so strong is my will.

Through you my friend, I can do anything,
Compose music, write a book, or even sing.

With a delicate hand, I keep you so sharp,
I can put you down to paper and then we can start.


-Not for any contest


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Equus Poeticus Variabilis

I’m riding your horse, no giddyap allowed,
simply plunge into the deepest unknown.

Your voice sets the pace, it whispers 
into the ears of my ride, sometimes they twitch

sometimes they find water, sometimes 
the waterfalls absorb all thought. I lean

over neck, sample horse blood like a vampire, 
like a computer’s command mode

taking over my brain, allowing my heart
to beat in tune, my feet to turn to hooves

and kick up or canter, moving with the rhythm
and flow, feeling the sweat of the sun

overhead and the damp of shady pines
and raking the grasses until they rustle over skin.

This is how I know you: the whisper on the wind
the stroke along my frame, the bed stead 

in which I dream, the places of unimagined
like a lure, a bait, overtaking me, leading 

me down a road I’ve never found
until you lent the movement of ride forever. 


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Life Sans Soup

Ah, life would surely be tasteless without a ladle of Soup each day!
Ah, the variety of delectable verse to choose from that bountiful buffet!

There is romantic verse, hot and spicy, to warm the cockles of the heart!
Inspirational and insightful poems from the poets' very souls to impart!

So delightful are the witty and humorous ditties that evoke a grin,
And so are the spiritual writes that warn us against the perils of sin!

We learn so much from the historical ballads written by our creative peers,
And read of the vicissitudes of life that bring the hardest of hearts to tears!

Others write of the brave deeds of soldiers that swell our breasts with pride.
Still, others write of the grandeur of God's Creation so great and wide!

'Tis so pleasing to read glowing tributes to others written from the soul!
We enjoy tales of cowboys, their saddle sores and favorite watering hole!

Poetry Soup offers splendid opportunities for budding poets and is first rate,
But the folks who ladle out the Soup to receptive minds are what make it great!

Ah, life would certainly not be complete without my Soup 'fix' each day!
Ah, the variety of delectable verse to choose from that bountiful buffet!

Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired
© All Rights Reserved

Placed No. 3 in David Williams' "Life Without Soup" Contest - February 2012


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I Have To Pump My Ego

I need to boast on all the blogs I own and write you see,
That I am a diverse writer of creativity!
~
I need to enhance my ego of mine for all to view,
I need the self esteem high that is all mine and so due!
 ~

I need to make sure you know I write intelligently,
This calms and soothes my demons inside of me.
~


Details | Couplet | |

bucket list of wants

Tons more I wish to do, Much more I want to do, Before I am laid on the pyre facing the sky deep blue, Much more I wish to do………. I want to scale scary heights, I want to bungee jump without any fright. I want to travel rough terrains on bikes, I want to make it through forests and go on long hikes. I want to wander singing songs, I want to sing about how I mended my wrongs. I want to be creative again , I want to write about my joys thrills and pain. I want to pour my heart and passion in my works, I want to write verses & haikus without reactions knee jerks. I want to take many a calculated risks, I want to learn from the entire process without shortcuts or fancy tricks. I want to contribute for a good cause, I want to give without siphoning material or emotional dross. I want to untangle messed up issues, I want to wipe off tears with empathy laced tissues. I want to work on taboo subjects, I want to solve regression of y on x. I want to listen to my music loud, I want to pen my work in a place far from the madding crowd. I want to sow seeds and many a plant, I want to bask in sun rays that into my room slant. I want to drench in the rains, I want to make paper boats and sail them in the drains. I want to pick up from the ground and smell fresh wet earth, And then joyously have my speech filled with mirth. I want to boldly write about myself only for me, I want the world to know me & my mind as they will always see. I want to meet often the persons, who mean a lot to me, I want to be able to emote my passions and feelings of love and glee. I want to be happy about just any small thing, And all this I want to do before the last breath to my nostrils I bring. Facing the blue skies on my funeral pyre, I want to be on the best craft my soul can hire…. All this I want to do very soon, Before sets into me dreaded gloom. But the life I live is taking its toll, I am yet to get out of this oblivious hole. Time is just right to set aside, And take a ride Fulfill my wants and dreams that I nurtured in me to grow, And I had put away sheathed in a cocoon of time many years ago. Now I don’t want a moment long, And I will do what I want and sing my own song, And do what in me I let grow, Many, many years ago.
by: Sashi.Prabhu


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His Final Letter

I now lie here alone, the wounded have joined the dead
Hours pass like years, my body, in shrapnel torn shreds

My duty, my love for my country, I can no longer give
Memories knowing I have lived, are now starting to sieve

Being so far away from my family, so far away from my home
Daylight like my life, allures me to a darkening roam

 
  To my love I write this letter, my wife my lovely Serena
  My words are all I have left, in this war torn theatre arena

  Remember when I moved in next door, you were first to say hello
  And the day when you asked me out, I was too scared to go

  I know we were only eleven but something clicked that day
  Into our teens we grew, knowing I'd marry you one day

  The day of our wedding, was the happiest day of my life
  For knowing my heart was true, when I asked you to be my wife

  Thank you for being who you are, and what you made me to be
  Never wanting me to enlist, to protect the land of the free

  I'm seeing places of our past, the greens, our courting grounds
  You playing with your lovely blonde hair, twirling it around

  Serena, my love, my friend, thank you for being my wife
  Tell our kids I love them dearly, thank you for being in my life


I'm growing ever weaker, as I write through redded stains
The darkening roam allures me, the light now starts to drain




~*~ Inspired by an image created by Serena Dunaway ~*~







http://www.thehighlanderspoems.com/loss-6.php


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Reading

READING   

By reading we can pass our 
 As killing time is a crime. 
  
By reading we can develop our personality like never before, 
It gives us knowledge as much as sand on the sea shore.
   
By readind we can develop our mind,
 The best thind is that the books are so kind, 
The treasure hidden here no where we can find.   

The usefulness of reading is beyond description,  
 By reading we can not only fulfil our ambition, 
But also can develop concentration. 
 
 By reading the books of spirituality, 
We can reach any stage of humanity, 
And can face the worlds reality.   

By reading we get pleasure,
 And can also find the knowledge treasure. 
 
 Reading solves the mystery of life, 
It teaches us how to survive, 
And it makes life a comfortable drive.  
 
By reading we can develop our personality,
 This is nothing but reality.   

Reading castes such a spell, 
That it rings the mind's bell, 
And helps us to extract the pearl from a shell.   

Books are said to be our best friends,
 We can face any challenge they give us such courage and strength.      
 
      -BY RACHIT BANSAL.


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Flying With The Birds

If I were to believe in you, would you believe in me?
If everything that I promised you actually came to be

If I were a beautiful rainbow, a reflection in the sky
Formed by the rays of light as your tears you cried

Sweetheart I am just a simple man with a complex plight
My blessing is you’re here with me, as this quest I fight

Sweetheart you know I’m a warrior, though I live like a ghost
I fight and write living my plight, inside the belly of the host

From shore to shore, a forever war, that will never end
Just today I got the word the host has taken another friend

Another soul another goal of course another wasted life
God I am a lucky man to have become one with my wife

Pains insane it shreds my brain and tears my heart into
I’m left here asking myself, “Was there anything I could do”

I have to write a eulogy though I just don’t know what to say
Here is a soul, another hole, for someone who lost his way 

Sobriety is really great but at times it is truly rather hard
You watch them take another friend and plant him in the yard

Another smoke, another joke another party has reached its end
Here I sit in a spiritual pit feeling totally lost about my friend

I hope someday someone reads what I say, takes another course
Pass on doing that shot, love it or not, death upon the black tar horse

So I shall write my Eulogy falling to pieces about my friend
Who made fun of the man I turned out to be, until the very end

But that’s ok it was just his way, right up until the day he died
The one true light shinning bright, lives inside of you and I

So will all of you join with me let your spirits pen my words
About a beautiful soul, who found his goal, flying with the birds


------------------------------------------------------------------
Very few people in this life that I love enough to let make fun
of the changes I made in my life. Addiction (The Host) took 6
friends in 2007, 5 in 2008 and this is the first in 2009. He didn't
overdose he was shot a couple of days ago in Chico, Ca during
a home invasion robbery over his heroin debt. I used to always
pay his debts when it reached this point with bags of Meth. This
time I couldn't go there for him and now he is dead. This is my
life, my gift and my curse. God Bless you all, mj


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Poetry sets me loose

Poetry sets me loose
No, I haven't had the booze!

It just gives me a chance
To jump into a written trance!

I play with all heartfelt thinking
And dig out every feel of sinking!

I pen it down into lines
Hoping each word shines!

I feel the words across my face, breeze
Giving me a momentary freeze!

Now that its in the open and out
I feel like yelling a joyful shout!

Yes, oh yes, Poetry sets me loose
No, I haven't had the booze!


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If I Knew

If I knew how to write a song
I’d write one everyday
It would say that I’m in love with you
And why I feel this way

It would have to say you’re pretty
And as rare as a desert rose
It would say you’re a looker
From your head down to your toes

You are funny, dainty, fragile
And as feminine as can be
You’re smart charming lovely
And everything to me

You’re my comfort when I’m lonely
You’re my peace when I need rest
Of all the women I’ve known
I must rate you the best.

You’re the orchard in the jungle,
you’re the better half of me
You’re all of this and so much more,
you mean the world to me

Still so much is left unsaid, 
It would take me far to long
I know how much I love you, 
If only I could write a song


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new begining

 
Jan2012
By Sashi. Prabhu (ZEAUOXIAN)
I am not afraid any more, I am not afraid any more. I have cheated my fears alright, I have broken up with my doubts uptight. I am not afraid any more, I am not afraid any more. I got engaged to my faith last night, I married my dreams at the sight of first light. I am not afraid to get up today, I am not afraid to wake up to another day today, I am not afraid to open my eyes and see today, I am not afraid to climb out of bed today. I am ready to walk into the gardens in the heavy rains, I am ready to open my nose and smell of mud from wet terrain I am ready to face the world all alone, I am ready to do anything to walk up the stepping stone. I am ready to say anything to anyone, I am ready to talk to anyone under the sun. I am ready to yell from mountain tops, I am ready to dive from ravine drops. I am ready to walk for a cause, I am ready to run to protect environmental laws. I am ready to touch taboo objects & subjects I am ready to work on regressions of y on x I am ready to understand tangled issues, I am ready to wipe all tears with tissues. I am ready to taste tropical fruits, I am ready to chop, boil and eat bamboo shoots I am ready to jump out from a moving truck, I am ready to pull my allies from loads of muck. I am ready to be creative again, I am ready to write and spill out my joys and pain. I am ready to sing and hear my own songs, I am ready to correct my own wrongs. I am ready to throw a stone afar, I am ready to play my own music for all with the door ajar. I am ready to write notes about me, I am ready to put them up for all to see. I am ready to whistle whilst I walk down the alley, I am ready to bring out tunes and them create verbally I am not afraid any more, I am not afraid any more.


Details | Couplet | |

A Rhymester's Couplet

The poetaster attempted to write a couplet with success
The results were more than embarrassing nonetheless.


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No Man's Land

Avoiding me, I cannot quite seem to catch you,
You slithery fiend, in decision I choose to loathe you!
Fatigued as I am, I chase ever after,
Be gone my tired eyes and fade into the laughter,
Walking empty streets until the sun doth shine,
Until clouds beckon on a ribbon of yellow line,
The beauty that is doth captivate so,
An enemy, my timeless foe,
Never have we once been a friend,
But does it not depend?
I cannot survive without thee,
Until my dreams invade to set me free.


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I spit fire

 In my mind there is a poetic spark
Illuminating words that were in the dark

When I put pen to paper it starts to blaze
My syllables are on fire as I kindle my phrase

Fiery words race through my mind
As  conflagration  of thoughts  combine

A liquid thought attempts to put out the fire
But it's too weak to extinguish my burning desire

Then like a volcano my stanza erupts
My words are red hot  please don't interrupt

I'm in rhyme mode and I cant stop
 A free verser   intrudes  but is quickly burnt up

My final  couplet flows with the lava down to the sea
Smoke rises from my pen, my poem set free



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My poetry form

                  
Out of all those poetry forms couplet's my fave.
     Cause that form lets me rant and rave.
         It lets me put my poems to rhyme.
If there was no couplet poetry would be a crime
       When I have a thought I write it down.
Couplet's my favorite there not all about syllables
                         and nouns.
       So writing poems is what I love to do.
Couplet's allow me to write about what,when or who.
                       Teresa Skyles


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Want to do

Written on: 7th September 2012.
Written by: Sashi.Prabhu (Zeauoxian)

Tons more I wish to do, Much more I want to do, Before I am laid on the pyre facing the sky deep blue, Much more I wish to do………. I want to scale scary heights, I want to bungee jump without any fright. I want to travel rough terrains on bikes, I want to make it through forests and go on long hikes. I want to wander singing songs, I want to sing about how I mended my wrongs. I want to be creative again , I want to write about my joys thrills and pain. I want to pour my heart and passion in my works, I want to write verses & haikus without reactions knee jerks. I want to take many a calculated risks, I want to learn from the entire process without shortcuts or fancy tricks. I want to contribute for a good cause, I want to give without siphoning material or emotional dross. I want to untangle messed up issues, I want to wipe off tears with empathy laced tissues. I want to work on taboo subjects, I want to solve regression of y on x. I want to listen to my music loud, I want to pen my work in a place far from the madding crowd. I want to sow seeds and many a plant, I want to bask in sun rays that into my room slant. I want to drench in the rains, I want to make paper boats and sail them in the drains. I want to pick up from the ground and smell fresh wet earth, And then joyously have my speech filled with mirth. I want to boldly write about myself only for me, I want the world to know me & my mind as they will always see. I want to meet often the persons, who mean a lot to me, I want to be able to emote my passions and feelings of love and glee. I want to be happy about just any small thing, And all this I want to do before the last breath to my nostrils I bring. Facing the blue skies on my funeral pyre, I want to be on the best craft my soul can hire…. All this I want to do very soon, Before sets into me dreaded gloom. But the life I live is taking its toll, I am yet to get out of this oblivious hole. Time is just right to set aside, And take a ride Fulfill my wants and dreams that I nurtured in me to grow, And I had put away sheathed in a cocoon of time many years ago. Now I don’t want a moment long, And I will do what I want and sing my own song, And do what in me I let grow, Many, many years ago.


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WRITE ME BACK HOME

 Write me a way out of sadness and pain
Make it a whimsical , happy refrain.
Pen my way down to the old berry patch
Where we built a house of palmetto thatch
Write  me a path back to childhood's domain
High on a ditch bank at play in the rain.

   A Florida trail that you pencil in gray
Made of oyster shells out of the bay.
Lay out the map made of words that unwind
To take us to someplace that waits in the mind.
An inroad to knowing what means more than gold
A pathway to healing the heart and the soul. 
 
  So much time has come and gone
And now I'm left all alone
I think of Florida and I smile
So, please write me home, just for awhile


Written with my niece, Johnette Loefgren


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TWO BIRDS WITH ONE STONE

Sometimes I wonder what will be best
If I decide to write a poem for a Souper's contest.

Everyone wants theirs a certain way
Nixing any ideas I may have had in play.

Trying to create a written piece is difficult
Yet, some seem to want not words...but the occult.

Different people have talents beautiful and rare
But to read the rules, sometimes I just stare...and stare...and stare.

Write it in this form or be sure to follow this measure
No, we won't consider your hidden treasure.

At least not if it's not written to our specs
Sometimes reading the rules just makes my brain go convex.

I enjoy writing...sometimes only in a certain way
The rules enjoined on others oft puts me off that day.

Because it's not form or rhyme or scheme that matters to me
It is the words describing the writer's moment that I want to see.

I want to know from a place so remote
The feelings and inferences they now emote.

What are their words and what do they mean?
Do their words speak to me, or am I obscene?

Yes I, like poets everywhere
Enjoy the challenges of "Putting it out there".

But, count your syllables, count your lines...
Then be sure that you have the correct scheme of rhyme?

For some it is easy to transition one to another
Yet, my mind says to me..."Oh, Brother!"

So, that is why I can't write for every contest I would like
Because my brain would have a writer's strike.

Remember too, I am speaking for me
I can only know what my own writings can be.

Some of you will think that because of this I'm an ASS...
Well, you may be right, but for now, I'll just pass.





Details | Couplet | |

Chasing away the blues

I have lived in a contest with life until now,
Not to be afraid in anticipation I now solemnly vow..................

I have cheated my fears alright,
I have broken up with my doubts uptight.

I got engaged to my faith last night,
I married my dreams at the sight of first light.

I am not afraid to get up today,
I am not afraid to wake up to another day today,

I am not afraid to open my eyes today,
I am not afraid to climb out of bed today.

I see beyond and am not afraid any more,
I see beyond and am not afraid any more.

I am ready to face the world all alone,
I am ready to do anything to walk up the stepping stone.

I am ready to say anything to anyone,
I am ready to talk to anyone under the sun.

I am ready to yell from mountain tops,
I am ready to dive from ravine drops.

I am ready to walk for a cause,
I am ready to run to protect environmental laws.


I am ready to understand tangled issues,
I am ready to wipe all tears with tissues.


I am ready to jump out from a moving truck,
I am ready to pull my allies from loads of muck.

I am ready to be creative again,
I am ready to write and spill out my joys and pain.

I am ready to sing my own songs,
I am ready to correct my own wrongs.

I am ready to throw a stone afar,
I am ready to play my own music for all with the door ajar.


I am ready to write notes about me,
I am ready to put them up for all to see.

I am ready to whistle whilst I walk down the alley,
I am ready to pluck the fruits from the orchards of Sally.

I see beyond and am not afraid any more,
I see beyond and am not afraid any more.


contest: chasing away the blues


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We are Pregnant Pencils

We are nothing but pencils without eraser,
 And life a big book, not made up of papers.
 Our footprint on life is our sorry or success story,
 How we walk determines our gloom or glory.
 
We are pencils meant to draw lines and links
 With either an invisible or indellible ink.
 Our blueprints are in three stages and structures:
 Our past pages, present prints and future features.
 
Our past pages cannot be completely erased,
 Trying to re-write on them makes them defaced.
 My friend, close that chapter and write a new one;
 Each new day presents a new page to write on.
 
Our present prints are presented in timely chances…
 How we chose to embrace cheers and challenges,
 Taming tears, tending our tender treasures;
 Each day is a brick or broom to our future.
 
The future’s features are loads of incredible art,
 You can only view them when we open our heart:
 Your dreams present platform to play your part.
 Dream big with the little you have and dare to start.
 
We are priceless pencils and life is our paper;
 What we write makes our lives bitter or better.
 Refusal to write does not make the world stagnant;
 It only makes a man’s page dormant though pregnant.
 
We are nothing but pregnant pencils without erasers,
 Impregnated by places, people and… higher powers,
 Yet what we write carries our copyright,
 We cannot erase, so write to your delight.
 
Copyright (c) 2012 by Adeleke Adeite.


Details | Couplet | |

I'd gladly sing a song for Spring

I do not write in April, because that’s the month that comes before May.
I do not write in April, because then June would arrive in total disarray!

I do not write in April, now, although I have before this day.
I do not write in April, actually, although with words I’m known to play.

I do not write in April, when there’s ANZAC’s, Easter and Palm Sunday.
I do not write in April, and from that delicate decree I’ll not go astray.

I do not write in April, but exactly why, I can’t quite say.
I do not write in April, and it’s for the best, that here, I don’t betray.

I do not write in April, although I do read papers from my in-tray.
I do not write in April, so you won’t find any papers in my out-tray.
	
I do not write in April, when I’m outside whiling my time away.
I do not write in April, for that fills my insides with strange dismay!

I do not write in April, for I’ll not wear a wreath like a gloomy lay!
I do not write in April, but I’ll cheerfully whistle down your way.

I do not write in April come whatever, come what may.
I do not write in April. I do not write in April I say!

I do not write in April, but I’d gladly sing a song for Spring to stay.


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Quelled Woes and Afflictions

I have lived in a contest with life until now, Not to be afraid in anticipation I now solemly vow.................. I have cheated my fears alright, I have broken up with my doubts uptight. I got engaged to my faith last night, I married my dreams at the sight of first light. I am not afraid to get up today, I am not afraid to wake up to another day today, I am not afraid to open my eyes today, I am not afraid to climb out of bed today. I see beyond and am not afraid any more, I see beyond and am not afraid any more. I am ready to face the world all alone, I am ready to do anything to walk up the stepping stone. I am ready to say anything to anyone, I am ready to talk to anyone under the sun. I am ready to yell from mountain tops, I am ready to dive from ravine drops. I am ready to walk for a cause, I am ready to run to protect environmental laws. I am ready to understand tangled issues, I am ready to wipe all tears with tissues. I am ready to jump out from a moving truck, I am ready to pull my allies from loads of muck. I am ready to be creative again, I am ready to write and spill out my joys and pain. I am ready to sing my own songs, I am ready to correct my own wrongs. I am ready to throw a stone afar, I am ready to play my own music for all with the door ajar. I am ready to write notes about me, I am ready to put them up for all to see. I am ready to whistle whilst I walk down the alley, I am ready to pluck the fruits from the orchards of Sally. I see beyond and am not afraid any more, I see beyond and am not afraid any more.


Details | Couplet | |

My Walls Covered


                                              In these four corners lines lay empty..
                                  Waiting for this pen to spill thoughts that are plenty..

                                         I hope I finish before the water washes it away..
                          While trying to keep an upbeat write before a tear takes the day..

                           I can smear words of love and sadness on paper to line my walls..
                            No spot left uncovered , just waves of thoughts that will not fall..

                              With my words that have color and a color that speaks words..
                                My playground to write is in peace, and hate will not disturb..
          


Details | Couplet | |

Confessions of a souper

The day before yesterday was laced with dismay in every possible way,
Yesterday was better but has into the backdrop faded away.

But today is another day,
New stuff to think, do and say.

Today I will brave the world all alone,
And enjoy my freedom full blown.

I will live life with zest,
Try to do things, never second best.

I will live to be sensitive,
Towards others be more receptive.

I will live to be forgiving,
Be more tolerant and caring.

I will speak to all who walk my path,
Make peace with all and unnecessarily not unleash quaint wrath.


I will correct all my wrongs,
And tell this to all by making them my songs.

I will proudly write notes about the new me,
And publish and upload them for all to see.

I will work to be creative,
And learn to open my mind’s eye and not be obstructive.

I will always proudly wear my own neoteric attitude,
To succeed, master the skill of gratitude.

The day before yesterday was laced with dismay in every possible way,
Yesterday was better but has into the backdrop faded away.


And today is the right day,
To commence these fresh new things that I write and say


Details | Couplet | |

Why I Write

Written expression is my own personal therapy.
It keeps me sane and gives my thoughts clarity.
My brain comes alive whenever I write poetry.

Self-expression is my way to self-healing.
My poetry at times can be so revealing,
Letting the reader inside, no longer concealing.

Inspirational verse allows me to witness
My belief in God and Jesus Christ to confess.
Open my heart, share His love like a caress.

Humorous rhymes let my inner child breathe.
Creating laughter is a magical gift, I believe.
I am truly blessed with each smile I receive.

Poetic forms with syllabic counts intrigue my brain.
Sometimes finding just the right word can be a pain.
By writing senryu, haiku, and tanka, my mind I train.

Love poems are my favorite poetic genre to explore.
Regardless of how many I’ve written, I write more.
Happy love poems seem to make my heart soar.

I also write sad and broken-hearted verse
Where people are loving then leaving or worse.
There are no happy endings, just the reverse.

If you should ever encounter a poem of mine.
Perhaps it does not have the perfect rhyme
The rhythm could be off a beat you might find.

But know this one thing for sure about my musing,
I don’t believe you’ll find the words confusing.
Many of my poems can even be quite amusing.

I write poems for me, so I write just for joy!
So when you read my poems, I hope you enjoy!



Details | Couplet | |

True Writing

a spelling error bites like a snake
I could write without a mistake

pay attention to detail
I’m not going to fail

writing I will do
poetry makes it true


Details | Couplet | |

Johnny and the Pygmy Perverts

Johnny was a strip tease
Sucking all his friends needs
Hanging in the drain pipe
Staying out every night
Licking up the cream cheese
Screaming out help me please
Don’t you know you’re not his type?
He starts to believe the bull*****hype
Then the smoke makes him wheeze
And all the coke makes him sneeze
Sucking on a crack pipe
Fighting dragons every night
Johnny was a bad boy
Treat his girl just like a toy
Sitting on the *****box
Testing beds with Goldilocks
But daddy bear had had enough
Of watching Johnny puking up
They strung him up by his balls
And ignored the sound when policeman calls
Sixteen pygmy perverts
All plucking on their private parts
Couldn’t hurt the dental bill
Might provide a kinky thrill
But Johnny couldn’t calculate
He made a move but came to late
Tweaking nipples all night long
Is were those pygmies all went wrong
We will, we will rape you.


	






Details | Couplet | |

Price of Fame

I don’t know if I’m afraid of how it would change me or the people who linger ‘round
Too much, too young is an over occurrence these days now
The shallow moments become grieved for and begged some more
Because you’re no longer in charge of captive moments no more
But at least you love me, you love me some more
Your opinion over mine the one that counts no more
Change my perspective of privacy oh please oh please
Alter famous leads to support spiritual ecstasies  
I dream that being on top of your art would be sufficient for public satisfaction
Reality show where your enemies await your falls in action
Quoted “Still be a good neighbor and neighborly good shall be upon you”
Good people of a world still exist and I am undoubtedly among the few
Don’t need the much of lush
All I need is a key foundation of trust
Then we got something in this life
More valuable than the fifteen you were given and the promises of “oh, you just might”. 


Details | Couplet | |

SILLINESS


     Well...I wanted to do something silly as I did,
     In writing a poem for this bid.

     It took but a TINY HERCULEAN try,
     All the while, I'm asking "Why?"

     I thought of writing about the time,
     When I didn't even have a dime.

     But then I realized how silly it would be,
     To write something, only about me.

     SO, SITTING and SMELLING the SWEET SEPAL,
     I decided not to write about me at all.

     Instead, while eating my JUMBO SHRIMP,
     I decided it would best to be an OVERGROWN IMP.

     Writing about the CARNATION CARRIED by the COURTIER,
     Who SANG his SONG SUCCESSFULLY to his SIRE.

     Oh, the WORDS that he WOULD WARBLE WISTFULLY,
     While the GREAT and GORGEOUS GREETED him GLEEFULLY.

     His CANTANKEROUS KING COMMONLY CAROUSED,
     Yet, only SONG SOOTHED him when his SHACKLED SEVERITY SEPIA aroused.

     Thus, often abed the king would go,
     His DARKNESS LIGHTENED by the SONG SANG SO.

     And if this silliness be not a poem the rules will fit,
     Maybe I should just lay down my pencil...and QUIT !!
     

     


Details | Couplet | |

God's Goodness 2

I knew not Lord, the day I came,
you'd change my heart, then my name.
You'd write it in your book of life,
through you I'd conquer daily strife.

That day I surrendered my all to you,
I knew not what you'd have me do.
I started to sing and write and pray,
I've learned to lean on you each day..

I understood it not that day,
when like a child I knelt to pray.
I didn't know the why or how,
I only saw your blood stained brow.

I saw your hands, your bleeding side,
I wondered why for me you died?
I had not known such great a love,
as came that day from up above.

I knew that day you'd made a winner
from one lost soul and wretched sinner.
That is why I'll never tire you see,
of telling others what you've done for me.


Details | Couplet | |

Write

By day, and by night, i sit and i write.
Thoughts of love, and pain, thoughts of wonder and of vain.
My heart is what i write, every day and every night.
I fight just for the hope that i can write all that i can tonight.
But even the fight is not enough, 
Nor is the warmth of your caring touch.
The pain and anguish have hurt too bad, 
And i cannot help but be sad.
Thoughts of you pull me through, but not for long.
All i know is that my writing has to be stong.
Just to keep me holding on.


Details | Couplet | |

My First Contest

Just the Facts is my first contest
so far it hasn't been the beat

computer mistakes messed it up
I hope with this we're all caught up

I'm excited with it all
just help me up if I fall



Details | Couplet | |

We are Pregnant Pencils

We are nothing but pencils without eraser,
 And life a big book, not made up of papers.
 Our footprint on life is our sorry or success story,
 How we walk determines our gloom or glory.
 
We are pencils meant to draw lines and links
 With either an invisible or indellible ink.
 Our blueprints are in three stages and structures:
 Our past pages, present prints and future features.
 
Our past pages cannot be completely erased,
 Trying to re-write on them makes them defaced.
 My friend, close that chapter and write a new one;
 Each new day presents a new page to write on.
 
Our present prints are presented in timely chances…
 How we chose to embrace cheers and challenges,
 Taming tears, tending our tender treasures;
 Each day is a brick or broom to our future.
 
The future’s features are loads of incredible art,
 You can only view them when we open our heart:
 Your dreams present platform to play your part.
 Dream big with the little you have and dare to start.
 
We are priceless pencils and life is our paper;
 What we write makes our lives bitter or better.
 Refusal to write does not make the world stagnant;
 It only makes a man’s page dormant though pregnant.
 
We are nothing but pregnant pencils without erasers,
 Impregnated by places, people and… higher powers,
 Yet what we write carries our copyright,
 We cannot erase, so write to your delight.
 
Copyright (c) 2012 by Adeleke Adeite.


Details | Couplet | |

Letter to Poets

I cherished the dream of writing
Since the very first years of my dawning

It came through the touch of a book
Which thrilled me and grabbed my heart with its addicting hook

Thought I, though was I still a child
Someday, I would write too, if life would allow me to be wild

Never did I put pen to paper
Never ever did I try to make it come alive this desire

Until I came across a friend's rhyme
Written for her soul's loving flow with time

Her daring words thrilled me so much
To the extent of reviving my dream as such

Writing came, it does still flow
With its oars, on life's river I do row

Going where the waves take me
Luckily, I may even be remembered for eternity!

Don't we all leave, in this world, our footsteps
Surely, mine would be etched when I stand on God's doorstep!

A dream it was, a thrill it imbibed me with,
Without it, today, I would not even be able to breathe!

All souls roaming on Earth do have a call
Mine I believe is to let my pen have a roll!


Details | Couplet | |

Activity #39

I hate the way there's silence
When I ask if someone's there

I hate the way I'm empty
Left to just sit and stare

I hate the way I'm lonely
When I shouldn't have to be

I hate the way I'm hated
Thrown down on my knees

I hate the way things have gone
Completely taken off course

I hate the way things are going
My screams leaving me hoarse

I hate the way I'm sitting here
Writing down my pain

I hate the way no one cares
I have nothing left to gain

I hate the way I write your name
When I write something down

I hate the way my dreams aren't safe
I wake up with a frown

I hate the way people judge
Their rubric far from fair

But most of all, I hate the way
You think that I don't care


Details | Couplet | |

STUBBORN

My intention is to write some prose
Why it comes out poems, nobody knows
I struggle, wiggle, leave me alone
As I sit happily writing a poem


Words are created and suddenly rhyme
I hardly revise them – I’ve not the time
Give up the idea of writing a book?
I feel I’m caught by a crook and a hook


Following rules as the semester unfolds
Smothers my brain; puts creating on hold
When I find a second that isn’t filled
I’ll write a poem, ‘cause I’m strongly self-willed!



Details | Couplet | |

the big secret

You're ten feet away and you can't tell
These thoughts that are racing, or that I fell
When I can't get up the courage to let it out
Your on my mind constantly and I've got no doubt 
That if you knew, it wouldn't matter 
I heard it from a little birdie, i'm not who your heart is after
So I'll do what I have to 
To erase every single memory I have of you 
And every single thought, right along with it 
I cant promise that I won't miss it
I cant promise you that you won't be there
Trapped in my heart for a while, but you won't care 
When everything between us I'm used to, doesn't exist 
When I'm one of the few you'll never miss
Stuck in a crowd that you'd never notice
I never thought that it would hurt like this 
To ignore a feeling that comes so naturally, but it's just another part of another routine
To go on another day, with these feelings locked down deep, trying to avoid some sorta of scene
   


Details | Couplet | |

UNLOCK WRITERS BLOCK

dear poet watching empty paper
while your time ticks slowly away

longing for the perfect scraper
during your uninspiring day

hidden words in misty vapor
fresh breezes can conquer your bay

you are  your very own shaper 
near thoughts tiptoe as words your way


Details | Couplet | |

If You Are A Poet

If you are a poet it means so much 
as others souls you often touch. 
Your own soul you cruelly cut 
petting the others with your blood. 

To be a poet means to sing of beauty 
and it’s the main poets' duty. 
Rhyming  words, to tell the truth 
and it has to be quite smooth. 

To be a poet means to burn with passion, 
to treat the others grief with a compassion, 
to love the others as yourself, 
to hear the voice of kind elf. 

To be a poet means to dream, 
to tell the world a touching theme, 
to speak sincerely and frankly 
but not just rhyming poems blankly. 

Rhyming words is not the main, 
there’s no need to strain your brain. 
If your heart has nothing to tell 
rhymed words will look like hell. 

To be a poet means to write 
as if your blood gushes from vein, 
to write the rhythm of living breath, 
the rhythm of life that seethe. 

Larisa Rzhepishevska (Odessa, Ukraine)


Details | Couplet | |

Writing Away

Talent of a poet
Gift from God - I know it

Can write almost anything
Almost makes me feel like a king!

So write and write and write
When others glean high as a kite!


Details | Couplet | |

Truth Beats the Lies

Today I pen this poem for all of you
Know in your hearts every word is true

There was once a time that I was insane
Everyone I loved, I caused them pain

Grandparents to my children’s hearts
I honestly tore them all totally apart

Uncles, Aunts, Sisters and Brothers
She hadn’t drown probably my mother

The best of friends and all of my mates
No one was exempt from sharing my hate

My hate was a river that forever poured
My soul was thing that I forever ignored

So why is that not the Michael Jordan of today
One day I ask of the Lord, “Please guide my way”

The road wasn’t easy true change never is
My life was no longer mine I considered it his

And what he ask, what he wanted me to do
Is use myself as an example of how to be true

Being true to myself I quickly learned was the key
I couldn’t anything for you till I was honest with me

And no matter what I do it could never be enough
When it comes to amends I have a lifetime of stuff

But none of that matters it no longer matters at all
I now bow to the Lord but to the world I stand tall

I no longer hold to excuses or offer up alibis
I have learned how to let go of all of the lies

My truth is my shield as I write for the Lord
My heart writes lyrics as my soul plays the chords

I don’t even really know what this poem is about
Sometimes I’m blown away by what comes pouring out

I guess it’s just another way to rise above the sin
For it’s the words I write that teaches me to win

What am I trying to win, I do hope it shows
A little more love in my heart and light in my soul

What this poem is about I have come to realize
No matter how much it hurts the truth beats the lies



Details | Couplet | |

My Playground (Resubmit)

If you open your heart and close off your mind
Leave all preconceived notions behind

Shut your eyes and close out the light
Just let your soul drift like a thief in the night

Let it drift straight into your heart
For this is where true understanding starts

People believe you understand with your mind
This is because people are blind

I've come to learn true understanding starts
When you let the soul join with the heart

As I write my poems what I try to do
Is open my heart so your soul pour through

Even though I don't know you have never seen your face
Our souls and hearts join together in a special embrace

When this happens believe me its true
The next poem I write just might come from you

Maybe not all but a special part
Will be from your soul brought back through my heart

So could you please let your soul drift away?
Because mine is real lonely and needs 

Written from the hole in prison


Details | Couplet | |

My Government

To my government that I love dearly,
I must say that I write to you wearily.
 
Like a good girl I write my concerns,
when I get a response it just burns.
 
It's a copy you send to hundreds of others,
Not much comfort for the burdened mothers.
 
It's easy to see there's no caring,
to voters you write, it's so daring.
 
To think we'll keep backing you with votes,
when such responses we get to our notes,
 
It's a little arrogant in the least,
At times, you seem more like a beast.
 
I know that easy isn't part of what you do,
So for that, I do give credit to you.
 
But put away the fancy words you give,
And change things for us, in this world, to live.


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Walking this Mile

I accept what i need offer up what's left
Let ridicule fall on ears that are deft
Just as a fisherman catches fish on his hook
I write out my poems and put together books
The reason I do it is clear as can be
I feel it's what the Lord ask of me
For 41 years I had no idea I was a poet
But if I couldn't cook it I could damn sure grow it
My life consumed by Marijuana and speed
Trusting in them to provide what I need
They replaced my job and even my love
They were everything that I held above
They picked me up whenever i felt low
If I got to high they helped me to slow
No, I didn't write poems or watch the T.V.
Never touched a computer said, "Thats not for me"
Traded in the girls because the next on was cuter
Woke up with a shot went to bed with a hooter
I would run day and night until I would drop
Running more from myself than from any cop
I chemically induced away all my dreams
See rivers take mothers after being formed by streams
These days my head feels like it's in a vice
I'll tell you right now my pains nothing nice
Weekly shots I take for the Hepatitis C
Epidural Steroid blocks in the spine for me
Every doctor I see I greet with a smile
Not feeling to good but I will after while
They say my attitude is one that is great
I see the beauty of love with no time for the hate
I have no reason for anger or time to be mad
No reason for all that this is my bad
This isn't that bad hell I've suffered more
At least I can turn my knob and walk out the door
Reality is real but it's also a dream
Things that are clear may not be as they seem
The Lord is my master to whom which I serve
For he's already given me more than I deserve
Children who love me and a beautiful wife
All the blessings a man needs in life
So Doctor tell me how can I not smile
At least I'm not alone walking this mile
I have you guys and the Lord walking with me
And thats about as beautiful as beautiful can be


I dedicate this poem to all of my doctors
Dr. Garrison - Primary
Dr. Merliss   - Neurologist
Dr. Aldwari -  Infectious Disease Specialist
Dr. Johnson- Pain Management Specialist
Dr. Beck      - Physical Therapist 
I feel very blessed to have such a fine 
team working so hard on my recovery.
I also wish to thank everyone for all the
Prayers I have received. I love you guys.




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Chastushkas

Chastushkas

I would love to write a poem as hilarious as could be.
But it seems like funny poems will not come out of me.
So I practice my Chastushkas in hopes I will succeed.
A better sense of humor must be what I need.
I wish that I could buy one, but they are not in the store.
I have searched dictionaries and thesauruses galore.
I have looked along the freeway and down the country roads
But the funny inspirations seem to hop away like toads.
There are so many writers that have a humorous touch.
And I wish I had it, too… very much.
I guess I must remember to write down the funny things I see around.
Like the time I saw kids rolling, laughing wildly on the ground.
But until then, I’ll use my pen to hone my funny bone.
Writing those Chastushkas until I do not laugh alone…


 © Dane Ann Smith-Johnsen
January 19, 2010

Poetic form:  Couplets


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sleepless

around and around and around it all spins
this vortex of you that tries to suck me in
I think that I've managed some damage control
yesterday's paper rocks all that I know

I think that its gone and buried real deep
then here and now it's at the top of the heap
I start to falter and so does my faith
I realize I'm slipping and in dire straights

I write with anger trying to get it all out
over five hundred days of dissension and doubt
you do not read me and no longer subscribe
nothing is sacred and none of it jives

I won't speak the words I wanted you to say
I scrawl them in crimson the same ole cliche
West rises the sun and bleeds red across my sky
and sleepless I write in the dead of the night


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Education For Life

Changing schools was the rule
Never stayed long and get in the groove

Making friends never ended
Fitting in was always mended

So a loner I became
I don't remember many names

But I learned to love to learn
Still have a heart that yearns

For knowledge on many subject
Even on aliens that abducted

Went to college after I wed
When all my children were in school instead

Finished a college degree
When I held a grandson on my knee

Then I continued my education
Master's Degree in Christian Station

Ten hours on a PhD got so tired
Oh! I was totally mired

Thinking about going again on a wager
Work on a psychology major

With a minor in poetry  
Where I can write and just be me

(Poor excuse for a couplet but will have to do.  This is for Education Game passed to me by 
my lovely daughter Doris Culverhouse who received the torch from James Frazer.  I pass the 
thinking cap to James Marshall Goff to write a poem about education.)


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Poets Verse

Music is poems with notes set to sing.
Whatever the words, emotions to bring.

Some sad songs can really bring you down.
Listen to some blues, to keep your frown.

Other times it's fun acting like a clown.
Stay low for so long, then come back around.

Now most poets tend to call their work songs.
Whether or not, I just want to belong.

Rhyming with timing and verse set to meter.
Has to make sense, or I'll call you a cheater.

I cannot write any notes, to music anyway.
I can write poems,  if you listen to what I say.

Rhyming with timing without any reason.
Is hard on my brain in any one season.

Although all the old poems are considered better.
A new one by chance may strike on this letter.


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Tag Sharon Weimer "You are IT"

Sometimes in life it is so clear to see
My friend is as special as she can be

Things happen and we don’t know why
But for my special friend I would die

I started the (YF4L) club just for her
Sometimes I stutter but I never slur

My wife knows that Sharon is special as can be
They’re the only two who calm the beast in me

Be the first admit, I don’t always think right
I’m a true man of God with a Soldier’s plight

The “Man of God” part is all brand new
Sharon I have penned this poem for you

But it’s not just a poem, Sharon it is a tag
Pull yourself a name from the Poetry bag

And then tell that Poet how special they are
From the bag of Poets pull yourself out a star

This is a game that all of us poets used to play
Hopefully we can relight that flame today

Anyone but me Sharon you can write about
Just answer the “Tag” and let your love out

-----------------------------------------------
You know I've been here long enough to say.
"Back in the day" we used to play tag, i miss
it a lot - Rules are very simple, I write a poem
for Sharon and tag it. Sharon now can write a
poem to any other poet but me and tag it. Then
they do the same. Lets rock and roll, heart and
soul and see where it may lead. Tag Shar, your it.
Now this is a wide open game, anyone can pick
anyone they wish at any time. The object is to
keep the ball rolling. This used to be a very special
part of our site and I do hope we can relight that
Flame, God Bless you all, MJ


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History With Humor

History With Humor

Clerihew might follow you.
And bring names fame without adieu.
Whether views from ancient times
Or in the news as modern lines
Famous people must beware.
Paparazzi roam everywhere.
Private lives are set on hold.
When fame has molded lives of gold.
Clerihew poets write words down.
Famous people in humor are found.
Unfolding historical laughter.
And snickers happily ever after.

© Dane Ann Smith-Johnsen
January 22, 2010

Poetic form: Couplets
 
Inspired to help myself remember the various short poems forms.
Personal Goal:  Write 20 short poems per day.  Practice, practice, practice...


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For this I write

I write not for consensus sake
Why should I? People don’t partake
In my insights, designs and schemes
Nor inhabit my nightly dreams.
I write because it’s a passion
My own particular fashion.
Whether those enjoy what I write
Or find fault with it, that’s alright!
The satisfaction I receive
Is from the notions I conceive
Expressed in rhythmic poesy.
This from me is a guarantee:
When inspiration finds me home
I am sure to write a poem.


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I can't go anywhere without my damn notebook

I have no intuition, I hope you don’t either.
I mark down the strength of these rings

On my weak fingers
to make me stronger.

The glowing blue gem 
Makes me powerful again

And again, I want to die. 
It’s amazing how, the way we wear our jewelry,

Often tells us something about our will to live,
Because I saw the kid with the tight necklace,

Black, like my shoelaces, 
But not from dye, from the muddy walk home,

And taught, like a noose,
And despondent, as my body,

And I knew this boy, like me
Wanted to die.  So now we are friends

And together, we will never kill ourselves 
As others do

But we will never smile or hold hands as lovers do,
Tying, together the laces of our black shoe.

The butterfly’s wings have broken and 
Strawberry drops float down from the clouds.

I can’t go anywhere without my damn notebook.
I’m incomplete without my damn notebook

And I’m incomplete anyway.  
The way those leaves just fell off the tree

Makes me want to cry
Or write a story,

Which is the same thing really, 
If tears tell a story,

And like I said before, even if you think I’m boring,
I believe in the power of tears

And one salty explosion is enough to get me running;
Not running to nowhere and not running away

And the day has become dark again
Just as the pages in my journal

With each passing spasm of my spastic hands
I don’t know what it means to be happy

I’m not even happy spasmodically
And this is just another story of manic-depression

So don’t listen to it if you don’t understand and
Don’t write stories if you want someone to hear

Because the mania is at my door again 
And I won’t kill it, not this time,
 
Let it knock, one, no two
Times more, times four.  

Eight times knock the mania but the mania is
What puts me to sleep 

So how can I deny what in the end is peaceful
And how can I deny what is productive,

The only production in my life;
For though I, through my idiot parents,

Was reproduced, will not myself reproduce 
Any more demons into this messed up well

Of sameness.  I don’t want my precious demons
To become the same, just like every --one else


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metaphors

poets write with metaphors to protect their feelings
letting others read into it--pulling their own meaning
sometimes it hits close, no matter how vague we pen
obtuseness only goes so far when you see yourself in it

we write of unread books and things left out in the rain 
of dances left unfinished and songs that we once sang
we write about opening windows and about closing doors
of dense, white fog and shadows, shrouds and birds that soar 
we write of finding happiness, of thunder and skies of blue
of footprints in sand, the ocean tides and of the crescent moon

a metaphor does many things, it's left to interpretation
every singular moment, every singular situation
we pen these poems as lyrics or tag them spiritual
hoping others read them and pull from them what they will


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The Written World

If 

I should write

a red balloon

and let it fly to you,

life's anchors cannot
weigh it down,

not if the color's true.

so write a stream of  fireflies
to light my way along,

and I will conjure up a tune 
to blend in with a song

spin out a skein of silver threads
to macrame a swing,

we'll hang it from the Milky Way
and write ourselves a fling.


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Ode to Sean Kelly

I wanted to write just like soup's Sean Kelly
But every time I tried my knees went like jelly
So I put on my bowlers hat and tried an ode
Alas the wind was too heavy and it ended on the road
My hat, that is, not my  ode you understand
And my ode turned out so totally not  grand
However hard I tried to concentrate
The words coming out were just not great
I tried to type with finesse and a giggle
But the writing just looked like a wee squiggle
Oh dearie me what bad luck that was
I can't believe the amount of fuss
With knees of jelly and not even a laugh
With words of squiggles and a darn in my scarf
With a hat on the road and simply nothing on telly
Just for me trying to write just like Sean Kelly!!!


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Now And Then

I just love to read and write 
Pen my thoughts day and night. 
I just write what I like 
And now and then what I don't like. 

I thank all my readers too. 
Sometimes we share alike view. 
Your feedback is so encouraging 
My friends and poetry are such a blessing! 

Most of my readers seem to like me. 
Love what in my poetry I have to say. 
I write with all my heart on the golden sands 
Of time and I just hope that you understand. 

Readers ask me "please never stop writing!" 
Again I thank you for this asking. 
You're so kind for this requesting. 
And I never want to stop penning. 

I've met and made some good friends 
Some fine folks online I have befriend. 
All these people in the flesh I don't know. 
But in my heart I do and that's so. 

I thank all my dear readers and friends. 
Thanks for all the love to me you send. 
I appreciate so much all your support. 
All my friends are such a great sport! 

Readers tell me" never stop writing!" 
And I never want to cease penning. 
Most of my readers seem to like me. 
And knowing this makes me so happy! 

My gift of writing is such a blessing. 
And I will never stop writing. 
I thank you all my readers and friends. 
Thanks for all the love to me you send. 

I just love to read and write. 
Pen my thoughts day and night. 
Most of my readers seem to like me. 
And knowing this makes me so happy! 


Dorian Petersen Potter 
aka ladydp2000 
copyright@2009 


January,16,2009


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And the Sun Spoke

The clouds fell down abruptly upon me this day
As the sun pushed them down, it had wanted to play

I looked to it, with a squint in my eyes
For it seemed so bright, there in the skies

It smiled and said, Michael, please write of me
I want the world to know just what I can be

I am more than just light, to brighten the day
I am inspiration, growth and a reason to play

I flourish the fields with multitudes of flowers
I give people reasons, in those fields, to spend hours

I am artwork, unpainted, but crafted from above
I am a gift from almighty, provided with love

So, Michael, can you please write of me now
Please let them all know, what I do and just how

Please choose your words wisely, so all to see clear
Just what I can do and just why I am here

I said, do not worry, they all know it true
For the words that I write, will be those poured from you


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IT HAD TO BE SAID

This is no poem, it lacks any style.
Talks of nothing very trendy or wild.

No illustrious lines, in fact, very dull
Easy to write while your leg I pull.

Says very much, in a small space
Read between lines, to be amazed.

Take your time, admire the rhythm
Sometimes no beat is within them.

Words turn up and go as  they do
Admired by a lot, not by some few.

And I write and wrong as is the case.
Think I’ve put a smile on your face