I love my cat.
She has 4 legs
and a tail
and nice ears
and a cute little nose.
She is gray with black stripes.
Her eyes are kinda green
I don't know what colour this is?
Her name is Bast.
This is the name of a very pretty cat goddess
who lives where the pyramids grew.
When my cat is happy she purrs.
So do I.
My cat is soft and warm.
My cat likes to eat food.
Right now I am feeding her special food for young cats.
She likes this better than the last stuff.
She eats all day long.
I do too.
If I become fat
or she becomes fat
I will cut down on our food.
My cat also likes to drink water.
So do I.
I got rid of her cat bowls.
Now she uses the same bowls I do.
I think this makes her feel extra special.
When my cat wants to play outside
she meows and scratches at the door.
This is how I know if she wants to play outside.
My cat poops in the neighbour's yard
so I don't have to clean her litter box too much.
I love my cat.
If I was a cat I would marry her.
We could have a honeymoon in the park.
I would dance around
and watch her climb trees.
At night my cat sleeps on top of me.
If she moves around too much
she wakes me up.
This makes me mad.
But she doesn't care.
She just looks at me.
And looks at me.
Then waits for me to fall back asleep
so she can sleep on top of me some more.
But I still love my cat.
Even if she makes me mad sometimes.
But only now and then.
She creates far more happiness than anger.
I suppose this is how it is for some married couples?
Cats are great.
I wish more people had a cat like mine
because then everyone else would be happy just like me.
One great big happy world
filled with peaceful thoughts instead of so much pain and war.
I hope she lives a long time.
When she dies I will get another cat
because they are so nice.
And when I die
I will meet all of my cats
up in heaven.
I love my cat.
And she loves me.
Copyright © Chris D. Aechtner
COCAINE Is Her Name ( Addiction )
COCAINE is her name. They call her COKE for short.
She came into this Country, without a Passport.
Since then - she has made a lot of scum rich. Others
have been murdered and found in a ditch.
She is more valued than diamonds and worth more
than gold. Use her just once and you too - will be sold.
She will make a straight A student forget his books
and a Beauty Queen forget her looks.
She can make a known speaker become a bore. She
can take your Mother and turn her into a Whore. She
can make a Teacher forget how to teach. She will make
a Preacher - not want to preach.
She can take your rent money and you'll be evivted. She
will murder your babies or, they will be born addicted.
She will make you - rob, steal and kill. When you are under
her POWER - you have no will.
Remember my friend - her name is BIG C. If you try her just
once - You may never be free. She has already destroyed
ACTORS, POLITICIANS and many a HERO. She has decreased
bank accounts, from millions to zero. Shooting and killing is
a common affair. Once she's in charge - you are under her
Now that you know - what will you do? I tell you my friend
it's all up to you. The day you decide to sit on her saddle - the
dession is one that no one can STRADDLE. So pay close Attention
and listen well - because if you don't - you can wind up in HELL...
Note: Just hoping to make a difference.
For S.K.A.T."S contest
Copyright © Lucilla Carrillo
I did not mean to snatch your heart
Like with the claw of a vorocious bird of pray
You fell into my unset trap
Speared yourself upon my harpoon
Which had only been hanging on the wall
You threw yourself into my way
stole my arrows and brandishing them with cupids blood
Punctured your heart without a thought
Other than the whisper of my name
You claim that I'm a siren
I've led you to your death
But it was the birds i sang to
Your name did not leave my unforgiving lips
With swollen eyes from crying
Filled with swirling colors of obsession
You beg to me and plead with me
Blaming me and cursing me
Claiming that i drug you here
Forgetting it was you who snuck in through my balcony
To watch me in the fountains
And listen to my voice
To see how the animals follow me
And witness how the moon becomes my robes
And the stars become my eyes
How the setting sun remains all night
Within the silk of my hair
how roses color my cheeks
In the darkness of the cold
And the world surrounds me
And the beauty of the light i behold
Where in this story did i bewitch you
Where did i make you call my name
Did i once respond or invite you to play a game
you claim i did this to you
When you only did it to yourself
did you enjoy your gaze upon the child of Cerynian
Did you think I'd become your obediant wife
When did i claim i loved you
How quickly you think of these blasphemous lies
Your not in love you simpleminded mortal
Your infatuated and in lust and your lust is a lie
Copyright © Jay Loveless
Say not to me,
that it will not matter a hundred years from now,
that I was here.
For surely I have touched one life in a positive way,
perhaps in daily prayer
I've called your name one day.
Having no profound accomplishments or delusions of fame,
and leaving no progeny
to perpetuate my name,
still, it will matter that I was here.
For I have quietly endeavored to sow, and I have watered.
I love and am loved--should one desire more?
Life is good and hopefully God is pleased.
The tracks I'll leave, it's true,
will not be so ingrained as to stand harsh winds of time
and they shall fade as the evening sun,
leaving somewhere, only a name and date chiseled in granite.
Perhaps, if only in thought,
one pausing o'er me should question, who was this man?
Let God simply whisper, that I am His.
Copyright © Tom Wright
Do come, my love, for I insist!
Within the darkest crevices of time, we fight, we cry, I die
As vision gives us knowledge, we descend farther into the grime
Curiouser and curiouser, we fall in dark crevices of time
Molded by imagination’s ink, the tentacles stretch outward
Singed from top to bottom, see the glorious coals sparkle
Yes, even before their completion into diamonds never comparable,
It is the very time in between the transformation that enchants the very soul
For in this time, I see the very worst of you,
How it shines without shame, aching to be tempered,
Crushing to prevail over its creators,
The tentacles squirming in hollow defense,
Ink spreading in the dark blue waters of deepest sorrow and agony
How your beak ever pecks upon its prey,
Dashingly exquisite, its sharpness—petulant in its purpose
And I say to you, as you destroy—come, for I shall not back away
When the weapons you hold fall upon my budding flesh
Growing despite the damages you have made
Come, my love, come!
See how my wounds have me, exalt me, trust me…
Into a reality I deeply fall, forcing you upon your knees
For how I know, through your destructing ways,
That together I will always make us be
Come, my love, for I die,
Heavy in the ecstasy of grief,
See how the fairy trees dance upon woes and lift hearts like plucked flowers
How demons with tempting eyes move as squealing moths crawl toward our fires
Wishing the burn of the coals, yet never touching such change
How the light floods through and through, to every dark corner and fissure
Licking the bonding surfaces with perfumed oils crackling
The black tentacles scatter outwards, forming a wall around the growing blaze
My eyes close—from those very eyes you came
Descending to ascend, my love you crave
Trusting the time I have tamed in last feat,
You rise into the everlasting restoration of our name
Copyright © Laura Breidenthal
for your arm wrapped around
my clavicle. I thought
I would loose my breath.
for the cusp of our hip bones
struggling to pull the drunken color
from our orange cheeks.
and our sweat, our sweat, our sweat
in the drenched summer air.
Our pants futile afterthoughts
Left crumpled on the floor
It is here I asked for your respect
And you filled me with it.
for the musk smell of our blanket den. I would watch the way dawn light
speckled your shoulders, pale, white-blue
I would trace the ink
of your skin, fingertip hovering a half inch
from your bone.
for how my name would hesitate
on your breath in brief puffs
like dandelion seeds blown from
My wistful lips when I was
waiting for them to bring back my wish.
for my sleeveless dress, as we strolled from
your father’s funeral.
It was the only time I watched you cry.
There were little holes in the cement sidewalk.
They filled with rain, oil
And your tears.
I watched your face change through
their watery colored reflections.
for the way your skin repels from my
Touch, quivers as though my finger-
print were a red hot poker.
You haven’t allowed me to touch you
In a year.
for the color of her font, as she responds to you. It is an eager
Color. She responds with all the passion of an Eskimo kiss.
You left her waitng..always.
I have been special to you,
she replies to your
like a maid
Who’s felt the hot moist
whisper of something naughty
tickle against her ear lobe.
for the way your eyes punch accusations
sharper then your razor tongue.
blue crackled lightening,
like an angry alley cat.
My words cannot reach you here.
You will leave.
We will divide our booty
Words that once held my name like a piece
Of carefully folded origami
now hiss cold
devoid like the plaster of our empty room.
for the morning
now knocking on my window.
I am livid in my withdrawal, tossing and turning
I can find no comfort
the tangle of these vacant sheets.
Copyright © Jennifer Brooks
I forget his name
there are cavities
in love too
in the cracking heart
doubt and memories
© Gry W Christensen
Copyright © Gry Christensen
Hidden deep behind soulful eyes
beauty emerges but remains unseen
unearthed this buried treasure
l'attrait caché derrière le masque
Words spoken hearts revealed broken
for is it fear that keeps one cloaked
to remain in the absence of light
to seek comfort, solace, sympathy
in a world of hatred and mistrust
where one can not be hurt
if one is not known
where the past is the past
and love can finally be found
Step out from the shadows of insecurities
and into the light
of hope, trust, and conviction
for there is where life lies
Copyright © Tim Smith
sometimes i talk to myself,
my mind is racing,
i dont know what to do...
so hard to explain.
depression isn't a stage
or a faze some kids go through
it shatters you...
i saw it all.
she cried silent in her bed,
blood stains covered her favorite jeans,
her every shirt,
long sleeve ofcourse...
she suffered through it all with few people to call friend
and more to call enemy
even more to say where quite dissappointed....
her first name in school,
not started by a bully
or a mean rival,
but by her sister,
and it echoed through her soul,
repeating in her mind... over and over again,
like the ripples of still water
when a pebble is dropped
flash frozen in time
over and over again...
It was the first name they gave her,
millions where created over the years,
some repeating again, just as the first had..
gothic they called her,
emo, fat, ugly....worse things.
but in her mind, things where worse.
everything was repeating,
over and over again,
finally she believed it.
she asked for help, from everyone
tried to explain to parents she wasnt well,
got called a psycho for asking to see a theripist,
not from a teacher,
not from a class mate,
but from her own father, who wouldn't, couldn't,
believe there could possibly be a thing wrong....
finally, crying, she confessed her bloody secret to a teacher.
rather then giving her time,
she is sent back to class crying her eyes out, as if she wherent going through enough...
she is sent to the principals office a few minutes later, after breaking down in class...
the princlipal says she needs help,
sends her and her dad for a risk evaluation,
her dads crying as she shows him her cuts...
they walk into a hospital room,
it smells of chemicals and hand sanitizer,
the lady at the desk gives her a smile.
then she goes into a room with a lady,
her cheeks are sunken in and shes wearing way too much makeup,
the girl is gaging on her perfume,
and she looks really intimidating....
her dark brown hair looks dead and flat
even though its a bit wavy,
and she wears somewhat of a mocking frown.
asks her all these questions,
is mommy beating her?
is daddy raping her?
is she doing drugs?
is anyone beating her?
did anyone molest her?
oxcarbezapine, trazadone, citalipran, clinazapam, colonipan,
valium, lithium, more.......
and thats what they gave her,
some numbed the pain
some brought it out
tearing through her organs,
she became an addict by the time she was fourteen....
over dose after over dose
some for pleasure
some for pain,
gashes on her legs getting deeper,
this time she didnt tell a soul,
not even those she had come to call friends....
wakeup she screamed in her head over and over again
as she dropped weight like it was nothing....
you cant controll it she argued as things became worse.
at age fourteen she attempted suicide,
she didnt quite succeed.
the medication took away her aappitite....
she liked it
she hated her body
felt out of controll
found a new way to cope
as she shoved tooth brush after toothbrush down her throat
to keep her body from nuitrients...
as she whent weeks and weeks spitting food into napkins and making excuses
I ate at my friends house....
spoken as a whisper
heard like a sentance
echoing in her mind over and over again,
along with that word, all the words,
ugy, anoying, stupid, fake, worthless, nothing...
one bite she would say
rocking back and forth
craving nothing but food
her body racked with hunger pain
one bite and there she was again
over and over and over again
back to a toothbrush
this time she sees blood
she saw her ribs
she saw her bones,
it wasnt good enough,
she almost died, again....
choking on this deep dissappointment in herself,
gaging on everything they where pushing down her throat,
their words, and their insults, their criticism.... their drugs
all shoved down her throat like candy
and just as she was was trained to do she swallowed despite the bad taste
or the hurt
or the fact that at the rate she was going she would be dead soon...
and you know why?
because daddy yelled
and couldnt accept what was happening
not because he wanted to hurt her
but because it hurt him,
and she let him believe,
because she could take the hurt if it meant he didnt have too.
because mommy didnt want to sit in her room all day
practically having us raise ourselves,
she didnt mean to take anger, or frustration or hurt out on her daughter
she suffered everyday in her solitary confinement,
and from a young age she accepted her bedroom was the cage
her mother had created for herself.
because sister didnt want to effect her the way she did
she was just frustrated
fed up with the way things where
scared, she needed someone to take her cruelty
and to help heal her pain...
because people in school
who where so cruel
had to have learned from somewhere
and she wasnt going to play into their games,
and they knew she was an easy target
because she would never attack someone so weak
and she accepted her suffering was a sacrafice
to help all these people....
to help her dad,
every person who was beaten abused or hurt
and felt so weak at home they wanted to feel strong in the one safe place they had.
because depite the fact she had died inside,
and almost passed away on the out,
it was a saccrafice she was willing to make
so that no one else would have to feel that kind of pain,
and they all inflicted it and broke her down'untill there was nothing left but a shell
of somthing that could have been
and never had the chance
because she would take it and wouldnt strike back,
because sometimes "just taking it"
isnt so much about the weakness not to do anything
but about the strangth not to hurt others the way they hurt you...
Copyright © cassie hellberg
You wrap my name
In syllables of love
Passion tinged sound units
Caressed by the beauty of your voice
you leave me no choice
but to yield....
breathed into my ear
letter sojourners to travel
down the curve of my neck
to a cadence that captivates
and my heart capitulates
When you say my name....
When you say my name
saturated in n~e~e~d
wanting to be freed....
you make the appeal
your testosterone tempered tonality
it sets in motion
that rock ecstasy's epicenter...
my name comes again
riding your waves of want...
in the full knowledge
that my release of liquid love
will welcome you in
to the inner sanctum sanctuary
where your body is idolized
and your name chanted...immortalized
in the rhythm and rhyme
of passion sublime
When you say my name...
When you say my name
you evoke the spirit of eternity
to dance the dance of life
weaving through and around
two simple syllables
of romantic antics
dancing and swaying
your voice calming playing
the trace of romance
leaving nothing to chance
when you say my name....
when YOU say...MY...N*A*M*E*
Copyright © Eileen Manassian
My Real Name
All I want from this life
is that you know my real name,
not the one my mother gave me
in remembrance of no one
she ever knew other than my father,
but rather the one which says
that I once lightly touched
that I lived too long
in the sticky pit of addiction,
that I was a high-diver,
easily piercing the
membrane of reality,
that I was once a magician,
a weaver of incantations,
the alchemist who found gold,
that I danced with you
among the eastern clouds
on those fine mornings,
my suit of light glowing
yellow and orange and red,
that I lay with you
in the chocolate darkness
of summer’s night,
dew like starlight in your hair,
that I was cloud-shadow
flying up Yellowstone valley
on cold mountain air,
vanishing over the near horizon,
That’s my name,
all of it and more that I can’t recall.
I know you will remember.
Copyright © Jack Jordan
Wind Wind whistle,Blow his name up in the sky,where it belongs.
Blow his name amongst the Stars,where radiant angels play their
golden harps and Faries play their horns.
Clouds,Clouds,be his cushioned pilows,the place where he can rest.
Moon,Moon shine his darkened night,and be his rocking cradle nest.
Crickety Crickets play in clattering melodies,as raindrops fall in
tick tick waltz on the dancing trees in wafting breeze.
Handsome red chested cardinal,open your wing of passion to your
silky whitye pure dove,as the wind blows her to your shelter,
Sing for her the song of love.
Wind Wind,whirl again and blow his name up in the sky,above all
Greek gods,above highest of the high,where she holds him,
till all crushing waves,wild tides and oceans die.
Copyright © Celene Crescent
Don't leave me hanging sis!
I came out of nowhere with an agenda on the mind
Joining the soup to be near my favorite love
a game I did not plan to play
Until he called upon the first round.
giving it my best shot
Then came round three and more.
The poets here I started to explore
Not taking my poetry seriously
The writing just happens naturally
now I see why she visits everyone at the soup.
My sister who puts on a show with words
Is adored by her very own group
the Destroyer was my pet name
She gave me when I was young
So envious of her, I broke the head of her only dolls.
using her poetry was the way she tortured me
Inside me, she bestowed a poet of mischief
Now I like to tease everyone mind with words
I hate this poem..... Lol..don't read it... It was a joking way back then
(((for contest**Leave me hanging)))
Copyright © Poet Destroyer A
Poet, stand up!
Your name is your seal!
Your works let their story reveal.
Though you be enamored by great poets,
don’t shy away or get disheartened.
Rid your heart of nervous anticipation and forget
about word-perfect dictation.
Through your internal debates and bouts of indecisiveness
Find a style that’s uniquely you.
Make your stance stronger.
Stand aside when it comes to gossip.
Stay away from petty jealousies.
Too much connectivity hampers creativity.
But by all means know when to pick up a fight.
Stand back, ponder, and align your ammunition.
Then be ready to stand up for
what you believe in and make a passionate defense for what is right.
Accept correction – it is the heart of positive retention and
the means to sharpen your abilities and enable your work to
stand up to
Smile at genuine curiosity but never tolerate ignorance.
Or how will you stand up to bullies intent on creating havoc and those
quick to impose their sense of ‘correctness’?
Build yourself up but desist from putting others down.
Identify talent and stand over a budding poet, gently giving
them directions but be careful to let them choose their path.
And when the time comes when your light dims
and all you can do is ruminate mentally on things already past –
Poet, stand down!
Yours is a life truly well lived!
Copyright © Vicky Tsiluma
. ( )
( ) ( / / / )
/ / / / / / /
/ / / / /
Like the disappearing sun of yesterday ( )
So has her childhood dissolved away ( // )
With two white steeds that are the trees ( / / )
She is the leaf, marauder of the breeze / /
She rides against the wind
/ / /
Her name is Rain
Born with the grain of knowing
Sight to the blind who cannot see tomorrow
Or view the valleys of the past
/ / Tho', ...be not envious of her rampant blood!
Where origins are buried in another world
Where voices speak in lost syllables
In a language of no forgetting
Where the laughter of the birds is still
And clouds shed only a torrent of tears
/ / /
For she would rather turn her face to the sky
/ And feel the gentleness of the mist
She has a burning desire to be free
Free of the gift
/ / Free of the burden
Free of the knowledge that has taken her innocence
// // /
A voice of the thunder calls her
Invites her to fly beyond the clouds
So the earth can be beautiful
Where the sun comes after the rain
/ Where the drought is over at last
/ Where rain becomes rainbows
She is the leaf.....maurader of the breeze
/ / Her name is Rain
For Constance La France's contest "Rain, The Story"
By Carrie Richards
Copyright © Carrie Richards
Falling like lightening
he who was cast forth
from the greatest heights
behold a pale horse
and the name of him who sat on it was death
Hades followed him
killing with the sword of hunger and famine
inflicting such pain the beasts of this earth
understand this he's a fallen angel
Let them with knowledge and wisdom
understand the truth reveals our end
Drinking from the wrath of the anti Christ
waiting in the wings an agent of unimaginable evil
possessed by Satan himself
I believe the board is set in the return of Christ
as pieces are about to move
A sign of modern times
he promises peace and persecutes those left behind
destroying to an unlimited degree our planet
prospering through greed his legacy
The end game has begun
once he appears a seven year reign will begin
Our Holy Master has spoken his name in Hebrew
he beheld Lucifer as lightening falling from the Heavens
I will ascend from the heights above the clouds
I will be like the most high sacred place
one quarter of the planet will bow and worship him
Copyright © liam mcdaid
I can be anything you like
the one to love you; your esquire,
I can be love’s greatest asset
or the hangman’s noose if of that you require.
I can be the bastard that spoils your day
or indeed the one that helps you cross life’s busy highway,
I can be sincere also tell you lies
stab you in the back when gullibility your byway.
I can be your fantasy or worst nightmare
play your game, then mine; come on in to my brain,
I can be your pillow give comfort to where you lay your head
also the lead weight to tie around your legs.
I can be your fun or funeral director
in heaven or hell when you die,
I can change my profile, personality
sparkle with the morning dew only then to evaporate.
I can be simple the way I was taught-created
hammer you with love threaten you with happiness,
I can be young or very old wise or worthless
contemptuous my amour an open book my soul.
I can be all of these things for today ‘tis life,
flexible elastic, pull your strings. I major in all.
© Harry J Horsman 2014
Title thanks Rolling Stones
Copyright © harry horsman
She never did come back home that night
Me pacing the floor
Walking for miles in search of her
Leaving me torn apart
Spewing with the turmoil of wondering
Just what happened to her
Who had she been with and why?
Engraved on to my mind
etched in my heart
her love, her sighs
Spiking my tongue
her name cries out
My heart splinters
my gut receives another jolt
God I loved that girl
and didn't even know for certain until today
But now it is too late
I left it too long
to proclaim my love for her
afraid of the pain
which comes from being knocked back
still even that is not as I suffer now
in the whispering of her name
I look in the mirror
yet see her reflection stare back at me
smiling and tossing back her flowing locks
her very presence is felt in abundance
Her huge eyes dark as purest deepest sapphires
class more expensive than purest diamonds
with a charismatic magnetism radiating out
overwhelming all within reach of her personality
Stolen from this world she was
No notice to anyone that she would be leaving
Nothing makes sense anymore
And I long to know if we shall meet again
Some new day in a realm beyone ours
Another time another place
I'll wait for her as I hope she will for me
For true love will never die
Based on a true story from Christmas when a young woman went missing - found murdered... My thoughts went to those around her and inspired to write came this, but I have changed the girls name for the sake of those that knew her... So sad to still have these things going onin our world...
Copyright © Anna-Marie Docherty
Alone am I and don't want to be, I pray for someone to come and rescue me. I
wander along this lonely path and think of those that I've lost in the past.
I seek for someone to walk with me, I look and entreat, for my soul is in despair.
Once I had a mate so fair and refined, she walked with me and soothed my mind,
but now she is gone. My world has become calamity. Now I wander this lonely path,
across mountains and through the pass. In desert places my soul does thirst for an
oasis to drink from on this lonely earth.
I despise the day and rue the night, when dreams come in and stress my plight. The
sun does scorch me, the cold sends shivers down my spine. No one to shade me, no
one to hold me, nothing to make the cold to flee.
My heart is weary and my mind whispers, your name is solo and will always be. My
shadow mocks me as I go, a reminder of long ago, when there were other shadows
not just mine alone. I've become a mad man, I curse the day and wail at night.
Perhaps some day I'll find sweet rest, join the ones I lost in the past and solo no
longer my name will be.
Copyright © Jack Ross jr.
Enter a storybook tale
Where I can be
The heroine you hail
Lucid dreams of soft reflection
A touch heated with lust and desired protection
A breathe a gasp as we succeed
Join the fairytale with me
Valiant night within dark eyes
the right movement and I make them shine
like moonlight on the steamy hot spring
care to follow for a little dip with me
Trailing like the water at my fingertips
Grasp me around my hips
As close as the breeze on my skin
Whisper lies as I let you in
Lips mumbling up my thighs
bare heart exposed to the sky
fire burning in my veins
Am I a mistress of this lust or simply a slave
Trembling with desire
Take me till we've lost count of the hours
enter this storybook tale
Where I can be the heroine you hail
Copyright © Jay Loveless
There's power in the name of Jesus
There's power in his precious blood
His word is power when you begin to speak
There's power within his name.
There's healing in the name of Jesus
Authority is yours to take
Satan is DEFEATED the victory is yours
There's power within his name.
This poem is also a song and is now on Youtube
Copyright © LEON WILSON
DESTROYING the KID
It’s about time you came around.
I have waited long with my pants dropped down.
Did you say, “CHICKEN!" Mmm, I love chicken.
My favorite comes in white meat.
My fingers I'm still licking.
I read your slam it had no defeat.
My little Poet Destroyer friend, you called me.
I am not the one with the Kidster name.
You play this gambling game so well.
Like a convict, you will be the first to bail.
Giving you pleasure, making your slam sound so innocent.
You make the Kidster name band from hell.
Hitting you with a slam, that makes your tear drop like hail.
Stick to nice poetry, your slamming just got stale.
In the middle of your so call slam.
I felt you tried so hard you broke a nail.
In the meantime, this is what I expect.
The freedom so you can speak nice to me.
Like Kid Rock, the real red neck.
You also cannot slam what you cannot see.
Do not destroy what can't be destroyed.
I am always one-step, on top of this deck.
Kidster you’re hot just got watered down to mild.
You have a short hand when it comes to a slam style.
Flip me over and yell, "This Jokers Wild!"
Kidster I lightly slam the cards you dealt me.
This Destroyer is going to slam you back.
Like a trip with tricks and treats.
A slam so hard you will not be able to stand on your feet
Come back when you are ready to get up off your knees
For you I'm rolling up my sleeves, I will not stop until you retreat.
What about my mama?
I thought we were on the same team.
You slam just like my grandma.
Wait! I take that back, she always slams my grandpa mean.
Hey Kidster do me a favor, put your head on a DONKEY.
Show every one there is two sides to you.
By the way, Kidster just with your name I can have fun.
I do hope they let you read this in day care.
I hope you were not expecting a nursery rhyme.
You know better we grownups do not play fair.
Hey, Kidster after this you may need to change your diaper!
This has all been fun and games.
Billy the Kidster if you are up for tag 2.
I will come back as JESSE JAMES.
Making you a fool..
Copyright © Poet Destroyer A
His Name is Poetry
I have a new friend, a new love
He dances with his pure and honest heart
And strokes me with his gentle words
I crave him, desire him more with each passing day
Oh, what deep feelings he has stirred within me
He carries me joyfully, sometimes sadly, on a journey
From moment to hour to the day’s end
With his words, rhythmically he calms and soothes me
As does a mother cooing to her precious newborn
With a love as strong and as real
I can not, will not, be without you
You have entered my life swiftly, silently
Yet your power yells loudly, beckons me to follow
In your footsteps, to see where you go
Where you will take me, my love,
Copyright © cynthia ondrich
Rain, if you were warm I would dance in you,
I would be like the breeze and whip around you
Rain, since you are cold I'll stay away from you
Its such a bummer cause I want to play with you.
Thoughts of running through the rain with you
Makes my heart go insane for you
I'll hold your hand and slow dance with you
Alone in the grassy meadow just me and you
What would I give to beat along with you
Dripping on the tin shed of the roof with you
Making sweet music on the wind chimes with you
Wet and soft on a blanket in the fields with you
Rain, I'd spend the entire night with you
Enjoying the touch and feel of you
No looking back when I'm with you
Rain oh how I would love to dance in you
Rain how intense is that storm the comes with you
The thunder and lightening that stays with you
Its okay because I still want to change with you
Rain oh how I want to become one with you.
Copyright © Tim Smith
"What's your story?"
"you seem interesting."
I reply, "NOW."
often people become confused
by such a unique response
not this one
she's a beauty
shiny minded stone
lives warm under veins
lacks definition of alone
alone she stands
tallest green blade
each time the oily blade passes above
she stays the same
tingling pulses exhale her pores
she'd rather sink
than have to think the way of worldly whores
malice skips her
no ripples in the lake
dripping from her face
sunshine slips across tangerine cheeks
gold flows throughout waves
sky clear eyes surprise those
choosing to be consumed
by her entice
hands free of envy
no webs to spin
she will divide you
or silly twisted games
though safe may escape you
baby of zero maybes
as clarity lent us its giant umbrella
her lipstick smacked my tongue
we never looked back
Copyright © JSLambert Mister ROBOTO
This poem stinks.
It doesn't rhyme
It doesn't do anything
It has a little alliteration
it will have some
because that's the easiest poetic element to incorporate
and if it didn't have any poetic elements
it would not be a poem
but would be prose with
(are carriage returns extinct?)
and that would be dishonest.
This is not a lying poem.
That would be oxymoronic.
It's a stinky poem.
And when I finish writing it
I'm gonna print it out
and tear it up
into little bitty
teensy weensy pieces
(if I have enough patience to get that small)
and flush it down the commode
so it can join all the other
excrementally effluential essences
(note the alliteration)
of all the other stuff that stinks
almost as badly as
Copyright © Nancy Jones
When I think of goodness and unusual presence
I recall just one name – Mr. Germaine
Our next door neighbor, just a common man
Just a man, but one fulfilling some celestial plan
In those childhood years we never knew him to anger
But always with a smile, and time to talk a while
He had a little dog. Its name was Jelly Bean
Just a pup, but the most angelic pup we’d ever seen
When I think of innocence, absence of ‘mean’
I always think of seeking, petting Jelly Bean
There are some men who sing praise, profess their faith, their love
Call on the Lord, fold hands, point blue skies above
But then, every now and then, there are these angel men,
Just their loving selves, both early and late
A mystery to all how they radiate
Copyright © daver austin
Oh DARK artist
What a beautiful picture you create
Not with hues, pigments, and light
But with tone, imagery, and night
The soul an awaiting canvas
Your pen the finest brush
With reckless abandon you work
Is the masterpiece entitled Suffering
Images of sacrifice, torture, and insanity
A downward spiral of regret in the midst
Ah but when did doom ever seem so sweet
So many beautiful extenuating means
Surely they will justify any end
Your tale like sorcery captivates
You carry the title of Ciarraighe
From the dark rain filled lands
The darkness extends to your inner being
Rain now covering the pictures you paint
Pours forth from within
With each toile of tribulation
Resonating beauty resides
Will the beauty outlive the pain
Unfortunately the canvas cannot answer
Copyright © wayland bunch
What sort of name do you wear?
The kind you can spit out absently
Then wait for a reply?
Perhaps a name should be boxed
Or roughed a little before it can be worn
Make the wearer a prophet in pain, then let him be
But it is not to be tampered with.
This name, was it born of a fiery Viking baptism in steel and fire?
Or a God or Goddess?
Or a constellation of stars?
Perhaps worthy of your grandparent, and is carried with honor.
It may not seem impressive or awesome,
But the energy inside this humble
Exterior is raw and uncorrupted.
Generations of generations upon
Generations have perhaps strapped it on
Like a breastplate.
It has weathered a thousand storms
To return, as ever,
Your name is a badge,
Wear it proudly, for it is
Easy for people's handling to
Copyright © Carrie Richards
If the lovely breeze had a name
we could drift together as two dandelion wishes
floating wanton on foamy winds.
If the river were rolling, gently
we could slide in and swim
for hours, without rushing
and love is like that.
Love is like still water
standing so deep in a vessel
yet so easily broken upon the smallest of stones;
scattered, and yet-
from this another river begins
(as you begin)
How lovely if you had a name
I would call out to you
and I would hear your reply as
the wind blowing, the water rushing
and not your echoes
as you trickled across so many small, jagged stones
Copyright © Meggan Rogalski