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Details | Free verse | |

A poet's dozen Poetry Soup heroes

Not for contest: Tribute to all those who have helped me grow as a poet

rivers flow gently like that of a poet's pen creating heroes How can I mention only a few-as there are a number of inspirational poets who woke me from my slumber From all those who greeted me with a pleasant welcome to all those who watered the rose that grew in the desert The Aqua girl encouraged me to share my raw lyrics as I posted - many commented with encouragement My lack of detail for grammar had others in hysterics while many advised me to ignore the discouragement The ink flows as my poetry heroes provide nourishment
A poet's dozen is 12 lines of poetry using the following forms in this order: One modern Haiku: 3 lines: Syllables 5,7,5 A couplet: 2 lines Free verse: 2 lines English Quintain: 5 lines: Rhyming scheme ababb The Silent One 1 November 2015

Copyright © Silent One

Details | Free verse | |

Of Ink

   Partial Paper
 -A poet in heat-

Ink carries its own tale,
When moonshine intoxicates your pen
Bottles of ink fill your mind
Composing symphonies on every line
Drops of passion all over the mask you wear
Nothing compares to black stains and broken nails

This part of you 
The tough skin you'll ever live in
Fountain pens of split identities
Who Are You?
Sinking  words like no other
Poisoned ink piercing every rhyme
Inferior poet, making the heart pure
Anger plus anger "GIVE ME MORE!"

You have a desire to paint all day,
Breathing and beating in every way
Toxic lines, from which ink flows
Inhaling images from the world
Deep and cold sorrowed emotions 
True love is always easy to poetize
Dear Poet:  "Ink Never Lies."

Pretty pink acrostic ink when she's nearby
Sugar and salt, Epic taste of reality
Ballads sang under the full moon
Sunny Sonnets, on any rainy day
Ode's of rivers from your past
A dark smile jotting down memory lane
Monologue tears brought under pressure
Loading cartridges of fresh Senryu and Haiku"
Dramatic red runs through your veins when all is done
Unfolding old and new propaganda's
POET: You are my favorite verse in every stanza
((Only this, and nothing more))
Writing is like giving birth


Copyright © Poet Destroyer A

Details | Free verse | |

flowers for Chinaski

I quickly grew tired of poems about
the supposed gentleman who wanted
to turn his gal into a flower.

I thought about what it might be like 
to be turned into a 
flower --

maybe domesticated in a garden 
first, then plucked

or plucked straight from the wild.

Stuck into a vase
on display for people to watch you 
slowly wither.
People admiring you 
with punctuated looks of sentiment,
sniffing you while they watch you

By chance
someone might press you into a book
to preserve you for later admiration,

only able to touch you like a 
so your petals don't disintegrate into dust.

Nah, I would rather she be a 
have her petals embrace me.

She might try clawing out my eyes with rage 
and slam the kitchenette 
in just that way I can't stand,

before we cuddle together,
an ashtray between us
smoldering with the stacks of Pittsburgh or
Chicago or Buffalo City.

And even if the blue light flickering off the walls 
can't fill all the empty spaces 
in our hearts,
at least we chose to be there

and lived.

Lived beyond 
living for the sole purpose
of dying to look good in the casket,
only to be pressed into a mausoleum.

When the time comes,
I want my corpse to feed
the forces that don't give up
fighting against contrived,
manicured lawns --
that don't stop fighting to break through 
concrete city slabs
with the faces of dandelions and chickory,
blossoms exploding
into bright ruckus

while making love to the sky.

April 7th, 2014

“i am with the roots
of flowers
entwined, entombed
sending up my passionate blossoms
as a flight of rockets
and argument...."

-- Charles Bukowski,
"The Roominghouse Madrigals: Early Selected Poems, 1946-1966"


Copyright © Chris D. Aechtner

Details | Free verse | |

flowers for Chinaski -- part ii

part ii

There was a time
when I wanted to be one of them,

to somehow fit in
with the fancy rituals
of their high society.
But the da-Dumb, da-Dumb, da-Dumb
made me want to puke,
made me want to bounce my head 
off the table, hopefully causing the bone china
and forks
to add clatter to their snobbish 

Words like "gossamer" 
flitted around the room,
word so thin but veiled 

and distant,

even the candle light appeared
to shy away from those dry wings.

The snobs talked about how
I was too simple with words.
They did so with such a simple, 
the irony provided oxygen for flame
to devour.

And the critics proclaimed that
I wasn't able to love,
when really, I just wanted to get away
from them, 
smoke a cigarette in peace
while hitchhiking back to my chubby cherub,
feel her belly fall and rise against my skin.

I was finally able to love,
and she died.

The previous pain had been for show:
"Look at the drunk ham
feeling sorry for himself."

But when she died,
I distilled tears
into a different type of proof.
I was no longer willing to be
their carnival attraction
placated under the table,
listening to them upstage each other.

When I was able to stand again,
a cold, sharp thing was birthed in my mind,
I wanted to shoot them all between the eyes,
splatter their degrees and deeds 
with their blood and brains.

I found peace though -
stopped wanting to be one of them.

I found peace
away from their chatter
about what to carve on their headstones
or what type of fancy imported granite
their mausoleums should be constructed of.

I found peace in readying myself to be 
consumed by 
to be perspired into the open, fathomless sky --
the same deep blue as the bird 
who finally pecked his way
through the rusted cage of my heart,

freeing us both.

April 12th, 2014

“i am with the roots
of flowers
entwined, entombed
sending up my passionate blossoms
as a flight of rockets
and argument...."

-- Charles Bukowski,
"The Roominghouse Madrigals: Early Selected Poems, 1946-1966"


Copyright © Chris D. Aechtner

Details | Free verse | |

Tribute to Charmaine Chircop

If tonight I could paint a moonlight sprinkle it with endless love and childlike magic sail away with you across an azure sea on a vessel to happiness If tonight I could close my eyes dance with you through the chambers of my heart wrapping you in the endless emotions of my soul and let all my Pasionata set us free If tonight, just like the wind felt on your moon glowed cheek through the silent distance would you remember me a fresh sweet scent of last gardenia on yesterday's linen sheets a wonderland of happily ever after's through fields of daisies where the river meets the sea little by little dare to dream a dream wonder a bit longer lose yourself where the crimson bleeds it's rose
08/07/2015 Tribute Contest hosted by Silent One

Copyright © Tim Smith

Details | Free verse | |

I Can't Breathe

In memory of----

Solely in my room, I can't stomach the sound of my heartbeat.
I sit here alone to forget the taste of air, 
Overwhelmed by the scene -unbelievable footage
18 seconds too long, "I can't breathe."
My judgement is gone, stressing all night long
I use to fear dark colors, now I fear spinning bright lights
Red, White, and Blue,  I spew the NY Police crew
What's wrong with your blue eyes?
You see him, you want to mess with him
What a day to trade  --  a life for illegal cigarettes
Persecution and judgment day, a sweet life taken away
"I can't breathe", executed in broad daylight!

Bullies left and right
What happened to minding our business?
Moneymaking, refusing to be singled out 
A hurting voice tackled by racism 
Free to see, pouring his heavy heart,
Oinker's demand the ground, leaving out his testament
8 times too many, "I can't breathe!"
Where did his vitals go? 
Can someone please pound the pavement!

Stress, anger, madness, the voices of the innocent
"I can't breathe." the volume of Valium
"Officer, did you not hear the man?"
Are you deaf, have you forgotten how to save a life?
Is it just the NYPD or is it every other badge,
Insinuating crime's a one-color show.
We are all criminals, why the excessive heat?
Shot, tasered, beat down, pepper sprayed,  now on the ground
The choke hold of all choke holds, murdered and out numbered 
The echoes remain "I can't breathe!"

- The truth!
Eric Garner robbed of his own natural path and youth
One man down eyed suspiciously 
Perplexed minds suffocating him instantly
The mistrusted, the fear, the hate,  
So tangible, uniforms using deadly force
One asthmatic in a choke hold
Slamming his head on the flooring
Open wounds, worldwide tears

My heart goes to the family and friends left behind
A courageous last breath, for the first and last time
"I can't breathe," now deceased.
You left this world unwilling, waking up a strong community
Strolling in a  better world, where racism don't exist
"I can't breathe,"  Eric Garner Rest in peace!

By: PD

Copyright © Poet Destroyer A

Details | Free verse | |

He Makes me See in Color

He makes me see in color
when I’m enshrouded in my grey.
His hues of happiness twirl and dance
and my life takes on a different stance.
~~~Beauty birthed in blessings believed~~~
        He gifts to me...
reassurance in reality’s revelations!
His color blind eyes
make my truth blind ones see...
My words are wonderfully wise
Passionately poignant
Honestly heartwarming
Sensually scintillating
Oh la la lacious…simply delicious
vibrantly colored in vivacious!!!

These are the word colors
he mixes on my page’s palette
with his own signature artistry. 
He embellishes the plain canvas of my mind
a kaleidoscope revelry….I see
This color blind poet,
this mentoring friend
is a man who carries a name
which says it all...
Lamoureux: the one who loves
He's a lover of colors he cannot see
because he’s gifted them...
He’s gifted them all
to me

Eileen Manassian Ghali
For Richard Lamoureux's Contest
Who Do You Think I am
September 26, 2015

You paint your pictures, on the canvas of my mind.
Ebbing and flowing, as your thoughts become released.
Texture and color, are displayed with every line.....

From another poem
If I could see in color.....

Richard Lamoureux

Copyright © Eileen Manassian

Details | Free verse | |

Evergreen Rose, tribute to Mystic Rose

Many a rose has bloomed, but never one that is evergreen
As her petals fall, another grows, such is the magic of Mystic Rose
Her beautiful nature blossoms happiness into our hearts
Her words heal those who are fragile and bring a smile to their face
The Mystic Rose holds an enchanting pen that captivates your mind
Her writing flows so smoothly, like rivers flow to the sea
If heaven has ever lost and angel,
then that surely is our Mystic Rose..

A tribute to Mystic Rose
The Silent One
1st September 2015

Copyright © Silent One

Details | Free verse | |

The Wind

~~The Wind~~
Look into my eyes
Follow me into a world of ecstasy
There and only there
Will you find the peace to unwind

Beautiful brown eyes not blue
Shady lids, stunning  ocean view
Embracing every word 

Hear the wind whispers your name
Come with me
Drown with me
Into the abyss of loving rain
Embrace this moment as I draw you in with words
Release you with the warmth -------I was there

I Share--I take
Into my arms
I am the charm
Around your neck
Around your wrist
Listen to the voice from my beating heart
It yearns
The freedom of touch
The freedom of speech. 
Of love, 
Of purity
Like the wind
I'll find my way
Into your heart
Arouse the cheerful energy
Of your insecurity and pen
Follow me into the sea
There we will fall into the deep
Build sand castles 
Around dreams of reality
Slip into my aura light 
Set to the rhythm of the oceanic night

Now, listen to the breeze
It's called out your name
It's only a matter of time----------------
You'll find yourself calling out...... mine

by: PD
Dedicated to all my loving friends & fans :-)

Copyright © Poet Destroyer A

Details | Free verse | |

9 11

                             America the Free  ~             America the Brave ~
                           Freedom with price              Capitalism attacked
                            the many taken                   hearts broken still
                              one World                           try to rebuild
                            sadness and tears               fall hard with fears  
                            guilt by association             many accused still
                             souls evaporated                shattered dreams 
                            tears fall on innocence          left with anger 
                             The proud fearless             knew the inevitable
                              policeman fireman             many lives lost
                            grieving does not stop           12 years later    
                               New York city once          proud  & shameless 
                             refusing to let fears in          protecting ours 
                                left in shock still              question's unanswered                    
                               nothing learned                     nothing gained  
                                ready to attack                   many left behind
                              anger greets denial              anger meets rage 
                               unacceptable still                 refusing new love 
                            wanting days to rewind           let us go back in time 
                              acceptance  allowing           the victims leave in peace
                              the brave taken young           leaving us sadly old
                               haunting dreams                     lost spirits dwell
                               no answers to hate            never forgetting that day
                               Evil entered suddenly              unforgiving fate
                                entering our City                we stand with the fallen
                                 How to fix                            how do we Change 

            This can be read many different ways ~ This is a poem I am so proud to write ~


Copyright © Shanity Rain

Details | Free verse | |

Soul mates solace

When my final shadows cling on desperately
Where I fight formidable battles
to merely hold the light
I send you loving vibrations
and soul sustenance
Deep from the cathedral
of one heart to another
where today no choirs sing
nor symphonies play
Yet it is here where we meet
in spiritual solace
here to surrender 
and exchange inestimable treasures
recollecting memories 
like unopened letters
Galaxies are stretched
over chronicles of shared history
Nebula birthing stars
will be exposed
in forth-coming conversations
bringing short-lived fulfillment to you
Hungry to feast
now will be the time
to approve your blood art vision
and with my own haunting surrender
as dappled shades ink stain your chest
I will reside with you and share, mesmerised 
pens - by branding
as this will be your written reams to me
your artist's pallet or brushed canvas
no need for words
and yet creating
mysterious magical moments
Bitter-sweet the music
that dances taut guitar strings
but now blood approved
please go kick your heel up
return to your laughter
and ride on the breeze
for not all are lost
change not
for I am with you always
to love, listen and comfort as one
with you in me and I in you
as masterpiece

Copyright © Anna-Marie Docherty

Details | Free verse | |


Poet—Your words,
Like garments of
Gold and silver thread,
Shimmering in sunlight
Or bathed by moonlit glow,
When shed—
Leave me breathless,
Caught up in their naked truth
And timeless flow—
And I become aware
Of nothing else.

Copyright © Connie Marcum Wong

Details | Free verse | |

Twilight Hands

She hummed the dawning of the day
while spry hands bounced babies
Wielded a spatula with expeditious 
movements flipping pancakes onto a plate
Folded napkins at place settings

She was in full swing at noonday
as brisk hands folded lunchmeat and bread 
into sandwiches     Smoothed the creases 
from pages of homework     Kept the iron 
moving in a pendulum motion over 
the mounds of spanking clean laundry

She talked with her hands 
gesturing wildly with excitement 
Administered slaps to unruly kids with her hands
She took all gossip with a grain of salt 
Tossed a pinch over her shoulder 
with a cupped hand    just in case

With reverent hands and nimble fingers 
she daily turned the pages of the good book
unerringly finding the appropriate Bible verse 
Now a smattering of age spots dusts her smiling 
frail countenance aglow through paper-thin skin
And mother folds her twilight hands

Copyright © Monterey Sirak

Details | Free verse | |

The Crosses In Your Eyes

You never really knew the beauty of your soul.
Of how it is possible to be both old and young
within the same body that tells about the years past,
but can put to shame so many of today’s indolent youth.

How were you able to retain such innocence,
for only a child can categorically say such abhorrence
of one type of food even with the knowledge that it is good?
Yet words of deep understanding pour forth from the same mouth.

When the gift to listen was showered upon the earth
you must have paid attention, for you have it in abundance
“To hear is normal, to listen, a gift, to understand...a miracle”*
One who would care to keep these words would understand. You do.

You are sensitive. Who would have thought it so?
You have that amazing capacity to command words to your bidding
and just the right touch of irreverence to twist them when it suits you.
Still and all, you feel the wound deeply and I’d hate to be the cause of it.

I tried to look into your heart through your words.
Words which were already read by many before I entered the scene
yet they did not see the sadness, the dark that lurked in the corner of your light -
They were too mesmerized by the laughter, to see the crosses in your eyes.

*John W. Wulf, author of the book The Lady Who Loves the Whisper  
1. The Poetry Soup Poem of the Week - 02 August to 08 August, 2015
2. The Crosses In Your Eyes Contest - 3rd Place , 29 July 2015
    Sponsor: Justin Bordner - 
Kim Patrice Nunez
27 July 2015

Copyright © Kim Patrice Nunez

Details | Free verse | |


He portrays some deep dark evil characters But I only have to hear his voice and I simply melt It's rich deep and dark like melted chocolate mmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm Ohhhhhh I find it sosooooooooooo sexy He’s so tall and has greying hair Drooooooooooooooooooool With those dark brown eyes Ohhhhhhhh I’m in heavennnnnnnnnnnn I think I need to lie down in a dark room! BYE 11th February 2015
just click on this link to hear his velvety voice...

Copyright © JAN ALLISON

Details | Free verse | |

Poetry Soup Heroes

When I first came to this site you
made me feel so welcome. Every-
thing you told me was so encourag-
ging and positive. You became a
great friend and you appreciated my
art. At times when I was feeling down 
for whatever reason I knew I could turn 
to you. And you know why you're so 
awesome? Because you have gift
for making everyone feel special.Your
amazing lyrics of love and positivity mean
a lot to me.I will forever cherish your
friendship and doesn't matter where you are.

When I first saw your first avatar I thought to 
myself this is interesting and
strange. But I will always remember the
day you befriended me through a soup mail. 
From that day on I saw a remarkable person 
unfold before me. Your talent is outstanding!
You pursue friendships and you're very 
encouraging. The things you went through
in your life has made you very strong and
courgeous. When you love you love hard 
because you know what's it's like to feel 
unloved. l really admire you and I appreciate 
your friendship.You will always be a 
distinguished gentleman to me.

You move me by the things you write on
a page. Poetry comes alive by your pen
you have an amazing gift. I admire
so much. I'm constantly in awe of you.
You are so down to earth and very funny.
Do you know that you're a poetical genius? 
(and one of my favorite poets).
I view you as a friend and a
mentor (I hope you don't mind). 
You know that special person you have in
your life that you don't talk to that often?
But that friendship bond is established 
and you know that you can count on them?
That's who you are to me. 

My Three Soup Heroes

The Lyric
Silent One
Arthur Vaso

Contest: Soup Heroes
Sponsor: Catie Lindsey

Copyright © Alexis Y.

Details | Free verse | |

Poet's Heart of Gold

Giving Thanks 

In advance, I wish to heal the mind, body, and soul
Thanking all God's creatures
Coating all my expressions from-
-Yesterday, today, and tomorrow
Conceal every worry, 
Focus on the goodness that fills my spirit with thankfulness
And, well, honored comments. 

This is a rich tribute to:
All Poetry Soup Poets, with grateful and appreciating hearts
Enjoy the time, you give each and every Poets


Copyright © Poet Destroyer A

Details | Free verse | |


Now they say that girls are made of sugar
And spice, but good girls finish last my friend.
For there is one truth for all women kind,
Come hell or high water we will fight
For our right to indulge ourselves in 
The need for perfections greatest
Confections, COOKIES!!!
Yes we will take down that cookie
Puppet clown, dressed in blue,
For there is no fiercer monster known
To man, then a women who’s cookie
Faddish is left unsatisfied.
Peanut butter to chocolate chip,
Just pass the milk and watch out dude,
For women shall be the first to dip.
Call us the two fisted women of the 
Raw dough generation, we don’t 
Really care, just pass grandma’s old 
Cookie jar.
Roll me down the bakery sweet, 
No fragrance smells finer then freshly
Baked what ladies, COOKIES.
Sugar me sweet it’s the ladies favorite
Treat, by the bucket or truck load it can’t
Be beat, frosted or plain, it matters not,
But without Milk its sacrilege that is
No doubt!!
Now chocolate maybe the vise five to
Seven days a month, but cookies rule
As the male race drools, because honey
There is no doubt women will take you
Don’t for what, lets all say it ladies around
The world, all together now, SAY WHAT
By the way did I tell you my favorite
Food in the world, of course it’s very
Obvious, COOKIES!!

And to all women

Copyright © cherl dunn

Details | Free verse | |


Lightly the rain falls upon the lamp lit streets, the shabbily dressed figure
Walks with an air of uncertainty down the cobbled stone streets, leaning,
On his rickety cane, the elderly gentleman huddles beneath his umbrella Of refuge.
Shadows of the tenement brownstones line the edge of this rough necked
Part of town, here is the sheltering halls of the forgotten do dwell, the poorer
Venue that slum lords build their fortune’s foundation’s upon.
The gentlemen approaches his own dwellings dormancy with hesitations
Beating heart throbbing within his small fragile bent frame, for he knows
Tonight shall be his last night on this ethereal plane of existence.
For one last moments belief reflection he remains completely still, just to
To feel the autumn breeze against his bare flesh, to hear the rain drops hitting
Against the window panes, and to bid his final farewell to humanity.
Taking out his keys with his wrinkled twisted hands, he unlocks the doors
To his apartment, turning around to look outwards the gentlemen sighs, it has
Been a hard life, but I’m resolved to meet the next adventure, then he shuts
And locks the tenement’s door.
Weary from his days traveling the elderly gentlemen, climbs his steps upwards,
Towards his little room in the back area of his apartments, then he sits at his office
Desk for the last and final time, now to complete my journeys final entry, he thought
To himself this writer of the super natural’s acclaim.
Dipping his quilted golden pen into his ink well, the master writes one last line,
The end, or is this just the beginning?
Clumping over, clasping upon his desk the elder gentlemen’s heart lies stilled
As if at perfection’s final rest, his golden pen now runs crimson, bleeding downwards
Across the aged parchment paper, dripping onto the old wooden floor boards below.
The office door blows open a tall figure thus so enters, dressed in a raggedy robe of black,
Thread borne and full of tares and wholes, the creature approaches the dead gentleman,
As if in a screeching howl, the Grim Reapers touches him, ripping his spectral spirit
Free from the fleshes boney shell.
I’ve come for you old man, resist me not for your sins are heavy, and I’ve no time for
The ranting or ravening’s last pleas for salvations from one such as yourself, I have no
Last wishes qualms my friend, take me at your leisure, for I’ve grown weary of this life,
And it’s lonely emptiness.
Then the room grows cold, the ethereal disturbance ends as quickly as it had begun,
Leaving only the shell sitting at the old wooden desk, what happens when the writers
Golden pen runs crimson, bleeding downwards across the aged parchment paper,
Dripping onto the old wooden floor boards below?
The world of humanity thus so weeps for him, for he is the grand master of darkness’s
Written word, the skilled craftsman’s whom reveals what lies beyond the darker realms
Ebony gates, by his darker words of wonderment.
Farewell Mr. Edgar Allen Poe, we shall miss you always, you whom welcomed death
So easily, but the world of men is left empty without thee, as thy golden pen thus so
Now runs crimson and lies stilled forever.


Copyright © cherl dunn

Details | Free verse | |

A Tribute to Jayson, My Brave Warrior

A Tribute to Jayson, My Brave Warrior
My dear son, Jayson When you called late last night to let me know You were deploying to go overseas tomorrow In spite of my great resolve I broke down and sobbed.
The little boy I lovingly nurtured So witty and good-natured So kind, compassionate, and loving You’ll always be my sweet boy Even though the world now sees you as a grown man.
Recalling special times when I showered your baby face with kisses Or tickled your armpits Howling with laughter, you would beg me “Do it again, Mommy, I love it!”
I remember all those moments we had At times rocky, sometimes sad But most of all memorable and enjoyable. I remember your growing pains All your questions, anxieties, and mixed-up emotions Yes, we made it through hurdles you and I Making me laugh, making me cry But taking that journey together was quite priceless!
You’re now a strong, valiant, young man Willingly putting your life on the line Many have thanked you for your service And, my brave warrior, I am so proud of you When I hear your humble, heartfelt reply, “Glad to do it!”
You’re just simply the best! While you took a minute to leave the nest I’m grateful for the extra time we were given But I know It’s time to let you go – Go take your rightful place in the world.
You’ve grown wings like a fierce eagle It’s your time to fly high! Now soar! But remember that you are always a part of me And even though we may no longer hold hands We are still holding hearts.
These tear-splattered pages Reflect my anguished heart Knowing you’re prepared to make the ultimate sacrifice for your country I pray that you will return to me safe and sound I love you, my hero - my precious son. Godspeed! ¡Vaya con Dios!

Copyright © Pandita Sanchez

Details | Free verse | |

It's Okay

It’s okay to leave the dishes in the sink,
to wash your hands with sanitizer instead of soap.
Your mother will joke
about how it doesn’t get your hands clean enough
but when was the last time you listened to her anyway.
It’s okay to cry today,
to use your sleeve instead of tissues.
It’s okay to take that thing that hurt you
and throw it out of the moving car,
just don’t go back to pick it up,
it’s not lost luggage,
it’s buried tumors.
It’s okay to hate God today,
to change his name to yours,
to grab the headstone with your mitten covered hands
and try to knock it over.
Throw the snow at it,
the roses have died.
It has been too long since the passing,
but I give you permission to hate God today.
It’s okay to break into the liquor cabinet
and medicate peacefully,
to drink too much sometimes
and not know where you’ve been
because you’ll eventually find yourself.
It’s okay to walk alone sometimes,
sort your thoughts,
to clear the air with air,
and dry the wounds with salt.
It’s okay to climb into bed early
and stare at the ceiling,
to just tell yourself that it’s okay.

Bold lines are taken from the poem Letter From My Heart to My Brain by Rachel McKibbens

Copyright © Katie Pukash

Details | Free verse | |


O Leader!, O Saviour! , O Braveheart!
Words went so sparse, in your praise
To Thank You, paint you an emblazon.
Galvanised is the nations skeleton now
We dare to fight, we dare to grapple.
There is no hawk on prowl, no one a maim 
You kindled the fire,  darkness burned
We enjoy the blue sky with dazzling sun

You were the Candle, you were the light
You were the ark, you swept the dark.
Courage is synonymous with your name 
Voice to, dumb by the oppression
An ear to the deaf, whose ears fear.
Shadowy  wings to the brood you gave
To outbrave the deserts of despondence
We learnt to crawl seeing you ahead.

Now I don’t dare to say, you left
You left us Dear Leader, they say
I feel all papers lie, all news is fake
I see, masses weep, wailing so deep
My hands shivered holding my pen
Crying for the lone cry in the wilderness
I, let not my tears roll out of eyeballs
Better seep in heart, nourish your love.

Your never died, and you never will
You live in the living of one and all.

© 30/09/2014
Malik Yaseen

 In loving memory of my beloved Leader and religious scholar Molvi Iftikhar Hussain Ansari (Kashmir, India), who left this abode today for a divine and eternal journey.

Copyright © Malik Yaseen

Details | Free verse | |


Two lovely brothers are no longer with us They are playing their guitars in heaven No longer can they travel and see the world But their memory can live on forever Jactor Project it is totally unique Set up by their parents as a lasting tribute Just place a ‘Warhammer’ figure where no other would seek Anywhere in the world you think the boys may have enjoyed Jacques and Torin loved to play music So a musical location would be great Or the highest place you can think of As Torin enjoyed the heights The idea of Jacctor is to hide these figures Where no one will ever find them Take a photo of the secret location But let Jactor Project know where they are Then they can be placed on a map of the world We can then see Jactor on a world tour The boys are no longer with us But memories of them can live on forever Please visit the Jactor Project Facebook Page Get a figure and take it with you on holiday It need not be an exotic location But with your help Their memory can live on forever Get a figure from Sarah and Ray today Send Jactor on a round the world holiday 2nd March 2015

Copyright © JAN ALLISON

Details | Free verse | |

Tribute to My Dearest Daughter

Tribute to My Dearest Daughter
My darling daughter, Precious child of my youth, Dearest to my heart - From that wonderful moment When I first felt that fluttering of life, Rhythmically beating beneath my expectant bosom, I knew that I would unconditionally love you forever.
With deep motherly pride I helped you develop into womanhood Watching you become a strong, well-rounded woman. A loving mother yourself, you are not only a blessing To your own children and your family, But you are also a blessing to others - Those who hurt in life and need care and compassion.
With its ups and downs, life has transformed you, Challenged, nurtured, matured, and molded you. You are kind, thoughtful, generous, patient, and understanding, Unselfishly expecting nothing in return. You are a wonderful human being - You are a true angel. God bless you, my dearest daughter, my love!
Date: 7/26/2014 Entered in contest “Relationships” sponsored by Regina Riddle

Copyright © Kika Ayala

Details | Free verse | |

When I can't find the words

How will I find the words to say,
How can these feelings be described?
Where does one find such felicitous words?
How can I express myself sufficiently  
so my affection for you is understood?

Could I find such descriptive words to use
were I to ponder creation as I walk alone
contemplating life under crimson skies
as the sunlight lingers to welcome the stars 
and the beauty of nature caresses my mind?

If I listened carefully to the symphony of frogs
singing their lullabyes in a nearby pond
and in the distance, crickets chirping their goodnights
As the evening sounds blend into melodious song
would I hear the magical words I could write?

If I were to notice a quiet gentle breeze
blowing through my hair, caressing my skin,
And with every breath I take, feeling you near,
Wrapping me in your tender words of caring …
Could I write about you eloquently then? 

I could try to express how you’re like the sunshine
kissing me awake every morning at dawn …
And every night you’re like the moon
kissing me gently, wishing me sweet dreams 
and promising me you’ll watch over my sleep.

I could try to express how you saved my life
when you taught me to reach deep inside 
and express myself in the form of poetry …
No longer did I need to hide, you were with me.
Everything I’ve learned to love, you brought me.

And even when I struggle to find the words
to express how much you mean to me,
you look beyond the surface, and see me inside.
You seem to know what I’m feeling anyway …
when I can’t find sufficient words to say.

Dedicated to Joël on his 50th birthday 

Copyright © Becca Teagan

Details | Free verse | |


His messages are always elaborative. We converse as if we know each other well. He is a famous poet on the Soup. He writes his verses with depth. Bravo, Richard Lamoureux you are one of the best! I like when you spread your wings to write a poetic text. His philosophy intrigues. His words are high literacy. Rick I will call him via commenting but he is such a Ricky through inner strength. Bravo, Richard Lamoureux for being the one I tribute! I love when your libretti smiles uplifting my spirit and making me feel worthwhile. He can be quite cynical. My respond is to explain some more. Richard is what I call him then. I know he is talking to me as a friend. Bravo, Richard Lamoureux! This is a tribute to you. I will close now. I hope you frame this and hang it high. Let the world know you shine. Your motivational and inspiratory poetic voice is precious. Bravo, Richard Lamoureux this tribute is to you! Continue to instigate; this encourages another to write. _____________________________________________| PENNED ON AUGUST 17, 2014!

Copyright © Verlena S. Walker

Details | Free verse | |


How do I begin to describe you Such an incredible person Yet even now you doubt your abilities You lost your own mum when you were eight - you never ever got over it You worked all your life, started off by working in a bank for almost 20 years Then when you had children you ran a village shop from home But also helped run the smallholding where we lived You even had an evening job to bring in extra income Then you began working in a care home and that had a big impact on you At 50 you changed direction in life and studied and trained to be a nurse No mean fete with two children to bring up When you retired you continued to work in a care home Then you undertook charity work every week still continuing well into your eighties In fact you were on your way to work at the charity shop when you fell You were found lying in the street … Two bleeds on your brain and over three months in hospital How you pulled through I will never know Yet you battled on and are still with us still Now you have short-term memory issues and are going blind Fate struck a cruel blow when dad was diagnosed with terminal cancer He passed away in February Your lifelong partner for nearly sixty years Your world turned upside down and now you live in a care home We are selling the family home - gosh I find it tough emotionally I know we have lost dad but I feel like I am losing you too You are helping me clear out things from the house Items you have known and loved for many years Sadly we can’t keep everything It must be so so difficult for you, yet you never complain I just want you to know how much I love you How much you inspire me We only have one mum and I am so lucky I have you still Too late for Inspiration Contest 18th September 2015

Copyright © JAN ALLISON

Details | Free verse | |

A Tribute to The Highlander

His talent as a Bard explodes
From an exquisite mind it flows 
Through an instrument of script
Flooding parchment reverberating
Through the psyche creating waves  
Reaching the far ends of the universe 

Words of truth deep sentiment flourish
Propelling legitimate personal emotions 
Giving due praise to brave loyal and true
To God nature his love and fellow Bards and
The magnificent highlands he loves so well
Always uplifting inspiring and sharing 

Accept this tribute from an amateur a friend
With gratitude for reading commenting for 
Being just who you are, The Highlander

Copyright © Annalise a.k.a. Audrey Haick

Details | Free verse | |

A Poem for the Fallen 44: A Tribute

Heroes of my age in their morning mourn,
Filled with teardrops of pain and sorrow, 
They'll be now part of the epic history, 
But the cloudiness of who ones's fault still remains a doubt for justice,
When all lies in secrecy,
Can we blame peace and harmony? 
Where we are all thirsty. 

The masters of war behind the walls,
Safe and sound from the bullets of death, 
The heroes in order and duty,
When guns can't do anything for victory, 
When bullets can't do anything for survival, 
They hide behind the seeds, behind the prayers
Behind the first fallen hero.

They, who are grabby for one's life, for one's blood, 
Thirsty for distraction of one's covenant, 
They, who pulled the trigger, who ought killing is a game, 
Shooting one's body as if a little toy, 
Like the Trojan war of old, was trapped and deceived.
Will their consciences arrest them?
Will forgiveness forgives them? 
When they will die?

In service, for security the heroes died, 
To sacrifice one's life in the name of duty, 
A peace we wish is a peace they're yearning?
Or an inside job for another piece of power?
Who knows, we only care
But the Man can see them behind their masks, 
Through their eyes, inside their brains.

The agony and heartaches they leave behind, 
The scars that'll bleed for justice and life, 
For the woman of love, alone in coldest times, 
Somehow tears may dry by the aging of time.
For the cries of baby longing for daddy, 
Searching for brawny arms that will lift them, 
The baritone voice that will laugh with them.
Now change of path, life will never be the same, 
The light will also be now the wall.

All will pass, all will calm like an ocean after the storm,
But justice still pursuits justice, must not hide from another demise, 
Will give them the truth? Will the lives be not wasted?
Afraid for this will be one of the unresolved cases, 
Repeats the failure of my Country, 
Their coffins, their graveyards, in memoirs for the heroes 
Once the stewards of us, once the fathers of Country
Worthy of prayers -for them, for families and for justice.
We salute the Fallen!

Copyright © Reuben Escarlan

Details | Free verse | |


He was always so happy
strong and bold.
He'd give you the shirt off of his back.
He had a rough life
growing up through the depression,
but like he always does,
he got through it.
He has two boys, of whom he is so proud.
Moved from Regina, to Victoria.
He had the best life anyone his age could have wanted.
But ever since his wife died, 
he has not been the same.
But like he has always done,
he got through it.
Mind slipping, 
just a little forgetful.
That's how it always starts out...
But like always, he powered through it, 
until now...
He is not the same person that I used to know.
He been sentenced to the prison in his own mind.
Possessed by the thoughts of his dogs ashes.
He likes to play the blame game,
but we know he doesn't remember that it was him.
He wakes up in the night
shaking with pain, 
tears streaming down his face.
There is nothing we can do,
Oh well...
Two more tylenol.
Hold on to hope
for as long as you can,
It's only a matter of time now.
He gets vocal, a very loud tone.
He'll block you in your room
and make false accusations
But we know that it's the pain induced monster in him.
Tick tock, tick tock...
You can't handle the stress anymore
you have to leave.
Just hope for the best, 
maybe it will get better.
Surprise, it doesn't.
Your denial is foolish, everyone knows 
what happens next.
All results of

Copyright © Laura Hamilton