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Introspection Adventure Poems | Introspection Poems About Adventure

These Introspection Adventure poems are examples of Introspection poems about Adventure. These are the best examples of Introspection Adventure poems written by international PoetrySoup poets

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Details | I do not know? | |

Raindrops

Raindrops
are like my thoughts
falling down into my mind
sending goose bumps down
my spine

Their cool aftermath
cleanses me of my thoughts
of fear and uncertainty 
about what tomorrows
pain may bring

They make me feel,
wet with creativity
drenched in my optimistic
illumination. glistening
raindrops, my thoughts
leave paths of pleasurable
distress, and hope of success
which road, less traveled
may be the best

Forget an umbrella
when these raindrops
arrive, I walk outside
arms open wide

Ready to Receive
whatever
the mind storm may bring
because raindrops are
as my thoughts, falling
down into my mind
sending shivers down
my spine

My brain, yearns
for the rain, to wash away
the pain, tomorrows worry
does bring
One special drop
could speed up life's clock
to the time
I can handle my own
and not dwell inside my controllers
home

For raindrops are,
like my thoughts
falling down into my mind
sending goose bumps
down my spine

Copyright © Heather Hill | Year Posted 2010

Details | Couplet | |

The Dog Days of Summer

We let down the top to soak in the sun
Now that the harshness of winter is done

As you let back the seat and put your feet on the dash
Saying, “keep your eyes on the road I don’t want to crash”

I truly must admit that I’m torn completely in two 
The coast has its beauty, then again so do you

As the beauty of the Sun is absorbed by your skin
Like a kid at the candy store I simply want to dig in

If life is a candy store sweetheart you are the treat
All the other candy I tasted, never tasted so sweet

The reason I love summer is because of the heat
The skimpier the bikini, the greater the treat 

I can’t begin to express how wonderful you are
Saying, “hey take a look at her I’ll steer the car”

At first I truly had no idea what I should say?
Though now it’s, “ok sweetheart, have it your way”

I think that is because you know these words are true
I may take look at her but I shall forever belong to you

Summer is a time that is as bright as the sun
Out goes the cold as it’s replaced by the fun

We have our barbecues and sit under the stars
Let down the tops and go for rides in our cars

Go tend to our gardens in farmer John clothes
Truly amazed at how fast everything grows

Go hang out at the river as well as the lake
Cover ourselves in oil than let our skin bake

Embrace the moments because these words are true
The days last much longer and the sky is so blue

The dog days of summer I reckon that’s so
We bark and howl at folk we don’t even know

If life is banquet then summer is the feast
I think we should gobble it up, to say the least


Written for john's Summer contest.

Copyright © Michael Jordan | Year Posted 2009

Details | Couplet | |

Breathes

Some lives are like a stone quickly skipping over the ponds top, forever tossed.
My life is below the surface trying to reach upward with each breathe lost.
But there is still beauty, deep down here in the great depths below…
For the solitude holds me in its grip as I dwell with what I know.

My occasional trips to the surface leave me vastly wanting more…
Still, my life below the surface doesn’t scare me as it did, once before.
And the breaths will come when given, as my life continues to flow.
True it is dark but beauty lingers, everywhere the currents move below.

At times, the surface reflections seem surreal, as if it’s a place not to go.
Comfort comes more and more to my soul, as the deeper I glide below.
Here I dwell within myself, with words, and thoughts, that carry me along.
Perhaps I have found where I truly belong, as I sing my siren songs.

Copyright © Carol Eastman | Year Posted 2012

Details | Romanticism | |

Tonight I Dream of You

Soft creeps the splendid dream tides of the night
The burning embers of heavens breath descends upon my dreams
Dreams of you, my love tonight
Sparkling wishes, amulet stars, a kiss goodnight.

Heart withstanding aches I dare retrace,
I am accompanied by a newfound face, an explorer’s vision
Tears of joy sprout from their jeweled wings,
Flying toward the smiling moon,
I welcome dreams…tonight, I welcome you
Where whispers trail the sleeping waters.... my love goodnight
Unending sails, hearts submerged in love's delight
Tonight I dream of you
On the rosy fields of memoirs sweet

Soft, tender breezes remind me of your crescent touch..
I curl into the swaying waters, cradled by our memory
Where once you smiled in afterthought, and I in golden reverie
Would beauty among these gentle scenes kindly draw you in?
So maybe we can share the graces of light that lives within
Soft moonlit roses, dripping in night-shined dew,
Yes, even as they close, tonight I dream of you.

Take my hand, don’t let me leave this land
For it thrives on our love’s horizon, 
Draw your words upon my life, and let night take its stand
But before I sleep, my love tonight. Oh let me seal it with a kiss. 
That in beauty's dream my light would float in your love's eternity.
A thousand saddest days may come, and a thousand darkest dreams
But I'll chase them all for you my love, just to have you in my dreams.

These eyes closed tightly with the rosebuds ,
Shall open before clouds, dark and awry
And in the ground, my love for you shall yet still bloom,
Fed by the healing rain, and your steady love refrain
When tonight I dream of you

-A special collaboration with poet Mustapha Mohammad-

Copyright © Laura Breidenthal | Year Posted 2015

Details | Free verse | |

The Day That Died Forever

When I am Colder,Older and then alone...
I will collect the sky on my own...
When the art has faded and the days then fade-
when everyone has gone away...

I may finally see what never was saw
.....ahhhhhhhhhhhhh............... the quiet sky

The unlit room which bares my end...shows the flashes of my pains my joys and sins.
This life has been a strange one since the curtains were drawn
These paper and plastic figures have clouded the dawn

I was once younger,foolish,and obsessed with truth
Now I am bitter,sour,dour faced with my heart under shoe

The children were all searching or lost in a crowd
All weeds in a garden...growing vile and foul

Though beauty was sold it never came true
Obsessions and vanity have traveled safe through

Materials and poison and everything lost
have been burned in the fires or lost in the frost

I stand face to mirror tearing my being apart
Winding thoughts of love,pain,god,and art

As the sun sets and the darkness grows
I too shall follow this pattern in tow

Death has a friendly hand and a pretty face
She has given me comfort as I leave this place

The wars have occurred,humanity's lost
Souls have been burnt in the fire or lost in the frost

Day was Life,Night is Death

And the latter has given counsel on my final steps

Copyright © Winter Wallace | Year Posted 2009

Details | Haiku | |

The Internet: Rtrn

A void of Facebook
Creativity dies here...
Procrastination!

Copyright © Dan Keir | Year Posted 2013

Details | Free verse | |

DECLARATIONS OF A SOCIAL SCIENTIST

DECLARATIONS OF A SOCIAL SCIENTIST Indeed, I am that Poet and know it. Just in transition to a more enriched poetry form. I want to talk about life, politics, and religion. Maybe not simultaneously but how I am feeling today. I tell you life isn't a bowl of cherries. I am not harvesting berries. I live a vivacious existence. I nature walk and take beautiful pictures. I thrive in my leisure time. Even more so, I work until my mind unwinds. I am just a thrill seeker but not an extremist. I am an illustration of wellbeing. In fact, I am striving for better physical dexterity. In all, my body desires more agility. To eradicate the clumsiness, My ability to monitor my own quickness is propensity depleted. My mind, body, and spirit have superseded. Oh, I am told that it is all right to be big headed. Of course, gloating is good for your inner being. Dwindling is not something I will let occur. I am the booster of morale. Be assured that I am there for others who seek a physiological mental form. Do I appear to be titivated? I am what I have stated. Doubtlessly, there will be jealousy. Without doubt, they will envy me. Undoubtedly, this will not hinder. I have overcome obstacles since the being of my existence. Liberated from birth via a nation of government, I am free. I can wave my hand and be seen. I can stand up for what is right. I can ignite the political fire. I can educate my mind to genius. I can defeat enmity. Negativity may come but I disallow it to be a formula. I am abreast. |_____________________________________| Penned on October 31, 2014!

Copyright © Verlena S. Walker | Year Posted 2014

Details | Free verse | |

Legendary Lady Leaders I salute you

I am like
Cleopatra
embraced by serpents many
fear
always trying something new
and dramatic with my
hair
I am like
Eva Patrón
growing up with a painful family
getting lost in movies
thinking of my own
hypnotizing when I speak
First lady of Argentina
meeting you, after death
would be a treat
a nervous habit, of nibbling
on my jewelry
the similarities, between us
gave me a sense of foolery
I am like
Wilma Mankiller
Chief of the Cherokee Tribe
for ten years
fighting against Native stereotypes
despite such distress
enemies did stress
promoting to ‘be of good mind’
you were a leader, of your time
an advocator for women
that they may grow up
and become chief
as a child, you wondered
the forests, like me
not the streets
I am like
Aung San Suu Kyi
wearing three types of 
flowers in your hair
feeling at times like a 
‘splinter of glass, sharp, glinting
power to defend itself against hands
that try to crush’
winner of a Nobel Peace Prize, 
for courage, was
a must
I am like
Catherine The Great
a love to laugh,
coffee, and feeling compelled
to always fill abandoned blank
sheets of paper
you were a Royal Russian Empress,with
not one red drop of Russian blood
and her people, were blessed
to have her
I am like
the Queen of England
longest royal lifetime in history
strong built, from a miserable childhood
toughened her
this is no mystery
preferring candle light
to electricity
handwriting over typewriter
and poetry
I am like
Indira Gandhi
dreaming to live as she did
riding elephants and having
tiger cubs as companions
your own Sikh security
killed you, the story
a sad one
secret dreams of being a writer
angered, by the imbalance of
power
between men and women
listening to beat poets
like Ginsberg
as a great Prime Minister of India 
you were heard
and understood
I am like
Rigoberta Menchú
drew the worlds attention to 
native Indians rights,
because of you
your goal, to be
a drop of water on a rock
dripping in the same spot,
eventually in the world, you
may leave a mark
wearing many colors
‘because it gives you life’
insisting men and women be equals
you fought this fight
to relax, as I do
writing poetry into
 the night
I am like
Joan of Arc
French Military Heroine
burned at the stake at just
age nineteen
known for keeping your cool
even on the battlefield
being a courageous and inspirational
rare jewel
Legendary Lady Leaders
I salute you


Copyright © Heather Hill | Year Posted 2010

Details | Narrative | |

Other Side of The Rainbow

It was on the other side of the rainbow
When I slid into a dream
I guess at that time nothing was, as it truly seemed
People came and people went
The needle played my blues
Through the rainbow dreams into leprechaun schemes
I was Papa Smurf with the magic brew
I built a Crystal Castle
On the shores of nevermore
I guess sometimes I wonder, “What was I searching for”
Beauty danced with big brown eyes
Though the faces always changed
Many times I slept with gals I thought were rather strange
Magic slides that no one hides
I wonder where they go?
I once slid down the rainbow just to see the show
The stars are bright it’s a beautiful night
Moonbeams illuminating mushrooms all around
Here by my house crickets and frogs are the only sound
Fairies dance like fireflies 
It’s really quite the sight
Ever tripped down Hollywood and Vine on a Friday night
I have lived through many dreams
Shared many angels souls
Shattered dreams and broken schemes, nothing but empty goals
Broken hearts torn apart
Blowing in the wind
Like fairy dust you just can’t trust
Not even your closest friend
I dove into a crystal pool on the other side of the hill
I swear sometimes in my ears I can hear the ringing still
I rode upon the tornado just to go spinning through the sound
Landed in a concrete room bouncing all around
Leprechauns and rainbows
Unicorn’s beautiful and white
When I finally kicked the horse
It wasn’t a pretty sight
Like a frog on the log or a sick old dawg
Just a skeleton in a box
With the strength of Arthur's sword and trust in the Lord
I shattered a thousand locks
Now I’m back on this side of the rainbow
And every thing’s looking bright
My Guinevere is here and I love her dear
She is such a lovely sight
Trials come like waterfalls
Flooding though our life
I truly am a lucky man to face them with my wife
Well let’s gig the frog and fire up the log
We’ll roast us a pig tonight
Life is good in my neighborhood
Nary a single vice
The other side of the rainbow now seems so very far away
I guess that is really about all I have to say

Copyright © Michael Jordan | Year Posted 2009

Details | Acrostic | |

Kiss Me in the Shadows

Keep well away from dark, forbidding dreams --
Instead, stay near the hearth and play your lyre;
Sleep even so will wait on wooden beams,
Seducing you beside your cozy fire.
Meticulous and careful you may be,
Evicting darting shadows with the blaze --
Inside your quiet cottage, patiently,
Night's emissary holds you in her gaze.
The cuckoo calls as midnight church-bells chime;
His warning message echoes from the walls --
Enchanted ears have lost all track of time,
So far from whispered fears as silence falls.
Her chilling hands then rip away your voice,
And images assail your inner eyes --
Denying you the act of conscious choice,
On captive lips she mixes truth and lies.
When sunlight climbs the sky and breaks her spell,
She blows a darkened kiss, and bids farewell.

Copyright © M. Teresa Blaylock | Year Posted 2007

Details | Free verse | |

Brighton Streets

Do I dare look at you when I walk these streets?
Chase your shadow as it crawls under my feet?
For I have walked my way through 
These pleasant, summer nights
Trailing any trace of you in amber
Street lights.
Hearing the laughter of men and women
Drunken behind bars, their obliviousness
Billowing with the smoke of cigars
And once again I begin to wonder
In these thoughts that shatter, asunder
Of how unvoiced these nights have become.

The scent of scones melting in tea
The sugar, the beach, the creamed coffee
How foolish do I ought to be?
How much emotion becomes too much for me?
And the sun that strokes the clouds at sea
And hides its rays amongst them-
I watch… as all this beauty encircles me.

My eyes see not the glamorous dream
That has been haunting the lives of many it seems
The loveliness of love and its glimmering gleam
The word that is only word
That dream that is only dream.

For I have seen it on all these smiley faces, 
Hurried looks, and warm embraces
Can’t you see?
How we all have been entangled in one giant
Web of emotion?

Is there ever a place between Wordsworth’s
Daffodils and Poe’s Raven?
I walk these streets listening to a busker
Play his harmonica-
As I flip a coin into his flipped hat,
I wonder
How different we are, him and me
              Or are we?

Restricted we are to language and time,
Enslaved in memory, engaged in rhyme
How much easier it is to think of you and me
Rather than the misleading amounts of
Separating land and sea –illusory-
I observe and am observed as I walk these 
Streets, and I feel I know nothing of
Neither you nor me.

Copyright © farah chamma | Year Posted 2010

Details | Rhyme | |

Tendencies

She'll be loved, a modest, pure and golden Love, but hers is lust . . A teenage dream of youth today Refraining from true trust; Explosive social tendencies to Decide her right from wrong, Human instincts not so human But a technologic song- It shall hum to her desire, In another whom she'll cross; Mechanic works inside her brain, Must force her soul a loss. Such a choice yet to be made, Though no pain inside shall pass. Due to social tendencies, Yes, due to social tendencies . . His heartache be her last

Copyright © Dana Smith | Year Posted 2012

Details | Epic | |

The Mountain I Believed to Be Id

Across the valley
Stood the mountain I believed to be id
Two levels and a summit
Made it appear layered
Like first-dynasty pyramids

It would be a long climb
Step, stumble, slip,
Clutch and elevate my entire being

The valley’s simple green plants
Lived in symbiotic coexistence
With bees and ants
Nature nurturing nature
An embryonic journey
Between the Tigres and Euphrates

Such splendor might have caused me to remain
Many do
But I walked on

At the base of the mountain I paused
The summit hidden by a cloud ring
I looked back upon my Mesopotamia
Hailing its verdant simplicity
Questioning the summit’s worth

But uncontrollable curiosity
And unquenchable desire
Edged me forward

I climbed onto rocky soil
I stumbled as stones slipped ‘neath my feet
Reaching out to clutch a bush
I pulled upward

The first plateau ran before me as a brook
I peered into the pool of life
Finding amphibians, reptiles, fish
I waded
Ankles rubbing green algae
Creating eerie sensitivity
Slippery touch

The water cooled me
Thinning air brought calm
A sandy bottom soothed me

Such harmony might have
Caused me to remain
Many do

But above me
Within a mystical Saturnic cloud
Secrets of the summit beckoned
Edging me to elevate

Sweaty palms grasped a wild rose’s stem
Sharp thorns drew blood
My body fatigued, I cursed the climb
What marvels lay above the ring

The second plateau’s diversity thrilled me
Simple moss, brown rabbits
Deer with long, willowy legs
Hundreds of life forms
Gave me entrance
To Thoreau’s untouched paradise

The alluring cloud hung low above me
I questioned my destination
The second plateau’s oasis might have
Caused me to remain
Many do

But irresistible desire
Again edged me to step, stumble
Slip, clutch and elevate

I entered the cloud layer
Feeling hot and cold dancing vapor
The mountain I believed to be id
Swam under my feet

Perplexed, I muddled upward
Above the timber line
No trees, no grass
No plants, no animals
No life

Still I was curious for id
And took the final step

A cold granite peak
Amidst the grey moisture
Self-realization was achieved

I had seen all that was beautiful
But passed it by
The key to paradise was offered
Three times
Yet I had been a martyr to my own desire

I could not see
The valley, brook,
Or paradise of total life

I could see
Only myself
And I cried
For want of something beautiful

Copyright © Carolyn Devonshire | Year Posted 2010

Details | Villanelle | |

Night Stalker

Within the forest’s dream of night’s true fright
shadows twist obsidian trees torment,
the cypress writhe in blood moon’s bright delight.

The hunter hides his nascent lust for might 
and so the doe flees by man’s bow unbent,  
within the forest’s dream of night’s true fright.
	
The cypress writhes in blood moon’s bright delight,
bedevil not the finer soul, repent,
the destined deed, must feed, man’s plight.

With deadly skill, fletched shaft sheers frosty night.
The horned hart does fall in wonderment, 		
within the forest’s dream of night’s true fright.

And torment flows in drops of crimson sight,
distorting right and light with man’s intent.
The cypress writhes in blood moon’s bright delight

Into the holy water blood rings light
for life is all and death is but dissent, 
within the forest’s dream of night’s true fright,
the cypress writhes in blood moon’s bright delight.



Copyright © Debbie Guzzi | Year Posted 2010

Details | Rhyme | |

I Walk

I walk amidst all these people
Contemplating in thought I stare
I walk entranced, my mind so rapt
As if I were not even there

Across crowds of so many
Of all colors, of all faces
The Western, the Eastern
Personalities in all races
 
I see the thin and fat
I see the short and tall
In shapes and sizes
Beauty varies in all

Some stroll with smiles
Of the old and blue
Others in peevish laughter
Of youth and hue

Dressed in diverse styles, 
Some dim, some flare
I walk by women in beauty veiled
And others that walk half-bare 

In some I see despair
In others I find insight
Some, I just walk by
With not much visible to sight

I walk amidst all these people
Each one to life a strand
I walk in thought, in masses
And I simply don’t understand

Copyright © farah chamma | Year Posted 2009

Details | Kyrielle | |

Dr Rams Words Are Better Than Gold

 
Exquisite the ravel of his comforting quilt
a pondering notion of wisdom is felt 
I take a sip of his lovely red wine,  
Dr. Rams words are better than gold..........simply divine
 
Susurrus hymns of love at times
or perhaps lissome words in flowing lines 
silently I sit as his words come to life,
Dr. Rams words are better than gold...........simply divine

O' the words that linger, perhaps burn inside
his heritage, his love, his grand design
I fall in dream into his domain of time,
Dr. Rams words are better than gold..........simply divine

A song of one soul
a dance for all, profound 
a story unraveling with pages alive
Dr. Rams words are better than gold.......... simply divine

Copyright © Rick Parise | Year Posted 2011

Details | Rhyme | |

Suzie Haus

I had a horse named Suzie Haus when I was twenty-one.
I had wanted her since I was seven, the waiting was finally done.
She was the most beautiful thing I’d ever seen, in the World up to that day.
And forever in my memory her beauty will continue to stay.
A painted mare with a black mane and tail, then brown over white.
She became the best friend I’d ever have, you might say we were tight.
I fed her every morning, as I talked to her as I cleaned out her stall.
Then every night I did the same, plus cleaned four hooves all.
I brushed her to a shine, I was so proud of her each day.
Then with a saddle, reins, and me…we were on our way.
The stable was near a river, on top a great big bluff.
A dirt road shadowed with trees allowed us to strut our stuff.
As we danced down the road, the lightening bugs rejoiced.
And gentle breezes touched us, giving the leaves their voice.
Then peace would settle round us, as off to trails we would sashay.
This was the stuff that dreams were made of, and I had it every day.
Birds could be heard throughout the woods, the serenade complete.
I saw the river far below, and the sky with clouds of fluff so sweet.
Sometimes we were with others, but most often we were alone.
But it didn’t really matter, for we always knew the way home.
As we turned to go down the bluff, the river urged us to come below.
Deer danced on the land beneath, in the fields a buck and does.
The gentle angle to the floor below, allowed us to mingle in.
They let us close within a few feet, they thought Suzie was a friend.
At the river the blue sky with a reddish sunset had lite everything aglow.
Soon river barges came floating by, and it was quite a show.
Fishermen sat there minding their peace, until the moon began to glow.
The moon twinkling on the river below, was always beautiful and clear.
We’d talk a while, and breathe so deep, the air had a different flavor here.
Once I met a young man looking for inspiration to write a song.
At that time it began to rain so I helped him quickly get where he belonged.
He thanked me profusely, as he made it to his car.
I had helped him save his love, a very beloved old guitar.
From inside his car he played a song he’d written, while he had been there.
I sat upon Suzie beneath a canopy of trees, that sheltered me, I swear. 
Finally the rain and song were done, my serenade complete.
Then I rode off back to home, later achieving more memories and gentle treats.

Copyright © Carol Eastman | Year Posted 2011

Details | Free verse | |

Coke Bottle Promises

Sandy grains
wash over and over
a discarded glass
bottle
leaving what is left
smooth as silk
to my fingertips
touch
like a childhood 
memory
thought over and over
once more
and as I look
out into the unyielding 
sea
I recall your promise
words
I recall, over and over
again
like the waves splashing my
tan feet upon the sands
for you are overdue
love
to return to me
as I kiss my love note
to you
and toss the bottle once
more
into the dark blue abyss
below
my coke bottle
promise
forever and only
yours 
I do stay
 honest

Copyright © Heather Hill | Year Posted 2010

Details | Free verse | |

Prayers

Perched high upon the escarpment
of sandstone rubble, the boy sat,
shaded from the rising of the sun
in the shadow of Kings.
Sharp eyed he preyed 
upon the tourist below, and to his God Allah.
His path was a treacherous one
looped and twisting like the snakes of ochre gold
shone cresting the brow of Ramesses
in the unearthly Valley of the Kings;
far from the osprey and marsh grass
of the beloved Nile.

Below the boy, on a zigzag path 
between the mouth-like openings to the netherworld,
tourists swarm, ants on a mound of honey stone
suckers of sweetness, oblivious, 
as they had done for centuries.

He sat as his father before him
hunkered down knees to chest
the vulture heraldic creature of Upper Egypt
death eater, little had changed except
now the robbers wore blue jeans and not the hajab.
He had earned his small bit
of the twentieth century..hawking

Copyright © Debbie Guzzi | Year Posted 2011

Details | Narrative | |

Call Me Gonzo

For thoose of you who may not know.
Just call me gonzo I write the absurd for life is insane and sometimes 
it takes a madman to speak the truth so very clear.

I write for the broken vacant faces that have lost all hope.
To the dreamer who's well is slowley running dry from everyone
telling him to stop wasting his time.

I write like a endless highway fueled by whiskey and wild women 
every adventure leads to pain but life is pain and i love in spite of it.

I thirst for every unseen mile the desert my brother it's people dwell
in the spirt of the west the opium parlors and brothels spirt still linger.
I write with a hint of danger and a promise of disaster.

Im a blues player whos trying to out run the devil.
Im a outlaw riding to cross the border a woman looking to the 
empty range for my return.

I write because I breath in a world were the creative air has gone 
stale.
The bottle sits apon table and I welcome any strangers company
I just rather that stranger be a warm woman instead of a 
unfriendly amigo who is a little jelouse.

Write to be more than just part of the highways landscape.
Some may call me crude crazy insane some even vulgar and 
liar and thief.
But aside from thoose compliments.
No matter what you may call me.
Dont ever forget to just call me gonzo.

Copyright © DR Robert Gonzo | Year Posted 2010

Details | Iambic Pentameter | |

Hiraeth of a Modern Celt

Upon the green hills of Cymru
I stand arrested by the veiw
of cryptic sea and ancient shore 
that stood ten thousand years before
they met my callow eye
and will remain for many more
long after I die


I'm solemn above the briny stew
with thoughts of kin I never knew
fishing the sea, mining the coal
or mining the depths of a poet's soul
A nation's buried history
revived once more because it knows
the blood that flows through me

Blood that fed this fertile soil
with the Celtic tears and toil
of Warriors dead b'neath the peat
that pads the soles of anglish feet
the true Princes of Wales
rule no more upon this shore
except in children's tales

The epic song of Arthur's quest
or Madoc's journey somewhere west
stories of the Mabinogion 
or family tales of distant kin
who fought so hard, but failed
to keep their ancient birthright
so to distant lands they sailed

Centuries pass, now here I stand
a stranger in this native land
welcomed by the foe of yore
that chased my people from this shore
leaving me a world apart
from the Cymru pulsing through my blood
and beating in my heart

Copyright © Erica Lewis | Year Posted 2006

Details | Free verse | |

Bending Spoons

 

...A poem
is a spoon
that you can bend
with your mind.

It depends on psi
if you 
are mutant 
X or Y 
a paranormal opportunity 
or a wild talent
of psionic penmanship .

Stare at the pattern 
on the handle
as you imagine 
the handle
either roses or unicorns
are emblazon here.

So much the better
as your mind
bends the words
and the metal obeys...

Spoon begins to tremble
there is no knife
to run away with.

Then comes
the period
like an empty plate.
to contain
a bent spoon
with squeezed letters...

Copyright © Andrew Rymill | Year Posted 2012

Details | Rhyme | |

Defiance

 
Defiance
Digging in my heels I’m ready to run, onward I go with my back to the rising sun
Shadow demons be gone pester me not, I’ll run so fast that you’ll soon be forgot
Newly reborn with no sign of a savior, renouncing the old ways desolate behavior
Forged in fathoms of what could have been, not knowing how not knowing when
My legs tighten I take off in the sand, in search of tomorrow in search of new land
Burning back from the sweltering heat, blisters echo my pain in my pounding feet
Relentless I run from my shoes I break free, running as fast as I can to my destiny
Dried out earth slowly turns green, desert skies of red turn a blue and white serene
Grass under foot a new way is found, no longer am I tethered no longer am I bound
Freedom calls to me bellowing from within, where will it end where should it begin
Breaking the summit confident I leap, my dreams my desires these things I will keep
Diving down toward the crystal river, no more regret no more fear not even a sliver
Splashing down into the waters cleanse, my conviction is what my success depends
Swimming to the shore naked to the sun, it’s my time to rebuild my time has begun
Drakavai2013

Copyright © Drakavai the Wordsmith | Year Posted 2013

Details | Senryu | |

' Raul Moreno, Poet - Sensei ... ' 56th Senryu

‘ Raul Moreno, Poet- Sen•sei … ’   56th  Senryu


   Like Marco Polo
Haiku Master, Moreno
Explores Nature’s Show


From Magnanimous Me (he! he!)  (LOL)
             Love Your Poetry, 
        Your Poet-Pal, MoonBee

Copyright © MoonBee Canady | Year Posted 2009

Details | Burlesque | |

a reading

“the eyes of my eyes opened” as
the door when she came in, late
and embarrassed, click of a
shutter into “the ear of my ear” a
whispered ‘hi’ for a greeting
at the meeting, a reading.
she might be beautiful, had I
my glasses, seeing nothing
of a face or a flower, boughing to
sunlight, bowing to heaven
I see inward had I my glasses
I’d hear a thought that over
me wrought a heaven-bent word or
something more absurd.
“Abso-lute-ly & pos-i-tive-ly”
dead in the large-room
prison-with-a-view, had I
my glasses, everything’s new
in its monotony, “under me you so quite new”
I knew the world kicks up its dirt in my
I would have seen the lies, the dirt, the
heaven-bent word, her (quite new), had I
my glasses.

Copyright © david glines | Year Posted 2005

Details | I do not know? | |

Togather we Ran

young lovers know that traggic passion blind to failure 
blind to everything that doesnt see them togather.
So in early morning passion just befor light.
they slip off togather dreams and hope taken along 
for the ride.

long brown chessnut colored hair flowing out the window 
along with are dreams.
A fence post marker the road togther holds
a certin magic it seems.

Love made from state to state
the waterfall to which we did race 
skinny dippin togather by that old forgoten place
Your naked  beauty etched within my mind along with
the hapinees reflected from your face.

Broke down in blue springs Missouri.
Now i dont question why your eyes 
were overcast with worry.

Apart the nightmare cant erase thoose nights spent
laying in blissful silence your head apon my chest.
Memories depend apon your view.
I 'll just kiss the that jasmine scented southern
breeze for the rest.

My darlin I ask fingers interlocked 
with time my heart what shall be 
are plan.
A tear touches that vision of a face.
As you recall the memories of when togather we 
ran.   

Inspired by a dream  about the other half of my heart.

Copyright © John Patrick Robbins AKA Gonzo | Year Posted 2009

Details | Free verse | |

The Foothills of the Himalayas

The swarthy young men sit, planted under the overhang
like the pansies and geraniums surrounding them in boxes
as the rain pelts the terra-cotta terrace; we beneath the awning.
The mountain air sharpens with the acrid taste of lightening.

Having bid farewell to the arched shard of rainbow across the valley;
we shiver watching the celestial fireworks bombardment of Katmandu.
The lightening stokes the day’s heat: earth, water, metal, fire, air,
curdel the early evening sky like the yogurt we ate for lunch.

A home-made rice wine pours over our tongues from an innocent
looking water bottle. Our eyes turn garnet with the harshness of it. 
The bottle with its tattered label sits upon the arm of a white chair.
The wine within tastes faintly of the gasoline. Yet, we reveled in it,

and the freedom wine lends us from the deep-seeded societal mores, 
of impending marriages, political, religious and of the heart. How, one woman 
seldom fits all three requirements. The wine flowed with the discussion.

Overhead, a bridal veil of stars drapes the horizon. Single as we three
are, we retire to discuss the finer points within the one bedroom
which was all that was available in the mountain inn.

Copyright © Debbie Guzzi | Year Posted 2011

Details | Rhyme | |

My shoes

The shoes on my feet are old, worn and tattered 
I’ve walked  hundreds of  miles in them 
They have been through a lot and are beaten and battered 
But they are my shoes.

Sometimes they hurt my feet 
And when I step in puddles, 
its not a very nice treat..
But they are my shoes

The soles have started to come loose at the seams
and when I walk I can feel it flap as it  hits the ground 
Maybe a new pair of shoes is what that might deem.
But they are my shoes.

They haven’t been clean since I don’t know when
I could wash them I am sure, 
but some how it would take something away from them.
But they are my shoes 

When I put them on and walk out the door 
they never question where I might go 
they just silently accept it and so much more.
They are my shoes.

They have kept my travels a secret 
took many, many beatings 
and haven’t betrayed me yet 
They are my shoes 

I see people look at my feet all the time
I am sure they wonder why I haven’t tossed them yet 
But to me they are comfortable and fine.
They are my shoes

Don’t judge me because of my worn and tattered shoes 
you haven’t walked where I have walked
or been where they have taken me, trust me I’ve paid my dues 
These are my shoes.

And I will throw them out 
when and how I choose 




Copyright © rebecca travis | Year Posted 2008

Details | Free verse | |

Thirty-three Letters From Batman to Robin

Playing Batman and Robin is a lot different

When the Riddler is your Stepfather

And simultaneously an alcoholic and pedophile

When your secret mission is to keep him

From bringing heroin and pornography

To Gotham city

 

Your mother wanted to save you both

But Catwoman captured her

And held her six children hostage

  
You tried to save your brother

From the Riddler that October night

But you were just nine and

The Joker had you in quicksand

The rope was too rough for such small hands

 

 Twenty years later you both get married

And you laugh at those childhood battles

Neither of  you knowing

That those villains were still there,

The Penguin was waiting in the shadows

 

Batman gets arrested for Statutory rape

They put Department of Corrections

On his fabled cape

No Batbelt to help him escape

                                                    II

Batman sends Robin thirty-three letters

Written on that yellow prison paper

With those light blue lines

Tells him  he's found Christ

Read the New Testament twice

Robin pretends to be happy for him

Even when he really doesn't believe him

And is too disappointed to care


         And returned letters from his two children

Hurt him in the worst way

When all he wanted to do was

Give them four or five dollars

For Christmas or their birthday


                                     III

   Still in every Former Super heroes life

There is a Forrest Gump/ Gomer Pyle

That just takes it all in

Regardless of his sin

Just because he's your brother

And because you love him

    Because you were the one that rode

On the handle bars of his bike

Holding the umbrella on the way to the store

While it was thundering and lightning

Not knowing that the real rain was yet to pour

   And you were the one

That sailed into the wind like Mary Poppins

when the bicycle stopped

"Make sure Mama's groceries don't drop."

   You open those letters

Because he was one that you looked up to

When there was no father to answer your call

And a twelve year old make-believe father

Was better than none at all

    Because he built you a ten feet basketball court

Out of throw away scrap wood

It wobbled when you shot the basketball

But he did the best he could

    And you were the one that used to ruin his fishing trips

By getting your hook snagged every ten minutes

And he would still ask you to ruin his next trip a week later

And he would walk in the dirty lake to un-snag your line

Because you didn’t like getting your clothes dirty or wet

   You don't tear up those those letters

Because he was the one that

Shared those stupid

What-are-we-going-to-do-now-looks

At your mother's funeral

    And you hated it when his kidneys failed

And he was only fifteen

And he couldn’t fight bad guys anymore

And you both swore never again

To wear those stupid capes

 Your heart failed when he was charged with rape

   You open those letters because

When you can't sleep or rest

Nothing like a game of Russian Roulette

Ignoring the voices in your head

The next letter is the one you’ll regret


                                                                  IV

    But hidden in those letters

Between the lines of

Those religious rants

Somewhere Between the Johns

The Deuteronomies and the Acts

Were those unknown facts

That never made it to

The courtroom

Was never read by the DA or judge

The DNA that got lost by Vice

The bloody tissue misplaced by

The evidence clerk

The real trial was in those letters


    And you learn that he wouldn't

Tell the Judge the real truth

Waived his right to a trial

Because he didn't want his kids

To end up in Foster care.

And Robin wasn't there

   And he broke his promise

To never ever play  hero again?

They gave him fourteen years

For another person's sin

   We could have put those capes on one last time

We could have beaten the Joker

And put him and the Riddler on the run

Could have shot Cat Woman with our toy guns

    After five years in prison

Batman dies at forty-one

And Robin has to go on


    And it sucks that you left

All the clues with me

And I can't even use them to set you free

The rape you confessed to

Was never what we all believed it to be

And somewhere in Gotham city

The Joker, Penguin and Riddler

Are still running around free

                                               Epilog

Goodbye Batman

Growing old with you

Would have been better

But the best of you remains

In these thirty-three letters

Copyright © Poet M.e. | Year Posted 2016

Details | Villanelle | |

My Heart Decided Long Ago

My heart decided long ago
   That life is for adventures, and
That bound'ries flow like rivers flow.

Though people told me what to know,
   I'd weather ev'ry reprimand --
My heart decided long ago.

I fought false rhetoric, and so
   Set out across an unknown land,
Where bound'ries flow like rivers flow.

I'd learn from flower, deer, and crow --
   I'd sail the sea -- walk soft, white sand --
My heart decided long ago.

I felt the winds of wisdom blow --
   The breath of Life, and Her command --
That bound'ries flow like rivers flow;

And on Life's river now I row,
   My destiny within my hand;
My heart decided long ago
   That bound'ries flow like rivers flow.

Copyright © M. Teresa Blaylock | Year Posted 2006