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People Life Poems | Life Poems About People

These People Life poems are examples of Life poems about People. These are the best examples of People Life poems written by international PoetrySoup poets

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Details | Free verse |

Love Poem - 29

Every day, I fall in love with something new,
while maintaining the love I have already found.

I fall in love with scars, wrinkles,
redundancies and repetition,
items that people throw into the wind,
kick around and step upon.

I fall in love with my enemies,
one of life's hardest lessons to learn.
I find haters to be marvelous motivators.

Every day, I fall in love with something new,
while reinforcing the love I have already found.

The old man who sits in a rain-filled gutter,
seemingly oblivious to the water sluicing down the hill,
splashing against his clothes -
fists raised up to the heavens in fury
as he talks to an invisible audience
about how Apollo stole his dearly beloved wife....

....I fell in love with him too.

I fall in love with things that some people deem as insignificant,
ugly, morose, dirty and immoral.
The more I fall in love, the more I love each passing moment,
including the pain, torture and misery that may appear along the way.

If I write down treasonously treacherous words,
the reader could assume such words to be rooted in rage
or a cynical outlook. But the words are actually born out of love -
I love every single word in existence.

Every day, I fall in love with something new,
while still maintaining the love I have already found.

I fall in love with the woman 
who is too shy to have a proper conversation with anyone,
because she believes herself to be very ugly,
when in fact, she is an exquisitely gorgeous woman.

I fall in love with broken daffodils, bent daisies,
a shattered seashell, the sweet stench of rotting seaweed on the shore,
the way her hair smells baking in the sun.
I fall in love with black and white photographs,
hypnotized by the essence the dead have left behind.
I fall in love with marbles, the feathers of mourning doves,
and with the stray cat who after watching the moving truck drive away,
slunk around the alley in search of scraps -
over the years, she has proven to be
a most respectful and loyal animal.
I fall in love with saints, villains, rusted watering cans,
the way sunlight bends into prisms when it shines
through the cracked antique windowpane
which I simply cannot find the presence to replace.


And as for the people who think that my love is a whole
different spectrum of emotions,
or how it is impossible for someone like myself
to fall in love with something new, every, single day....

....well, I love them too.





April 6th, 2012


Details | Free verse |

Recording/Re-playing/Recording/Re-playing

The farm
     and the porch light hums 
the sound of another 
orange dawn.

Burnt up – crisp
      aching new reaches 
of the imagination turn 
from corn
      to wheat
to the pungent shade
of dried blood on hands –
kissing corners of a mouth
never kissed.

Sweeping ‘cross in whispers 
two thousand years
      and more, come
words on the flat-line horizon,
dripping sideways,
like a red cat's eye marble 
on a circular seesaw
that knows no bounds;
rolling infinitely back
     and forth - 
ringing through ears that were once
in that ago (can you hear it?)
hearing the coming of a storm 
     being heard 
by another set of ears,
in some other when –

     some other marble.

When, speaks the unspoken.
When, treads where none may tread.
When, grips the barren outcroppings of space –
playing the unending moments –
where no other question hence forth

can grip.

Night sounds come in floods
of mauve,
      and quiet apricot;
slicing through oceans,
unsung,
      where no ears hear.

The farm: echoing, lowing and fawning –
Trying to stay true 
      to form,
bleeds into the fibers of a dream
once lived –
recognizing its existence
through the act of a moment, 
      lived.

The girl turns to face 
the enormity
of all she has yet to hear upon 
      the brazen, blazing horizon;
she strips down to goose bumps 
on the skin
that God gave her; 
opening her mouth to hear all
that she is –
 
      breathing in the dawn 
as it breaks.

The farm notes this coming.

The sky knows;

The wind knows.

The earth knows - relaxing
at her feet
      exhaling
through her soles,
resounding through the mouth
of the un-kissed,

breathing through this land; 
humming through porch lights,
spinning through atoms,
sifting though heavens,
recorded through lifetimes,
      and through into another’s
open mouth.




© Kristin Reynolds 1/9/09


Details | Rhyme |

What Only Angles Hear

Daddy never did understand.
That violence doesnt bring comfort.
A lost soul seeking acceptance from a unwelcome hand.

She was silent no one ever knew.
The secrets behind her bruised eyes.
A shocking victem none but all had a clue.

She cried to empty walls never speaking aloud from fear.
A confession of pain and shattred trust.
this is only what angles hear.

Scars selfinflicted  are better than that 
dirty feeling.
As she lays a broken shell gazing  at the celling.

She questions if others know what will they say.
Doing whatever it takes to stay numb.
Innocence lost a parent should never betray.

The guilt was placed apon the wrong head.
Void of all emotion.
No child should yern to be dead.

At times it gets to uncomfortable so in 
another direction we  steer.
For at times it's just to painful to stomach.
What only angles  hear.


Details | Free verse |

Brush Stroke to Uniqueness

If my mind be painted in colors borrowed, would it be red? 
Rusted in brown, or maybe instead, an indigo streak?
Depending upon the source of inspiration, 
and the song on the radio at the time of connection...
I keep coming back to sea green, 
or the blue of underwater murals at 3ft tall of childhood,
eyes wide in fickle, transient hazel
absorbing each moment, be it safe or unstable
categorizing each scent and each color
each love and each valor
each crisp Autumn, Summer
in vats of brain paint to be later unlidded
and splashed with insignias
of every person and place and event
that ever touched corneas innocent, bent
on absorption.
If my mind be painted, I think it be green
like the moment I'm lucid before I dip dreams
and hang them to dry in the gallery
"Mind's Eye"
and push to wake up to connect, signify
every sensory path that I've traveled before
to traipse them again and still come back for more.
I'm a stickler for art and with your canvas blank
my sweet innocent dear, with each word that you hear
you will brush stroke your way to uniqueness.


Details | Free verse |

On the outside, looking in

"When humanity becomes louder than love, stay out of its way. At times, it's better to be the lion in the distance, rather than the sheep losing their way...again."

This was the 1st time
I felt out of place.

Its impact mimicked abused parallelograms
Unto emptiness’ solution

I witness sliced wrists shedding bohemian smiles.

Testament verses
Latching onto anchors of invalid mo(u)rning

There was no sunrise to be found,
Because humanity kept making love to silhouetted blinders

I was surrounded by shovels
Ransacked
For the sake of digging louder messages’ trench

While I
Caress incipient wings
And half-full Windex bottles
Just to keep perception from clouding my lyrics

Because nobody wants to see eye to eye…

…

…cataract-laced speeches permeate tainted whispers
Of an innocent breath 
Simply
Searching
For B-rated serendipity

Oh, this was the 1st time
I felt out of place.

Turning away from windowed afflictions
Ready
To step towards gratitude’s breath

Outside,
No longer looking in

How good it feels.

Yet, I still miss my friends.

©Drake J. Eszes 


Details | Blank verse |

THE WHEEL HAS COME FULL CIRCLE

What goes up must come down. 
No colors can define who you are. 
You may own a cart or limousine. 
We'll still reach the end when it is near. 
I may be poor today and eat from trash. 
Tomorrow, you can't tell. I'll earn some cash. 
The bed where you lie is soft and wide. 
I sleep at a sidewalk and the stars are my lamp. 
You wake up each morn' with a feast on your table 
While we are scavenging to fill stomachs when we're able. 
Our destiny isn't written in the stars. 
We work for a living to thrive in this life. 
Be thankful every morning you witness the sun 
And pray tonight that no one lives same as I. 
Wheels come in full circle,rolling round and round. 
Today you'll be on top, 
I am watching from the ground. 
Let us bear in our minds that we are better than birds. 
Our loving Father ensures each mouth is fed. 
Not even the smallest details can pass by His eyes. 
So plant a seed of kindness and reap a better life. 



sponsor:FRANK H.

name of 
contest: SHAKESPEARE

*5th Place winner









Details | Rhyme |

A LullabyTo The Lost

Life and cigarettes burn to fast.
We waste are time.
So within the moment you bask.

A pretty face has to age.
Every story meets  it's final page.
When life breaks you over its cost.
Then you'll sing a lullaby to the lost.

The lights in the street hide all but the truth my 
dear.
You can act.
But you can never mask your  fear.

In dark rooms you sell all but your soul.
A wicked moment a stolen encounter.
All things take there toll.

That sweet face has tuirned hard your so warm 
to be cold.
A secret that the bitter have already told.

Can you wash away there stench as from 
the past you are tossed.
In dark corners blood stained angles 
sing a lullaby  to the lost.

Is this hell or a nightmare  that knows no end.
A cell to most.
To others the only refuge inwhich they 
can depend.

she falls to the floor a lost look needle  
in arm.
Most will rememeber a doomed fool.
Others her wreckless charm.

She was  a junkie  and a easy lay.
More bones are broken.
Over words others say.

She sold flesh but payed the ultimate
cost.
In a dingy corner of th world.
Were the angles sing a lullaby to the lost.


Details | Verse |

Who Am I

I am the ring around Saturn
spinning words as particles of ice and dust
with the power to transcend

I am the original chosen to be right here right now
transmitting verbal frequencies 
through speaking my thoughts into existence

I am the heir of omnipotence,
born with a direct connection to profound abundance 
The one whose words will age, yet still have substance;
since there are no boundaries attached to my pen

I am constant energy
Translating personal experience into imagery 
Vulnerable to tyranny,
yet i continue attempting to share some truth
through this abstract language of poetry

I am the core
I am that I am more
I am the Divine Presence that is the Source of my rewards

I am the green you get when you mix too much yellow with the blue
That shade of gold you get when the sun resides into darkness
and when it ascends in the dawn burning dew
I am the transition between the third and fourth dimension of time;
the love you feel when you realize how it feels

I am the poem that is abstractly direct
because I write beyond limits
absorbing frequencies from 3 to 8 hertz
through meditation for several minutes
I am the one bridging the gap between
the analog ascension and the direct connection to spirit
The one who is love
because I am a descendent  of it

I am the rhythm that the wind blows
I am the beginning and the ending of stories told
about the universe and how miracles unfold
I hold the power to accept judgement from those who will do just that
Not knowing that I am them in the absolute reality of me
Judge that

I am knowledge beyond measure because that is my right
So I continue meeting the different parts of me
when I meditate and write
Who am I?
I AM, THAT, I AM



Details | Ballade |

All Things Beautiful

Walking alone past the reeds blowing lace,
Stroking the oak by the old wooden gate,
Guided by trust to my lovers embrace,
Pouring my heart into leaves as they bate
Wind into dancing as feet hesitate,
Just long enough to find rhythm, I trace
Patterns in air as the pollen creates -
Fair is the face of the Lords given grace...

Sky paints a picture for moon in dark space,
Vast driven oceans of life demonstrate
Love for the mountainous deserts displaced,
Each born anew, by the wind to its fate -
Seamless infinity’s natural state,
Is seeing your eyes on another’s kind face
And Finding forgiveness for those who breed hate,
Fair is the face of the Lords given grace

Out in the sun as light seeks out its place,
Faith comes to breathe as it encapsulates
Bodies of men where his truth is encased,
Dreamers whose dreams become true and innate,
Their journey is hard but rewarding and great
Where love can be found but cannot be replaced
And words that when written just right captivate,
Fair is the face of the Lords given grace...

Each breath I breathe makes me appreciate
How beautiful life is, how rich and how chaste -
Nature’s perfection is light incarnate,
Fair is the face of the Lords given grace...


copyright Kristin Reynolds 2008


Details | Carpe Diem |

Each Day Takes its Turn

Standing firm 
we live 
we give 
we take 
we learn 
we strive to make sure 
each day enlightens us 
and brightens us
even as light fades to gray 
may we keep fighting 
with two swollen feet
beneath the body and soul 
experiencing trials 
and intense life lessons 
meshed with stresses 
may we persevere 
turn off  fear's song 
may we stand firm 
as we glide along 
through shifty winds of change 
that may cause things to sway
rearrange
but we hold true
inside the values and morality
we stand for 
we
fall for nothing 
we
may stumble along the trip 
we 
may swerve at the wheel yet 
we 
do not lose our grip
because no one 
can eclipse the sun 
yet
everyone heals 
before they're done

Just when situations arise 
flooding us with pain we despise
and just when it seems like
our tear ducts are dry 
from ongoing cries
we may think 
things are on the brink of ending
then God shows us the ways of faith
by way of love that he's sending

Standing firm 
we live 
we give 
we take 
we learn 
we make sure 
every day enlightens us 
and brightens us 
as each day takes its turn. 

~JSLambert



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