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On Writing And Words People Poems | On Writing And Words Poems About People

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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?

Details | Acrostic | |

My PoetrySoup

M y eyes see what your heart is feeling
Y our feelings you write out as poetry

P ain, love, joy, wonder, inspiration
O nly you can help me see, hear,and feel you
E ven though only words you have written they
T ouch my heart and mind deeply from within
R equiring me to write a poem so full of feeling as
Y ou become my poetry I write from my heart
S mile, laugh, cry, whisper, or shout
O pen your heart, mind, and soul
U tter your words on paper or screen
P oetry is where I see and feel your soul

Tons of comma fun!
contest of Russell Sivey

Written by: Carol Brown
3rd Place Winner

Details | Quatrain | |

Commenter's, I Thank You

Now where does this Highlander start
To thank those commenter's, present and past
So many read and absorbed
Their kindness to me always lasts

Dr.Ram and Carol Brown
My African Queen 'Miss Wilma Neel's
Michael from New York City
Whose comments I internally feel

There's Andrea, the Utah babe
And Carolyn, from Florida State
Their writing I so enjoy
For their words reverberate

John Loving is such a wonderful guy
There's Sara and Doris too
Deb Radke and Sharon Ruebel our newbies
Made welcome to our literal zoo

P.D. Skat and Constance
Barbara, Iolanda and June
Francine from lovely Nanaimo
Many thanks to all of you

To Ruben, Celene and Raul
Your past writes have helped me grow
Along with so many others
You have helped my words to flow

Blimey! I better not miss out the Brits
Sarah, Brian, Sharon and June
And Anna Marie, away down in Wales
I have read in my front room

Many dudes I also have to thank
Harry Horsman the Geordie boy
The two Roberts, Dufresne and Hinshaw
Whose writings bring so much joy

There's also the bard called Peranteau
Billy the Kidster, Cecil as well
HG, Catie Lindsey and James Goff
Who marshalls his words real swell

And lastly there's the thousands of others
This character has ran out of space
Keep the ink in you pen gently flowing
Your names to me is your face

Golly! this is turning into a story
And many told by the above writing troops
As I marvel at your writing ingredients
Keep writing for this wonderful Soup

Details | Rhyme | |

The Man in the Wilderness

Feeling like a lodger
In my own home
Thankful for my music
And my new found roam

Families and communities
They are just so hard to find
But in April 2009
I found the most precious kind

I found the name amusing
So the button i clicked on to see
The layout was very inviting
Like an open door should be

For in a matter of minutes
On first uploading a poem
This Highlander was content
He had found a welcome home

So many lovely writers
Poets who share their bless
No longer this Scotsman is
The Man in the Wilderness

Details | Couplet | |

The Prophet's Song

In relation to deliberation on this poetry nation
A writer is he as clever as can be, lures you to he

With stories of writers he fashions with words
Encrypted solutions to be read to be heard

This newbie of writers who has arrived on our shores
Gathers driftwood for his writing hoard

In clever approach in his delightful encroach
He mixes in the mix, for its against him to poach

His verse is so free it gains respect of the wind
It resonates desires to be read and unwound

His name deciphered, the destroyer of poetry
This writer so cute, knows who he wants to be

This mask he has chosen is entirely his voice
To remove and become, is basically, simply his choice

Details | Senryu | |

' The Power of A Poet ... ' 32nd Senryu

‘The Power Of A Poet’      32nd  Senryu

        Look How Devoted
       The Power of A Poet
    See How Words Spoke It

This Poem is My Tribute to:

Carolyn Devonshire (The Dove)
and James (The Highlander) Fraser
for your Powerful collaboration on:

      Mother Nature's Revenge

        It Was Truly Awesome


Details | Free verse | |

Grand Canyon

Some people are voices
On the edge of rocks
With steep slopes and cliffs.
Some people are echoes
At the bottom of walls
Carved by rushing waters.

Details | Quatrain | |

The Lonely Poet

Paste on your passion smile
Crisp all your words
as you settle yourself 
to be self-consumed, heard
Whisper sweet nothings
which only you know
Don't stop the banter,
the words or the flow
You've reached the summit
of the loneliest point
You're king of the vacancy
best in the joint
Write all your poems
on the back of your hand
and read them at supper
of cream pie and sand
Your siblings will stand up
and whisper applause
You've felt all emotion
and ridden all stars
They bid you good-bye
for you're out of their league
and to think you just wanted
to be heard, succeed...

Details | Rhyme | |

A Palindrome Tale

A Palindrome Tale

I’ve got a tale to tell you of travel, love and lust
The travel, it was joyful, my love life was a bust
I met a girl in Tulsa, next day my diary read
A slut nixes sex in Tulsa; “Dammit, I’m mad” I said
So I went off to Europe to see the Mona Lisa
I thought it was in Italy; but as I pee, sir, I see Pisa!
A Delia saw I was ailed; I’m a fool; aloof am I
When she offered me spaghetti, I said “I prefer pi”
And then I found Naomi – Naomi did I moan?
I did, did I? I can not lie.  I headed back to home
And then I met this Madam; as mad as Adam, she
Evil did I dwell, lewd I did live; God saw I was dog tired
Live not on evil they did say; Then my luck expired
Revered now, I live on. O did I do no evil I wonder ever
No sir, panic is a basic in a prison where I dwelt
Ned, I am a maiden; not a banana baton had I felt

Mdailey	3/31/12

A slut nixes sex in Tulsa; 
Dammit, I’m mad 
as I pee, sir, I see Pisa!
Delia saw I was ailed 
I’m a fool; aloof am I
I prefer pi
Naomi did I moan?
I did, did I? 
mad as Adam
Evil did I dwell, lewd I did live
God saw I was  dog
Live not on evil 
Revered now, I live on. O did I do no evil I wonder ever
No sir, panic is a basic in a prison 
Ned, I am a maiden
not a banana baton 

Details | Diamante | |

A Poet Never Faultiers

I drank my words from the cup of evil lately not holy water
Like many I sit in my dungeon of doom on earth trying not to my addictions faultier
I'm sitting knee deep in the shitted down reservation sewer street water 
Im looking for wisdom daily with sinners with calls that I shouldn't be trying to call her
I know I be looking for a life filled with silver and gold when I know Im living in copper
I know I got a crazy  coming my way so I best get on trying to stop her
I remember the first time I was in love with lust when I first saw her
I know without the water in my life I would scream silent as I would quietly holler 
I know I been like a bunny moving around in life that sometimes people call me a hopper
I know I been kicking it in the field so much that people tell me I should start playing soccer
I should be more of an actor of actions and less more of a talkitive talker
I know I got what I got so I will be a poet that will never ever faulteir

Details | Limerick | |

Where Talent Lives

While doing my daily internet loop
I read some poems at Poetry Soup
Some souls were bared
Emotions shared
By a wonderfully talented group

So many unknowns are gathered together
Brandishing their talents without a tether
Notable skills
From gifted quills
Flocking together like birds of a feather

Whether mundane or totally bizarre
Through words they express just who they are
Some young, some old
Some shy, some bold
Each as marvelous as a shooting star

To the nameless owners of this great site
Thank you for giving our poetry flight
No longer adrift
Because of your gift
You are the beacon that brings us to light

Details | Couplet | |

The Mightiest of Poet's Still

Hark! The mighty sage’s quill,
Leaves remnants of genius, still.
Reminding me of richer days,
Where wines could really come to age;
And gods among the people dwelled,
In works of master poet’s felled.
Where aerie tales and thoughts of fancy,
Awaken something everlasting.
The faded thoughts of vestments tore,
Through mournful tales of days of yore.
I bore inquisitive insight,
To mouth a masterpiece delight;
Reciting thoughts from Edgar Poe,
In poetry and foul-like prose.
And as I muttered, “Nevermore”,
I pondered on his lost Lenore;
A femme who captivated thought,
His inspiration to the plot.
And in his wording wizardry,
So haunted by his imagery,
Moves me to expound wanton lyrics
To every soul who dares to hear it.
And with immense humility --
No pen shall cite as good as he.

Details | Limerick | |

My Table of Three plus Me

A poetry convention is a wow
Our writes we endeavour to plough
We'll meet so many friends
To enhance writing trends
Our strengths are as thick as the bough

To my table I have decided to seat
Three ladies whom I'd so love to meet
They are favourites of mine
And they will be for some time
Their poetry to read is my treat

The first lady to seat is a gem
Her novels just shine from her pen
She's a New Jersey girl
Who makes my heart twirl
Her poetry flows 'tres bien'

The second lady to sit at my table
If given the chance, I'd surely enable
She's Maltese, she's Celene
A Mediterranean Queen
Her name would be beautifully labelled

The third lady who I now show to her chair
Her writing just makes me openly stare
It's oozes life's desire
It makes me aspire
Table Top Mountain, I wish I was there

<*> Not for any contest, but I thank Michael for the idea, ty <*>

Thank you Carolyn Devonshire, Celene Crescent & Wilma Neels for being you,xxx

Details | I do not know? | |

Blood upon Pages

As I place the pen
on paper
my soul beings
to bleed
upon the pages
my secret longings
hopes and dreams
of which I hope to be,
how I want to reflect me
transpire into the universe
within my poetic lyricism
the warm sweet smoke
of my vega blunt
swirls about me, flickers
in and out of motion
as the vanilla candle nearby
fights the shadows in my room
the cool summer breeze
from my window
carries dancing sinsemilla 
fog around me, allowing
my mind
to adventure elsewhere
into the nights abyss
of minutes, turned to hours
I write
pages, of words
scribbling my life, struggles
and fears
Bob Marley and Lauryn Hills
“turn your lights down low”
beat inspirational peacefulness
on my eardrums
my small hands delicately pluck
my imaginary guitar strings
as I join her in a solo, Miss Hill's
magical voice cracks
with emotion, and my soul
tingles with excitement
For creativity flows
within my veins
I breath real music, such as
she, as soon as daylight opens
thine dark brown eyes to see
The poetic flowetry, carries me
and speaks to me
the notes capture my inner 
disturbance and desires
until the soundtrack of my day
takes me into Summers night
thoughts of my dreams 
of being a published poet
clearly float
into my sight
Then, I sit
as I place my pen
upon the paper
black and white turn to one
and my soul bleeds
onto pages
into an early sun

Details | Light Poetry | |

A Merry Band Of Adventurers Part 1 of 2

There Are A Thousand Treasures Of Kings
Worth More, Than All The Wealth, There Could Be !
Some Say, It’s In A Kingdom Of Dreams
Others Say, It’s As Real As You & Me

The Legend Says, There’s A Kingdom Of Love
In A Kingdom, Far Away & Above
Kings-Treasures, To Be Claimed By The Best
Those Worthy Of Courage, To Quest

& So, This Is Where I’ll Start, My Friend,
Tho’, This Isn’t Where The Real Tale Begins
You See, There Was A Merry Band Of Adventurers
Who Went On A Quest, As Treasure-Gatherers

There Was Moses, The Freedom-Circle-Rider
Stayed His Course, Like An Eagle-Glider
There Was Goff, The Monk Of Sky and Trees
His Visions Of Life, Were As Open As Doors With Keys

There Was Kendricks, The Keeper Of ‘Interesting’ Tracks
& Marty, Of The Hale & Hearty & Power-Pen Pack
There Was Adell of Deep Wells  … & Dio, The Devoted
& Dame Brown Of Mountain-Ground, So Sweetly-Noted

There Was An Irish Lass, O’Leary Of Laughter
& The Golden Daughter Of Grace & Audrey Of Gifted-Banter
& Devonshire, The Dove &  Highlander Of Heather-Cove
Of First To Join Search:  For Soup & Treasure-Trove

Of Course, We Have A Prince Of Passion Land
& Ismael, A  Dream-Merchant From His Own Island
The Prince, Paints Of Pleasures; The Islander Speaks of Treasures
Both Know Of Biggest Royal Cache That We Could Ever Measure !

There Came Tim, The Archer Of The Wit-Forest
& A Determined Mother with Son, The Lady Doris
Maid Adams, Who Teaches How To Keep Cold Away
& The Lightning-Voice Of Linda Marie, Keeps Wolves At-Bay

There Is Sir Lamoureu of Sir Lancelot's Order
He Wields Words In Articulate Axes & Armor
And To Those Who Dare Say Chivalry Is Dead ...
Is Because -The Sonnets of Sir Lamoureu, They Have Not Read
& The Legendary Language That  Sir Lamoureu Pledge

Then There's Lady Linda, A Chatelaine & A Poet Destroyer
But  She Only Versus The Verses of The Vanity Voyeurers
Her Skill With Quill Accurately Quite Accords
As Proof of Pens Being Mightier Than Swords

We Have A Pretty Elf Known As Anne Lise Andresen
Her Piquant Topics of Poetry Makes Her Our Taliesin
And We Have Our Very Own Kind Maid Merryman
She Transports Adventures Better Than A Ferryman

Part 1  of  2

Details | Concrete | |

The Nose

                                  I like it
                               For I 
                      For my soul!

Details | Quatrain | |

Too Much Nasty Poetry

I don't like nasty limericks.
I don't like vulgar words.
I'd rather write of better things, 
like maybe watching birds.

So many poets feel the need
to write such graphic things.
The art of poetry to me
is making words that sing.

It's easy to be nasty.
It takes no brain at all.
But I can't keep from wondering
where you get the gall.

My poems may not be 'genius'.
I'm sure they don't compare
to many other writer's work
but mine, I like to share.

No matter if you're ninety
or if you're only nine
you needn't feel ashamed to click
on poetry that's mine.

Details | Free verse | |

MR.VINAL HURTS ee cummings echo

believe you me sirandmiss
a country made of this
youIItthem(a blended cocktail conspiracy)

you, Land of Calvin
Klein peacoat peacocks and Maybelline
Girl with cryproof mascara dripping(fashion
-first step lacking substance(of you
I sing: land of Oliver North and Ellen Degenerous
land of malcontent:singing(quietly)humming
cooking cuisine in add-one-minute-microwave

fashion.  Shaving with grandfathers
dull razors: regifted dull past-tense,
passe(useless musings) all and every
voice:merrier men singing old songs
for yesterday dancesteps contradict
wants for(pleading) a progressive and peaceful

now.  Rome then leaned on decayed pillars
now: chasing barbarian hordless lands
are stray grazing(starved weak) seeking,
singing  A-
ca, I mourn
you and every-one-of-millions
bitter wanting back gifts given
continually.  Awash in(apathetic)

let freedom echo

hollow. xanex glazed eyelid
americans (sitting in assigned seat,
from a menu)

screaming meekly.

Details | Bio | |

Maurice Glenn Turner and Randy Thompson: Fallen Heroes

Glenn Turner and Randall "Randy" Thompson were the best police officer and volunteer firefighter in all of Cobb County, Georgia, until March 1995 (WWF Monday Night Raw and WWF Wrestle-Mania XI) and January 2001 (Raw Is War, WWF SmackDown!, and the WWF Royal Rumble) when their lives were taken away from their loving families by Julia Lynn Womack: aka the "Black Poisoning Widow." It seems that it was these two guys in uniform who married the same woman, especially when she was after their money, totaling hundreds and thousands of dollars, even in life insurance. Glenn and Randy have been killed by a deadly liquid by the form of Etheline Glycol rich antifreeze; Lynn Turner used it to spike that of lime-flavored gelatin (green Jell-O), sweet iced tea, and chicken noodle soup. Now, how cold-blooded was that? But to be honest, Maurice G. Turner and Randy Thompson, God rest their souls, really never should've met this gold digging assassin named Julia Lynn Womack (who's now dead) to begin with. Their families, their colleagues, and the citizens of Cobb County, Georgia, they still don't understand why the lives of these two men have to end in a tragic manner. They've got a bunch of whole lives ahead of them. But now that Lynn Turner, who killed both her police officer husband and her firefighter boyfriend, is dead, she can't hurt anyone else ever again. Randall and Glenn are no longer with their friends and families (including their moms), but their spirits will live on forever and they'll see their loved ones in heaven one day. And as for Julia Lynn Womack-Turner, she got what was coming to her and may she burn in the giant pit of inferno for all eternity.

Details | Limerick | |

Canadian Chris

There's a guy on the Soup called Chris
Captain Hook or Peter Pan is his wish
Boy his Blogs are so good
By this Canadian dude
His information sure is the Biz

Details | Senryu | |

' Language Lesson Learned ... ' 59th Senryu

‘ Language Lesson Learned … ’   59th  Senryu

    I Don’t ‘ Speak ’ Evil
I Don’t ‘ Understand ’ Wicked
    Translation … Ended

Details | Abecedarian | |


A is for audacious, a bold statement made by the foolhardy
B is for boor, an ill-mannered person who’s apology is tardy

C is for curtail, an education cut short, old Alma Mater haunted
D is for dander, ones anger rising at ignorance being flaunted

E is for empirical, experience gained from observation and experiment
F is for flit, from one idea to another fleetingly move, an impediment 

G is for gnomon, the implement on a sundial casting a long shadow  
H is for huddle, a confused mass heaped together into a barrow
I is for innate, our inborn and instinctive natural intrinsic being
J is for jar, of facts which are at variance with others we are seeing 

K is for knell, the sound of a bell spelling the extinction, changes it rings
L is for luminous, shedding light on otherwise invisible, obscure things 

M is for mirth, when you can laugh in merriment, finding glee in a situation
N is for nous, the common sense some people lack, being without gumption

O is for obfuscate, to confuse, stupefy and bewilder the mind, factually
P is for proffered, to offer explanations and demonstrate tactfully 

Q is for queue, is a line of people willing to learn new concepts 
R is for reredos, the grid removed from the fire and old precepts  

S is for semantics, the study of words/phrases and their meanings 
T is for tome, the voluminous books studied and digested the dealings

U is for unction, a soothing word causing deep emotions, in a trio 
V is for vim, the vigour of mental strength or energy expressing brio 

W is for woe, is the bitter grief that you feel at the loss of one of a pair
X is for xanthous, it describes the colour of his yellow skin and red hair

Y is for yammer, it explains voluble talk, which includes lament and wail
Z is for zany, the buffoon and the clown’s assistant who will assist us to bail!

Flitting audaciously to obfuscate semantics and dicing zany bards 
Yammering on about things which jar that we should ideally discard

Details | Light Poetry | |

' Patricia Adams - An Alaskan Light ... '

She, Of The Cosmic Essence
Aware Of A Power
Aware Of A Presence
And Aware Of The Need For Our
Desire To Rise Higher
… and Higher
To Our Optimum Height
Patricia … You Are Like The Alaskan Lights
Those Northern Flares and Colors In Cold Night 
Floating Dreams, So Mesmerizing
Patricia, Brings It To Her Poetic Themes
Such Are The Verses She Shares To View
And Reading Them, She's Showing You
Her Cosmic Essence Insight
Oh Patricia, You’re An Alaskan Light …
So, Keep Reaching, Keep Speaking … and Write !

For The Girl, Who Shared A Comfy, Snug Book Read
On One Of Her Snowy Days … (Via Her Poem- ‘Autumn’s Passing’ 
Also - Your Poem ‘Journey’ is One)
See … It Brought Back Some Wonderful Memories To Me …

                   Your Poet-Friend,
                           The  MoonBee

Details | Elegy | |

His Legacy

Up into the sky 
he soared 
like an Angel

With us 
down here-- 
at Soupland, watching him as he soared 
like an Angel;

So gentle… 
and brave 
he was,
a strong love he had, sharing it till the end, yet

His breath
could not resist the resounding call 
of Heaven 
and he left, 

Leaving us his poetry, for 
when great storms come in, his laughter 
will dry our tears like rain.


for Tom Bell, a great poet who taught us all-- 
to laugh and to smile…to learn… and to give.    

Details | Lyric | |

An Ordinary Man

I want to be inspired to write
    a song people really want to sing;
I want to be inspired to compose
    a requiem for the King;
But, I’m just an ordinary man
    doing the best I can
        at writing poems
            that have no homes.

I want to be inspired to find
    a cure for this cancer thing;
I want to be inspired to reach
    out for the golden ring;
But, I’m just an ordinary man
    doing the best I can
        at getting by
            with the good old college try.

I want to be inspired to lead
    a revolutionary coup;
I want to be inspired to be
    the best at everything I do;
But, I’m just an ordinary man
    doing the best I can
        to make ends meet
            and not live on the street.

I have the motivation;
I’ll put in the perspiration;
I can give it concentration;
But, I lack the inspiration;

Inspire me.
What will it take to inspire me?

I want to be inspired to write
    a song people really want to sing;
I want to be inspired to compose
    a requiem for the King;
But, I’m just an ordinary man
    doing the best I can
        at writing poems
            that have no homes.

Details | Free verse | |

In the Shallows

           I bent over to touch my toes
               and the ground tore open like a backbone.

I tried to feed myself the sky;
to splice my tearducts into the universe 
so that, when the pavement cried, it would mean something to me.
My fingernails punctured that slimy membrane
congealed with stars, 
and I brought a slice of it to my lips,
hot and slippery like a jellyfish.
Peach juice, chalky-sweet, flowed,
fleshy particles snagged in my teeth,
and the colors erupted within my mouth.

Synthesia took over my lungs.
The hollows between my knuckles flooded with synovia
and all the ectoplasm threatened to separate from my cells
with a sound like thunder.
Diphthong tasted rusty like leukoplakia as it tiptoed across my tongue.
Tomorrow rose like the skeletons of trees, 
groping for a feeling similar to catharsis
[catharsis tender as the broken wings of doves,
crunching underfoot like shattered glass.]

The clouds opened their thunderous maws
- teeth snicker-snacking, lamplight-eyes flaming the color of E#'s -
and consumed me.
I felt my skin turn to something other than skin:
thick and rough with scales,
my fingerprints melting into something waxen, smooth and opaque,
like pomegranate kisses on coffee mugs.
A feeling ignited deep in my structure;
cedillas blossoming like lilies from my lips,
fragmented sentences stretching taut as guitar strings
between my thumb and forefingers.  
A flutter gentle and demonic as Calcifer erupted from my system
- splattering hot and frothing into my hand -
and fluid rushed in.

   I dared to taste oblivion,
       and the sky swallowed me. 

My lungs failed to be lungs.
They flooded with caustic matter,
and I coughed up reflections sharp as fiberglass;
fighting with organs phthisical and sore.
I struggled to find a way to describe it:
the feeling of consuming something greater than yourself,
of opening your eyes and tasting the sound of rain.
It was like swimming, 
but inside out.

            I bent over to touch my toes,
              and my spine tore open;
            the loose laces unraveling, veterbrae poking out
          like the tines of forks.
            I tried to contort myself into the beginning,
              but I only found where I end.

Details | Acrostic | |

Poetry Soup

Poets sharing their hearts and souls
Openly and honestly with each other
Expressing their deepest feelings
Truly understanding and caring
Rights of others shall be respected
Yearning to offer everything we can

So much variety, the spice of life
Opens many doors of knowledge
Understanding others views on life
Provides us with each others blessings

You know not a day goes by that I
don't feel like I should do more to
show you all how important you are
to me. I love you all and I'm not
ashamed to say when your poems
are sad I cry, when their happy I 
laugh and when they teach I learn.
"Provides us with each others blessings"
Thats what the soup is! Thank you
"Team Poetry Soup", Michael

Details | I do not know? | |

Why Do I Write

Out of all the questions I have been asked in life
None of them stump me more like this:

Why do I write?

It does not stump me because it’s tricky
It stumps me because it’s a stupid question to ask

Why do I write?

Because there’s nothing more relaxing than it.

Sure sometimes it’s frustrating
Difficult, fundamentally challenging
But that’s part of the beauty of it

Letting you emotions spill out across the page
And knowing that people read it
That people expect who you are
It’s brilliant

When you live a life of not speaking up
Of being that quite person in the background
Expressing yourself is… magnificent

I’m not me when I write
Something takes over me, controls me
So much so that I don’t really know what I am writing consciously
But it works so well 

I guess some people will never understand 
The joy in it all

When you're my age and you develop some characteristic
That doesn’t suit the normal criteria you get picked on

It happens, you can’t stop it
But I feel sorry for them

Expressing yourself through writing is one of my greatest joys
And I’m not going to stop
Not now
Not ever 

Details | Etheree | |


a shroud,
has fabric
woven from the
dark, anguished threads of
and of inadequacies.
Caught in its twist, the frail weave on,
constraining themselves in self-loathing.
Unravel fibers of despair. . . Unveil!

For Brian Strand's Contest
POETRY FORM OR FREEE any form/theme max 14lines

Details | Limerick | |

Trooping of all Colours

The day I joined the Soup Frankly I was so cock-a-hoop So many kind poets Who didn't all know it Most definitely the best writing troop

Details | Rhyme | |

Solute To Poetry

The stoke of the keys
on my skin,
the rush of 1,000 words
coming from deep within.
Not many minds are
creative like this,
not many people
write work that they
could kiss.
Poetry works in
so many ways,
but only some people 
can see it,
usually, it's stuck
in a haze.
The world hides poets
in closets or disguise,
because most people can't
understand the words,
unless they see it
from a poet's eyes. 
Most poems are beautiful,
every thought so real,
reading your own work,
it's just so amazing
how you feel.
Poetry is my passion,
and forever it will always be,
it's such a burning desire
that I want the whole 
world to see.

Details | Quatrain | |

No Value? Ha!

Her offerings, not of words themselves
But of her, her deep inflections
She gives us light and truth and love
She gives a soul direction

The words she pens, they’re more than ink
They’re a stem of her true being
For with the words, she allows us sight
Into the very core, the meaning

So, never dare to suppress her gift
Her talents shine the true light
It would do you good, to try your best
To feel, just what she writes

In reponse to "Useless" by Kristin Reynolds

Details | ABC | |

Grandma's Garden


Apples.. beetles.. caterpillars..
daisies everywhere.. 
fertile ground.. hollyhocks.. 
Ivy jumbled kegs..
leafy mint.. nematodes..
quiet rest sunsets.. tomatoes under vines.. 
wheelbarrows.. xanadu yearning zeal!

Details | Light Poetry | |

' A Metaphysical Moment ...'

‘ A  Metaphysical  Moment ’

A Metaphysical Moment
Electrifying To The Touch
Breathless, Thru The Clouds
Can My Heart, Take So Much

… Can My Eyes Endure
All This Vision, I See
Can Voice, Even Speak
Over Roaring of This Sea

… Can Ear Even Listen
When I Am Flying So Free
Soaring, So True With You and
Metaphysical Moment and Me …

A Metaphysical Moment
Will I Ever Understand
This Mystery of Our Universe
The Mystery of Woman and Man …

(And I End This with an Haiku for
The Haiku Master ‘Raul’ Moreno and
Metaphysical Poet Extraordinaire’ (smile))

Metaphysical Moment (The Haiku)

          Understanding A
      Metaphysical Moment …
      … Nature’s Mysteries

Metaphysical (definition) as an adjective:

Metaphysical of early 17th Century Poetry
Relating to the poetic style of John Donne,
George Herbert and other early 17th Century Poets
Who used consciously intellectual language
And elaborate metaphors that compared things

Details | Free verse | |

Shall We Dance?

Every word I write
I listen to, I see.
For the familiar sound
Is what I call poetry.
It may sound crazy,
But the music I hear
Surrounds me in distinction
And quality,
While I'm envisioning
All sorts of things.
When I read a genuine poem,
I feel like I'm ready 
To dance,
And I ask you to join me 
When I read one 
Aloud to you...

Shall we dance?

Details | Quatrain | |


                                            UNDERSTANDING POETRY

A poem is more,
Than rhythm and rhyme.
The words must have balance,
With tempo and time.

Free Verse is like that,
The words have a blend,
That helps it to flow,
From beginning to end;

Sometimes like honey,
From a sweet honey tree,
Sometimes like a river,
As it flows to the sea;

But there's always a message,
Or a story that's told.
The words can be sweet,
Or compelling and bold.

A poet's an artist,
Painting pictures with words,
Bringing out music,
Your ears haven't heard;

A music that comes,
From down deep in your soul.
It makes one feel free,
It makes one feel whole,

To be able to write,
Words that reach out and touch,
Something special inside you,
And bringing out much,

Of the feelings inside you,
That we often hide,
Often revealing things,
So deep inside,

Even you did not know,
Were hiding in there,
But the words shine a light,
On beliefs and on cares;

So when you read a poem,
Don't just read words on paper.
You must feel them and taste them,
For words have a flavor.

Sometimes it's bitter,
And sometimes it's sweet,
But if you taste it,
It's always a treat;

For a poet shows more,
Than the stories he's told.
When he shows you his poems,
He shows you his soul.

                                   Judy Ball

(Tread lightly and don't kill the messenger)

Details | Rhyme | |

Ladies of Poetry Soup

I read their words and stand in awe
Poetic words that have no flaw
For an old sailor who has seen his day
These ladies still take my breath away

They write with passion and hearts of gold
And as they write, new worlds unfold
Their legacy will be carved in stone
Each has a style all their own

I read each word and dwell on each line
On a dreary day, they make the sun shine
I sit at my computer as another day closes
I feel like a thorn in a bouquet of roses.

Details | Shape | |

The Narrow Path

                       The narrow path
                           to treason
                            is only
                            a word
                           To falter 
                            in your 
                          or explore
                        To question
                      fearless leaders
                        or a decision
                      from the bench.
                      The narrow path
                          to failure,
                       the status quo
                          and down

Details | Prose Poetry | |

Welcome To the Soup

Welcome, Ms. Valmer!!  Glad you are aboard- now you can comment on any 
poem, right after reading it....and try your hand at your own, should you choose.
Lotsa great people here.  PS- could not open greeting sent- comp. needs 
something installed - some file, I'll have to find out how to do it.  So glad you 
joined! Luv, tom

Details | Free verse | |


PoetrySoup …

I Was Heartily Welcomed… As I Sat At Your Table
By:  Carol, Sara, Carolyn, Dane Anne,  Moses, and Abel
               Tim, Leon, John, Michael, Jim and Yoni
               Deborah, Krista, Adeleke and Charlie
   …  James, The (Two) Ruben(s) and (The Quik-Composer) Raul
   …  and Many, Many More, I Love to Hear At Dinner-Call !

                  The PoetrySoup …

… It Has Member – Mushrooms
Chew and Chat Lunchrooms
Delectable  Hors d'oeuvre
Every Ear-Full… Heard
Every Mouthful… Taste
Spoonful of Gourmet Grace
Voila’ Words, Don’t Waste
Simmer-Slow and Baste’

In Dug-up, Sweet Potatoes
  Ripe Food for Thought Tomatoes
And Onions, That Will Make You Cry
Artichokes and Lemons that Squeeze – ‘til You Die
Garlic and Oregano Are Just Some Suggestions
And Here’s Some Mint… for Your Digestion
Parsley to Parley and Jive-Chives, Just Keep Stirring
But There’s No Clam Chowder, Shrimp, or Herring

A Dash of This… A Dash of That Seasoning
A Pinch of That and Sprinkle This Reasoning…
On The Side with the Mustard and Relish, so Fresh
Are the Cucumber-Contest and Radish Requests
And I Can’t Forgo the Tongue-in-Cheek Puns…
Your Laughter is Passed Around, like Hot-Buttered Buns !

…  Poets … Are Proverbial Peas In The Pod
The Harvesters of Herbs-Heard, in The Garden of God
so... Salt and Pepper to Your Superb Style
Did You Say Cheese, Please ?... ( Full Mouth Smile !)
There’s Hot Chicken Broth, When You Are Cold
Everybody Knows… Its Good For The Soul
And All That’s On The Human Menu… It’s In There !
… Even A Mother’s … Tenderized Care
Like Campbell’s Brand… Its Umm… Umm… Good !
The Aspire – Asparagus, I Took… I Understood
So, PoetrySoup’s Cupboard is Never Bare
And There Ain’t No Bones, No Medium, Just Rare
And On The Star-Burner… Is The Savory Meat
So… Grab A Heartbeat-Bowl… and Bona Petit’…

Yes, Thank You, PoetrySoup
(You’re Up There with MoonBee’s FruitLoops !)

It Has Been A Pleasure Getting To Know You All 
Thru Your Beautiful Expressions, Coming Straight
From Your Warm and Welcoming Hearts

God Bless You......


Details | I do not know? | |

The Clown The Fool And Me

Many nights I've sat typing things for which none will ever read.
Burning midnight oil only to add to this mornings trash.
Then going about the act of pretending it's all good.

Wearing a mask of my own creation.
These long nights of endless confession to empty wall's.
Hollow thoughts from a bitter heart to scared to exist as himself.

The page lay beaten only to be erased.

the circus of life is a deception for after the show when the dust settles 
the magic gives way to truth.
Tempers flare  and thoose happy clowns appear to be just angry ordinary
people who hate and loath there so called friends.

Dream that it would have all been diffrent if not for this or that.
never taking blame just putting it on others like normal so called adults.

These long nights breed anger and that page takes  the punishment
and like a coward I look apon this act of pure thoughtless work.
And second guess myself wishing only for the approval of people who yearn only 
for the approval  of some one else.
Like hamster in a wheel never getting anywhere.

For who wants to be themself when you can be a watered down version of someone who 
wasnt good to start with.

I cant say the comforts of being a clone wouldnt be nice .
But I never did like things that were nice.
Never cared about being on a list  or kissing someone's rearend just 
to have them talk about me as soon as my back was turned.

Be yourself and cherish thoose who hate  for  the bitter and cruel amount to
nothing  and there only hope is to lure you down there same dead end life.

The clown tries in vain to make you laugh.
The fool doenst know or care if you laugh.
And me Im just the jerk adding to the mornings trash empty 
as the page that sit's befor him.

Details | Couplet | |

God's Concrete Poetry/Art

Man is an excellent work of God---
His visual poetry or art, out of mud.

Being one of God’s many creations;
Man must not forget his obligations.

Thou, man know God’s everywhere;
And yet, he does not bother to care.

Either man lives by God’s command,
Or, he will not live in a promise land.  

Man must take this into consideration,
If indeed his heart craves for salvation.

Details | Senryu | |

Maltese Maiden

This dark haired beauty Whose romantic words grace us Our Maltese Maiden

Details | Rhyme | |

Mrs Carol Brown

Communities have a pillar
Carol is this ones name
Our Poet Laureate
Who demands no fame

This poetess
Called Mrs Brown
Is more like a mother
In Poetry's Soups town
She cradles and welcomes
Us poets anew
To this amazing website
A community so true

She's now back in the fold
Where she loves to be
To read what she can
Of you and thee

So Mrs Carol Brown
For your kind comments and words
The Honor given to you
Undoubtedly deserved

" For Mrs Carol Brown "

Details | Senryu | |

' Devonshire and Fraser ... ' 44th Senryu

‘ Devonshire and Fraser … ’      44th   Senryu

Some Poems, Highland Fling
Kilt-Clad-Portrait, Scotland’s Theme
The Laird of Sweet-Dreams

Devonshire, The Dove
A Vision Of Light and Love
Highland, Speaks Well Of …

Together They Write
All Combinations Delight
Deep Thinkings, With Might

For:          The Dynamic-Duo of Poetry Soup
      James Fraser and Carolyn Devonshire – ( 2 Scoops)
                  You’re In My Must Read Group …

                              Your Poet-Friend,
                                             The  MoonBee

Details | Fibonacci | |

Her Poet

Should be
Your poet,
In thy garden, let 
My muses, as I do now, spell 
For thee, the sweet honey of spring where I humbly come.  

Details | Rhyme | |

" Hail to Raul Moreno "

May i thank for the Honor
To be free on this site
To be allowed to express
Our mind and its write
We do unto others
As they do unto us
They allow us to write
No deliberation for crass
A lovely poet who wrote his mind
Its his to applaud
And for us to be kind
Read and dissect
As we interpret his say
Poets like Raul
Are here every day
So what ever he writes
On any given day
His freedom to express
In his own way
His feelings and thoughts
Are entirely his say
" Hail to Raul Moreno "

Details | Lyric | |

Love Notes

Love notes 
Wordings from the heart
That I’m trying to use 
To cover this scented stationery
With my ball point scribbler, I’m proud 
To match the sensual scent 
Of your lovely and fiery lips
With crimson thoughts, but as I finally come 
To end my writings, after so many pages 
Hooked thrown into a silent bin 
I begin to wonder if it’s better to recite
My love notes to you in person
For this way you would feel 
Much, much better…
The bubbling rhythm 
Of my heart


Details | Free verse | |

Rough Draft Disposed

Diversified, she sat upon the page
a tiny dot of incoherence brushed into the ink
She wondered how she got so small
and stretched to reach an "A", 
the brink
which started the sentence of her life,
a thousand words to hide away.
While she studied the paper rift
she noticed the fibrous weave
of every white of every letter
to chalky dust inhaled to breathe
She split herself into twenty times two
and walked the page a struggle
So tired and broken of breath and lung
she scattered and sunk to ink
to sleep, to weep, to wallow and keep
every thought that she dared yet to think
And while the wind caught up the page
and settled it into a pond
she gathered herself in her incoherence
and wrote herself into beyond.

Details | Lyric | |

Let's Write A Poem

Here’s my plea: Let’s write a poem for the world to read;
And in it is a message that all can relate or heed;

Encourage others to pick a pen instead of a gun;
With this poem let people be taught to bond 

all spirits, whether in distress or in joy with a smile;
This poem we write be a reminder that life is fragile;

That peace is at hand, only if we want to achieve;
People will learn to greet enemies and they shall be received;

All of us can write, whether you’re white, black, or brown;
Just believe in what you can do; and not to aspire the crown

Of hate, if you dare tomorrow comes without tears,
Nor will there be worries of living in fears;

With this poem, people will burst not
In paroxysm of rage, but, be inspired to share a lot

Such as love, hope, or maybe, just give a friendly kiss;
You know, it’s easy to write a poem, than writing peace.

Details | Verse | |


In breathing her scent, her decorous compliment,
Through words that arouse and inspire thought,
A sensual lament, her rhymes circumvent 
Mediocre, and genius is wrought.

In feeling her mind, her beauty so defined
By sentiments incisive and fabulously clear,
A sculpted design of promises divine
Aspects attract and endear.

In drinking her sight, her visual delight,
In gulps that sink fathoms and cry out for more,
A vision in flight, aesthetic and bright,
Artistry formed to adore.

In touching her dream, her breathtaking scheme,
At instants both vital and blindingly fresh,
A beauteous gleam in a subconscious stream,
A feminine poem made flesh. 

Details | Light Poetry | |


we're all veggies in the same stew,
simmering with words of joy and pain
something before we never knew
but now as natural as the rain

with Shar, Christy, Rhon, Carol, Vince
and so many,many more
this soup is where I want to be,
for ever, ever more.....

Details | I do not know? | |

Starless Night: The Art Of Giving (Rhyme Incorporated) part 2

Thinking of O, Ms. Jill Martin was in her solitude “Quietly…breathing”
That, she just waved her hand greeting April Lewis “Without Speaking”
I spied humorist Donald Meikle, writing a “Note to a Lady in Waiting”

Let’s party! exclaimed silent Sami Al-Khalili, but not “Only In Winter”
That’s a real cool idea, and I said, how about in “The Field Of Summer”
Dame Marcyle Beer offered her place, called “Welcome To Fort Beer”

A rising star Taryn Melville proudly breezed in: saying “I Am From…”
But, party guy Anthony Slauson showed us his “Fingers of Freedom” 
Leaving noble Alyssa Finley’s young mind fixated in “Dreams Come”

A free verse expert JeanMarie Marchese of Homosassa, uttered “Slow”
Let snow lover Linda Smith tell us first her “Footprints In The Snow”
Indeed, we’ve our time to introduce ourselves, before “The Cockcrow”

Sweet Elaine George arrived, when the night still had a “Tender Heart” 
With a special gift, for Raquel Nicholson, ‘cos she has “a broken heart”
I learned that Big John Tanaskow did not wish to go “Back At the Start”

The party made poetic Mark Hansen expressed himself, in “Cloud Nine”
Perhaps he had consumed much of shy type Nicola Steel’s “Plumy Wine”
For he was too excited, to meet a bright Seema Ali, on a “Poetry Online”

Before the party was over, Juanita Ganir, sprung from her “Sacred Well”
And, old Londoner Matt Doe spoke, of his mighty “Showdown In Hell”
To a sexy Tamiviolet Manchas, but, she xoxoxo urged him, “Don’t Tell”

Many thanks, to photographer William Jones, for his “Living In Color”
A souvenir that reflects my own plea to “Make Me Whole, Once More”
A plea to everyone, to all friends, to remember that “My Name Is Thor”

Details | Rhyme | |

Mr. Enigma

Fingers nimbly tapping his
heart onto the page
a rich tapestry of heartache
gentleness and rage

perceptions that astound me
engaging my soul
first one way, then another
a fall down the rabbit hole

who is this gifted writer
who speaks in shortened lines
tap tap tapping out his magic
til my heart he entwines

Details | Rhyme | |

In the Spire to Be Inspired

It's the taste of clouds
the purr of words
the whisk of wind
we thought we heard
It's everything
rolled up and sent
a package filled
with sugar mint
It's now and then
it's years gone by
It's every thought
which makes you cry
It's passionate
It's salt and stone
It's the moment I leave
and you're alone
It's "Call me now!"
It's "Leave me be!"
It's all of you 
and some of me
It's hands to hold
and songs to sing
It's our first kiss
It's everything

Details | Free verse | |

Mental Magnetism

I'm somehow quite sure
that somewhere, on the way
be it a turpentine, brilliant lit day
or misty and fog eaten sky breath induced
that we've met without words,
without glances or nods
but with my sleeve barely quick brushing by yours
You transferred to me a barrel of emotions
some light like popped bubbles
some wearing molten lead shoes
sunk with black river troubles
carried in even the sleeves of your coat
And I, in my haste, responded in kind
and ran jumper cable straps from my prickly mind
Overcharged something, in some kind of thoughts
and bolted your skin off the moving sidewalk
Somehow, I still think we are connected some way
it's wrapped like a gift in the words you convey
and I'm eating velvet from the weave of your coat
weeping your tears from the things that you wrote
I'm somehow quite sure
that somewhere we'll meet
eyes to still eyes lacking motion complete
In visions worth murmuring while we're asleep
we'll sing with one voice fully captured.

Details | I do not know? | |

Tanichka 's Gifts

  A sparkling thought
you threw
I caught
safe now in my pocket
When I get home
when I'm alone
I'll put it in my locket

  A keepsake lives
and always gives
more joy thru the years
I need your thoughts
the ones I've caught
protect me from my tears

 Though rash and wild
I'm still a child
who swings out on a dream
please give me one 
when you are done
for mine has lost  the gleam

 the gleam of youth
of breathless truth
that passioned life alive
sits on the floor
outside my door
asleep tll you arrive

Details | Quatrain | |

Poetic Inspirings

Consider me a poet, please
An artist of a craft
I’ll make you cry, I’ll drive you wild
I’ll even make you laugh

I hope you like my musings
For as often as I write
My purest of intentions
Is to give you all delight

From where the inspiration 
Secret places known
But I’ll share everything my friends
So together, talents hone

And when I lay to slumber
I’ll dream with all of you
Of the heavenly inspirations
That we wish could all come true

Details | Verse | |

Ding Dong The Wicked Witch is Dead

Globally, miners jubilantly jump for joy
Smiles on the faces of every girl and boy
The grins of a newly opened Xmas toy
Thatcher’s dead.

Trade unionists bounce along the street
Music blaring and the tapping of feet
From nurses to Bobbies still on the beat
Thatcher’s dead.

Street parties announced in the nation
Satan who brought economic inflation
Is deceased, now’s the time for elation
Thatcher’s dead.

Its times like this I’m sad I’m an atheist
And can only shout and wave my fist
And then go to the pub and get pissed
Thatcher’s dead.

Details | Free verse | |

SOUPER Sex Change

This Lil' poem
had to change it's name
With a title so lame 
nearly got sent
to Soup's Hall of Shame!

Never fear
dude's on the poetic rise
silky set a' verses
new curves in them thighs

you bet
boys'll be 
rubber neckin'
new flow's strapped
like an automatic weapon

Yep she's got new features
but didn't cost six grand
with a new set a' headlights
give the new girl a hand!

Details | Verse | |

My Words

Sometimes my poetry is just a case of words, 
and not necessarily my reality;                                     
and that’s what is so beautiful about writing

You can be who you want to be on any level 
and tell secrets about fantasies that may never be;  
or take trips to other dimensions on mental journeys,                                                                        or places that some don’t even think exist

They mimic thoughts that manifest themselves as poetry 
and rest on pages patiently waiting to adhere
My words are a reflection of my heart 
and they reveal the truth behind my mask of fear
they deliver reality doses  whether they are just cases, 
or me in the absolute right here

My words exude positive intentions; 
my imperfections apparent but I accepted rejections 
and reversed dejection  
and decided to bare all my fantasies, my flaws my very soul 
and temptations

Uncertain how voiced verses appeal to outside sources but internally they set me free
They provide a medium of light and creativity
A chance to apply knowledge and a time for reflecting on and making changes in my frequency
My words are attached to my soul and its overwhelming ability to just be
They reflect what I was before         
the choices I’ve made and the reasons that this life is perfect 
according to divine order

They represent the voices of my ancestors from the beginning of time 
because up until now, 
the ending wasn’t within reach so I make sure that I
carefully choose the format and the right place and time 
to deliver the message that may be blatant or hidden inside – 
of the abstract placements of verbs
giving praise to the source of power that calmly submits to the voice 
connected to my words
I am the originator of my own words
I hope that you are inspired, or simply entertained
by the process by which I've placed my words

Details | Haiku | |

The Internet: Return

A void of Facebook
Creativity dies here...

Details | Free verse | |

My Love---a very special original Japanese poem

Contractual agreements with publisher caused DELETION

Details | I do not know? | |


There was once a man.
He’d always wanted to write,
But his biggest failing was
That he wasn’t very bright.

Whenever he started 
On a story or a plot,
Before he could pen it
He simply forgot

What he had thought earlier
And he wasn’t very wise
So all he wanted was that
The end be a surprise.

And he made up plots and tales
Funny, sad and intense
But in the end he found that
None of them made any sense

For follow as he might all grammar
He could never be concise
And what is more, the ending
Was never a surprise.

Yet he cherished dreams
Of becoming famous and great
Of writing beautiful stories
Of defying his impending fate

But, for all his boldness
He could never roll the dice
And his stories never ended
In a nail-biting surprise.

He told his tales to children
He tried them on every friend
But they never gasped at 
The crucial part, the end.

He sent them off to editors
Of magazines of acclaim
But they all sent the stories back 
Saying the ending was all the same.

He tried to write a book too
But in the middle he got stuck
And he wasn’t very clever
So he simply cursed his luck

Then finally he gave up
And wallowed in self-despair
He felt life was being hard on him
He felt it wasn’t fair.

Then one of his friends suggested 
That if he really had to write
He needn’t just write stories
To prove his wit and might.

He could simply write a cookbook
Or an instruction manual too
Or a traveller’s guide to touring 
A place like Timbuktu

Now the man wasn’t very brilliant
But he could recognise good advice
When he saw it, so he took it
Though he wasn’t very wise

And he wrote a self-help book on
Coping with writer’s block
It became  a national bestseller
Every bookstore ran out of stock.

And he made pots of money
Because it was reprinted thrice
And he was always very glad
He took his friend’s advice

So now if you ask his opinion
He looks very condescending
And smiles, and says, “to write a book
Who needs a surprise ending?”

Details | Light Poetry | |

' Constructive - Criticism ... ' ( An Oxymoron - For All, But A Few)

‘ Constructive-Criticism … (An Oxymoron, For All But A Few) ’

Constructive-Criticism Is Good, It’s True
But, I’ve Only Seen It Used Properly, By A Few …
‘Cause, One Thing I Know, That I Have Seen
‘Some’ Use Criticism, Just To Be Mean …

Then, The Term Should Be:  Destructive-Criticism
‘Cause, They Ain’t Even Getting Paid! … To Spout Poison In ‘Em
I Know Then, They Want To Abuse, in Jealous-Individualism
So, Maybe, They Need An Enema, or Have An Embolism 

Coming Up (or while under Construction) I Was Told
And The Engineer-Advice, Was As Good As Gold
‘ If You Can’t Say Something Nice, Don’t Say Nothing’ At All’
So, I Don’t Bomb Somebody’s Building, Just To Watch Them Fall

Constructive-Criticism, Don’t Sic That Dog On Me
Take It and Go Bark-Up, Somebody Else’s Tree
Take A Look At Your Own, Before You Tell Me What’s Wrong
You Know What You Can Do With That … (and The Horse You Rode On)

And In The Words of ‘Tom Snyder’,  (The Idea I Relate):
“Just ‘Cause I Think Somebody’s Trying To Kill Me … Don’t Mean They Ain’t!”
And, If You Don’t Like My Building, There’s The Door, Walk Away
I Don’t Need You Cutting Down, My Structure of What I Say

And If Negative-Criticism, Is Under Construction ... That’s A Front !
When Have You Ever Heard of Something Negative, Building-Up ?
Maybe Somebody Dropped Them On Their Head As A Child
But That’s No Excuse To Criticize, Somebody Else, or Their Style

And that  ' True ', for A Few, I Meant at The Beginning
Here Are The Ones, I Accept Their Condescending:
GOD … Loved-Ones … Close Friends … (and Me)
‘Cause I Am My Own Worst-Critic, You See …

Constructive-Criticism, That’s an “””Oxymoron”””
And Look How That Word Is Spelt … Hon

(I Prefer The Term:  Commentator ( Cause I Love to Comment ! )
   ‘Cause I Want To Polish Your Metal, Without Leaving A Dent

Details | Senryu | |

Beautiful Words

beautiful words- 
poet prowls
for the pen

Details | Concrete | |

I know I can Be a Bad Man

Yeah I know I can be a bad man
But I just want people to understand
I do what I must, I do only what one can

I think about life, I think about my everyday strifes
I know I love you girl you the mama of my children
You already like my wife
I know I have cheated from time to time 
but you the only one who I sleep with at the end of another long night

Yeah I know I can be a bad man
But I just want people to understand
I do what I must, I do only what one can

I know I like to drink yet it feels like I love that alcohol
This liqour and beer is my number one downfall
If it werent so then the crazy *****in my life now I would have never saw
I would have never ended up sitting in prison for breaking the law

Yeah I know I can be a bad man
But I just want people to understand
I do what I must, I do only what one can

It's alright now though because Im back in school
I know I struggle at times but Im reframing from being another lost fool
I know it bull-*****even though many youngsters think that *****is cool
But they don't know if they been where I been and still want to do what I do

Details | Light Poetry | |

' My 300 Spartans ... ' ( or My Scheherazade )

To Commemorate My 300th Poem Here On The Soup

300 Solomons
300 Beacons
300 Spartans
300 Martyrs

300 Tales Done
300 Threads Spun
300 Heartsongs
300 Touchstones

300 Scheherazade
Only 700 More, GOD
and Wherever YOU Beam Me
10,000 More, Gleam Me

 - - - - - - - - - -

… I Have Lost 200 Poems
But Here Are 300
Because I Open My Arms
To Inspiration Undaunted …

“ Pancakes, Preserves, Poached-Egg & Pork
Maple-Syrup, Milk and Sun-Motes In The Morn
Calling My Name, Just Like Flapjacks To A Fork
Psyche Is Picking Up Poems, Like Babies Just Born “

- - - - - - - - - -

A Childhood Poem Remembered …

           I See The Moon
      and The Moon Sees Me
       GOD Bless The Moon
         and GOD Bless Me

… and Long Live, The Love Of Poetry …

                                 The  MoonBee

Details | Lyric | |

Nashville, A Dog Gone Hit,

I left my hometown and didn't much look back,
headed southward bound in my Cowboy Cadillac,
arrived at this store to grab me some snacks,
Yea, they're right about this town, of how it really attracks,

Yea, here in the town called Nashville, where the Grand Ole Opry's on TV,
They say it's the real deal, where upcoming singers need to be,
but I don't do much singing, 'cause the hound dogs howl at me,
though I sure hope it's worth bringing, my songs, for some to see,

I've got them on the internet, downloading them is free,
I haven't had any right connections yet, but I'm hoping patiently,
gonna find me country singer, try to pitch them a dog gone hit, 
like pitching a horseshoe ringer, you know you just can't quit,

Yea, here in the town of Nashville, where the Grand Ole Opry's on TV,
they say it's the real deal, where even writers need to be,
no, I don't do much singing, 'cause the hound dogs howl at me,
but I sure hope it's well worth bringing, my songs, for some to see,

Yea, here in the town of Nashville, where the Grand Ole Opry's on TV,
they say it's the real deal, where upcoming singers hope patiently,
Got some songs to pitch the singers, like me, they just can't quit,
like making a horseshoe ringer, knowing one of them could hit,

I've got them at Poetry Soup, where printing them is free,
log on in, enjoy the view, it's finger friendly as can be,
become a welcomed member, without any sort of fee,
no matter what's your gender, or your nationality,

Yea, here in the town of Nashville, where the Grand Ole Opry's on TV,
they say it's the real deal, where upcoming singers need to be,
Gonna find me a country singer, try to pitch them a dog gone hit,
like throwing a horseshoe ringer, knowing you just can't quit,

Yea, I left my hometown and didn't much look back,
headed southward bound in my Cowboy Cadillac,
arrived at this store to grab me some snacks,
Yea, they're right about this town, of how it really attracks.

Details | Idyll (Idyl) | |

Beethoven Opus 133---poetically

Contractual agreements with publisher caused DELETION

Details | Narrative | |


Literature was pursued
by the greatest individuals who ever lived,
and they left us works of unsurpassable wisdom;
human emotions have always been the same, 
and this can't attest to the fact that they will not change anytime soon,
but the freer we are, the further we go up in our balloon.

The richest heritage of Humankind
is found in the written word, which is heard often and not really understood;
where would we be today without the plays and sonnets of Shakespeare that were quite sad,  
or Dante's famous canto, not excluding superb works by modern writers?...
During the dark ages, monks translated books from Greek and Latin into common languages;
as the barbarians destroyed everything found in their path, civilization did not end.

Tragedies of famous people attracted the lucrative minds of poets who had heard of them,
thus embellishing them with their vivid imagination and present actual facts...I follow in
their poetic footsteps, writing down stories that have recently happened, or occurred
before I was born; and with ideas as interesting as theirs, I continue in that tradition
without envying their unaging expressions and distinguished style, but by aggrandizing them.

Literature has finally found its merited place in History, unlikely a hundred years ago,
more people are voraciously reading, and keeping the writers busy by admiring
their sensational works, making comments of encouragement to boost up their optimism;
and to theaters they go and spent an entire night to listen to drama and scoff,
laugh, or cry when emotions intensify by the sconces of the electric lights; and cheering,
they applaud the richest heritage of Humankind on stage, and are captivated by its scenario.

Copyright 2009 by Andrew Crisci

Details | Epic | |

Standing Up For Immigration Rights

In the United States of America, all immigration laws must be in effect at all times. It's
been like that since the Civil War started and the signing of the Declaration of
Independence. But everybody must accept the fact that the people from different countries,
including India, are becoming citizens of the United States. It seems that some people
don't want them in our country because all foreigners will not just take their jobs or
whatever, but commit crimes everywhere they go, including solicitation or whatever. Well,
the last time everybody had checked, the united States of America was called "the land of
opportunity." Now I, for one, am for immigration rights. Just like these people from
Mexico, Haiti, China, or wherever these people are from, they have rights, just like all
of Americans do. Some people like me should make them feel welcome in our country, but
some them are always judging these foreigners by their religions, faiths, and/or beliefs,
background, or whatever. The ones who have always been hateful towards the people who
aren't U.S. citizens since 2006. And some people are ignorant, selfish, and on top of all
that they're a bunch of hypocrites, just like the Ku Klux Klan who've always wanted all of
us African-Americans to go back to our country called Africa. How stupid is that? Okay,
sure, these people from foreign countries may need to pass background checks in order to
become citizens of the United States of America, but the fact of the matter is that day in
and day out these people, from around the world are God's children, and these people
really need to stop being ignorant and arrogant--for once. If I'm going to stand up for
immigration rights, everybody should stand up for the people from around the world,
including Egypt and Afghanistan. And no matter whether he or she is Muslim, Buddhist, or
Catholic, or whatever, we're all an equal and we are all God's children. God bless
America, and the whole wide world.

Details | Ghazal | |

How to love

My roots are trembling
through clay orgasm,
tumbling the landslide
that speaks every shake or so.
Leo roars and I await life,
Generic roving rumbles
reminding me of the world around,
but I never remember
how to cling to the ground.

Details | Free verse | |

Poetic Robbery

Contractual agreements with publisher caused DELETION

Details | Iambic Pentameter | |

Flanerie Downtown

I breathe grey air in spaces in between,
And whisky stings my tongue and bides the time,
In steps I aimlessly record the scene,
And cherish my misanthropy sublime.

Wandering the streets and alleyways,
Of this downtown, wherever I may be,
No need for love suffocating my days,
Alone but free to lie with honesty.

I let my flanerie in verses sing,
Excited to report that everywhere,
The happy tattered P.I.G. is living,
“The great imperative” of Baudelaire!

Details | Haiku | |

Haikus About God: III

Beauty of nature
Why condense it down to God?
Isn’t life enough?

Details | Verse | |



Abomination scorn Affection Passion Yearning
Struggle Attempt Cherish Relationship Flame
Taste Tender Inner soul Bloom Bamboozle

I was a woman scorn 
Unknowingly  cherished a relationship
where the flame was no longer existent;
where time flew by in the distance and I missed
everything in my life I intended 
because I was accepting a me that depended
on him
I made an attempt to bamboozle the truth
and convince myself that he wasn’t screwing Kim
Ultimately I faked passion and lustfully feigned for affection
since I’d been betrayed
So, I got down on my knees and  I prayed 
I began yearning for knowledge of my Inner soul
I began to taste freedom and feel whole
The healing began and my consciousness rose - fresh bloom
It was no longer a struggle to end an abomination that would 
prove to be a path of doom

Details | Couplet | |

Where does the Time go

I feel as though time is slipping away,
And more is gone each passing day…

Details | Rhyme | |


Inscribe it all down 
Just read it do not make a sound
Leave nothing behind 
Poetry is the world of creative minds 
Some words quite short-lived
Support and respect is what you need to give
Poets are possessed of senses 
That allowed them to perceive
Read it with a thoughtful mind and you will receive
For tomorrow is never yesterday
Far beyond what words can say 
Or any eyes could see 
Keep reading just do not believe me
We have perception and knowledge 
That is what makes us skilled and polished
Like water the words flow 
Very gifted as a prophet as well;
Friend to Gods and heroes, 
With so many tales to tell? 
I do not depend on man’s well-being or material prosperity
It is like trying to cure the outward symptoms and neglect the main cause of the malady
Poetry is generally viewed as the look of human joys and sorrows
I will always put pen to paper whether it is today or tomorrow
Poetry has reached a higher level of consciousness and inspiration
There is no other explanation 
It renovates a satisfying experience and delights
That is why I love to write

Details | Personification | |

Birth of a Poet

The animals know better than us. The rain has never poured so loudly in a key so soft.
To the front, the sailing of city buses and mini vans cruising across in this weather makes the water underneath their tires sound like the street is crying out for 5 more minutes of sleep. Up above, the trees are protecting a nest of baby blue jays before they get washed away by the silence of their mother not being there. But with sky blue young spirits, and small empty stomachs, they keep hope alive in the fact that even children know storms and struggles don’t last forever.
Below the trees, nature has found a name to call it’s own. From the hole dug by the little boy next door, a family of three foxes have named human nature sanctuary, and burrowed their problems into the sediment to rest for a while.
To the side of the hole, a flock of ducks are swimming in the water with eyes open wide enough to where you can see their loyalty to love one another rushes wild.
To the right of the pond, caged up in a man made blanket, and lost in his own mind, is the boy. From what he remembers, last night was like a train accident; A head on collision of two people he could’ve sworn he saw holding hands just the other day. He hears the sound of plates shattering in C-minor, and the chorus of words that his parents screamed in F-sharp, so he imprisoned himself in his own bed sheets, accompanied by the courageous corduroy bear who he swears keeps hearing whisper “everything will be okay.”
It’s raining outside, and the crescendos of screams have been silenced by it’s peaceful security.
The boy, sleeps soundly now. The rain has protected his ears, and guarded his heart from being washed away by all of his nightmares.
He doesn’t care whether he wakes up. The baby blue jay, the resourceful fox and the brave little duck are all he wants to keep dreaming about.
Maybe he’ll run away into the rain? Or maybe into the arms if his mother?, whom he prays he can still recognize. To the left of his bed, he picked up the blank page of his coloring book and a crayon, and became a life long poet in that moment that morning. Taking a deep breath in, and giving a soft breath out, his first sentence was
“The animals know better than us.”

Details | I do not know? | |

Crucifier (poem story)

On the day He died, I felt ashamed.
Quiet and remorse, I wanted to remain..
Why did I follow the ways of the worldly men?
When they mocked, scorned and spit on him?
I was the cause for what He went through.
I tried to find comfort; but, guilt was all I knew.
I couldn't eat or sleep, knowing He was dead.
Wishing now, I could take back everything I did or said.
When I had no one, He took care of me.
Set in my ways, his caring; I couldn’t see..
When I was ridiculed He didn’t take part.
Every kind thing He did, came from the heart.
He showed love to the rich and the poor.
To the lonely and the broken hearted, He restored.
How could I have been so prideful and blind?
How could I have been so cruel and unkind?
Sadness and guilt would not give up.
I wanted desperately to have taken the cup.
Why did I point at him and yell “Crucify!"
Part of the crowd, I sentenced him to die!
Oh, my Judas heart what have I done!
Oh, heavenly Father, I have betrayed your Son!
Crying and weeping, my heart slowly withers away~
So ashamed of what I took part in and witnessed that day.
As the days and nights slowly wore on.
I knew in my Judas heart what must be done.
In my heart I no longer wanted to live.
My own life, I wanted to give.
I bowed my head, feeling laden with sorrow.
What is the future of man's tomorrow?
I lifted up my face with tear stained delight.
There beyond me a beautiful luminous sight.
Was that Jesus standing there? Or was it a dream?
I wanted to run and tell him those things I said, I didn't mean.
I walked up to him crying and at his feet I knelt.
He looked at me, knowing my heart; what I felt.
He showed me his nail pierced hands~
Why He still loved me, I didn’t understand..
What I did I could no longer face.
But, in loving arms, I realized I was saved by his grace.
He said, He loved me and all men still.
That He died because it was His Father’s will~
That, through him, all men might be saved.
I knew then, in place of ours, his life He gave.
That all men may repent and be forgiven.
To be in heaven eternally~
Not In Hell, forever condemned. 
To reign with the heavenly Father~
For all eternity, where unconditional love abides~
To be with Christ forever~ by His side.

Details | Haiku | |


a true


Details | I do not know? | |

Poets Riches

Poets ponder They cannot squander A stipend they do not receive For paid in thought Their piece of mind Are words formed and conceived A tale of sorts Depiction of life Even death, if they so choose Sometimes humor So often, strife Sometimes fake and sometimes true To live on poetry Getting paid for thoughts Is not within the poets reach That’s why they work Many various jobs Laborers, professionals and some, they teach Within their thoughts Their written words Lies the life for which they wish For there in mind Though pockets bare The poet knows, within, he’s rich As thought has value But not of dollar Intrinsic is what it shall always be The poet stands Not then with riches But pride in thought, his dignity

Details | Free verse | |

The Bookworm

Words Bound Together Thoughts Formed Between Lines Knowledge To Absorb Learns The Bookworm Wishes Expressed By Letters Ideas For All To Share Building Blocks For Peace Believes The Bookworm Fact or Fiction Penned Expressions of Desire Mystery Exposed, Secrets Veiled Hunted By The Bookworm

Details | Acrostic | |

Leo, an Astrology Acrostic

Leo, an Astrology Acrostic
    by Amy Swanson

Loyal friend who'll laugh with you, the sun rules their playful heart;
Engagingly eclectic, they'll give all they have; forgive them if they seem a little bossy. 
Outgoing with majestic charm, they'll walk with you until the very end.

*Inspired by Danielle White's astrology acrostic contest*  -- I had to get in on the fun! :)

Details | Free verse | |

One Spark To Burn My Forest Down.

Cinder snaps
Lightning wings
You are this
and many things
Wrapping print
paper ink
Caught amongst
the lines, I think
Pomp and light
Candle wane
On the verge
but always sane
Liquid sugar
Sweet intake
Watching ripples
in your wake
Rainbow glow
Air to touch
Catch my ears
It's just too much
Marble mind
Cinder skin
Wishing you 
would let me in...

Details | Verse | |

Gone Fishing

Gon’ fish today 
Dog days drawn’ near
As Ajay -- trout’s
In open air,
Sitting on the bank without a care…

It rains at last
I see bass – must
Caste in my lines;
Hooks are fine -- bet
I‘ll, catch enough big mouthed bass for supper, yet

YA DU Form: Each stanza - there should not be more than three of them - has 5 lines, of 
which the first four have 4 syllables each, and the last can have 5, 7, 9 or 11. The last two 
lines rhyme in the conventional way. There is climbing rhyme in syllables 4, 3 and 2 of  
the first 3 lines

Details | Quatrain | |

Hats Off To You {Vignette}

heart flutters bearing the news
appointed poet laureate
bows comrades honoring name
gift gabble raising thy brows
expectations of nil
inspirations for others

Tribute To Poetry

And To All The Wonderful Poets
Here In The Soup Bowl
I Bow To Each

Also Entry For
Brian Strand's 
Poet Laureate Contest
GL All

Details | Free verse | |

Roll Call

Contractual agreements with publisher caused DELETION

Details | Epic | |

Yesterday I Lived Today I Died

I spread my broken down wings and fly 
So minded high when Im so dam low that I cry
Im living around hurtful people so much it makes me think suicide
You see the pain written line after line 
You can honestly see the tear drops fall down from the eyes
Pain so deep a sucker like me can always realize
Realize the pain inside a hearts truth so much  that it seems like a lie
Everyday is is certain do or die
When all is said and done atleast I can let me people know that I tried
So someone tell me something different on this crazy road in which I ride
Everywhere I run It still seems like an addict like me can't hide
I do what I do in forms written in rhyme
Living a young crazy life trying to get out a life a crime
I know that Im still young but it feels as if I am running out of time
I almost went out twice that should be a life changing sign
Yeah I like to laugh yet I wouldn't know what it would be if I wasn't crying
I keep crying when Im laughing that the feelings collide
All because yesterday I lived and today I died

Details | Concrete | |

A Writer Always Writing

As a writer always writing about my life everyday, I have to write this when I say that this is the only way that I know I know how to speak and write about "My" life before I "Die" in these reservation cold streets like many of my own people.
 I have hope for something better and bigger beyond our cold rez life streets here in money rich America.
 I'm trying not to be another victim or just another number and I'm especially not trying to become just another "Rest in Piece" or just another "In Loving Memory Of".
 I'm trying to leave something behind for my people but especially for my "yet to understand daugher", and this is the only way I know how to leave my very own one of a kind unique individual thoughts behind is through paper, but now what make's it even better now days for us is the "Internet", and my Internet crowd and across sea's internet crowd will listen to my words more than my "family" or "friends" ever will, and this is the only way I can truly be there for my family, my friends, my people and my daughter is in these words that I write, in this words in which I speak, and I have to be careful about what I write because it can help, but more often than not I can make them hurt, but I got to be careful about whom these words I write and speak about.
 I got to be more about helping than hurt as a True Lone Poet Speaking Life as "A Writer Always Writing".

Details | Rhyme | |

SOUP Spoonin'

Online tonite
looks like 
a whole lotta' spoonin'
goin' on in the "Soup"

nosin' around the comment coral
I see love 
amongst the group

hot Soup!
not shaken
marriage scent in the air
no fakin'

where it leads...
we shall see
I know some 
are dippin' crackers in the "Soup"
but Lawd' knows 

Details | Haiku | |

All About the Music: The Infinite Magic of Lyricism

Pop may be catchy
But not lyrically deep
Case in point: Chris Brown.

(N.B. Poem written after hearing "Don't Wake Me Up")

Details | Free verse | |


	A Bluto is not that Disney dog
	It was when a mewling 
	that I would scream 
	Should they wet my body
	And then apply cream
	Ablutophobia – fear of bathing, washing, or cleaning
	Achluo the demon that lurks
	In darkened corners
	The long toothed life suckers realm
	I am scared as the sun dims
	It seems to bare my soul
	Achluophobia – fear of darkness
	Acro what did they do 
	They called me acrobat 
	This will not do
	I get giddy standing on a matchbox
	Please get a net to see me through
	Acrophobia – fear of heights

	Agora just shut that door 
	I am staying here forever more
	Bring me food put it on the floor
	The letter box is just for you
	Don’t, Don’t,  try to get through
	Agoraphobia,  Fear of open spaces or of being in public places. Fear of leaving a                    safe place
	Agrap stole my feelings 
	He caught me unaware
	I am now afraid of sex 
	don’t ask me anymore
	It frightens me that’s for sure
	Agraphobia – fear of sexual abuse

	Agrizoo an angry gorilla I knew
	Wild as hell was kept in a cell
	As all his kind, even a timid Hind
	They scare the crap out of me
	Please let them run free

	Agrizoophobia – fear of wild animals

	A gyro is just what I need
	I will fit it to my trusty stead
	He will fly straight across that band
	A tarmac nasty throughout the land
	I cannot face the walk you see
	Agyrophobia –fear of crossing the road

	Aichmohe got in a hell of a fight
	They killed him with a pointed knife
	It will come for me just you see
	I cannot even mend his cloth
	Won’t  touch a needle at any cost
	Aichmophobia – fear of sharp or pointed objects (such as a needle or knife)

	Ailuro he lived next door 
	The bastard sits on the fence
	To me he snarls not a purr
	A Persian he is supposed to be
	Frightens the *****out of me
	Ailurophobia – fear of cats
	Algo, Away, I am pain free
	This morphine is the best
	First day of pain free rest
	Been told that it will return
	Got some gas, peace I yearn
	Algophobia - fear of pain

	Andro I’d rather be               (android)
	I am metal and plastic you see
	Electric person not man or woman
	That would be so sad
	If just a man I would go mad

	Androphobia – fear of men

	Antho the pologist got the plan
	He put concrete throughout the land.
	Not one shrub or flower seen
	Not one blade of grass green
	A flower would make me scream

	Anthophobia – fear of flowers

	Anthropo was a lonely man
	Wouldn’t mix with others so
	He lived in a cave, well just a hole
	You would see his eyes peeping out
	A shaking frame if people were about
	Anthropophobia – fear of people or the company of people, a form of social phobia.

	Aqua marine or even the wet stuff
	Is enough to drive me mad
	I stay in when there is rain
	Just wait for the sun to shine again
	A damp tissue that’s quite enough

	Aquaphobia – fear of water. Distinct from Hydrophobia, a scientific property that makes chemicals averse to interaction with water, as well as an archaic name for rabies

	Arach no, and know the score
	Those creepy creatures on the wall
	Send shivers up and down my spine
	Six legs and venom to drive you mad
	I am running already it is sad.

	Arachnophobia – fear of spiders

	Astra my name you would think of the stars
	My gaze goes up but not that far
	To the first cloud there in the sky
	If it’s the shape of an anvil I will fly 
	Fear grips me and I don’t know why
	Astraphobia – fear of thunder and lightning
	Atychi that was about the size of me
	The others would just make fun
	I was no good to anyone
	A failure of the first degree
	Nothing my goal, was all I could see
	Atychiphobia – fear of failure

	Auto matic I will seek people out
	To touch to play as long as they are near
	Don’t leave me in this place alone 
        A singularity is my biggest fear
	I will hold anyone you see I care

	Autophobia – fear of being alone or isolated
	Automat o no it’s not true how could you
	An advert that’s telling just lies
	Don’t all the others realize
	What you say is not true, put it right 
	It will drive me crazy I’ll keep out of sight
	Automatonophobia – fear of anything that falsely represents a sentient being

	Aviat o if you think I am going in that
	No I am not a scared ***** cat
	If we were meant to go fly
	Wings we would have from him on high
	Fold your machine and put it just so.
	Aviophobia, Aviatophobia – fear of flying
	Chaeto he was a Greek of old
	Bald as a badger so the story is told
	But why you say is there no cure 
	For him to grow some lovely hair
	For him it would give such a scare

	Chaetophobia – fear of hair

	Chemo therapy keep away from me
	Chemicals scare me I know they are free
	But to have them coursing through my veins
	No matter how good they are, and that jar
	The fear of everything for what they are 

	Chemophobia – fear of chemicals

	Chirop to or not too so I am told
	They stick in your hair best to be bald
	Now I find that my nails are made of hair
	Chirop is what I fear not chiropodist is that clear!!
	Just shave my head and cut my nails dear

	Chiroptophobia – fear of bats

	Chromo shines bright in my eyes
	The fear of all colours  I realise
	Now I am safe from a troubled day
	Into my dark room, I have found my way
	Knock when that sun has met its demise

	Chromophobia - fear of bright colors

Details | I do not know? | |


O, what is pride

That we holdeth onto it.

‘Tis as dew naked in the sunlight,

A beautified bouquet, fresh trim’d,

A flame flickering in the roaring rain..

A mere feeble flamboyance;

That withers as swiftly as breeze through our fingers..

O, what is pride

That we holdeth onto it.

-Titus Loh-

Details | Free verse | |

It The Everyday Struggle That Make The Man

It The Everyday Struggle That Make The Man

This struggle we live in,this world is or enemy and our friend we fight to see it beautiful.Have you ever heard "I've given up all hope and am ready to die to day"
I'm sorry but this is more this is not some joke have you no heart have you no thought on what someone other then you have to deal with.I want to see the smiling faces of everyone that a longing dream since the day i could walk,Dreams are meant to be kept close,hearts are meant to be keep open,life is meant to be filled to the fullest.How can you say forget it and go and prepare to be put 6 feet under? I'm taking on life building up this life to see a better future for those who think they have none.Who am I to say people are crazy when I myself am crazy.Who has never been grief sicken in't human to the least.I say to those out there it is an everyday struggle that make a boy into a man and a girl into a woman,but if there is love there then this is what should be said"it is beautiful to love but to love is to know how to grieve".

Details | Dramatic monologue | |

Inferno Negro

the negro is inferno. doomed for hell. sinful with lost indulging in their own ignorance. made into a reincarnation of the devils wishes. the devils wants the devils needs. they say the pigment is the reason. but i say Jesus is the reason for the devilish seasons excuse my blatant response to the evils that have been done in the name of the SON. the inferno negro is the movie of this country, always watched and critic-ed. you must understand that self hating is very wicced, misunderstood when you walk through a suburban neighboorhood the devil is screaming conform!! conformm!! inferno negro you dont belong so just get along, even if the devil knows. the devil knows your story and your weakness and he lives behind and inside the so called supremacy system we live within. peace inferno negro know thyself for you are so lost in this Babylonia hell.

Details | Concrete | |

Play On Bukowski--,for Linda King's Buk sculpture

   -                                                         you dirt dog                                You dirt dog
                                                    grimy as they get
                                                   Heiny in each hand
                                                  one from the ice box
                                                 other from the brothel
                                                    Slouching slurring
                                                    so clear you speak
                                         filtered through the old typewriter
                                        your "Baldwin" or your "Steinway"
                                           Love really is a dog from hell
                                         Play it again "Chopin Bukowski"
                                          Your poetic piano masterpiece!


   : a tribute to Charles Bukowski                  HERE'S a Link to the BUK Sculpture:
     and Linda Kings Sculpture of 
     this great American poet                               ,r:4,s:32&biw=1120&bih=518

Details | Acrostic | |

Unexpected Peers (An acrostic ode to Poetry Soup and it's members)

Unexpected Peers (An acrostic ode to Poetry Soup and it's members)	






            I haven't been on this site long, but many of you have already made me feel
welcome, and, moreover, like I belong.  I'm finding myself as inspired as I have ever been
to keep writing, and to keep growing as a writer, thanks to your support, your contests,
and your own original posts.  This is, truly, a special community.  
            Thanks for allowing me to become a part of it.

Details | Ballad | |

The Artist and The Poet

There aint no other way how to put it or how to say it,Im the Artist and the Poet/
 Through my created creations I show it/ Im gonna rize to the poetic mountain top before you even know it/
 This my poetry and self-made concrete art only I control it/ So all ya critics out there behold it/
 I was gone for a minute locked up and locked down trapped inside concrete/ 
I was at work the whole time my poetic skills only got better they did not sleep/
 Now I arize through shackles and chains I now know true defeat/ 
Im here to stay Im the artist keeper the true se7en poet of keep/ 
I will do what I gotta to be poetically remembered the day I go se7en feet deep/
 But for now my life upon ya'll I lyrically creep/ 
My thoughts are one of a kind they cannot be replicated/ 
Im so relevant now fifty years from now I still wont be outdated/ 
Its your coice you can love it or you can hate it/ Go ahead haters debate it/ 
Still Im the Artist and the Poet thats my motto statement/ 
A whole empire of poetry and artwork since lockdown I have painfully with pleasure created/ NEVER AGAIN WILL MY ART AND POETRY BE UNDERRATED/
 I was nothing before all the time spent in concrete and confinement/ 
Now Im truly poetic with artistic assignments/ Anything I draw I can also rhyme it/
 There are more to my tattoos each one has a story and a meaning behind it/ 
I knew there was hope in poetic art I just had to find it/ 
All I got to say now is "F@#k ya'll who wanna Doubt me/ 
F&%k all dat shyt you judge me like Im on American Idol when you dont even know shyt bout me/
 Your vision of life is blurry and your death thoughts seem to be a lil cloudy/ 
I am a Poetistic Diamond in the rough it was God it wasnt you who found me/ 
Now I know more people from around the way gon crowd me/ where money and trouble again will surround me/
 I was a lost gem on lockdown waiting to shine, waiting to poetyically explode/ 
A natural born poet carving out my own road/ Living by my own F%$#%ckin poetic codes/
 I can't be rhymefest free when I get lost in that poetic mode/ 
My Time is almost here/ I been waiting for this momnet all f&&%&ing year/ 
I cant believe I made through many concrete shed tears and many unheard of outside fears/
 My freedom day is near I will not blow it/ 
This my time now homie I control it/ Im concretely the smartest writer even if you aint know it/

Details | Alliteration | |

One Among Many part 1

Chapter 1 
As but only one young lost man in a great land I sometimes don’t want to see what I see in life but death causes me to look. I don’t want to hear the things I hear but have to admit the things here that I’ve heard. I don’t want to be guilty today it’s why I continue to strive past my past for innocence in the near future. I don’t want to feel what I feel but after another day in this dark place has gone by I can’t hide what I have painfully felt. As but one young man I wonder why I question others motives and still can’t see the answers to my own as if I know all the answers to life when I don’t even know the true cause of my own. I wonder why I am happier at times but more often than not why I continue to be sad. I look for ones in groups of twos and get lost in groups of threes, but don’t get even me started on the groups of fours. On the outside world I am lost yet inside myself I know I am found, I holler silently at night while I quietly pray during the day. As but only one young man I can only do what is best for self-first if I want to start making a difference for two. 
Sometimes life for one can be fun, but on the reservation more often than not it is boring and dull. On the reservation I found serenity and solitude in the hills but I also found old savages and young Satan’s in the towns. I see beauty and peace in Mother Nature but I also found violence and ugliness among my very own in the neighborhood. I see not what I see and I think not what I think for I feel what I see which leads me to think. I choose rather to just be rather than not be what other people want me to be. I see what I see because I haven’t really got a choice in what I will see, I’d rather choose to just say that I saw. Outside people can’t make one see what I already choose not to see for I see what I see rather if they want me to see things their way or not. I can’t feel what they feel unless they feel what I feel and live where I live and be where I am to know where I truly am from to understand the thoughts and feelings of not only a young native of struggle, but as a person worldwide no matter the skin color.

Details | Sonnet | |

Another Sonnet Written at a Coffee House

You sink into the bosom of the chair 
And wonder if I too once sat amidst 
The chattering, white coffee sipping fare— 
The lonely writers ‘pining for a kiss. 

Did I peer out over the porce’lain mug 
And purse my vulgar mouth over the lip 
My eyes a’roll behind my glasses’ fog 
My writer turning phrase and spinning quips? 

Did I curl my toes under my feet 
Threading my fingers ‘round the scolding cup 
My yellow molars grinding to the beat 
Of meds-a-glee and glutt’nous caffeine ups? 

I didn't’t sit cross-legged and introverted— 
I flipped through glossy pages and consorted.

Details | Acrostic | |

Poetry Palace

Prepare your mind for this wondrous place.
Once an ILLUSION, now so much for real,
Exemplary CREATIVITY shows the pace.
Taking chosen words, that more than feel.
Rhymed or unrhymed, states a poetic case.
Yes, INFUSION of styles, seals the deal.

Power of the written word supports fortress.
Amends broken hearts of all EVENTUALLY,
Love flows from lines with little stress.
All the thoughts and feelings rise potentially.
Creating INEVITABLE beauty to possess,
Each new venue of poetic art lives inherently.

written by
Cecil Hickman

written for
Sponsor Linda-Marie The Sweetheart of P.S. 
Contest Name "POETRY PALACE" 

Details | Free verse | |

Find Yourself.

Break and wind
the ribbons through your velvet hair
leveling the light
from moonless shadowed smiles

For all tonight will
know you for your voice
and call you for your
wisdom broken bare

while dignifying moons to velvet miles

Stare the stars
until they mirror metal eyes
dance about in tears
from oblique circumstances

For all tonight will
find you in their heart
and know you for the way
you simply care

it's this which even stars above entrances.

Details | Dramatic monologue | |

Ex-Best Friends

Two people have broken their friendship ties because of either a disagreement or he or she has found out that his/her boyfriend/girlfriend had an affair with his or her best friend of one too many years. This type of betrayal has taken its toll on all people since day one. It seems that this friendship wasn't enough for him or her, especially when this guy chose this girl over her best friend and this girl has chosen this guy over his best friend. Why these people aren't best of friends anymore is because for one, his girlfriend or her boyfriend cheated on him or her with his or her best friend and for two, they've gotten themselves in a lot of compromised situations. It breaks the hearts of every human being just thinking about it. He or she, of all people, should know that they've been the best of friends since kindergarten and/or elementary school. So now that these people are no longer friends, thereby being "ex-best friends," I guess he or she has no choice but to move on with their lives. These people have broken ties from each other, eventually trying to rebuild them. But even if he or she has betrayed his or her best friend, one should be seriously forgiven for all the misdeeds he or she's done: trying to take his or her girlfriend or boyfriend, leaving him or her hanging, everything. These two people are best friends and they're all they've got. But the sad thing about two people being ex-best friends is that not only are they not talking to each other anymore, they've humiliated each other publicly and personally. So, if that's the way these two people want it and they want to cut off communication with each other, well, then two ex-best friends (guys and girls) have no choice but to wish them the best of luck and hoping that they'd forgive each other in the near future.

Details | Acrostic | |

A Happy Mixture of All Sorts

Poetry and people, a happy mixture of all sorts Overcoming language and grammar so Entertaining all with their riveting writes Teaching and learning with each poem as we go Richness in friendship, camaraderie in bloom Yields our efforts for commenting read Soupers endeavour to grace their page Outstanding poems, sometimes plant a seed Uncanny material in portfolio's glow Poetry Soup is the place, to watch us poets grow

Details | Epic | |

Teenage Love 11: Teenage Lovebirds From the 16th Century to the 1930s

The origins of young love is going way back to the early 16th century and it'll stop at
the 1930s, even the Great Depression. This type of young love had been around since the
16th century in England and after the first radio was invented. It seems that when two
young lovebirds (a teen boy-turned elderly man and a teen girl-turned elderly woman) met
while they were in middle school and/or high school, it was love at first sight. And when
two people met before, during, and after the 1700s until the 1930s, it was a life-changing
moment for the then teen lovebirds. All young relationships were way before these people
were born, even me. Everybody knows what their lives were like when they were teenagers
and before they had passed on. Not only is young love an amazing thing, but what all of us
will have learned about serious relationships among all of the then-teenagers back in the
1700s, the 1800, the 1900s, and the 1930s is that they didn't take each other for granted
and stuff. But back in the day, when these people were teenagers, there were no movie
theaters, no malls, or any of that stuff. It looks like that even if they had gone to see
the full moon at night or a functioning or whatever, at least they had a great time. But
now that they're not teenagers anymore, then they'll have to tell their grandchildren,
their great-grandchildren, and their great-great-grandchildren about the day they met and
fell in love. And with that being said, young love is about to bring all would-be couples
together in the future.

Details | Free verse | |

The Pristine Society

Contractual agreements with publisher caused DELETION

© 2011 JSL

Details | Ballad | |

Back On That Road Again

Yeah I'm back on that same road once more, 
Struggling like litterally I see our very children eating off the dirt floor' 
Who can really give a **** about dollars because where Im from over ninety percent living dirt poor,
 Even down here the struggle remains the same, 
Alcohol remains top dog around here it wont change, 
We want something different yet we keep seeking just a little more money, just a little fame,
 We aint happy with what we got now so we let the bull *****get to the brain.......
 Its sad how our people let even ourselves be lowered to ask for pocket change, 
We dying fast, no not our people but our culture cant you see the blood stains? 
Cant you see the youth playing games, six feet deep is where many of our very own youth sleep, forever trapped in their death beds still laying,
 I just hope I am remebered strong when Im gone confused why sometimes I wont stop praying...........but its alright though because Im back on that road again lost without family or friends......I dont know where to stop but I know where it begins........there's a meaning to everything in the start on this road so lets make this a memorable End......

Details | Alliteration | |

One Among Many part 2

I live in a place striving for sobriety surrounded in alcohol looking for happiness trapped among our very own sadness. I hear my people’s laughs and I hear my people’s cries, but most of all I see their dreams because their dreams are my dreams because we remain not against each other today as enemies but hidden friends united through culture, language and blood. I laugh with my people and of course I cry with my people and I fight with my people but most of all I continue to dream with my people. I know who I am and where I am from to know where I been to still hope to where I am going to go. I feel darkness engulf not only myself but also almost my entire reservation’s race, no matter mixed or not because soon our culture and language will have no face without any more light to shine upon it. I know where I lived and still live to know if I will truly go where I truly want to go in life before I have my one walk with death. I know by a long shot that I am not the best but by a close hit on the reservation’s target I could be better. 
I take a stand against self to stand against others to better a worsening crowd of many young lost indigenous souls waiting to be unknowingly found and waiting for something similar to what I’m about to write. I take a stand for self so that others know that we aren’t all lost and we can and will be found with the true hope of no one’s but your own. I take a stand because my brothers and sisters wont, I take a stand because now days most the people around me or within me can’t or don’t know how, I take a stand for the children who don’t have a father and mother as I once had, I take a stand for my unborn child almost here, I take a stand for courage because within me is filled with fear, I take a stand against because the alcohol and drugs within me now I just can’t stand, I take a stand for those around me who cannot stand, I take a stand for a culture dying on its knee’s trying to get back up, I take a stand for the forsaken yet to be forgiven self-stand.
 I patiently wait, lying away in the darkness searching for light even though I can see the light I just don’t know how to get on thy path to the light. I am not alone, I know for a fact that I am not alone in my thoughts and feelings about life on earth here. I can see our pain, I can hear the hollers and screams, I can feel your anguish and I can smell our destruction. I walk through the reservation valley of darkness as if I am but a blind witness to our own destruction upon where many of us go unknown truly forever in depths of time, in the depths of death.
 I know that I cannot give in or give up on a dream of a people’s dream where the buffalo in our young hearts and minds may roam around free and where the wolf warrior chief may rise above all odds and become thy greatest modern day warrior, the people seek him, the people crave him, the people need him, the people need someone to rise if not geographically the worldwide mentally.

Details | Imagism | |


They ride the good dragon-cloud towards warm light
While wistful wind was a wrongdoer on the hollow hill
Wrapped woven from the wounds and wrath`s night, 
The wood will wear white woolly witness of the windmill.

Hoarfrost hitch-hikes and hoists with hoarse hood,
Drumming beat of hobble of the army`s fatal feet,
Far away from the glow-worms of their childhood;
Friends fumble the glassware where they might meet.

Falteringly frogs of fancy jump towards the lake’s glass; 
Orphan souls sit on the steps of hope in winter`s time
They scrutinize the frozen sky of hope to find the rhyme 
Of the verse from the other side they want to happily pass.

Details | Light Poetry | |

' Linda Marie & Tasty Soup ... '

Linda Marie … You Are Good For The Soup
Your Words, How Wisely They Troup
Across The Written Page, We Read
Knowing Each Word, is Heartfelt, Indeed

So Original The Thoughts, from Your Head
They’re Tasty, like Jam On Light Buttered-Bread
So Sincere, We Cannot Help, But Hear
I Am Glad, That You Alighted, Right Here

You’ve Got A Breath Of Mountain-Mist About You
And Your Unique, Technique, Talks So True
All In All, Linda Marie, You Have A Loving Soul
And It Shows, In Your Discerning Words of Gold

Your Poems, Share Sweetness and Grace
Your Voice, Has Definitely Found A Place
At The Table Here, Keep Serving Soup
A Warm Dish and Wishes, Added To The Group

For:  Linda Marie, Tho’ You’re Still Sorta New Kiddo
Welcome To The Block-Busters (Mental-Blocks, That Is) - smile … 
(I Really Do Enjoy Your Writes)

                          Your Poet-Sis,


Details | Rhyme | |

Empty Page

It need not rhyme, it need not flow
It need no essence of truth
Just proliferate, exaggerate
And be sure to convolute
With flexous and circuitous jargon, fruiton soon to find
Scholars will praise your erudition,and vilipend the simple of mind

It need not passion, it need not soul
It need not emotion convey
For imperious wordsmiths write verse to cajole
With nothing of substance to say
Just aberrate,divigate, affirm you wish not to profess
Just cloak, conceal, as you disseminate your page's emptiness

It need not sorrow, it need not elation
It not your mind reveal
Words are just wasted with no explanations
Nihility holds no appeal
Exacerbate, exasperate, as fading tales of yore
Leave you unremembered for your words are too obscure

Details | Free verse | |

In League with Others

I am in league with the roses,
Petals askew in a scarlet conspiracy

Oh I am in league with the roses,
Swaying along in this lover’s confederacy;

I’m in league with the devils,
A mob together raging alight

I’m in league with the devils,
Our very breaths fanning our damned plight;

And with the clouds I have marched abreast,
Bringing storm and heavens in tow

For amongst the clouds I have marched abreast, 
Purpose seeded in the sky to grow;

I am a hire sword in league with grander designs,
Through all of which I am never prone

Yes, I am a hireling in league with foreign designs,
Happy that I am never still to stand alone.

Details | Rhyme | |

Ode to Charlie Sheen: Bi-Winning

   -   Normally I don’t mess with email requests;
      but times are a-changin’ and I’m rearrangin’. -

          (As noted by all this distress, 
             the story we wish we‘d see less)

“The Train Wreck of Charlie Sheen;”

The public seems a little bitter; 
As he rambles his rants on Twitter,
Social network scenes, all the magazines; 
And he’s still rollin’ in dough, like we’ve never seen.

Any news is good news…so they say;
He’s gonna relapse anyway;
So at least he’s getting high, and making pay.

Everyone’s glued to their TV and internet devices,
But the best thing to do, believe me, is ignore him and his vices.  
He feeds financially and emotionally, off you and me
So leave Charlie alone! Just let him be…

Details | Limerick | |

Slam Poetry Is For Orangutangs!

The Orangutang:

There once was a traditionalist,
Who in his ignorance had missed
The beauty of youth,
The ever-changing truth!
He's a typical fundamentalist!

The Traditionalist:

"I can't stand these kids and their slang!
They are just looking for a bang!
Their rhymes are funky,
But so are monkeys!"
  -  Did he just call me an orangutang?

"These darn kids and this gosh darn slam,
It may flow, but it's still a scam!
If it ain't metered,
Then it's petered!
Why waste your ink scribbling flimflam?"

Details | Alliteration | |

The Prime Directive Quiz ( P D Q ) or Prolix Drama Queen Part Three of Three

‘Cause, Priests and Prophets Must Pray for The Reign…
and for Pre and Post-Op-Apocalyptic–Novocain ! …

Yet… It Doesn’t Matter, What Distress to You
 On the Planet, however Polluted or Profane
It Doesn’t Matter, What Distress to You
 Wherever the Delusional -Dimensional Plane
It Doesn’t Matter, What Distress to You
Or Danger-Plot, Prison-Door or Deepest Pain
Or Present-Defeat, or Darkest-Hours-View
even Thru Dying-Breath, Devout Prayers Proclaim
to Be Delivered- New, True, and Pulled-Thru
to Claim The Prize of Life-Perpetually-Sustained

… For Particularly, By God’s Unpronounceable Power
Thru His Son’s Unparallel- Principal-Purchase… Dower
God’s Dependents and Dreamers Will Prosper-Gain
The Prophecy,  The Promise,  The Paradise-Preordained 
The Perfect-Future  and  The Victory-Parade

… The Distant, Destiny of Eden – Never Been Doused Nor Degrade 

Then… It Won’t Matter…So, Please Dismiss The Paltry-Strain
The Days of The Deformity and Damage-Train
Will Be In The Past … Departed-Detained
Disaster and Disloyal Will Lay In A Destroyed-Plain
Damned For All Of Time –Proliferate-Blamed
A Suppository-Prophylactic-Puddle-Shame
 Patience-Persevering…Demands Punishment - Prediction-Sang… 
… Final-Draft …Stop-The-Presses!... Poll-Loudly-Refrains

When You Really Discern and Pragmatically-Attain
The Divine God and His Son’s King- Domain
Publicize Their Progenitor and Predominant Names
and Preach and Deify Like-Doting-Platoon-Swains,
 with Pedestal-Passion and ‘Plum-Plumb’, Persistence-Ingrained 

For On Position-Comparison, We   ‘All’   Pale-to- A-Feigned …
…Puppets and Peons and Dim-Witted-Parasitic-Great Danes
and Dopamine Defective, Demerol Addicted – Darwin-Poisoned-Sprains
Disoriented-Drivel, Droll-Drooling-Inane
or Just-Plain ol’ Dire-Derelicts-Insane
(and now… I have a P D Q,… for Me and You… Migraine)
Oh… May They Accept This Poor-Placard-Crane

                    Amen… Again… Amen

Details | Lyric | |

Sin And Poetry

As the night sets in, it's as black as it's ever been.
My soul is in ruin, and my heart is like a back pack carrying a load of sin.

In the closet my skeletons scream, and constantly torment me.
The rage in my blood stream causes me to blaspheme religiously!
I am doomed because I'm so consumed by that very rage;
Engulfs me like burning fire, wraps me like barbed wire that causes a rampage!

The malice in my heart craves the blood from a helpless foe.
I feel I'm being ripped apart like some dark work of Edgar Allen Poe!

So many sins to atone for, and I get on my knees to repent.
Again with my face on the floor, I pray I receive a love that's heaven sent.
The evil is eating me alive from the inside out.
I can't survive when I feel like I'm fighting a 12 round bout!

My greed has come between me and my family.
I just wanted to succeed, but I admit I did it selfishly!

I seduced Lisa knowing she was married to another man, I just didn't care.
As Lisa fell in love, I became her number one fan, and then I ended our love affair!
My conscience wouldn't let me continue on the path of destruction.
I think of the consequence of losing you and laugh because now I'm unable to function.

I now see literally that it is better to lose an eye than your soul.
As I write my sin and poetry, I cry knowing my heart is as black as coal!   

My new form written strictly for Constance's contest "Create your own form maybe" ? is called Stanlets because it consists of couplets and stanzas that rhyme and is a dark subject.
Jimmy Anderson

Details | I do not know? | |

That Place

A birth ends, another begins.

All is remembered, all is forgotten.

From struggle to splendour, from feeble to forever.

All is remembered, all is forgotten.

Will we learn today

From all whom have, the path, lay.

Will we turn the clocks of yesterday

And have it another way.

To learn to forget,

To learn to remember.

To strive only for That Place,

Where all is remembered, all is forgotten.

(In memory of R. R., 1986-2009)

Details | Free verse | |

Shameless Self-Promotion

Here they go again.
anything to win,
in shameless 
layin’ it on thick, 
	makin’ sure it sticks,
		slappin’ it on like lotion.

“click my stuff,
and I’ll click yours too.
wanna feel like the best 
even though 
it ain’t true?”

back n’ forth complements
are so self defeating.
inflating other’s heads for praise 
is a blatant way
of cheating.

“do unto others”
but don’t lie, 
to boost their ego.
misleading them 
to raise their hopes 
should clearly be illegal.

no need to read 
a word
of their work
while scratching their backs 
all’s fair
in tactical 

poets thought to be adored 
while chewin’ truth’s gristle.
before you swallow,
broke a tooth that hurt
like a damn 

feeding on lines 
with hidden agendas 
is worse
than bein’ ignored.
cuz’ when you find 
copy n’ pasted comments, 
your hopes 
are sadly floored.

how about 
reading and endorsing work
you actually enjoy,
instead of 
feedin’ folks a line of crap 
laced with praise 
and “atta-boys!”

Details | Cowboy | |

The Urban Outlaw

Being the urban outlaw has its own rewards, especially when this vingilante-like person is helping the Marshall oficers capture the bad guys. It's just like a modern-day version of the Wild Wild West, except that the buildings (including the saloons) have closed down or whatever. When one of the urban outlaws are riding their horses into town, they're either greeted by the townsfolks or feared by them. What's so great about the urban outlaws in the Wild Wild West is that the cowboys are playing a lot of poker and drinking, but minus the alcoholic beverages, let alone whiskey. Everybody knows that the urban outlaws have their backs, especially when corruption rises in their towns. The urban outlaw has to abide the rules that society has handed to him, especially the townspeople. God only knows that cowboys and outlaws are either against each other or working together and stuff. All urban outlaws also love sleeping by campfires and riding their horses through the heated desert and by the riverbanks. Not only does the urban outlaw has a lot of adventures, even in the Wild Wild West, he also has the freedom to ride his horse anywhere, even in town. Those cowboys and outlaws should be very proud of themselves. But what is so great about being an urban outlaw most of all is when he's on the run from the bad guys who he had jailed, even better. Well, I guess that's how these people roll in the Wild Wild West. Right now, I find the cowboys, the urban outlaws, and the Wild Wild West very interesting, especially when he and/or she's outside of the city. It's also as if we're back in the year 1867. And if there are going to be modern-day urban outlaws and modern-day cowboys everywhere these people go, even in rual places like outside of Dallas and/or Albuquerque, that would be awesome for everybody, even me.

Details | Limerick | |

Another Time, Another Place

I'm for all people and their faith
It's for them and not others to deface
     They'll have their moment to preach
     On poetry sites the words teach
And leave for another time, another place

Details | Verse | |

Blood Wars

(Chance Operations)

Twenty long contemptuous years;
A myriad of monarchies 
Bargained wickedly …
Bloody warriors ~
In crimson swells;
Soured proprietary wealth…

Details | Ode | |

Ode to A Healthy Prisoner

Just breathe in the clarity
Clarity of the whole
Whole or negativity
Negativity eating your soul

Head for tomorrow
Tomorrow always waits
Waits for enlightenment
Enlightenment heals mistakes

You are where you’ve put yourself
Your “SELF” now reminds you of shame
Shame brought on by acting out thoughts
Thoughts a conscious shouldn't retain

Give yourself an apology
An Apology you deserve to have
Have some faith in your timing
Timing bleeds wisdom in man 

Bless your self and live righteous
Righteous spirits rise above 
Above all if you are kind
Kind souls conquer hate with love

Poetry brings torment to a halt
Halt all your never-ending thoughts
Thoughts are forbidden evil hiding
Hiding light inside divine spots

So please write down your own deep thoughts
Thoughts penned will conquer your inside trap
Trap your life up in your cell  all alone
Alone you shall stay smelling your crap~

please don't be offended by the last line~ 
I felt it was necessary to get my point across~

Details | Epic | |

My Very Own Seeds

My time keeps ticking/ Fresh outta mind prison/ I still have a hard time trying to listen/
 I keep on walking yet I keep on tripping/ The pain in my brain heart thickens/ 
Redemption for change Im still missing/ 

Im still on the reservation/ Dont any of my own people see the alcoholic devestation?/
 More self destruction than self creation/ Addicted alcholism among our own we keep making/ Young hearts and souls everyday we be breaking/ Most of us young souls around here are rarely forgiven because we are to busy been forsaken/
This is my own mind made prison astrology/ Im hard like a rock involved in geology/
 Dont any of my people understand this poverished prison geolgraphy/ 
Our destruction can be seen in NAT GEO, dont you people see it in the photography/
 Time is no joke nor is it alive yet somehow it can still bleed/ 
Im still out of prison yet in my mind it still doesn't feel like I have been set free/
 I know my out out but I dont have the keys/ In or out it still remains hard just to be me/
 Everything now days in life cost a fee/ Its not my culture its the American Greed/
 I guess now days I gotta leave a trail, I gotta PLANT MY VERY OWN SEEDS......

Details | Rhyme | |

Poetic Shoes Blues

Sometimes we need a kind ear bent.
So all our troubles, we can vent.
Our hearts get heavy in this life.
It's kind of you to share the strife.

I hope you bear this cross in mind.
Your kind regards, I hope to find.

For Judy Konos contest Put yourself in the readers shoes.

Details | Quatrain | |

On Idioms

While on a grammatical search, I've found
Many strange phrases all around,
And by some of them, I've been appalled;
Idioms are what they're called.

Then I wondered, how would it feel,
If idiosyncratic things were real?
The experience itself might be absurd;
I'll try to express the results in words.

It would be quite painful, I can tell
If we really walked on eggshells
Especially if you wore bare feet,
Shoes would seem a special treat.

And human beings would seem frail
If they were really thin as rails.
It would be weird to see it, though--
someone hula-hooping with Cheerios

Would it be hard to pick a fight,
If people had all bark but no bite?
I'm sure they'd be good at hide 'n seek;
'Cause with all that bark, they'd look like a tree.

And wouldn't humans be hard to find
If we really went back to the grind?
We'd probably be dust, and nothing more;
Sprinkled across the grinding floor.

Something else I'd have to see
Is if everything was Greek to me
Would all the people also look Greek?
If I had no toga, would I be the freak?

And I think we could all take great delight
If we really could fly as high as a kite.
Although, the fun would vary for each,
Depending how high your string could reach.

To have backseat drivers would be strange for sure;
Everyone's seatbelts had best be secure
How could you drive if you can't see the road?
Unless the car's backward, and you use back windows.

So many weird sayings; I'm glad they're not real,
Otherwise living here would not be ideal.
Indeed, idioms make this language strange;
No wonder some countries think us deranged.

Details | Senryu | |

' Edgar Allan Poe ... ' (Classical-Tribute) 64th Senryu

‘Edgar Allan Poe … ’ (Classical-Tribute)  64th  Senryu

     Edgar Allan Poe ...
Master of Scary Suspense
   Tortured Ambience

The Raven … The Pit and The Pendulum
House of Usher … Annabel Lee , etc. 
(“She Walks In Beauty, Like The Night”)
     one of my favorite poetry-lines

Details | Free verse | |

My Thing

Writing is my thing. My drug of choice. My bling bling.
I fall in love with the similies and mentions of passion while wrapping my body in 
Creating complicated rhythms and making them simples as instances
Every line a differenet emphasis
Commas, explinations and periods
Sometimes rhyming and sometimes not
Stopping to puff so my thoughts can lock
Feeding hungry souls starved from starvation
Creating new creations
Making people feel the sensation as I build up to mind elevation

The quest for knowledge is not a game
Spoken movements teach about the pain
I write to ease the pain
Rhythms run deep

Deep underneath clouded visions of unspoken truth lies a message
a message...a message that should be taught accurately to the youth
About the struggle of a people that was misued
abused, refused, confused, raped, beaten down
portrayed as clowns, coons, niggers, fools
Modern day niggas and goons
Wake up!! Did you hear the news?
You are responsible for you!
Imagine how it would be tho
If we were uninterrupted and brought overseas yo
Uprooted from a line of royalty kings and queens
Africa unite is all we'd sing
Rhythms run deeper into the seams of my being

I write to ease the pain of the oppressed
I write to celebrate their success
I write to educate the rest
The message..The message..The message is very clear
No time time to waste
The time is NOW
It's here!

Details | Prose Poetry | |

Rambling of a Faith Poet

Sometimes it is hard to know what to write or when to write when you have just about every
thought possible flowing through your head. I wonder, "Should I please the public with
how "poetic" I am or should I please You? I know what the answer is but at times I'm 
worried about being liked or whether people get me. Is my belief in Your Son too far
above their heads or will they get it? Should I even worry about public opinion? Of
course I know as a follower of Christ, sharing my testimony and telling them about the
Lord is what I'm supposed to do. On the other hand, have I become to preachy and
dull? Am I shoving my beliefs down their throats? Then I realize, didn't Jesus make
himself of no reputation? Everybody thought that He was weird, blasphemous and not
qualified to tell them anything when it came to how they were living. I'm only here to do
what He wants me to do, nothing more, nothing less. If I do my part, the right people will
hear it, love it and appreciate it. All I should do, is write the word and leave all my
"rambling worries" to Him.

Details | Dramatic monologue | |

Being Treated Like Trash

Every day, some people have always been treated like trash, especially by their tormentors. It's always been like that since the day they met or whatever. And come to think that he or she is way better that the other makes every individual sick to their stomachs. The fact that day in and day out, he and/or she is still treating each other like garbage, especially because of either a disability, a religious background, or any of that stuff. The only reason why the victims will have put up with those bullies is because of their parents and/or his or her so-called "friends." One person being verbally abusive to another is one bad thing, but treating him or her like a piece of trash is as troubling and hurtful as being abusive to one another physically, mentally, or verbally. It makes these people sick just thinking about it, even their parents. And no matter what those hard-working people do, no matter how hard they try, they're still being treated like trash by these so-called "big shots" who are way better than them. It seems to the ones who are way better than the others are so ungrateful, especially when these people have known them for years to come. On top of all that, people like his so-called "girlfriend," people like her so-called "boyfriend," and people like his or her so-called "friends" will have the audacity to disrespect each other. And no matter that day in and day out, these people don't even have the guts to stand up to their tormentors, including the ones who are way bigger and better than other. No one should be treated like trash and quite frankly, these people are sick and tired of it. Why can't some people start treating the others right instead of treating them like dirt and who are those bullies to pass judgment on them? Right now, I wish that these bad people were to stop being self-centered, stop treating these people like trash and to stop being arrogant. And if those tormentors continue to treat them like pieces of useless garbage, that's going to be a problem. Something must be done right now.

Details | Quatrain | |

Tension on Site

Writers are lured or find their way
And when they arrive they write their say
Welcomed aboard their words are shared
On arrival are they, cared or scared

We read in the blogs, about that, about this
Sometimes it's serious, sometimes it's bliss
We are here to write, and share our work
If that doesn't work, our roads have forks

Decide if ye may, if it's here your to be
If you are, it's to be in harmony
If it is not, democracy rules
Don't become one of them, a literary fool

For this is the site that rises above
Indiscretions if any, we are bound to shove
Our writers have been lured, and lured to stay
If this site's not for you, please be on your way

Details | I do not know? | |

Unashamed Self-Promotion


Greetings, good and kind fellow Soup-ers!

'Tis wonderful, I say,
to be a Soup-er, so if I may,

I humbly request you to lay down your pen dipped in fine ink,
and visit my blog which can be found at the following link: 

Now if this blatant self-promoting of mine seems rude,
I ask for your generous forgiveness, dear fellow Soup-er,

And wish you a day, that is peaceful, kind, and just plain super!

So cheers from the scribbler for now,
and as I take leave, my fellow Soup-ers,
I, in courtesy, to you all, do bow!


Details | Limerick | |

The Classy Lassie from Tallahassee

There once stayed a dove in Tallahassee With blond hair the bonniest of lassies She helped with my writes Morning, noon and night After breakfast, we started to write classy

Details | Haiku | |


there are those that need
structure even in their art
personally not

for me, I'll write it
however it comes to me
sorry if it don't fit

in your poetry 
mold, keeps me from growing old
you wouldn't want that

so write your tight 'lil
lines and I will still write mine
hopefully we can

share some dreams and things
and for each of us it will
still be very real

Details | Free verse | |


What’s big to me may be small for you
But when you hurt I hurt too
So many different phases I’ve been through
Withdrawal & self-indulgence just to name a few
I dodge sleep to note this nonsense to both me and you
My desperate attempt at understanding 
Has only led to more questions
I remember when medication numbed me well enough to stay quiet
A zombie!
All last night I cried and cried
You slept while I died all the more inside
I don’t have all the answers
One thing I know is
Dreaming and fantasizing 
In these worlds I find solace 
Seeing and realizing
It hurts…
It hurts…
People have been so unfair –
But then again 
What is fair?
So many questions…
Once upon a time,
I’ve put down my pen 
Followed doctors and drugs
Their drugs, my drugs
Just stop judging me and fix me!
I’ve put down the drugs
Picked up a pen
And this is the reason other people say I’m doing well?
What’s real?
I can’t tell
Is it what you tell me or what I tell me?
Drugs have concealed me
Silenced me…
Taught me that I don’t have to feel just see
And shake my head
Now I can both feel 
Shake my head
I can verbalize 
But I’d rather not talk just write
I can write and write just to get it out on paper
It’s still in my mind
I’m not fixed
Still I cry and cry
While you sleep
So which am I supposed to choose?
Solace or the truth?

Details | Senryu | |

' Lord Alfred Tennyson ...' (Classical-Tribute) 62nd Senryu

‘ Lord Alfred Tennyson … ’ (Classical-Tribute)  62nd  Senryu

       Tennyson Thundered
‘ The Charge Of The Light Brigade ’
      Salutes … Six-Hundred

Details | Free verse | |


OF POETRY........








PLEASE DON'T HIT ME................ 

Details | Clerihew | |

Edmund Clerihew Bently

Edmund Clerihew-Bently,
In science class, listened intently,
Wrote biographies in four short lines,
Invented his own poetic designs.

Details | Free verse | |

a casual stare

I strayed beyond 
a casual stare
as the children danced in 
corrugated cloth,
to the erstwhile rhythms of 
sexual apprehension,  
played upon a 
ha’penny harp,

the Delphic truth 
of first bled lust 
lay wistfully amused,
callously cosseted by 
phallic throngs of
vulgar hair and undue vanity,

I surveyed their fervent lips;
each without a valid tongue, 

Details | Rhyme | |

Poetic Toxins

I write what I know, and know what I write.
I travel through time, every rhyme with might.
Ruminating the past; its wrongs and its rights.
Any time of the day, and any darkness of night.

I pen history and its future, as small as it seems,
Inking a mission, my pen shadows my dreams.
I engrave bits of pain, through every extreme.
Inscribing a passion, my script and its regime.

My pen is much mightier, than an army indeed,
it slashes its victims with a whimsical need.
It destroys its targets, planting a poetic seed.
It preys on cruelty, and the abusive it feeds.

Feeding a toxic dose, of words and rhymes,
serving a deadly concoction of ink in time.
For the tongue is more lethal in words of rhyme,
the triumphant work of a poet; yours and mine.

Details | Free verse | |

One Heart, One Pen (Why I Write)

People ask me a lot why do I write
Well...Pain is Lyrics am I right
It constricts my heart ever so tight
I try to break the hold with all my might
But the pain is 2 strong
In this mindframe I belong
No friends in my life I remain alone
I was born the same as I will forever be gone
Beginning in my preteens I felt constant oppostion
Looking in the mirror every morning I saw no recognition
Tempted to have my head in the clouds
Which way do I go, drugs or alcohol 
Will it make my conscience proud
It will feel good I told myself, but I saw doubt
I need an outlet, I need a way out
So after the death of my bestfriend
Going on the path to destruction had to end
So in 8th grade english Mrs. Mackowich told us to write a couplet
I felt the urge to "up it"
But I had too much to say
My poetic testimony took the pain away
October 3 2004 was my first write dedicated to my friend's memory
I had my class feeling sympathy, but why do I feel like I'm the enemy
That one death was the weapon to tackle my self-doubt
My depressing
Me stressing
Self-hate in my heart thrived
My new drug has finally arrived!
So I write everyday, every way
To get away mind-wise
My emotions are disguised
The pen will be my pipe
The ink is my nicotione
Instead of putting it to my lips
I put it to the page
How could I think so deeply at such a young age
I can't stop its addicting
My thoughts are forever flipping
And they ask me why I write
It's obvious I feel spite
After reading people assume I want to be a rapper
Such dogmatic fools why would I participate in such "crapper"
It doesn't matter If I'm black
I'm human and that's that
Rappers write from the mind
I write from the heart
Straight from the middle like a game of darts
I'm the Robert Frost of rap
The Jay-Z of poetry
The Edgar Allen Poe of lyrics
The Kanye West of english
All embodied in one to the end
All I need is One Heart 
All I need is One Pen

If you can't tell that I'm the most unique Afican American of my age you are without 
perspective. If you are not rich and powerful people feel as if what you say is meaningless.I 
speak to people of all corners of humanity with my feelings and thoughts.While my 
bestfriends were partying and doing crime when i was growing up in my teen years, I was in 
my room reading harry potter, playing Playstation, and writing poetry.This is my life and 
talent. The legacy I chose to imprint. This is my ode to poetry.

Details | Free verse | |

The transformation of the skeletal soul

Winding winding
Today Now now 
now now
Sex SEx
hey hey 

seasons winding 
hey hey
wicked wicked wicked
baby baby
Sex Sex Sex

anybody anybody
hey Sex
Sex Sex Sex SEx
hey hey
seasons anybody 
winding winding
hey hey hey

Details | Cinquain | |


Holy Scriptures
Uplifting man’s spirits
Different versions, same contents

Details | Narrative | |


To Everyone on have all blessed me with your kind words of 
encouragement.  It has been such a treasure to have found this website and all of you.  I am 
a firm believer that things are meant to be and there is a reason for everything that happens 
to us.  It may not be what we expect or want, yet the plan is bigger and better then we could 
ever imagine.  As I'm sure you can tell by my poems that my life hasn't been exactly what I 
dreamt it would ever be.  I thank the Good Lord everyday for my two teenage, beautiful 
children (although there are days... LOL).  

I'm going through an extremely rough patch right now so it has been so exciting to see that 
my "Letting Go" poem has made it through the 1st round of the contest.  It is because of all 
of you that I continue to write - it shows me that it definitely helps getting everything off my 
chest and on paper.  

Thank you again for ALL of YOUR support and love and may you all have a blessed 2010 and 
a VERY Merry Christmas!!!!


Details | Senryu | |

' Alfred Noyles ... ' (Classical-Tribute) 63rd Senryu

‘Alfred Noyles … ’ (Classical-Tribute)  63rd   Senryu

   Alfred Noyles’ Poem Rings
‘The Highwayman’, Came Riding
   … Still Gets Me Crying …

Details | Lyric | |

A Lost Language

Dancing under moonlight
Haunting through the day
Angels turn to darkness
When the sun does not remain

Invisible and hopeless
The tones in which we speak
Our language can’t describe it
And now our vision’s bleak

A thousand fall at daybreak
A thousand more at dusk
The silence will not comfort
This mirror caked in rust

Dangerous and frightened
All that’s left to see
People fight for nothing
People try to flee

Dancing through this wasteland
Haunting brighter skies
Reminders of our weakness
Reminders of our lies

Visibly we’re broken
But suddenly we speak
The gift of wisdom shines down
The brightness lets us breathe

Dancing into sunlight
Caught within the day
The angels recall caring
Because the darkness never stays

Details | Epic | |

Teenage Love 15: Teenage Lovebirds of the 1980s

Young love had finally made its way back into the 1980s and all of those teenage lovebirds
back in the 80s were so "totally gnarly." The 80s was when MTV made its TV channel debut,
the first cell phone was invented, and when a lot of people were born in that decade, that
had included Julia Stiles (born in 1981), Michael Cera (born in 1988), and even me (also
born in 1988). Also, the 80s were the times when hip-hop music and the break-dancing scene
were born, especially when the TV show, “Yo! MTV Raps” was on TV. It seems that young love
among the then-teen lovebirds ( teen boys and teen girls) had been in their lives since
the day they met at summer camp, middle school or high school. And when a teen boy and a
teen girl fell in love with each other the day they met, they knew it was love at first
sight. There were a lot of awesome things those teenage lovebirds have done back in the
1980s: they went to the movies, had gone out to eat, they had gone to the school dances
(including prom back in 1984), and stuff. Their outfits back in the 80s were “totally
tubular,” especially when all teen boys and teen girls were wearing their Converse shoes
and their Nike Air Sneakers. The 1980s were the best of times for all of the then-teenage
lovebirds and their parents. These people were young and in love, especially when they
were the ages between 13 and 17. And what their favorite love songs of the 1980s were
“Time After Time” by Cyndi Lauper, “Material Girl” by Madonna, “Never Gonna Give You Up”
by Rick Astley, and other love songs that were heard back in the 1980s, especially the
year 1987. This type of young love has brought the best in all of the young couples. In
reference to young love among all of the then-teen couples, it’s like living in this “when
doves cry” moment. All young relationships are just like the ones these people have seen
in all movies from the 1980s, like “Dirty Dancing,” “Pretty In Pink,” “Can’t Buy Me Love,”
and “The Breakfast Club.”  And if young love were to revisit the 1980s and bring it back
to the future, young love will be indestructible forever.

Details | Kimo | |

Pablo Neruda

A sensual man,  songs full of his land

Loving love, spoke without censure

His life giving him words

Details | Light Poetry | |

' The Pied Piper Poem ... '

… Was He A Fiend
Or A Friend ?
Where Did He Take
The Children ?

With Gaiety
He Played !
What Childhood
Dreams-Displayed ?

In Each
Cherry-Cheeked Head …
That Followed

… Only Poor Little
Crippled Tom
Sadly, Got Left Behind
At Home

Whose Honest Parents
Were Only Ones Nice
To Pied Piper
And Willing To Pay Price

… and So, Kindly He
Left Their Son
But Took All
 The Other Ones …

Was He A Fiend
Or A Friend ?
They Should Have Paid
 At First, When …

… But Pied Piper Played
His Payback Tune
And Danced Hamlin’s Hearts
…and Raw-Deal To Doom

Details | Free verse | |

Dim the Lights to Encore.

I'm not unhappy with occurrences there in
where moving there upon the silent floor
in undercurrents rippling, marble still
I find your voice as never found before

I'm not uneasy as we dance this dance
where silence reigns the air in static still
as all the sleepers break in dreams at once
You hold me here but not against my will

I'm not unwilling now to take a chance
to blow confusion's wrist a solid kiss
and silently insure the moment's pass
if you would grant me solitude in this

I'm not uncertain as the curtains close
wherein we find ourselves behind the stage
as often what takes place behind the scenes
will pique an interest longing to engage~

Details | Free verse | |

A Genesis mimesis part 2

Adam from and by his side Eve blessed to replenish                                                             to rule over the things moving land air and sea giving meat to all                                       the green herb the fruit bearing seed after His kind it was good										             Blessed Poet potentate and man saw everything good on the sixth page    											heavens and earth finished with multitude to dwell ending his work on seventh page										blessed set apart this day for the gracious Host rested even now men search                          for metaphors similes to fill pages poems and prose words of worth                                                 to artfully describe creation life imitates life after His kind                                                   even in a fallen world after satans pride Eve being naive Adam listening to her voice                                            rather than God's the Poet maker Jesus in similitude                                                           yet He is without sin humbled Himself being born like we                                                              the true light came to heal creation walked again on the water                                                        for all to believe the Lamb's blood shed thy sin be forgiven thee                                          the Lord of the sabbath still plowing the way the Seed died and rose again 	                                             					God said bringing forth much fruit watering with words                                                             blessed are the poets of love saved justified 									redeemed resting in promised words from above                                                                  waiting to fly away to greener pastures 									          	a new heaven and new earth we look forward                                                                     to our Maker's life within the Poet's breath

Details | Free verse | |

And the Voice Said-----

Contractual agreements with publisher caused DELETION

JS Lambert

Details | Acrostic | |

You Snooze You Loose

<                                        Artist searching for a muse
                                          Creativity is the key
                                          Recant those memories 
                                          Open your heart and soul
                                          Start spreading the news
                                          There's poetry to be found
                                          Inside each and everyone of us
                                          Can't you hear the music

                                          To the beaten drum
                                          Whistle while you work
                                          Or you'll snooze and lose

Entry For
Jared Pickett's Contest
Acrostic 2
G.L. All

Details | I do not know? | |


In the several centuries 
Before the coming of Christ
The Jews in Palestine re-examined 
Eliminated some of the books 

From existing collection
As not in harmony with the Law of Moses as 
Of doubtful inspiration
The Pharisees set up four criteria 

Which their sacred 
Books had to pass 
In order to be included 
In the revised Jewish Canon

(1)	They had to be in harmony with the Pentateuch (Torah or Law)

(2)	They had to be written before the time of Ezra

(3)	They had to be written in Hebrew

(4)	They had to have been written in Palestine

Details | Haiku | |

April Morning

cherry blossoms burst
blue feathers line a new nest
Madam pens haiku

Details | Rhyme | |


It's sad to reminisce the memory of those
who have long left our world without a chance for goodbyes....
I was left behind for an unexplainable reason
to fulfill a task with a true purpose;
and still walking and breathing I go on,
gathering tiny fragments of stories never told by writers.

Sometimes I tell myself," Why was I continuously spared?"
" Why do I have to be the last one to leave?" 
Those answers will be given to me when I'll grieve,
and close to death : I will hear them through the voice of the Lord. 
And instead of receiving comfort, I will generously give it...
even to the enemy who once despised my honesty; 
and coexisting with everyone, I will uphold my ethical code and go forth,
not cogitating the mystery of my unblemished identity.

Many before me have achieved this by resisting change,
not adapting to the new moralities dictated by society,
but the result was too tragic and gruesome for all to accept reality;
and as lepers with open wounds, they still indulged in pleasure,
hiding their disease with canning lies and eloquent flair....
I would cut off my own hands, rather than share the unclean thing!  

And still walking and breathing, my arduous mission must be complete:
neither ridicule nor contemptible looks will make me put my rod away!
I'll stick to my convictions and move on to delight in another blessed day,
and as bewildered as they may be, I refuse to be compassionate...
they must understand the purpose of my birth,
identify those works and deeds that give me worth,
then the outcome wouldn't be short of a miracle;
and ebullient as they appear, I suspect they will tremble!

Details | Sonnet | |


Vincent, how you refused to blur the world

with verse, themes were clear but never simple,

silky sonnets were spooled, rhymes freely curled

themselves around love, dreams and principles.

A heart light on hills turned heavy with ash*,

chambers where longings unfurled with soft beats,

lines stood firm, exposed a soul somewhat brash,

stanzas converged, mixed the sour with sweet.

Shadows give dimension, this you would say,

a beauty too bright plucks the tender eye,

night displays pearls, there’s a gloom to the day,

Some questions are yes, some answers are why.

 	Your poems live on, still kindle passion,

	for joy and pain are ever in fashion. 

*An allusion to the poems Afternoon on a Hill and Ashes of Life

**I consider Edna St Vincent Millay one of the best sonneteers of the twentieth century and I feel that her poetry is not given the respect that it is due.  She went by Vincent, named for the hospital where an uncle's life was saved shortly before her birth.

Details | Lyric | |

Time Well Spent

My thoughts, not like what can be written on paper -
A paper so thin that you can see through,
onion paper, yes,
are not worth citing still,
they are just empty words, like yours
or others that resemble someone like you.
No need to feel "oh, so insulting"
just think on matters more convincing -
like the matters of retirement,
or ending some beloved engagement,
where of course, you and I mattered not
enough to be heard by someone just like us,
where tears are waters enough to fill
all the wells in Yorkshire, or the seven seas.
So what exactly are my thoughts, as if they spoke of 
volumes or of super heroes
that would revive the emptiness that is living.
Refuse me, please, you have your own
decisions and contentions to displace,
but all the words we speak are
windows to the human race.
Even yours.
So though you fret in lonely silence now
alone with laptop gleaming,
or sitting in a library while
someone more important breathes behind you
for her turn -
Remember, we are all sitting in front of some
media-bleeding device, be it our mouths, our radios
laptops, or campfires.
Think on what I've said here in deep reflection,
if you think your own thoughts are important enough
to prove that mine are as well.
What do you think, when alone with your thoughts ~
Are they real?
Or do they speak the level-headed cruelties of
politicians and spokespeople for some soft-drink?
Truly, I say to you all ~
Breathe in.

Details | Rhyme | |

Beyond Words

Flowing words that show a story well
Rhyme a delight to see upon a veil.
Poetry soothes the soul, tells of feelings.
Lines in metaphors, inspirational dealings,
Verse that is free, describes virtual history.
Acrostics can deliver any kind of mystery.
Poetry more graceful than a flowing brush,
Creates pictures and forms in breaking hush,
Haiku surrenders nature’s beauty so short.
Senryu captures humanities truth and tort.
Paint captures sight; poetry feels the scene.
Writers develop spirits, feelings felt and seen.
Sculptors captivate realism, fantasy supreme.
Poets bring joy, sadness, life, love, in a dream.
Whether rhyming or not, a good poet shows.
Few or many lines they create properly flows.
Poetry rings out in emotions of various forms.
Lines of any verse go way beyond the norms.

Details | Alliteration | |

No Title

My bed is anxious,waiting for my snores Today's going to bed, tomorrow's a few steps ahead I wonder why I took "the" pen I feel like putting them down What? My thoughts What am I inking? Nothing! Exactly! Just wanna scratch my itchy paper with my juicy ink Singers? Go sing... Comedians? Go do comedy... Others? What's your "itchy paper?" Have you applied your "ink?" Be good at what you do Love what you do Practice... Go scratch it!

Details | Narrative | |


Debauched, extortionate and inconstant 
was the knavish and foul mercenary?
The perfidious praetorian reprobate
was a venal unscrupulous slug.
Debased in character and depraved in spirit
this purveyor of evil tended to his wicked ways.
Morally spoiled, he was a putrid putrescent 
and an aberration to integrity.
Nefarious and tainted in character,
he infected the soul.
Treacherous and two-faced,
underhanded and unethical, 
debased and unprincipled,
this snide poor excuse to humanity
defined the meaning of "corruption."

Details | Prose Poetry | |


Eye remember the last time eye respected and emulated mye peers they peered all over 
mee. While eye jumped from piers with pears and pares the toenails from the edifice of hice 
bewails while jumping pairs of twice brickled edifice pickled in the briny sea side limping on 
both feet after fourteen miles a day of hiking where the sun is shade. Eye have a memory 
that seldom comes but sometimes when annoyed eye remember getting mad at mye new 
friend eye made while travelling. We were sitting in the overpass of freeways looking glasses 
turned down to drain the light of flashes. Eye took mye flashlight to the concrete underpass 
and smashed it. My friend was asking what was wrong with me so eye had to get creative 
quickly. Not wanting to dismember him eye quickly said this was done at your behest not 
understanding none of this he sighed and walked away to live another day that’s best. For 
eye was only wanting solitude and rest. He got drunks and sold the knives. Drunkards 
wanting tankards full furnish many people with foolish things for below cost no advertising 
word of mouth just hand to hand attained detachments. They sell cars at second hand prices 
and deter the will to live. Telling old defeated Granny she must drive like a snail to get there 
and she will. Adding multiples of two and coming to conclusions of one more addled brain a 
female peers out her window now hoping he is still in love he must not understand the 
female mind. Tonite when eye am dead to world in vain misunderstanding of mye namme 
eye will peers from undercovers trying not to cry tomorrow eye will greet that dawn with 
happiness in time. 

Details | Free verse | |


Quodlibertarians excel at obacerating
And are skilled in the art of obganiating
They drive people nuts,
No ifs, ands or buts,
Even their perscrutation seems nothing less than excoriating!


The Art of Arguing About Anything

People who argue about any subject excel at contradicting
And are skilled in the art of irritating people with constant reiteration
They drive people nuts,
No ifs, ands or buts,
Even their thorough search and diligent inquiry seem nothing less than condemning!

Details | Free verse | |

joy of written word

joy of written word 

Here comes the festival again
‘For the joy of written word’
There comes a time when 
My excitement is limitless
Like the little children I bloom
Noting sweet than a book I see
Nothing joyous that words I read
Here comes the festival again
‘For the joy of written word’
The world of books & words
The festival of writers & words
In the cultural capital it comes
I prepare like the joys of Eids 
Make list, spreading the news 
Along with the friends i prepare 
New faces to meet, new books 
Authors, poets & writers 
Young and old to meet
New cultures to discover, 
New words to learn
A festival unlike in red deserts
A festival of million books
A festival of billion thoughts
Beating in my heart with joy
Here comes the festival again
‘For the joy of written word’

Dedicate to Sharjah International Book Fair - 2011 #SWBF
This trade show is held in Expo Centre Sharjah during 16 Nov 2011 to 26 Nov 2011

Details | Senryu | |

' William Shakespeare ... ' (Classical-Tribute) 65th Senryu

‘ William Shakespeare … ’ (Classical-Tribute)  65th  Senryu

   One and Only Clear …
   He’s Poetic-Theatre
Oh, William Shakespeare ! …

Details | Free verse | |

Just writing without stopping

Random Free Write: 

Just flowing - writing
and not stopping to think
or even to lift my pen
I kept going and the words seemed to have no end
Understanding that the process is a simple one
Love everyone and 
stear free of the wicked one

I'm not sure if it was winter or spring
But, I gave way to all the flaws and  imperfections
and realized that this is me
The change came when I saw fit
and not when someone else decides

It's not hard to forgive
And even easier to forget
Does that not reflect love and also what it begets?
Except too many hold grudges and even
pretend to be angry beyond whats necessary
Caught up in someone elses problem
and not dealing with their own is a hard burden to carry
Let it go
stop negativity where it begins

Cut people short if you have to
because this is your life you have to live
Be on the lookout for those looking to devour you
Pray for those who do ill sh@! to you
Respond in a way that makes them realize they love you
and hope it inspires change

Still maintain dignity and move on to something new
Growing, building up treasures for a place greater than
you can even dream to go
It's the simple things that help make life flow
I could go on and on with this practice flow
Writing and stoping to think or lift my pen
This is one of those poems that didn't make it to the waste bin.

Details | Epic | |

Teenage Love 12: Teenage Lovers of the 1950s

It was the 1950s and all teen lovebirds back in the day were the greatest couples in
America. These people were way before all people who were born in the 1980s were born,
even me. It seems that both teen lovebirds (a teen boy-turned elderly man and a teen
girl-turned elderly woman) fell completely in love with each other when they were in
middle school or high school, even when doo-wop music and rock and roll music were born.
It looks like all of the then-teenage lovebirds had a great time back in the day. In
reference to teen couples dating back in the 1950s (including the year 1954), they went to
a drive-in movie, ate at a diner, they went to see a full moon in classic cars, that kinda
stuff. These dates were way before the first cell phone was invented, MTV made its TV
channel debut, and before computers were invented. On top of all that, both of the
then-young lovebirds used to listen to their favorite love songs, like, "Baby, Baby" by
Frankie Lymon and the Teenagers, "Can't Help Falling In Love" by the late Elvis Presley,
Great Balls of Fire" by Jerry Lee Lewis, and "Will You Love Me Tomorrow" by the Four
Seasons and the Shirelles. Their parents were happy that their teens were dating back in
the day, especially when their parents (the mothers and the fathers) back in the 1950s
found out that they were dating. And now that they're not teenagers anymore and even if
they stay together as a married couple, they'll tell their grandchildren about the day
these two lovebirds have met and fell completely in love.

Details | Chant Royal | |

Back In Denial

Yeah Im feeling a lil too native tonight like Im on da rez like a youngster drunk and suicidal
 Poppin pills like Im poppin at my own people like they my culturalistic rivals 
I'm dying slowly like my culture yet Im still reading the about God and the Holy Bible
 I almost died not once but twice thats why I strive for survival 
Im a lil mad at God ever since he took my lil brother but I shall get over it in a lil while
 Im more greatful ever since he gave back life with my first child 
Living life up to this point in my life has now been worth the while 
time ticking away everyday on da rez like the sun dial 
so no time to waste any longer in this tribulation of another life to death trial
 I shall bring back all my lost long life culture files 
I am like a new trend people Im litterally making my own clothes with the Rez Life 7 style
 I shall overcome bull*****even if at times it gets me a lil riled 
Breaking through hangovers like out the stomach comes last nights bile 
Im litterally building onto whats left in my trash pile 
I aint going to stop until I have my legs crushed during the last mile 
I hit jumps in my car through life as it idles 
This is just but another life lived in gratitude I cant lie though 
It shouldnt matter too much in the end because I will be high Bro 
Insanely flying in the sky like an acrobatic physco 
Shooting through leather problems like a twelve gauge rifle 
so much it makes my own heart with a quick fix stifle 
Im gonna make it through my haters doubts with a quick glance as I smile 
I will bring back hope not to theirs or yours but my own before I end up back in denial

Details | Narrative | |

Oh, Pepe (Vignette)

Too enthralled by his works done
Last farewell been said and made
Mockingbirds and sparrows came
Las vivas and the sound of guns-
He faced the 7 o’clock morn sun


Dr. Jose P. Rizal- poet/author of  "Noli Me Tangere" and 
"El Filibusterismo", his famous novels that cost his life.

Details | Free verse | |

A Genesis mimesis Part 1

the Poet maker said and it was so let there be prose forward turns the page       										        	 ancient song from light to breath it was good to divide light from dark    											     	 to recite the day the night the verse of the day expands the page  												visible words separate the waterways waters above held in Heaven's store                                  									evening and morning end of page two Below turning droplets collect for the seas            										it was so land appeared a birth of earth let it bring forth the grass the herb  												 full with seed of life after His kind the tree progeny with life within it was good also               ends page three Sowing the lights midst the heaven the sign of the times standard          let it be dividing rule the greater for day lesser for night He made the stars also giving light seen upon earth agreeing evening morning still good fourth page Poet's words flow optimistically like water seas fill abundantly with the living word sky filled flocks of winged fruitfully multiply for God said let them be blessed evening and morning of the fifth page  The kines after His kind the things that crept with the pen of the ready writer man in His image with this breath

Details | Limerick | |

Data Base, No Place

There is a person with more than one face
Who struggles in more than one place
Being on line one at a time
It sure can't be fine
Infecting ones data base

Details | Epigram | |

Full Moon 101

A full moon is known for making people do things that are weirder and weirder. It only appears at night, even when the Earth rotates and stuff. It happens on every 14th of 15th of the lunar month. The full moon is so whole, but so scarier, it's like staring it right in the face. Everybody also knows that when people turn into werewolves (just like the werewolf movies), they most likely howl at the full moon. It may be a real myth and a real folklore or whatever, but All full moons are still making people do weird things. It seems that the Earth's been rotating around the sun, even when the day's over. But when it comes to a full moon and werewolves and stuff, they're basically from movies and Greek mythologies and stuff, in which they're a bunch of awesome folklores. And if the full moon continues to appear at night and people continue to do weirder things, thereby making people do weird things, there's no telling what weirder thing might happen next, even on another full moon.

Details | Free verse | |

The Minstrels, The Lovers, and the Mad

the minstrels
the lovers
and the mad

dare to explore
where others fear
to tread

we wish on falling
not knowing where they

a million miles to
a journey

paradise awaits
those who dare
to walk

Details | Free verse | |

Jill Scott

"Love rain down on me..."
she bellows sweetly
I drink her soul through
the sounds
Letting me into her universe
dripping with love, food, imagery
a beautiful symphony of words
"Slowly, surely, I walked away from..."
the thought of turning my  cd off
Jazz seeping through my pores 
melting me like chocolate in hand
'I understand what you sayin' girl!!!'
Moving feet with every beat
"Love rain down on me..."

Author's Note: Some of the words in this piece are from actual songs. Jill Scott 
has been a tremendous influence in my poetry. Her music and words are 
constant companions. Much respect to her.

Details | Free verse | |


words become my lifeline
no voice to compute
left to imagine your expression
as i say 
all day I speak to 
thru words that never end
161 characters
I want a reaction 

Details | Free verse | |

Random Inspiration

Walking along 41st East Ave,
meandering my way towards downtown.

Have a sudden surge of
random, joyous inspiration.

Look around.
Undo my belt,
dropping down my britches,
hoping to see people in stitches.


Not a single, abnormal look at all?
Old Chinese lady on her porch,
even smiles and waves.

Have a sudden surge of
random, joyous inspiration.

Down come the pants,
down come the skivvies.
Take off my shirt,
take off my socks and shoes-
stuff everything into my knapsack,
and, towards downtown I go.


Not a single abnormal look at all?
65,000 people milling about,
and not even a single shout?

People are smiling at me politely.
One dude even asks for the time.
No one steps out of my way-
little old gentleman says, "Good Day."

Hey! I know what you are thinking, all-
and fortunately, I am not THAT small!!

Need attention. Look at me!
Look at me, coddle me;
look at big ol' special me!
Me me me me me me!
Can you not even see?

So, I take my ding-a-ling,
give it a mighty swing.
Slap it to the left,
slap it to the right.
Give it a funny twist,
and shake it all about.

Still nothing.
Now I am beginning to pout.
This crowd isn't very energetic or easy to please,
not interested in a man swinging his dong in the breeze.

Heading towards the Uptown, Skytrain station,
to further explore, my sudden, random inspiration.

Details | Ode | |

New Orleans, Louisiana: aka The Big Easy

What's go great about New Orleans, Louisiana, is that of its jazz music and its voodoo culture. The city has been known as "The Big Easy" since the 1800s. It seems that all of the tourists from across the United States have considered New Orleans their favorite vacation spot. There's always a Mardi Gras every day, we've got people throwing beads at each other, jazz musicians playing their instruments (the saxophones, trumpets, etc.), and people dress in costumes every single day. But what's so great about New Orleans, Louisiana, most of all is that when spring breakers come to the city for spring break, even when they're still going to college. Everybody knows that the Big Easy is also known for its Cajun cooking, especially when the chefs are known for making a lot of jambalaya, gumbo, and a lot of Cajun foods. And what's so great about New Orleans, Louisiana, is when MTV was there, especially when the MTV network executives had been recording episodes of "The Real World:" one back in 2000, the other was back in 2010. New Orleans, Louisiana, is the strongest city in America, even though it was destroyed by Hurricane Katrina back in August 2005. But the famous street best known by New Orleans, Louisiana, most of all is the French Quarter and and one of New Orleans' favorite landmarks is the St. Louis Cathedral. And the New Orleans Arena and the Louisiana Superdome are home to the New Orleans Hornets (NBA-National Basketball Association) and the New Orleans Saints (NFL-National football League). Even the late Louis Armstrong was from the city. Well, I hope to go to New Orleans, Louisiana, one day. And if the City of New Orleans were to stay on the map for a long time, it's going to be like a Mardi Gras on a Saturday night and Fat Tuesday in the afternoon.

Details | Epic | |

I Have Autism 3: Still Human

Having autism has been the greatest thing that has ever happened to every boy, girl, man, and woman, especially that of a three-year-old. It has made a positive impact on people who'd been born with or had been diagnosed with autism since day one. Being autistic means accepting for who he and/or she really is, especially when he or she's around a bunch of open-minded people. What everyone, including me, also learned about having autism is when we're living in our own worlds and the real world at the same time. Children, teens, and adults with autism can function in the real world, even in public places, especially when they're going to school or work. What I also learned is that people can go after their dreams like being a politician, a lawyer, or whatever, even if he and/or she has autism. God has made us the way we are, and I think that having autism has been the greatest thing that has ever happened to all of us, even when I was three years old. It doesn't matter if he and or she has either autism, autism spectrum disorder, or Asperger's Syndrome, we're all still human. The whole world should know that being an autistic human being is great and no one should judge us just because we, as humans, have autism, autism spectrum disorder, or Asperger's Syndrome. The fact that day in and day out, for the past few years, people with autism, including me, have proven the board of education and those nay-Sayers wrong, even in the classrooms in all of the schools nationwide. Nothing could bring us down. Even though we have autism, we're still His children. The parents should be proud of the fact that they've raised us well, even if we have autism or any other disability. There's also a good chance of people getting into serious relationships and getting married, regardless of one person having autism. And if all of the friends and families have accepted them for who they really are, other people should be more accepting, too. I have autism, mild MR (mental retardation), and OCD (obsessive compulsive disorder) and I'm also proud of the fact that I'm still human.

Details | Free verse | |


To assume is to judge 
to accuse based on assumption 
is incompetent.
Assumption without full knowledge
creates friction.
Choosing ones words carefully
shows respect and responsibility
as well as charactor.
An individual whom assumes and takes quick
action upon that assumption projects
insecurity within ones self.
Never Assume.

Details | Blank verse | |


I got
        CRAZY words!

Y’all should see ‘em –
         They’s a
         N’Awleens jumpin’ jazz

    wit’ stilt-walkin’, trash-talkin’
   ‘n’ flamin’ side-show
  sword swallowers

(Voodoo princess in the corner –
   Doncha think y’oughtta warn ‘er?)

They’s ju-ju in the air
  & frantic dancin’ lewd &
         high-life thugs

Well – they jist ain’t
    in control 
    of they senses

  an’ they sho’ ain’t in control
    of the fences --


have been

   s t a m p e d e d

I got CRAZY,
   words make hocus-pocus pie
    wit’ jumbalaya ‘n’ sweet paella
      ‘n’ eggplant parmesan --

I think 
   I’ll eat them words –
      I’m sho’ they taste

‘n’ they ain’t too bad
    digested ‘n’ re-
    gurgitated, neither!

Yeah! Taste them words
  Wit’ yo’ ears,
   Wit’ yo’ eyes
Wit’ da pre-rational room
In yo’ mind
‘n’ dance, dance to they samba –

Starlit night time
    Drunken, shoutin’ revelers
Aswirl in a frenzy
    Of passion ‘n’ despair

Skirts ‘n’ voices
        Flappin’ in the stompin,
Stomped-up dust storm


Got crazy –


Details | Bio | |

from father to son-

insurance policies 
laboured unto birth… 
the mythic glance 
of gentile gratification; 
the populist pariah 
sheathed sternly under glass… 
exhibited ad nauseam; 
pardoned upon the 
tandem bicycle, 
midst the callous cyclic queue…
from father to son…

Details | Rhyme | |

Most Vocal Critic

My sister Pat says my words
are too big,
that I lose my audience
due to this.
By far, most people just don’t
give a fig;
Anything over one’s head’s
just a miss. 
My vocabulary’s filled
With nonsense,
And no one bothers to find
the meaning.
No one wants their reading to
be so dense
What I think’s clever is just
Why can’t I just write simple stuff
About flowers and family and life?
Why isn’t that enough
without dredging up 
the dark, unhappy strife?
While I swim through depressing depths,
most people splash and play in shallows.
They laugh out loud, don’t hold their breath.
Real humor doesn’t come from gallows.

Details | Rhyme | |


it's  all heaven now
it's going down

once was lost
now it's found

walking the line
running out of time

living the life
writing the rhymes

some words go unspoken
but the actions speak loud

once you were weak
now you are proud

Details | Bio | |

the real me, after too much reflecting-

spare part-- 
simple and plain.

Details | Rhyme | |


Poems of my thoughts 
Tangle with my mind
Let the world know them
Try make them rhyme

Share with them most
To people online
Say how it is
In that moment of time

Comments come forward
With encouraging words
Makes the day brighter
To know that I’m heard.

Sometimes its someone
Who offers a hand
Who gives me a friendship
With no want for what’s mine

Want to say thankyou
To dance with your words
To form a good friendship
To join our two worlds.

Details | I do not know? | |


May I offer few words of wisdom--
Just a few words of reason and rhyme?
Competition is fun, when you're winning;
Collaboration is fun, all the time.

Details | Couplet | |

Here's Sum Fun!

Google me
Kanoodle me
Please whole kit'n'kaboodle me

how rude I'll be

I demand at least
you doodle me

Then how sweet
my mood'l'be!


Now don't you try
to foodle me

You really can't
bamboozle me

'cuz I'm smarter
than my poodle be!

Details | I do not know? | |

My Crazy Neighbour

Sitting after I finished my studies
Started thinking 
Looking at the closed window facing me
I wanted to write
Do I write about Life or Politics?
The drops started hitting the window
The echo made me think

I decided to write about my studies
A way of thinking
But the darkness outside that I see,
And the drops fight 
Do I write anyway or fear politics?
I looked at my pens, maybe they know
I sipped some of my drink

I see the light and thunder and light dies
I ceased drinking
Maybe after all, the problem is me
People out there fight
But is fighting and killing, politics?
A feel something moving, wants to grow
How do I think?

Why my neighbour does shout? He cries.
I started thinking
"If I respected him, he would have respected me"
This savage wants to fight
I shouted, shut up I don't fight lunatics.
He saw the picture in fact I know
The picture, I think.

I draw his daughter. You bastard, he cries
I started winking
The picture offended him, I know. See
I draw what I please, my right
My freedom. Why do my hand panics?
You Stink

He entered furious pulled my shirt
Told me he will show my real sex by pulling my skirt
My hands were alert
But damn the one who is wrong is the one hurt

I am writing now my hands trembling
Why did I start it since I can't end it?

Details | Free verse | |


knobby-knee’d, toes that stop 
bend and pick up 
penny, marble, rock 
outside chalk 
on concrete, begging, for me to turn around 
for one more try 

Details | Couplet | |


                                     THE BOOK LOVER

                        Some women pine for silks and pearls
                        Some shop away their hours
                        But I’ve a book-hound in my blood
                        Preferring books to flowers

                        Each page I touch With loving hand
                        I trace the print snug there
                        The whitest page grants me delight
                        The yellow brings despair

                        The old bookshops on dusty streets
                        Are storehouses of dreams
                        They guard the dancing continents
                        And trolls that bridge the streams

                         And for each story hidden there
                         Mid pages silken glories
                         An offering of bouncing tales
                         replace bland bedtime stories

                        And on this paper
                        Fine or rough
                        my fingers gently roam
                        Safely in these books I find my place--
                        And build myself a home.

Victoria Anderson-Throop
Juja, Kenya

Details | Epic | |

Friendship 101

Friendship is the state of both people being the best of friends. Friendship also means      that one person is to protect the another person (man and/or woman) from all kinds of danger, even being taken advantage of. There's always a difference between two people being just friends and both best friends (a boy and a girl) falling in love with each other, especially when they've known each other since they were babies or elementary school. Building friendships mean that he and/or she has built the bridges that will never break  or burn unless they'd betrayed each other by having affairs with their boyfriends/girlfriends, selling them out to the the wrong crowd (including the devil), and that kind of stuff. It seems that without each other, they're nothing. Both people, including those from either elementary school, middle school, high school, or college really need each other, especially when they will have found out that their spouses or lovers have been cheating on them with somebody else. The greatest thing everybody should learn about friendships is that all friends are there for each other every single day. And the other greatest thing about friendships is that they've got each others' backs, especially when they're falling on hard times like facing reality, dealing with being decades old, that kind of stuff. Let's hope that all friendships don't end in pain, sadness, and suffering. And if these people continue to stay the best of friends for years and years, even through out all of the school reunions, things will always be the same. I hope all friendships stay stronger than ever forever.

Details | Narrative | |

Whiskey Wishes

from this barstool i have sat waitting for some moment 
of insiperation to come to me 
But the only thing that that comes to me is
a bartender with another drink.

And in empty reflection lost in a jukebox's song
played by a lonley heart shooting pool.
I cant recall where the spark went.
maybe it fell to floor like the ash from a cigarette.

the page waits at home like a wife waitting in worry as her husban is off doing God knows  
what  so worried only wishing he'd return.
And when he does the fear fades and the anger kicks in.

The bottle doesnt hold a key but it does know me well.
I kiss it's fiery lips and cant resist it's charm.
so I sit with it passing hours in a dance that will end in
nothing but another wasted night  and a bitter morning taken
out apon my  mind.

In a swirl of hungover thoughts id leave half written pages.
To soon find themselves collecting with my ever growing arsenal  of 
drunken rants.
All ending bitter and cold.

But when the whiskey hits I'll make such great plans 
that will never be.   
I'll write that epic that will keep in the minds 
other writers.
And in the warm arms of women who wanna love a 
trainwreck just to say they've known what it's like.

Whiskey wishes are like sparks from a much larger fire.
the sparks fly off into the midnight sky.
only to fade befor are very eye.

Details | Rhyme | |

In Honor of My Poetry Soup Pals

A true delight to have found the time
To pen from my heart this rhyme
In honor of my Poetry Soup Pals
In each one there’s no disguise
With vibrant imagination I surmise
God spoke their names as He sent them to earth
Willingly, they came, blessed with qualities and depth
A love for man and nature; a double portion, their fare
For He knew just how much they would share
From near, far,would aspire to do His bid
By undying faith, His light would not be hid
Imbued with a gentle spirit, compassion, constant
They would heal our world through the distance
Of this very long and arduous journey

Love and Peace to all!

Details | Tail-rhyme | |

No Title of Write

I apologize, for all writes.
At least once, I broke someone’s rights.
That’s why freedom of press.
Nothing written, make lonely nights.
Words written will always start fights.
Be aware, don’t suppress.

Written for
Sponsor Barbara Gorelick 

Details | I do not know? | |


I judge you
I judge your thought as you present it to
I judge you stand there
bellowing aloud
the unrevealed to the surface
I judge you
with a hundred ears 
staring at your words dancing
through the drums of my mind
decipher what you want to say

I judge you
timid thing...eyes down
no feelings to grab at 
I judge you
"Hmmmph! "
you wait eagerly on my response 
"Am I good?" your eyes ask.

Details | Free verse | |

Confused Yet

Confused Yet

A New Take on an old story.

Just a piece nonsense I hope you will enjoy

Pull up and chair and sit on the floor
I'm going to tell you a story you're never seen before
Late one night in the early morning
I stood outside the house while sitting in my bedroom
I shouted at the top of my lungs while whispering to my friend
Who was sitting beside me as I stood in the hall
That thunder was loud and the clouds were black
As sun shone bright from a clear blue sky
Ask me on qeustions and I'll tell you now lie
Just ask the blind man he saw it too. 

Details | Senryu | |

short nature poems

short nature poems
ignite a haiku morning –
creates division

Details | Dramatic monologue | |

Enough Is Enough

No matter what he or she does, no matter how hard he or she does, it's not good enough for the others. These people who've been trying way too hard to impress other people have been treated like trash since ever. The only thing that other people are good at is being way better than the others. And the fact that day in and day out, week after week, for the past few years, people like their so-called "boyfriends" and their so-called "girlfriends," people like his or her so-called "best friends" had the audacity to disrespect this guy or girl. It's just like when these people have been seriously rejected by their so-called "attractive peers" after they asked them out on dates or get together someday and because of the way they looked. The moment these people have forgotten about the others, it had finally dawned on them. It seems that these people never really wanted to be friend with each other or go out on dates in the near future, anyway.  And come to think of it, It's not enough for them. Some people are just completely ungrateful. After everything these people have done for each other, like ask them out on dates and/or offering them real friendships, it's like they've accomplished nothing. Even breaking their backs for each other, it's still not enough. And this type of rejection is making everybody sick, even me. Well, no more of being rejected. No more of being treated like trash. And no more being stepped on and pushed around. This type of rejection has got to stop. So as of right now, this ends right now! Enough is enough, and it's time for a real change!

Details | Free verse | |

a running chestnut- prosodic ha ha

By any other name what is in a name 															prosody Rosa Dee the sweet voices arise in                       													Consonance assonance resonance Renaissance															you see being reborn by the word frequency 															colorfully resurrected euphoric euphony 																your flowing down along the Dee an Irish sea														  without life the screams of cacophony  															  cantos of Muirghein the queens nightmare            														 winds of change blow upon the wordy mare      															but the word in question rhimes with prosody                       													so you see to alliterate the marrying sounds															 honest dissonance choosing rather to write it down														 nomadiclly poeticlly phonetically as Rosa Dee															 instead harboring to the odic glottis lotus                                                                              within hours hope to see a singing laughing flower

Details | I do not know? | |

Non Catholic religions

You think Christ is not hurt
With loving what you thought is Christ
Loving Christ is being in His true Church
In Catholic or Roman Catholic you are not condemned but saved

In His Church
Ask R.C.I.A.
Rite of Christian Initiation for Adults
Is like a college Religion class

You will learn the truth
In other man-made religion bible are lies
What you’re reading is really the true Church
Not your own

It’s like a blind
Leading another blind
They would both fall in hell of fire
It is not the minister’s fault

Your own, rather take them with you
Both of you learn the truth
For every man they can be a deacon
Bishop and Priest are not with a wife

For Jesus Christ is a High Priest
Great Prophet
Only Son of the most High
The Redeemer

In RCIA, you will receive 3 important Sacraments
Confirmation and
Holy Eucharist or the Body of Christ

We want God to be pleased with us
Eternal Father told the people 
To Listen only to the Messiah and
The One I sent

What are these Christ like churches?
Non Catholic churches?
People in there are already condemned
Being in Catholic or Roman Catholic, you are saved

Details | I do not know? | |

Mississippi's Voting Day

The people in Mississippi will be voting tomorrow.
If they vote for Obama, there will be no sorrow.
Obama deserves to be President because he's the best.
If he becomes President, America truly will be blessed.
Tomorrow people will be voting all day.
God bless Obama and God bless everybody in the USA.

Details | Epic | |

Suburban Living

    The suburbs have been a part of the lives of all Americans, especially that of the  awesome Caucasians. It's been affecting the lives of all U.S. citizens since the day frozen TV dinners were invented. There's a lot of suburban communities that are outside the cities: suburban communities like those of Dallas, Texas (Grapevine, Arlington, Addison, e.g.), Edmonton, Alberta, Canada (Calgary), and other suburban communities. If only these people would just appreciate the the fine essence of fine suburban living, especially when he or she's finally away from the hassle of the city. It's makes everybody  happy just thinking about the suburbs. But these people will have been easily bored with nothing to do, even though they're trying to do something fun. But despite the boredom and whatnot, there's a lot of places all families can do: things like going fishing, going to the park, everything. There's also a bunch of malls that everybody can go to, especially that of the Parks Mall in Arlington, Grapevine Mills Mall in Grapevine, and other malls in the suburban communities. I love suburban living. And if everybody were to move to the suburbs to begin a peaceful life, that would be very awesome.

Details | I do not know? | |

Definitions Continued

Definitions Continued

Intelligence - Using wisdom, knowledge or understanding to discern intellectually, derive/create, contribute or correct.

Intelligence - "The manner (learned or intuitive) at which an individual conveys information to others"

"Music is lovely, persistent, sane, orderly and refined motion"

"With persistence and sanity, discovery(an impact) is likely to be in the making"

"Love is infinite (prolongs into infinity/brings infinity) whereas hate/greed brings (closer) an end"

"Imagination may come with limits~flaws, but it is the unraveling of truth/s that brings understanding~discovery~knowledge~wisdom"

“Intelligence is the capacity to understand (identify), and derive (create/generate/display) from truths/facts (display truth/fact)”

Intelligence – ability to derive/exhibit/understand something that harnesses truth/appeals universally/predicts events/solves/ blue prints/templates inventions

Intelligence (1)- The "manner" at which something is done. It consist of two processes: "The thought that propels the manner, and the manner that "may" reflect the way the thought is expressed .

manner - learned or intuitive technique or manner of expression/ the derivated manner of expression

Forms of Intelligence  : Full Intelligence and Partial Intelligence.

Full Intelligence : Involves the deliberate or intentional reasoning that propels the manner at which the reasoning is expressed.  The thought (intentional reasoning propels the manner). The thought initiates the manner in a creatively expressed way.

Partial Intelligence: Uses "Recepto-recreativity" a term I coined meaning retaining of information or steps/mode of doing things (algorithm) without deliberate reasoning. This involves a manner of doing things, here, the manner is exhibited without "necessarily" deep(intentional) thought process.
This is exhibited by quick "accustomation" to information (these may occur in people who quickly accustom to themselves to things easily such as reading 20 novels and narrating each very well) or people who cram information and regurgitate when needed.

(Information above are based on author's observation and are taken from no source)

Details | Blank verse | |

Poetic Truth Over Verbal Lying

ts like.... everytime I try and rhyme its like my word of thought gets left somewhere in the back of my brain behind....Im a Hustler people making green on the scene so much Im alright its way too fine.....
 I make money *****es my clique and crew is only one man... yeah its known as Se7enth Sign
 This is my moment ...this is my ****ing time......tired of darkness my way I will light shine through hidden alcoholic crimes in the city buildings or out in nature tree pines
 I do what the **** I do nah not to make dollars but dimes.... 
I doing small things in a big poetic way no longer am I trying.....Im going to spit real *****before my soul starts dying....
 I know its alive now because that *****inside me is crying 
Its like Im a soul for sale up for the cheapest buying 
My poetic shoes are untied in life ...they need tying...... 
I guess poetry is the only way people around here will listen to poetic truth over verbal lying....

Details | Rhyme | |

Don't Like To Be Unkind

People write from their heart and soul
Or some use their funny bone
When I read what they have there
Try to figure out the tone

But some of the writing eludes me
So I don't know how to react
And I really hate to be unkind
Want to leave their feelings intact

Mostly I do leave a comment
Say just what I'm feeling
But if I can't be encouraging
Or the writing's unappealing

Then I don't express anything at all
I figure it's better that way
After all it's just my opinion
Maybe there's nothing to say

** for  contest Comments Verses View
sponsored by HGarvey Daniel Esquire

Details | I do not know? | |

Words Few

The haiku
Words few
Who knew
As we do..

Details | Free verse | |

No Enlightened Poet am I Proclaimed

No enlightened poet am I proclaimed,
Rhyming high-flown philosophies in poesy,

(Instead, I only scratch out my words
In verses of winds and scents of spring--

Of the shades of the light crowning wintertime clouds,
Sing the grace of the wings in a homecoming sky.)

For I am no more a poet than you,
And you, with your verses, no more than I.

(And so I write of the white blush of moon
Not referencing love, neither lost nor found

And rhyme the rhythm of the lapping sea
With the throb of the heart in the desert heat.)

For what more, oh poets, are poems than beauty?

(Write: The ethereal river spills sheens iridescent
Beneath the expanse of the heavenly lights)

And what more than beauty is life?

(Breathing perfumes and sparkles of nectars and grass 
Spelling effervescence within the infinite hues.)

Details | I do not know? | |






Details | Ballad | |


Books are a way of learning a trade
Books tell us stories, poetry, and plays

Books entertain our vast minds to the fullest
Books are in my opinion the coolest!

Books describe people of the past
Books are abundant at home and in class

Books bring home dragons and ghouls
Books aren’t apart of uneducated fools

Books represent a means to an end
Books are there when you haven’t a friend 

Books are hard and soft sometimes
Books are in brail to educate the blind

Books will be here and with me forever
Books without you doesn’t bring us together

Details | Haiku | |

Tyrant Haiku

The clock's time is off.
Like a capricious tyrant,
my cell is bothered.

Details | Limerick | |

Four Limericks

There once was a girl named Ana,
Who loved to eat ice cream and banana,
THen her treat did disappear,
And Ana shed some tears,
Everyone felt bad for Ana Banana,

There once was a boy named Peter,
Who was known as the school's best cheater,
One day he was caught,
And detention he got,
Everyone felt bad for Peter the Cheater.

There once was a boy named Michael,
Who had a new motorcycle,
He went on a ride,
And fell off the side,
Everyone felt bad for Michael.

There once was a girl named Fina,
WHo dreamed she was a ballerina,
She would gracefully twirl,
Until she could hurl,
Everyone felt bad for Fina.

Details | Epic | |


An epiphany is actually a Christian holiday that takes place on the 6th of January every year. An epiphany is also a sudden realization of greater truth. It seems that after he or she had said some hateful remarks about each other or whatever, he or she finally has an epiphany; people should accept some changes in their lives. Epiphany is used different ways, especially when it comes to being a Christian holiday, even after Christmas. The only way for people to each have an epiphany is to end their selfish and hateful ways. And the fact that day in and day out, even if these people are moving on with their lives, they should do the same. Some people, like Albert Einstein, were using the word "epiphany" as a scientific term, but it's used to end all types of selfishness and a lot of arrogance. No wonder why epiphany has affected the lives of every human being on planet earth. and just like I said, the only way to end this selfishness is to have an epiphany. The only reason why he/she shouldn't care about him/herself anymore is because other people are as important as he or she is. Without multiple people in their lives, he or she is nothing. He or she must put all negative thoughts aside in order to save themselves from reliving a lot of painful memories. Everybody knows that God wanted the entire human race to get along well. Right now, I wish every human being on the planet each have an epiphany and were to stop being self-centered and start thinking about others besides themselves. Unless he or she each has an epiphany and until he or she ends his or her selfish ways, he or she will likely spend the remainder of his or her days alone.

Details | Prose Poetry | |

The Seventh Fable

 The Seventh Fable 
The Seventh Fable 
Charlaxes Fables 
Mental Prefabrications 

People have preconceived ideas from Religion and Television 

combine these two ideas and no wonder everyone is mental. 

The Eye is just now thankful that the computer was not mine at age 14. The TV 
was enough to ruin me for life. It is no wonder that eye still don't have a life. 
Falling into cracks made just for me. Living in the NEW AGE causes so much 
uncertainty and problems we avoided in our past come back as daily necessities 
of the mass of useless protoplasmic mice eye once saw a man on the highway 
with a sign he was begging for more money to get some more useless wine so 
the people went zigging past avoiding him until he fell down on the ground it 
seemed to me he was passed out perhaps he died and no one buried him 
sounds like an episode of Twilight Zone. There was episodes eye will never 
forget the NOSE throbbing on the stairs inside the house the girl tried to leave the 
shelter of the fence once out she turned to dust the man with the wires in his arm 
seeing the oven where he was born the little airforce people in the GIANT 
woman's kitchen getting swept. 

It just occurred to me the ins and outs of celebrity imagine all the casting calls to 
make the episodes. AND the fact that Charlax was never chosen for even one of 
them seems sort of some kind of twisted justice the actors used were just the 
best of all the crème de le crème of all the hollywooded jest. Webseries Pilot 
casting call: 
The Charlax would be excellent at this OH wait look at that ethnic face. Male, 
open ethnicity, early to mid 30's - JG. Federal Agency Detective.  Good at his job, 
but fresh enough to still want to make a difference. Oh if eye were only Twenty 
Years different. A Twilight Zoned Detecative with the name Rick Roll selected and 
elected to be the actor of the myllineum. 

Details | Rhyme | |


The first written poem by Mankind
dates back several thousands years...
even the Bible writers used it to inspire
as King David did in his spiritual Psalms.

Then, the intellectual Greek and Roman poets
performed it daily in the amphitheaters of their great cities
as the most popular art form so meditated for anologies... 
and it never gets old, it still inspires us with its verse.  

Read all genres: from ages past to our present time,
to discover that human feelings are equally sublime:
joy, pain, hope, love, triumph, defeat, envy, betrayel, hate and happiness...
among those you have read so far: which ones have made you speechless?

Be overjoyed that our poetry will live on after we'll be gone,
our names proudly set in stone: it's the greatest honor bestowed upon us;
and the ones who admire our work will definitely carry on,
hoping that they too will partake in that ureal glory...even surpassing ours.

Details | I do not know? | |


I am giving up
The stress is past the point of throwing up
Every day the same routine
The repetition has become obscene
My hands are blistered, sore and torn
While my face looks old a worn
If my nerves are bent any more
I will snap at the middle and break at the core
Just a little break
To relieve me from more than  can take
A rest for the weary is all I ask
A little relief from this stressful task

Details | Ballade | |

McDonalds poem

me and my girl kelssey just got done smoking weed
 are stomach start rumbling and we started too have cravings 
what was it what do we need 
we but our minds together and it was micky d's

so we walked in to get our burgers and fries,
but realized we aint gots no money to our surprise

i look in my back pocket and a 20 appear
 we was like holy crap then we walk up to the cashear 
she was like "how can i help you? you want that here or to go ? "
 umm i dont know but i like a number 6 plain with cheese
 but her not sure what do you want kelssey?

i want a classic combo. a sweet tea to drink. 
thats what id order im pretty sure or i think.
 burgers on our mind..thank god it was micky d's that we would find
. but watch the drinks. make sure the dont spill. 
but if you do its ok. cuz we get free refill.

they called our order and we grab our meal 
right when we seat down i cause a big deal
 i looked at my food and guess what i see 
they put lettuce ketchup and mayonnaise and the receipt says plain with cheese
 i cause a fus and a big scene it all worked out
 the food was free and i got back my 20

so we didnt have to pay.
 we got out there real fast and started a good day.
 but we were still hungry and what did we do? 
well we thought a shopping cart would fit through the drive through.

 a bad idea? i dont know. but me and west thats how we roll.
 so we climb in and away we go we went so fast no a time was spent
i was like " i hope we dont hit a car i hope we dont cause a dent"
 we finnally got to the end of the drive through 
so we told em to give us order number two and dont for get order number three
 right when we grabbed our food we jumped out of the cart and then we flea

so our trip to mickey d's was quite amazing at the least... 
as we eat our burgers and join in a great feast.
im like dang what are we doing 
we are packing our face s like a 8 year old eats pudding
 im a skinny kid but now i feel like a fat as pig 
i ate so much im starting to feel sick

so fat we feel. cuz we ate to much. kinda bad idea. 
who would of thought of such.
 well me and west kno how to kick it. eat mickey d's all day is good living

Details | Free verse | |


Words hold the meaning that we assign them
Ever since the fall of the tower .....

Ancient land of mysteries solved
and shared
Where collective mind 
cast away the shadow of doubt.

Creative thought 
held siege by the Jealous Gods of war
and retribution

A hundred times, babylon fell
to the Kassites, the Assyrians, 
She fell 
and was re-built by Nebuchadnezzar   
The hanging gardens, of Eden
her fruit of art and music
flowed through deserts
with the sweet wine of Bacchus
intoxicating all in her pleasure. 

In the aftermath of the great feast
they awoke to find
The Persian army stationed amidst them
having walked through the river
and under the walls.  
Order reform, separation. 
corruption deterioration
Dust to dust.
Alexander the Great
wooed her alive again.. 
dancing through gardens, libraries, 
markets, travel and trade
musicians, poets and playwrights 
came again to sing praises of her beauty.
With his death 
she fell
pawed apart by the feuding decay of his bureaucrats.
Babylon, death and rebirth..

Now she lies beneath the sands, 
beneath the waters of the Euphrates 
A camel ride south of Bagdad
where the tanks and shells of many lands
shake the ancient tower down.

Hammurabi’s code still stands
shattered into a million languages.

Right is right
and Law is Law.

Details | Rhyme | |

Why I Enjoy Writing Poems

Why I Enjoy Writing Poems... I often have a thought or two on my mind. And have written them in the expression of a rhyme. I’ve tried to write as I feel God has led. And try to do it in love, in what's written & said. At times, I “have stepped on people's toes.” This is not my intention— God really knows. If you've read a poem that I wrote. I hope you were encouraged with hope There’s a message that I pray comes across... "With Christ... all is not lost!" I’ve tried to write poems from my spirit. As an expression of how I live it. The words written are from my heart to you May they be a blessing in whatever you do! By Jim Pemberton

Details | Verse | |



Details | Quatrain | |

We All Become Each Other

We all become each other
When we read each others writes
Its because we all learn from each other
That in our mind they turn out right

We all become each other
Its the nature of the feast
The poetry forms the words we use
On paper they are released

We all become each other 
On this community on the net
Names with images, some bio's follow
With time we all inter met

Details | Free verse | |

Minding Shakespeare

True love(r) never dies, they say;
pun is more of a fun rhyme to sway.
As for whom this giggling heart
bleeds the most? Know, I always 
carry mine with me, ‘til I become pond water;
and hidden not in my eyes, often awake for love, 
as they easily show blushes of my thoughts,
ramping over the wall of judgment.
Alone I’ll not be and so is this dearest one; 
darkness though life brings... 
Among the sonnets, the 15th, my soul.
Too many secrets concealed, 
even as I speak, to death a name’s been willed!

Details | Rhyme | |

The Poet

It is a fever.

The poet

They found the poet outside the park

His steps spoke many words of wine

His upper half seemed half asleep

And his feet walked a crooked line

His arms were spread as if to fly

His lips apart as though to speak

The telltale flush of liquid joy

Told tales of  rum from cheek to cheek

The night herself caroused with him

Drunk on sadness, drunk on care

And drink they drank, the weary lovers

Setting wine against despair

The bonds of reason, broken down

His mind amok, and absent sense

The world in woe, the world in glory

Lay before his presidence


And it was then they walked to him

Rudely rousing man from dream

Casting eye on village bard

Taking man as man would seem

"Sing for us again, o bard

Cast your words at senses keen"

This was why they broke his peace

Winters twice his summers seen

"Sing for us again o bard

Spin sweet words from bitter truth

Stir the embers of your heart

Dig through elder years to youth. And

Let the fountain spring with might!!

Showering us with wisdom earned

Showing us the link in hand

Of teachers harsh and lessons learned

Free yourself from wine's embrace!

We would hear a tale or two"

Turns to them, a wizened face

"Ask not man, but what is due."

Graying eyes regard the gathered

Moving on, from face to face

"The world whirls in the hands of time

And yet all things remain in place"

"As yet all men remain the same

The board reset a dozen times

Pi-eces unaltered, so is game

Though rearranged, the given lines

You come to me as bank to debtor

You plague me with unbridled want

Says at last, man to tormentor

'Cease at once your unjust haunt""

It is a fever

"It is not a gift so given

It is not a boon bestowed

Nor is sight beheld as blessing

When the eyes have overflowed

With the sorrows of existence

Pain cavorts with all men born

Know the price of your persistence

Hear the words of man forlorn

What is loss compared to weakness?

What is pain compared to need?

When the soul suffers from sickness

To give blood to those who bleed

O for those suffering in secret

O for hidden scars concealed

Know a secret's mark of secrets

Is in wounds that never healed

The world at large, and I remain

Numb in spirit, numb of mind

My inner coldness feed by pain

Reaped from years left far behind


It is a fever that I have

It is an illness I possess

It is a symptom that you worship

It is a sign that you profess

To love, to need, to love to hear

While I remain diseased of soul

You chant and clap then disappear

Then falls to me, each telling's toll


It is a sadness that I feel

It is madness that I suffer

When the muses offer gifts

Turn your backs and run for cover

Talent has a price, and paid

This price I have, each passing day

Rise to cup and rise to can

Drink my fill then come what may

All my masters come before me

Warned me of the poet's curse

Know you all of Byron's story

Know you all that Poe's was worse

Happiness is bound to beauty

Joy to all that beauty, see

But for those that birth said beauty

All is pain and tragedy

Listen to my fading voice, now

Listen to my silent plea

Know the doom of every poet

And ask of this, no more from me

I will fellowship with Bacchus

Gimlets of the finest sort

Rise to can and drunken glory

Fall to pleasure and cavort

Now my night bids me return

Wine is all that shields from sorrow

Sets me free from all concern

Trouble enough, will be tomorrow"

His soul unburdened, back unbent

All is caught in a lengthy pause

He turns to go, the air is rent

With sounds of cheer, and of applause

Now lowering balding head to ground

"Man may speak but none may hear

Sing for us again o Bard,

Has now become a thing to fear"

Details | Dramatic monologue | |

The Real Aftermath

All of the aftermaths occur after the wake of a bunch of terrible events: Hurricane
Katrina, the September 11th attacks in New York City, War in Iraq, and others. these types
of tragic events and a bunch of aftermaths have been around since the day the world was
created by God. There's no telling what will happen next if these tragedies keep coming
unexpectedly and stuff. It seems to all of the Americans today that after these tragedies
like the deaths of their loved ones, the deaths of most U.S. soldiers, Hurricanes Ike and
Rita destroying Houston, Texas, these people are trying to deal with the loss of their
homes and other people have been mourning the loss of the ones who've lost their lives to
these tragic events or by the hands of evil people. The aftermath of those events have
been haunting the lives of all U.S. citizens since day one. What makes most people sad is
that they have to deal with the fact that their loved ones are gone and other people are
still trying to deal with the fact that America almost lost its innocence, even after
9-11. These events have been talked about on the news at 5:00 p.m., 6:00 p.m., and 9:00
p.m. This is so wrong, especially for us Americans. Tragedies and the aftermath of all
heartbreaking tragedies are starting to make us even more sad and depressed. Everybody
doesn't like it. And if all types of tragedies continue to rise and there's going to be
more aftermaths after those tragedies or whatever, we'll be in for a rude awakening.

Details | I do not know? | |

The 3 sided woman

A woman with a vision is hard to deceive.
A woman with a goal is hard to distract.
A woman with a dream is hard to please.

Details | Epic | |

Different Point of Views

Every day, people each have their own different point of views. These points are either
good, bad, or in-between. And for when he or she gets him/herself in a compromising
situation, that's so bad. It seems that when most people cannot agree on almost
everything, they can talk about it. When it comes to males and females really need to see
their point of views in life, they should just stick with them. There's a lot of things
these people really want to talk about: religions (Muslim, Christian, Catholic, etc.),
politics, favorite types of music, nationality, almost everything. And if these people
want to talk about supporting gay rights and immigration rights, then that's on them.
Everybody knows that their opinions should count, even if they're just different from
other opinions. It looks like that the entire nation is trying to express their real point
of views. If these people each have different point of views and values and that kind of
stuff, then I guess I have my point of views, too. There's just different ways for all of
us, as equals, to express ourselves, especially when we're trying to say what's really on
our minds. We have different point of views, we're entitled to our opinions, and that's
just the way the whole system goes. everybody will have also thought about what these
so-called "Nay-Sayers" were going to do like shutting the mouths of  the whole entire
nation up, covering up their lies, and trying to take control of almost everything, but
it's completely typical of these lying has-beens. If everybody's entitled to their
opinions and want to give out their extreme point of views, let them do so. And if these
so-called "Nay-Sayers" each have a problem with the way we talk, the way we act, the way
we dress, or whatever, that's their problem; not ours. I wish that everybody had their own
point of views and were entitled to their opinions.

Details | I do not know? | |

Caught Up In The Rock And Roll Game

Don’t get caught up in the game 
Don’t get caught up in the fame
It will drive you insane
It’s only you to blame 
When you get caught up in the game*Refrain: 

Because you walk through the crowd
They all know your name
The road twists and twists
 With a surprise each turn
Try to stay above it all or you’ll soon learn
 That the eyes looking in are hungry for your blood
Don’t mistake it for the love
Cause they all want a piece 
Of the music, rhythm, and soul
They love the Rock n Roll
Then there’s the girl who writes the rhymes  
Loves the love and soon you’ll find
Her spirit is so real and her sex appeal
I know you feel 
The fire that burns from the words she writes to you
It’s a powerful heat that makes your heart feel new
She loves the melody you put in her soul
It warms her heart, it makes her whole
Her spirit soars so high 
When you look into her eyes
The fire is so hot between the girl and this rock n roll guy               

Don’t get caught up in the game
Don’t get caught up in the fame
It will drive you insane
It’s only you to blame
When you get caught up in the game

Details | Dramatic monologue | |

Heartache After Heartache

It breaks people's hearts just thinking about the following: break-ups, rejection, and, on top of all that, depression. It seems that day in and day out, these people always have to deal with the fact that these people aren’t good enough for each other. This type of sadness has been affecting the lives of every human being since the day their hearts have been broken. What’s so cold about it is that every human being just had to suffer and suffer by the hand of their tormentors and/or being rejected by a bunch of cold, heartless individuals day in an day out. Come to think of it, it’s seriously pathetic for all of us human beings. Now these people know why they had to go through every heartache after heartache after heartache, day and night. It’s sad and it’s seriously pathetic, especially when these people will have wasted their time and energy over unnecessary things or whatever. Sometimes, people can’t even understand what they have to go through every day, especially when they’re depressed and/or tired. Why, those problems, just like multiple break-ups, have caused nothing but a bunch of heartaches, even after day one. And if this type of heartache continues to wreak havoc on all unsuspecting people, there’s no telling what bad thing might happen next.

Details | Senryu | |

' Generous Words ... ' 18th Senryu

‘ Generous Words … ’   18th Senryu

      Love … is A Give-Word
   God … is A Generous Word
       Forgive … Says It All

Details | Rhyme | |

Deep rooted

unrelenting screaming in my head
Words deleted before they are siad
wiped of the page, never been read
comfortable 6 foot under in my bed
Paradise falls beneath me as I am lead
Hungery demons can now be fed
draining my soul for now I have bled
satisfied thurst, call me when I'm dead
Overwhelming hurt embraces my mind
Dirty, twisted, diseased, rotton all intertwined
This anguish and torture is never defined
Keeping away from the world remaining refined
Myself and others I call me are all combined
Nothing can be said this is how I was designed
Hidden away, locked up, staying confined
Rejected from the world, forever delcined


Details | Quatrain | |

This Blind Man Sees

I remembered the day I joined
Paradise it appeared to me
It can still be this way
But only if others can see

I am playing the blind man
I cannot touch, nor I see
As long as everyone is
Who they make out to be

I have trawled many a write
But it's the comments this blind man sees
For out there resides
Someone so different to thee

Many people talk to themselves
Some even answer back
But this blind man is just to clever
For out there, there's one who lacks

Details | Free verse | |

A Good Rule To Follow

Just do what ever you think if you must,
Cause with you there can be no trust.
   Faith and love is what you must learn,
It is  something you must go out and earn.
   Respect and understanding is how you must start,
To keep a love from completely falling apart.
   If Joy and Happiness is what you seek ,
Then be strong and true it will be yours to keep.
   Kindness and compassion is a good rule to follow,
It will bring brighter days for al your tomorrows .
    Love as if it were the last day of your life,
Try caring with open arms and do not fight .
    This life is precious if there is someone to love ,
Try to remember that it is a gift from above.

Details | Acrostic | |

Mr. Freedom Writer's Ink

Just a simple inbox from Mr. Freedom Writer’s Ink that’s
All it took, to
Make me think outside the box
Eventually, I tried a new thing
Shaking up the brain mater and 

Making up the words
calling on his expertise, 
Incongruously free reign, no rules he said to me
Now almost a year later, no
End in sight you see, still there to
Reassure the shy ones, to take up the pen
Never growing weary of urging others on, 
Even when down, he lifts himself up, cause 
Yesterday is gone; a new day is dawning and a new talent to unearth

*James McInerney bugged me for weeks to try and write something on his site.. 
Little did I know it would grow into something I would enjoy and still do, this is my way of showing my appreciation for his dedication and support*

Details | Tyburn | |


Not fake acting feeling from my part
But, true wording singing of my heart 

Details | Dramatic monologue | |

The ImaGinaTIve PersOn's Plight

There’s no place in this world for people like me
People with hope and people with dreams
People who don’t have to see to believe
People pleased by the most simple of things.

There’s no place on this earth for poets like me
Who like rhythm and rhyming schemes
Who’ll take it short or take it long
But like it best when it sounds like a song
Who don’t mind old and don’t mind new
Who’ll bask in melody and tune
Who’ll let their heart lead the way
And when it stops be glad to stay
There’s just no place for people so weird.

Oh world! Must you hate me so?
When I only tried to love you and help you grow?
When I only wished you joy and life to the full
You repay me with scorn and call me a fool
And now I’m beginning to think I am.
I can’t understand you
And you won’t understand me

But what if my thoughts were as lovely as another’s?
And just as profound and just as soulful?
Could you make an exception just this once?
For me?
But how can I change to suit you and still be me?
And how can I ever be worth anything?
And how am I supposed to go anywhere?
If you will have me stay right here?

There’s no place in this world for people like me
They've said it enough and what they have not mentioned
I’ve seen.
So I’ll pack up my life and musings and heart
Board a large ship and head off to Mars.

To be continued...

(Next episode: there’s no place on Mars for people like me! 
Among other plights of the imaginative race...)

Details | Prose Poetry | |


How some students grew up on the Computor? 
and can't function in the real world right click the bus mommy and place it at the 
stop it is taking much too long to come around the horn. form method="post" 
This paragraphic is free to be a space bar for mee and ewe. 
option>Sometimes in my fables there is parts and pieces of mye poems this is 
not yellow journalism or nepotism or even bad form eye can copy and paste and 
then add text eye can translate pictures into banners and banners into love eye 
can relate a page to GOD and find a way to enter clouds formed and someday 
eye will make it rain inside this idiot Computor box and it will fry all the electronic 
components of every Computor in the world then we will all go outside again and 
inhale the fresher air. 
Just now eye went to a Bravenet website to make me a new website and its free 
but of course the upgrades would cost me but the free sights is challenging and 
it gave me a code for a welcome type box and it did NOT work as it is in the form 
of a a href not a url. The idea is the webpage would bring me people they would 
sign my little guestbook too bad it does not even relate to the page it won't 
translate at all the code is wrong its backwards to a forum type webpage the url 
is too long. The HEY REF only works on websites the URL IMG thing only works 
on FORUMS how many people have followed links to there destruction. When 
eye got the thing on my FIRST PAGE of HOME the thing took off with me when eye 
clicked it open we went for an internet ride and eye lost the page eye was on NO 
fun. Eye would not want a HOME Computor user to become lost in navigation 
when he was just trying to let me knoe that he had viewed my poems. The thing 
is done the web page that they gave me is very green and nice looking but does 
not do a real function oh well in this Brave New World does anything rally have to 
have a function and so mye gentle reader ewe it seems to mee the eye the poet 
fable maker fabulist like Aesop that eye am just the new proud owner of another 
big white elephant so they will always benefit from instruction of this knowledge 
from someone please open windows as many as yew want and let them learn 
yew some. 

Details | Free verse | |

The Problem With Poetry

I just read some of Charles Bukowski's poetry.

Some words on his own life gave me heartache, 
reminded my own dark history.
His poetry--invited me to peek through his misery; deep mistery.

Though long gone, his colorful writings can still make
people see life through his eyes
and search their own truths despite maddening lies.

I am now returning from a long hiatus to poetry.

The problem with it is that besides being dynamic:
it has free form; doesn't have to rhyme; filled with rhetoric,
boundless, overflowing poignant images--
making some poems incomprehensible in first reading,
leaving you in wonder,
splitting your consciousness asunder.

The problem with poetry is that:
the poet's life becomes his great masterpiece--
where you can break all rules and make your own.
Its problem then becomes its beauty...

just like Bukowski's.

[Written: 12:40PM 27JUN08, Friday @ Shell CSC-PH's Office 38th/F RCBC Plaza Tower 2, Makati City Philippines]

Details | Concrete | |

The Quill

                                                Page Seeking Life                   
                                         Blank                      Exploring           
                                    This                      Peace 
                                  Beyond                        The
                               Alone                    World
                             Travel      Joy      Unknown
                            Night      The     Letting      
                            And       Feel        Others
                          Day        To            See
                          You                Using
                             Like      Silvery    
                             Just  Quill


Details | Triolet | |

Parchment Desires

“Parchment which shows the mark of heart and soul,”
Blood and sweat stains between the lines so weak.
Sometimes knowing the traveling distance or goal,
Parchment which shows the mark of heart and soul,
While at others not knowing if it will take the toll,
Writers’ accomplishments’ may or not reach the peak.
Parchment which shows the mark of heart and soul,
Blood and sweat stains between the lines so weak.

Written for

Sponsor ~ A Rambling Poet ~ 
Contest Name A Poem, Please

written by
Cecil Hickman

Details | Couplet | |

Have Some Gumption

A cheater never a winner was.
An honest man earns his great applause.

Bootlegged words make confidence schism.
Stealing verses denies truth's wisdom.

Writing one's best makes ideas glisten.
Expressive minds hope people listen.

So go ahead, have some gumption.
Live life golden; ascend con's basin.

Deceit never did bring satisfaction.
Observed ideals take positive action.

The harmed forgive, though it is not easy.
A higher order shows loves flows deeply.

One should never choose to plagiarize,
Not while thoughtfulness remains alive.

© October 30, 2011
Dane Ann Smith-Johnsen

Details | Rhyme | |

New York Poets 800th Poem

Considering all the people there, it’s a big state! Many members from New York have talent that's great. Poets hail from Syracuse, Rochester, Albany, Plattsburgh, Scarsdale, White Plains, or Schenectady. They may come from Niagara Falls or Binghamton, or one of the five boroughs such as Bronx or Brooklyn. From Long Island Sound, to as far west as Buffalo, the poets from New York are the ones we should know. These folks can write up a storm of impressive poetry. Their fanciful works defy comparability. They live anywhere between Yonkers and Utica. The numbers of their great poems are a plethora. So we salute all our members from the Empire State You are the people everyone can appreciate!

Details | Rhyme | |


Being absent even for an hour, day or week,
and not write and post anything...can make days look bleak,
some find worthiness in words and challenge themselves
to confront fears and doubts, or share their joys with new-found friends.

To us poetry is the very existence of our soul, which glorifies grace
in all its virtues through the art of art older than love itself,
so some thought of using this devise to express what the heart really felt...
and what came out of it amazed all and quickly spread to distant lands.  

Weren't I not a keeper of its illumination, or a humble poet in contemplation,
I wouldn't be lured by a pen to extract ideas from my clattered head
or search for fresh ideas to be turned into thoughts and strip them of illusion... 
as I frolic into a labyrinth where secrets unveil themselves at my command.

It's needless to say to ourselves that poetry isn't the very existence of our soul:
lovers couldn't open up their hearts and talk tenderly as if they were going to pray;
no composer, painter, lyricist, poet or philosopher could see Nature in a realistic way...
poets outnumber drug users, wouldn't God rejoice and break down another wall?

Details | Narrative | |

A Prince in the Belly of Poor Mens Reality

The walls are speaking harshly of me
They want me to hear what they think of me
I know I’m different from the descendants of their kin’s
I wonder why it bothers them that I am merely being me
Freed to live as I wanna be

They are guests in my territory 
Imprisoned by the chains of poverty
Whipped by the lashes of mediocrity
I wish to ignore them but their noise bothers me
Why this misfortune
Here to live in the core of pessimism

I am a prince lost in the belly of poor men’s reality
As self righteous as they can be in their impoverished reality
My thoughts of hope and my words of better dreams
To them noise to be done away with
They are a lot resigned to their reality
A dollar or two at the end of the day 
Does just well to satisfy them completely

They do not understand why a prince like me
Would one day wish to be king
I don’t understand why able men like they
Would not wish to reign on their mediocrity
But hey! The truth is that they are they
Meant to gather hey
And I am me
Moulded to be the prince
What’s a future king without a kingdom to inherit?

Unbeknownst to their conscience
Tomorrow they shall serve me

Whereas they toil for today only
I build an inheritance for eternity
I scratch a mark in the plaque of history
Here today, forever remembered 
As for them, here today, 
Tomorrow as insignificant as though they never were

So please by all means
Let them laugh at me
It’s the noise a prince must perceive
In his grooming to be king
Perhaps it will make me understand
Why there are a million subjects to one prince

Details | Lyric | |

Scotland has to be Seen " Beatlemania "

In the countryside in bloom adorn
Beautiful scenery for all to see
The sun shines down, its full of life
Different shades of different greens

Through the glens our trips begun
So many sights that have to be seen
Feel the passion of hearts so brave
This land called Alba, peacefully serene

    The land of the Scots, is the best place in the world
    Best place in the world, best place in the world
    The land of the Scots, is the best place in the world
    Best place in the world, best place in the world

So come and see our beauty hoard
So many sights for you to explore
Different vistas, makes us say

    The land of the Scots, is the best place in the world
    Best place in the world, best place in the world
    The land of the Scots, is the best place in the world
    Best place in the world, best place in the world

To live and die in the Highlands breeze
A world apart a different breed
We are the Scots, no in between
So please visit Alba, it has to be seen

    The land of the Scots, is the best place in the world
    Best place in the world, best place in the world
    The land of the Scots, is the best place in the world
    Best place in the world, best place in the world

My entry into John Heck's " BEATLEMANIA SING-ALONG contest "
         please sing-along to the tune of Yellow Submarine

Details | Rhyme | |

Prayer of Thanksgiving

I thank you Lord for life,

 health,and strength.

I pray for the haters,

Who think they have me bent.

I love you Lord with all of my,

Heart, my mind, and my soul.

I know that even if I strive,

To live right and allow you

To rule my life, then all of

My battles for me you'll fight

And win. I will then see

You and I'll walk the paved

Streets of gold in Heaven.

I pray that  each  day,

I help someone to come,

Your way. I love you Lord,

To express it there's not

Enough to say.

Details | Free verse | |

A Poet

A Poet

A poet takes the time to think the unthinkable
Using just the right words to make people aware
They set emotions to fight the good fight
They make people understand others differences
A poet can end the needless deaths of a war
They can show the pain behind a child’s tears
They can use imagery to show what cannot be seen
Their words can make a small flower seem like the entire world
And make the whole world seem like a pretty flower
A poet can share Heaven and they can create a Hell
They can make people see the beauty in a passing cloud
They can hear the music of a breeze travelling down a wooded valley
Their words can show even the purest form of love
A poet writes not for money or fame
They write because they feel a passion others cannot understand
They write to share their feelings and thoughts
A poet writes because it is in their nature
A God given blessing that they cannot, will not ignore
They just hope that someone will read their work
And they will, even for a moment take time to think
Maybe remember how wonderful the world and her beauty is
If they do a poet will smile and their purpose will be achieved
That is all a poet will ever ask

Details | Free verse | |

Nun But You

How do you know? 
Who tells you so? 
Is it premonition? 
One who forever butts in with song;
With the voice gone entirely wrong. 

Do you reach for opinions of loved ones? 
Would they inform you the talent you suspect is none? 
Would you be mortified by truth.....? 
If truth was sincere? 
Or could you embrace the honesty you hear? 
Would you regroup; or give in? 
Would the fighter arrive telling you to win? 

Is it even worth trying to continue.....? 
Or is it only false hope that lies deep within you? 
Are you a no trick pony.....? 
With no chance, no passion, a phony?

But it does burn deep inside you. 
Most times, the only friend to guide you. 
It listens and makes you talk back. 
Filters your senses, pushing you back on track.
You need no affirmation. 
Only self adaptation. 
When the voice inside you fails to love and guide you, 
Release the headaches of self doubt. 
Let you figure you out. 
Because when those in which you’ve confided all depart, 
You are the one left with aspirations..... 
Of the calling you failed to start.

JS Lambert

Details | Acrostic | |


Transforms the heart to a bigger size,
Raises the stakes in a relationship,
Unseals a new world for someone shunned,
Spurs confidence in the integrity of another,  and
Takes effort for someone hurt in the past.

Details | Prose Poetry | |

A Holiday Wish to My Super-Soupers

This is to all you lovely folks, who have become such an important part of my life, 
although I'd like to single out a few special folks- Sharon Weimer- everyone's No. 
1 favorite poet and friend, Christy Hardy, John Heck, Ruby Metzger, Farah 
Chamma, Sara Lokken,Catie Lindsey,Laura Mckenzie, Rhoda Galgiani, Patricia 
Adams,Wilfredo Deriquito, Jack Reed,Sue Mason, Sandra Hudson, Carol Brown, 
Karen O'Leary, Vince Suzadail Jr.,Heidie Buys, Elaine George, Teressa Harr-
Pena,Maya Kaabour, Susan Trotiner,Zeina Kasawat,Chaney Short,Michael 
Jordan,Sean Kelly,Peggy Bertrand,Troy Jeremy Nelson,Joseph Spence,Patricia 
Leonitis,Rene Bennet,Erin Conn,Julie Bristow, Josie Whitehead, Brian Strnd, 
Rhea Daniel Dear,Adell Foster, Marycile Beer (what a lovely name!), Patricia 
Contreras, John Loving III, Sandy Schermerhorn,and all the countless others, 
please do not feel slighted if I missed your name...all you Soupers are super.

Happy Holidays!
Your poetry does amaze!
I'll be reading it,
And enjoying it,
Until my final days!

Best regards to people who have become so important in my life, and inspired 
me, amazed me, soothed me, and made me smile.   tom

Details | Senryu | |

' Orbit Gum ... ' 28th Senryu

‘ Orbit Gum … ’   28th   Senryu 

       A Devious Tongue
    Is Not A Dry-Witty One
   Just Dirt and Mouth-Scum

Details | Free verse | |

Alphabetical Rivers

Alphabetical rivers
Flow through pebble dashed shores
Swam upstream by a woman that would not say
Burnt by words that were taken away

Drank by a man
With a childhood in his hand
Left to drown alone
By those who didn't want to know
Paddled by all who cared
But did not know where to go

Every sentence sanity wanted to ignore
Piled high on crazy paved shores
Set high in a night without moons or stars
Burnt words calling out 
As in the flames everything they stood for is plundered

The few words that escape the flames
Dance free in just one night
Ready to be drawn by a short dawn
They are freed by all the hours 
That didn't lie or hide

Details | Prose Poetry | |

come listen to the music

I hear the music of the heavenly angels 
Coming softly through the blue sky from above 
Blending with the music from on the mountain tops 
Bringing to all earth's people messages of love. 

The song birds are singing to the angels' music 
Telling us to hear the words of truth very clear, 
"All of earth's people are more alike than different 
And to help each other will leave no room for fear". 

Come listen to the music of quiet gentle breezes 
And music from wild flowers growing on the hill 
Whispering softly to awaken our spirits 
Saying, "Only listen and let your hearts be still

Details | Free verse | |

The Tale

With paper and pen in hand,
She sat down to tell the tale
Of a love once known
And now gone forever.
Tears stain the paper
And smear the ink
As she reminisces
Over the young boy she met
At the church picnic
That beautiful day so long ago.
Of the fairy-tale courtship
And story book wedding
Of a couple so in love.
She in her long, flowing dress
Glowing, more radiant than
The pearls and sequins that covered her.
He looking like a prince
In long white tails and top hat.
She smiles gently as she tells
Of the children brought in love
Raised to walk with heads held high.
The words flow easily,
Like the ink from the pen,
Speaking of the grandchildren to come,
The days of growing old together,
The good days and those less happy,
The love shared and the hopes expressed,
The promises made and the lives lost.
With pen and paper still in hand
She begins to weep silently again
Wishing only that this story book life
Had been her own.

Details | Cinquain | |


Word traveler
Letting us see his mind
Pen and paper always with you

Details | Free verse | |

To the beginning and over but Never Out

Oh please, I plead
Listen to my beseech
I raise my hands out to you
take them please

In this dark void I walk through
there is no comfort
no warmth
no joy

slowly it leaches out all that I hold
when will I ever reach the end?
Do you know where the end is?
Is the end where the end of the end is?

Lost, dazed, confused
Did God pluck me out
and strand me here?

three doors, three paths, three choices
one Mundane

ransom me out
an open cage, such as this atramentous nightmare
no end
no path

Is there hope? 
Hope is where light is
is the light at the end where darkness is not?
is the light where the light always materializes from?


Details | Free verse | |

World Cutup

what from the founder Aesop fell
	vital spark of heavenly flame
	unto my thinking thou beheld'st all works

	Who ever weeps somewhere out in the world
	Yellow butterflies 
A dream of Venus 
	let nothing disturb thee
	music first and foremost of all
Mystical Strains unheard 
No, I am not, as other are 
since I am convinced 
	hoping all the time 
I arise from dreams of thee 
	Here , Where the world is quiet 
	For many thousand ages 
	Break Break Break 
	Far as Man can see 
lest you should think that verse shall die 
	A Thing which fades 
	I found at daybreak yester morn 
 low on chromed cloud 
		open to me 
		Remember what past 
Pity! Mourning plaintive tone 
Since I am convinced 
	That time , I see you passing by 
Thou art one , The first of every number and foundation of every structure 
	Break Break Break.

Details | Prose Poetry | |

The Game

Rap is quick, witty and fun.

Poetry is smooth, rhythmic and heartfelt.

Rap and poetry had a love child.

A daughter, named Spoken Word.

She grew to maintain the better characteristics of her parents;

From Rap, she took freestyle, freedom, and grass roots movement.

From Poetry, she took imagery, theme, and voice.

Together, all three, as common forms of expression,

spread to every rapper, poet and storyteller in the world.

Details | Bio | |

All That's Left

I wrote you a letter-
In it, everything
I want you to know 
And how I feel 
After all this time.
Not a single tear 
Is shed-you're not worth it. 
Not anymore.
No hard feelings.
I knew you couldn't get it.
I erased
Reading it over and
Wondering if we'll
Ever speak again and 
What would be said.
Word after word, 
They disappear
Along with the bottled up 
Emotions I had for you.
Once the last word
Is gone,
All that's left
Is a blank page-
A new chance to start over,
And my name
That's signed at the bottom.
All that you left
Was a memory,
And a sad, confused girl
That grew and matured
Into a more realistic,
Aware young lady.
I grew to love you,
And I grew to let you go-
All that's left is a memory.

Details | ABC | |

Gold Rush

Able bodies come..
dig .. excavate.. find gold..
how I jumped..keep looking..
mercy.. Nothing!.. 
ore... picks..quick rising 
settlements.. tents.. Unbelievable..
Vigilantes.. Worries... xenophobic.. 
yelling zestfully..

Details | Free verse | |

21st Century Victorians

High Collared, face powdered
nose held high above
Anybody else
Up-righteous flag waving bible bangers
Living in shadows, ignoring
Urban decay, misshapen society
Talking about life in whispers
Because everything is too vulgar
For your poetic eyes to bear
Only seeing

"The beautiful things"
Blind to the beauty of the ugliness
Of Truth

Telling me, how to articulate correctly

To Hold my tongue, to stop my pen

Exactly at what angle, to brandish my sword
Don’t you see that it is a bit rusty, thin
But it’s here

And its right

you know for a fact that it pierces deep despite
All missing luxuries, an inner-city education
Lacking because People like you care too much about trivial things
Like deodorant commercials, Anna Nicole Smith and  writing in ballots
For popular media icons
When popular media gets us in the mess in the first place
If people voted for representation that could fit the youth
And we got a better education in places where education
Is not the of utmost importance, instead of spending tax dollars
On the stupid, WAR that nobody wanted anyway
Up-Righteous flag waving bible bangers
Who backed out when the tough got going and things stopped
Working out for the Republicans

Perhaps I wouldn’t cuss so much
But I will, and I won’t ever

What the hell are you going to do about it?


I said Hell
Is that a curse word?!
Oh no!!!!
Delete, delete, delete the damn thing
Erase a different perspective

this is a family site

So this shows me exactly how
Americans today hide the fact that the truth is hidden in cupboards
But it's okay to attempt to tell the truth

But only tell it's slant
The pretty side

"turn on the t.v so the Children can't hear her screaming profanities"
While the television blasts images gruesome and sickening
ideas that i shudder to repeat

This is a one way street

Get out of the way

To make way for a parade of different vulgarities

Sexually explicit prose and back ally spellings
Of the things I was not afraid to say
Correctly, in your face
I don't care if you comment this because i don't need another

"good write", when i know all i really write is garbage
If you like it, then it has to be

There are hundreds of profanity containing poems here
So I suggest you get that 21st Victorian rear into high gear 

Because you sure have a whole lot of protesting to do

Details | Prose Poetry | |

The broken road to heaven

The broken road to heaven 

The broken road in need of maintenance  
through which we have traveled, mute and solemn 
to our delight
was alight with millions of glow bugs;
evening was another leaf fallen
when I whisper to my friend Richard,
“Is it heaven? Have we arrived at last?” 
he smiled,  “we are yet to reach my home.”
=© 2009 - All Rights Reserved Kushal Poddar 

Details | Prose Poetry | |

Teenage Love 19: 2010-present

When it comes to young love, it's a beautiful thing for young people from around the world. 
And when it comes to teen boys and teen girls falling in love with each other since the day they 
met, it's like fireworks popping in the sky. Their moms and dads are either happy about it or 
inapproving or whatever. It seems to everybody that most relationships among all teenagers 
might even last to either 72 hours or a lifetime. That's a really long time, but then, if these two 
young lovebirds want to stay together, even until their high school reunions, then that's fine. 
Sometimes love will make young men and/or young women do some silly things or whatever, 
but love doesn't; it's just an emotional feeling for teen boys and teen girls combined. Their 
parents (the moms and the dads) should also know what their lives were like when they were 
teenagers, especially since the day they fell in love with each other. Young love has 
revolutionized the year 2010 and it'll revolutionize the future of all of the would-be teen 
couples. This is starting to get very interesting. It looks like the junior/senior high school years 
will be with all of the wound-be-then teen love birds for the rest of their natural lives. All 
relationships among all young people will not just continue to increase every single day, but no 
matter what the circumstances of young relationships or whaterer, it'll seem that day in and 
day out, all of the young lovers (all teen boys and all teen girls) will always have love for each 
other, and their parents are very happy about it. And if young love continues to grow and grow 
by the time the year 2025 arrives, there's no telling what beautiful thing might happen next.

Details | Couplet | |

Ceremony Today

There is a ceremony
But not a time for bologney

Where I will be inducted
Not instructed

Into a program
One that I'm not sure serves ham

Called NJHS*
And I've heard it's one of the best

Along with other scholars
Some bearing a couple dollars

Will accept this invitation
With great emancipation

And this will look amazing
Not to mention far from cows grazing

On future high school applications
Along with my unique creations

So yes, I have a ceremony
Where no one will serve boloney

I hope you wish my luck
But do not mail me a duck

For I am to read my poem Followerª
And I hope I don't feel like a wallower

So yes, I have got to go
And get ready for my show

*NJHS - National Junior Honors Society
ªThis poem is included in my list of poems, although the one being read has some changes in it... I will make sure to post the revised one in a few minutes :)

Details | Free verse | |

The Life Of A Writer

The Curse Of A Writer

Four weeks of rehearsals
Lines blown
Others had to be rewritten
The actors struggled with their characters
They struggled with their scenes
The director screams and hollers
“Change this, change that “
“You’ve got the blocking wrong”
The writer sits in the back row
He is so quiet among the chaos
Typing as he hears his words abused
He worries about what his work will look like
Night after night he suffers and cries
Tormented by people who can’t see his vision
Weeks later the writers shakes as the curtain goes
Would they do it right?
Did the lines work?
Would the actors bring the characters to life?
Two hours later the curtain closes
The people laughed and cried
The cheered when the play ended
All the torture is finally over
The writer sits back and smiles
Then he starts writing his next play
And the torture starts all over again
But that night, that moment he smiles

Details | Tetractys | |


sweet muse
inspires me...
when I write pieces
of good literature with ageless words!

Ah, will they remember me through their days?
My verses told with
make all

Entered in Michael's J. Falotico's contest,
" Where Does Your Poetry Come From? "
2 Tetractys Only
Written by Andrew Crisci

Details | Rhyme | |

A shady truth to me

God forbid we should draw inspiration 
From fellow neighbors who try to comply 
To better a craft, push beyond limitation
Expanding the graveyards where sunsets die
Envy runs rampant within the benign 
Sucking the life out of lessons to teach
While sticking new frames on old designs 
They rant and rave, practice and preach
And hide there faces while spitting in the wind
Like not being able to face their fears
Like false starts in rearward races begin 
Or crying in rainstorms to camouflage tears
They stand for elite ones in business suites
Forgetting of the ones down in the dirt
While reaping rewards and picking the fruit
Anchored in faith that contests such hurt
Protesting the feelings that all of us know
Unlabeled compliance humanely built
Confessing true lies, while hoping to grow
And cover with tree shade their feelings of guilt

Details | Rhyme | |

Thank You For Poetry

I'm not the only one Who can write poetry or sing songs I am glad there are many others Who sit in thought and wonder escape from the stress they're under reflect or simply write what's on top of their mind Poetry isn't very hard to find Poetry is awakening, poetry is alive New inspirations start coming to life Poetry is sensitive, poetry is wide There is nothing in their heart, that a poet can't hide Poetry can be about anything or nothing at all It can be non-sense, a silly haha A smile, a tear, a feeling of confusion Life, fact, fiction, dreams, delusion I want to say once more, how glad that I am That I'm not the only one to pick up paper and pen

Details | Acrostic | |

The Constitution

In any country
From century to century
Living together of people
Strong and feeble
Has been of paramount importance.

Countries have different ways of association
Some live in a federation
Others in a confederation.

In each case,
The system of living together 
Is guided by a document
Called a constitution
It is drawn by a group of selected people.

After the selected people have agreed
On a type of constitution
It is then presented 
To the people of the nation
In a referendum.

In some nations,
The people signify their intentions
Through elected members
Who represents them in parliament.

Once the document  is approved by the people,
Delegated by the people,
It becomes a constitution.

...A constitution is a document
That governs the way of life
And behavior of people
Of a nation.

A constitution can be suspended
In times of emergency,
The government of the day
Shall rule by degree
And not by acts of parliament.

All loyal citizens of a nation
Respect their constitutions
As they respect their race.

Details | Free verse | |

How I Write My Sadness

Sorrow and pain—
buried in rhyme, with heavy 
strutting the pages 

of a poetic mind, 
not wanting 
his unknown reader to be caught
in his shattered life. Ah, 

only the ants can hear me cry.

Details | Alliteration | |

The Prime Directive Quiz ( P D Q) or Prolix Drama Queen Part One

When You Really Discern… 
‘Why The Drama?’ Pattern
and Pending-Adoration,
When You Perceive… 
Who Demands and Why?...  Proceed… 
… to Ply and Pry to Ascertain…
’ He Deserves This Portion-Acclaim’
  and Drumming-Heart, Soulful-Desire…
and Defer-Strength to Dry-Pyre
 and Humble-Pie, Donated-Data –
 in Your Plea-Bargain-Brain- Por-Nada
Disperse the Diaspora
Prefer Real-Deal and Retain Prerogative-Honor

 To, The Divine and Peerless… 
 Person of God – of Pure-Spirits
…  Whose Personage Positively… 
Remains Due-Homage and Dignity
…The Pinnacle… 
Of  The Direct-Pact - Empirical 
Drawn and Done, 
with His Precious DayStar-Son,
 Who Deigned to Come
by The Father’s Decree… 
 Was Dispatched with Poise-Prudently
as Probe and Provision… 
for Our Poverty and Pleurisy-Drain-Derision

He is The Pivot-Portrayal of Royal… 
and Portal-To-Pace-Immortal
This Diadem-Prince-Progeny… 
of Dazzling Famed-Piety and Propriety!
The Possessor and Presenter 
and The Permission-for-us-to Speak and Palace-Enter
The Premium-Derivative-Son,
 This Potentate Happy One...
 Proof-Explained and Patent-Won
Delving Mysteries; Described Memories; 
Drawing Forth Miracle-Draperies
and In Deference… 
As A Pro-Dative – Proconsul-Presence… 
He Maintains Preference
and Displays:  That, The Dynamic-Will… 
and Determined-Purpose Still,
Definitely,  is Top-Priority…
 One… and The Preeminent-Same… Pardon-Plea
He Is The Presiding – Deciding-Door-Key…
Precisely! -  Praise-Accordingly!

For We Are Wind-Swept, Droves of Dust… 
Dirt and Air-Gusts,  
Now, Plundered-Seeds… Still-Planted… 
Packed to Earth, Properly-Contained and Patted
 if We Continue to Divide… 
Disfigure, Pilfer and Hide 
From SonShine, then in Dirty-Prairie…
 We’ll be Permanent-Lain- and Perjury
If  ‘We Choose’ to Develop… 
Too Low-Down, to Peel-Hope
  or Plow-Perverted… 
The Preview, We’ll Not Regain…(We Deserted!)
Its Our Duty and Delight… 
to Reach Dawn-Heights
and Par-Policy:  Dump Rotted Produce…
and Pitch-Pit-Grain- Pro-Ruse

Details | Free verse | |


On the sidewalks of beautiful and opulent Waikiki, in step with the wealth of nations, a homeless society, lapping at the scraps, sleeping in doorways and beach park benches , amongst affluent foreigners, under cover of shady scenic banyon trees. She wanders elite avenues in search of her oasis, dripping with the pretentiousness, of a Starbucks cafe gourmet she mused, sipping a double mocha latte with extra froth, topped with shaved chocolate , and a "touch"of Madagascar cinnamon from a hot- cold cup, that she holds with shaking hands, dirty, broken nails and then she dabs at the corners of penciled lips, outlined several times in contrasting color, with a bit of the sleeve of her second hand denim designer jacket. Putting the cup down and picking up the designer copy of a pen that skips occasionally, needing to be tapped on the edge of the table, she pauses for thought and begins to compose a napkin sonnet for a needy friend

Details | I do not know? | |

The Crow

The crow, turning in it's
black, oil varnished wings.
The crescent moon, a yellow tint
that sits in it's socket.
The centre punctured making way
for scanning glances.
Take this as a symbol.
The rows of evil arms that grow
from an arched spine. Grab at life.
Devour it. Manufacturers of the end.
They break and bend their calls, players of the wind
as it dances on their tail.
Mysterious, mystical and malicious.
Trademark of superstitious as they lurk
behind our every fear.
Inside the lightest tint of ivory plastered
across the brittle bones.
Darkness eats the light.

Details | Ballad | |


Watch what you say rather it be out of anger, stress or plan cruelty

a persons feelings can be hurt just by saying the least little thing

yes its true we all get mad, up set, angry or what ever we feel

but have you ever wondered how we make other people feel

when we know we hurt other peoples feelings we always say

well i shouldn't have said that or shouldn't have said this

but its not what you say its how you say it

jail cells would be over crowded if we got locked up for things we say

because our words out of anger,stress, and plain cruelty kill people every day

so when you feel you want to tear some body into pieces

well you read the poem think about it

Details | Narrative | |


Speaking from the podium, to thank 
all for my Poet Laureate Award;
overwhelmingly glad to receive it
from the hands of a famous critic...
I discern how the audience loves my lyric!

I have never spoken so openly
about the idealism and realism of my poetry;
and they are listening, focused on my lines
recited softly to them with emotions and tears,
and their positive response is my reward. 

Applaud me for creating new rhymes and rhythms,
poetic words inspired by the wilderness of frontiers,
by the truthful insights I expressed with my momentum;
unlikely other poets, who are perpetuate in memoriam,
and lie into tombstones never having been given honor.     

Entered in Brian Strand's Poet Laureate contest

Copyright 2009 by Andrew Crisci

Details | Free verse | |




-How you doing?




-So do you come here often?




-Nice weather today.
-I suppose.


-Do you want a drink?
-I don't drink.




-Do you wan't to dance?
-Not really.




-Shall we go back to my place then?

Details | Prose Poetry | |



Main Entry: relieved Function: adjective Date: 1850: experiencing 
or showing relief especially from anxiety or pent-up emotions 
— re•liev•ed•ly  \-ˈlē-vəd-lē\ adverb Relive One entry found. 
Main Entry: re•live   
Pronunciation: \(ˌ)rē-ˈliv\ Function: verb 
Date: 1548 intransitive verb 
: to live againtransitive verb: to live over again; especially : to experience 
again in the imagination Releave must be an adjective or mabe just a noun eye 
frown as some of my flock of followers must do at some of the spellings eye 
make of words that have been spelled this way for at least six years. Main Entry: 
reweave  Reweave can be found at Reweave 
is the way ELMER GLUEALL says RELEAVE. OH FUDD. WAIT. Releave looks 
just like a real word does it not class. This is the reason we have school idint it 
so fun. Some professors get a case of nerves when something like this typo 
occurs but eye as a Lewis type teacher make inroads of nuances the words 
flowing in the desert places like oasis of stasis static ornaments near Colorado 
Boulder. There was this episode of Mork and Mindy where the EGG went flying 
and OH my it landed hard.  The memory gets better when you stop. Just give it 
some more time to regenerate the Christ is GOD. People are idiots in there 
dealings with other people. Scientific evident escaped the masses when they 
chose to witness to the escaping gases of the sublime whiskey beer farts given 
time they may recover the couches with upholsters from the hang over guns of 
the cowboy trudges. TO: the eviloushonist life is just a reactored accidental 
inflated accident. The worthless people who run the behind the scenes at the 
internet places aer too blame they aer too flaming strang. There is a 
misconcepting theorem that people do what other people think the truth is that 
people do the impossible things that no one does or even thinks of like getting 
up from a day of boredom and going on to see what finding means to see what 
living does. Please do not feel let down or depressed or put upon eye tired to 
make this fabel work without an idea of any kind without a premises without a 
forum places without much hope of even rhyme this thing is done this is quite 
enought for now please stay tuned and keep me ici and come back its 
SATURDAY the next one will be formed on SUNDAY when the author has more 

Details | Rhyme | |


History will judge me I'm finally told,
when greatness will be mine to behold;
this naked truth has always reflected my intent...
nobody has ever been able to muzzle any sentiment.

Negative criticism can't eat away my spontaneous creativity,
and diminish this inwardly intricacy;
and if irascibility seems irrepressible...
no irony is found in relevant words that are totally irrefutable.

History will judge me for my free will,
examining my morals and authenticity,
and by its own standard, acclaim me as they will...
even for my fluent and expressive verses of sincerity.

Belying is not the mendacious creed I profess,
intolerant of inequality, inflamed by fairness...
expelling deeds of duplicity that impinge on truthfulness;
and the imbecile, like the scoundrel, still practices insolence.    

History will judge me for my temperament:  sad, jaunty,
jolly, jocose, comical, querulous, lonesome and moody;
and should it immortalize me among its chosen literati...
this honor I will accept with acclamation and dignity. 

Copyright 2009 by Andrew Crisci 

Details | Blank verse | |

trick of light

dark glance from the table in the corner;
she stares & you stumble
half drunk from the second's hope
or trick of light that trapped you in her eyes.
but what's a muse if not a trick, a risk, 
some fleeting moment of unknowable fear?
go on, sit down
take the empty chair an arm's length 
or heart beat's distance away from her;
make an ass of yourself,
make something of yourself-anything.
you look back & she's gone,
what's a muse if not an illusion,
man's desires made manifest
in flawless impossibility,
or flawed perfection blurred to new proportion?

Details | Free verse | |

Compton Ghetto Art Christmas

youd have to see it to believe it
but im making compton famous
a medusa mask
leave a candle burning
and a wall of clocks and mirrors
and a wedding day gift i painted

so you walk to your car
or into your apartment
and my window do you see
the blinds always drawn shut

but this artist game is open season for criminals like me

there is a candle burning beside the book 
with exactly that title

a kite and a flag of rainbows
and several mirrors to haunt your soul
kept safe by the hands of time
in case you have shattered one

but the grinch of the ghetto christmas is reminding one and all to behold
the cracks that keep us cold in the winter
the pots and the pans
sure it seems messy
but there is such a method to the madness

a pet nmaed rock
and no cats are allowed
but when you wlak by or drive by this view of the closed curtain of lights 
and delights

we're onto the mayor of the surprise holiday now

remember loose lipped sunken shppied

Details | Free verse | |

Pens 'n Needles

Ink spreads, Forming A pattern your Heart understands. Lines that Make up your Mind. A trivial Victory A battle betweem Body & Mind. Heart & Soul. Eternal on Paper...

Details | I do not know? | |

How dare you

How dare you treat me any kind of way 
I'm not a rag doll,your soulmate not even your child.
Is it that hard to get through your head. 
What do I have to do to let you know
I belive everyone has rights,just like I had the right to refuse to talk.
All I want is a little respect.
Respect, Respect do you even understand that word.
I can only give RESPECT if I receive it.
Like My Mom Always Tell Me God Don't Like Ugly.

Details | I do not know? | |


The most important name of God in the Old Testament (Ex 3:14)
It can be translated “I AM WHO I AM”
For Jews as well as Christians
It designates the one God of the whole world
Their creator. Preserver
Covenant partner, liberator from slavery in Egypt
Judge and Savior.


Details | Dizain | |

Profits are Poets

Two thousand twelve, just a new year,
No one knows the end, except one.
With faith, knowing right, none to fear,
Everyone just hypes to shun.
Others do it, in lively pun.
Outcomes of profits can be fit.
They can be played, on any bit.
Profits are mans weakness, in life.
They make all people, fear their wit.
Profits are poets, giving strife.

Details | Cinquain | |


Adelaide Crapsey
Versifying unknown souls
With tinge of dawn

Details | Free verse | |

Violet Skull Scavenger

I came upon you like a path 
of broken sprigs
of mint and lavender
Violet skull scavenger
how I do wilt when I dream as
an indigo carousel spun in your eyes
You've broken down every
thought that I might have thought
pearly and sugar wrought
sleeping in peace
'till you crushed them to scent up
our cobblestone walkway by the light of the moon
Now in your recompense
you will dispose, dispense
all of your wisdom in icicle dew
frozen on eye lashes, whispered goodbye flashes
there is no other exactly like you...

Details | Couplet | |


Excitement is running through my mind at this point,
It is hard to control so much 

When something so honorable,
Happens to come across

For me personally,
It was the proposition

From a contest by,
World Poetry Movement

In which I entered in,
And received a letter back

Stating that my poem,
Had made it to the next level

But that is not all,
Oh no

What's more is that they informed me,
That they were publishing that very poem

In a book titled "Stars In Our Hearts"
Which is to be published in August this year

I hope each and every one who happens to read this,
May read my poem "The Beat of the Heart"

In the book.
Thank You.

Details | Light Poetry | |

' Love Of Poets ... '

Oh, I Love Poets …
Here is Why:  Explore-It …

I Love The Way We Speak
I Love The Way We Think
And Seek and Link and When On The Brink
Of The Flow of Life … The Way We Drink …

I Love The Way We Pour-It
On … and Oh, I So Love Poets

Oh, I Love Poets …
Here is Some More-of-It …

The Way We Exercise Freedom of Speech
Sometimes, We May Actually Even Teach
All Times … We Are Truly Trying To Reach
at least One, if not Each … (while We Preach) …

but, They’ll Overlook or Get-Over-It 
Oh, I Do So Love Poets

I Love Poets …
Simply, Can Not Ignore-It …

We Are Determined to Make Talk, Très Chic’
All Topics, from Looney-Tunes to Tolstoy-Tragic
Deep Thoughts and Themes and Tags-Unique
“for A Rose by Any Other Name, Would Smell As Sweet”

… but It Would Not Sound So Fantastic !
If It Were Not Said, So Poetic …

So, I Do Love Poets
And What They Do, I Do Adore It
New or Classics and How They Wrote It
Oh, How I Do Indeed, Love Poets …

Details | Concrete | |

Words in the dictionary

English prides itself on being a well-spring of today’s language
like a magpie that freely picks up foreign words elsewhere
with an attempt to incorporate them into its richness of vocabulary;
a great endeavor that makes sense to be a global lexicon these days.

It’s a continuing effort that knows no barrier with other nations,
to the world of cultures with an attitude of openness and expansion;
widens one’s horizon and enables one to get a habit of insertion,
recognized as an inspiration that becomes a treasure trove of information.

Interesting it may be to find one’s word from a particular culture
that insertion in the dictionary which is a constant guide to everyone;
a close study, a reference to certain thoughts, backgrounds, and origins,
these words provide their meanings and usages in sentence constructions.

Yet their phonetic spellings are great indications to pronounce them well
according to history or origin that supply right definitions and implications,
their etymological meanings, derivations or other shades of meanings;
in their contextual variations or figurative implications thus far.

As they possess the power of meanings or as an identity of every word,
their roles make substance and clarity to what is necessary to understand;
they make a difference; they serve like guardian angels in every way,
whose central tenet and mission explore guidance and comprehension.

Webster’s, Oxford, McQuarie or Thesaurus as dictionaries used these days,
with idiomatic expressions provided in different contexts and origins;
however, profound or different as applied in many human situations,
they convey wisdom; so rich that many times they’re used in today’s parlance.

Words, words, words, as Hamlet famously moaned when Polonius asked him;
what he reads and wrestles with words and meanings generate an answer,
it’s the same thing with one’s attitude to consult or refer to a lexicon,
a dictionary, a thesaurus, or any similar print that provides meanings –
words that draw the link between history and experiences of humanity.

Details | Ode | |


Desire make me flee to England's shore,
to Stafford where Shakespeare wrote
sonnets by candlelight and moonbeams;
let me open the tall, wooden front door,
to see him in that corner weaving a thought,
swiftly turning them into theatrical schemes!

Ah, he weeps for a past tragedy he witnessed, 
making those tears flow on clean sheets
that leave him heartbroken and drenched in tears!
Oh, those sad moments seem to disappear
as he dreams of unforgotten faces he loved...
and many say he didn't feel joy but fear!

Shakespeare's spirit is not a common phantom whose voice can't
be heard everywhere it rumbles...listen attentively, don't fret!
Glance at his pensive face, read the inspirational words of any play
he's writing on paper for all to ponder in their own, persuasive way!

Details | I do not know? | |

Maybe...I am Nothing

Maybe I wear baggy jeans
white socks and cheap flip-flops,
tank tops and black nails polish
and I'm not a social butterfly,
Tucking away my physical pain and childhood 
Taunted by the world outside the box
maybe I don't care about the things
that make you love me, 
maybe you look at me and think:
i am nothing.

Maybe I dont like giving smiles
greeting everyone i meet
and maybe I allow my imagination
to run wild,
maybe you don't understand me 
and that's why you cannot see,
that because im am imperfect
i am nothing

The world makes you believe
your personality mustn't be noticed,
your physical must be picture perfect
and wear clothes just the best, to be accepted.
Maybe I look at you
and feel sorry that you let this cruel world
change your perceptions and dreams,
and yourself you'll never find.
The creator made you as you are, as well as me,
naked as Adam and Eve
maybe coming into the world alone
i'll leave the same
this means I am something,
Believing that maybe, just maybe
the world is full of lies
and if I must be nothing, 
then what makes you something.

Details | Blank verse | |

cracked headstones & unfinished thoughts

six writers in a cemetary
each scribbling at the ears of the others
focusing through drunken desire
what could be better?
these casscadeing lines, 
broken sonnets
shouted into fields of dead
cracked headstones & unfinished thoughts
Where have i been?
so many years squandered
i've sat here before,
in this very spot
& felt that somehow, 
it must be my own
i've read these lines before,
never quiet giving them life
now with the sound of name-dropping poets,
listing every friend, financer,
first love, & false start,
i realize
someday we will be the name-droppers,
recalling the first times
we spoke, read, felt
these words
or that line
never quite finished
with the list of beginings
first times

Details | Concrete | |

The Bird

                                        Soaring high, 
                                                         Up into the
                                                                  Limitless sky,
                                                                          A traveler,
                                                                    With its red feathers
                                                                 Exploded, into force, like    
                                                                An airborne ranger, enjoying
                                                                 Its freedom and it never 
                                                                   Worries what to eat
                                                 And, what to wear like a poet
                                      With his silvery quill, glowing
                    Inside, his soul, yesterday….…
                                                   Tomorrow and forever!
                                                   A master, of his words
                                                     His life, free to write
                                                    And, never worries
                                                 When to stop, nor 
                                                   To die, for his  
                                              Poetry, will be 

Details | Rhyme | |


Quite often I have asked myself
the true purpose of writing,
when I could indulge in life...
and suddenly stop dreaming!

Tired from work, my poetical urge rises:
like tides rising on the moon's appearance,
I look away...even reality is no pretense;
yes, words can survive a body that dies!

I feel and pursue no other passion more than this one:
bringing verses to life when they are non-existent;
at least, they have found in this poet a strong voice again...
they will be recited by vibrant lips, then he'll meet his end!

Details | I do not know? | |

"Foo-Foo" Words

If it takes fancy language
to make your eyes delight
you may not want to read this
or hey, maybe you might! ? 

I don't use words like ''Fabulous! ''
or ''That's simply divine! ''
I might say ''Hey, I like that! ''
or ''Wow, now that is FINE! ''

You'll never see a ''Thou'' here
and you'll never spot a ''Thee''
I can't pronounce the big words.
They're not my cup of tea! 

I may say ''What the heck was that? ''
or ''Woohoo! I feel good! ''
I see no sense in ''foo-foo'' words
if they're not understood.

Details | Quatrain | |


From Greek laos = people
The common state of life in the church
Baptized, non-ordained Christians
Who belong to the people of God


Details | Ode | |


Our modern world has become
so advanced and sophisticated,
and its technology is at our fingertips;
unlikely yesterday when everything was slow-paced,
now fast-food and credit cards are a convenience...
and poverty is the plight of low-income!

Some will know greatness,
for having made unthinkable strides,
and they will be honored or even immortilized;
and I like to be one of them...simply remembered!
The great minds of the past, like those of today,
struggled to come out of obscurity,    
until Popes and wealthy people recognized their genius;
and those names became so glorious!  

Each one of us is born with an amazing gift,
and through vocation and inspiration,
it can grow in size and scope...
if it's used with good intention!
Painters choose the colors of their images, 
writers create the words of their moods;
sculptors carve out  faces with a chisel,
and  composers imitate the feelings of the soul!

Some will know greatness,
and though riches may not ever be theirs...
their works are the reflection of themselves,
or of others who made a difference;
we have seen them, admired them
and applauded them with excitement!
And they are as detemined as we are,
fullfilling a mission beyond compare!

Details | Free verse | |

I Hate this Poem

I hate this poem.
I wrote this poem, it is my work 
but I don’t like this poem, I wrote this as I 

watched an old man sitting on a park bench, 
reading, he would read a few lines
then look up to stare out at the world,

then he would drop his eyes
to read a few more lines; 
of what I think was poetry,

again he would stare out at the world.
Yes, it must have been poetry-
good poetry, at least to this man.

When he finished reading and
closed the book he sat there
with a soft, sad face, his eyes were

full of tears and he just stared out…
thinking of a lost love perhaps or
a long-a-go memory.

Maybe he was pondering the struggle 
of life; the quiet of death. I am only sure  
that he had read a perfect poem.

To that man, on that day, he had read 
the perfect poem and the poem he felt, 
he made it his own, taken it to heart.

But he is gone, never to read poetry
on that park bench again, never
will he read this poem my poem; that I hate.

Details | Free verse | |

And I Know You Still.

Catch it
this current
striped of wire
sting of berries
tart and sour
on the wind
and in your window
Hold it
Break it
and control it
Mind the matter
heart and soul it
Wind the willows
'round your finger
Sip the sunshine
let it linger
and the motion
of commotion
Catch it
Tip it
sip devotion
and connecting
sting of distance
pales my friends...

Details | Blank verse | |

still life with cigarette

i was just sitting on the porch
& thinking how maybe
i should take up smoking
how the world
might appreciate me so much more
if i had a vice
if Death were perched
a little more obviously on my shoulder
some shrouded & sadistic parrot
echoing the words i write
as if every one
might be the last
then i'd be a fitting tragedy
to listen to
the world sees no art
in just living

Details | Rhyme | |


Delicate one
Gossomer glass
We hoped without knowledge
that this too would pass

(For somewhere a rainbow
whispers your words
Bending and stretching
to hear and be heard)

Delicate one
Candle in wisps
Breath to the sky
in a circling kiss

(Shadows were heavy
and troubles were nigh,
and now, without knowledge,
we tenderly cry...)

This is for Brandon Basson, who, I have learned, passed away the morning of June 20th.

Details | I do not know? | |

Reason to Rejoice 11032011


WHEN MY FRIEND CALLED to tell me the story of how she lost 
One of her expensive hearing aids
It sounded similar of the lost coin
Diane described how she had taken care of 5 or 6 errands in a day

During that time she placed her hearing aids in her pocket
When she returned home
One of them was missing
Diane hurried back to all places she had been

Retracting every step she searched for the precious item
Her voice held such amazed joy and gratitude 
As she related the moment of actually finding the tiny hearing aid
No wonder Jesus used a story of losing and finding something of value to describe the joy God has over “one sinner who repents

When I hesitate to let go of an old hurt 
Avoid repenting of my wrong doings
I hope the memory of my friend’s enthusiastic discovery
Will nudge me to give the Holy One another reason to rejoice

Readings and Gospel
Romans 14:7-12, Psalm 27:1
Psalm 4, 13-14, 
Luke 5:1-10

Details | Free verse | |


eyes closed 
I blow 
emptying my heart..
The sad bubble rises 
carrying my woes

Details | Quatrain | |

How did Christ show and prove His divine power

Christ showed and proved His Divine power chiefly by His miracles
Which are extraordinary works that can be performed 
Only by the power received from God
Therefore, His sanction and authority


Details | Rhyme | |

Riot Of Word

Guys, all you are good at is scolding a cop,
Yes, some of your statements have meaning, indeed,
But words with no reasons won't get you on top,
You're giving your fellows a casual feed
Of rhyming curse words that you cast out loud,
So over-inflated and false-emphasized,
You try to be brusque, and you merge with the crowd,
Your ego is stained by the fact you are biased.

You crave for a rebel, so get it all planned,
Clean out the dump in your mind for a start!
Use word as a weapon when perfectly penned,
Withdrawn from the ultimate depth of your heart.

Guys, all you are good at is scolding a cop,
As they are subdued by the careless chief
For dubious joys of a desperate job.
They've sold their true and most cherished beliefs.
But what you are doing is always the same,
You're telling them what they are waiting to hear.
You know they quote you, you choke on your fame,
You don't even care if it sounds sincere.

You crave for a rebel, so get it all planned,
Clean out the dump in your mind for a start!
Use word as a weapon when perfectly penned,
Withdrawn from the ultimate depth of your heart.

The crowds keep rocking, applauding, exclaiming,
Quoting your words, lacking ones of their own,
If being a poet is what you are claiming,
Declare what really needs to be known!

You crave for a rebel, so get it all planned,
Clean out the dump in your mind for a start!
Use word as a weapon when perfectly penned,
Withdrawn from the ultimate depth of your heart.

Details | Fibonacci | |

As Often As We Can (Fibonacci)

                                           Still dance 
                                            As often
                                    As we get the chance
                                 Beneath a lovely moonlit sky
                      We allow the rhythmic sounds to take us on high
Like flying through joyous clouds filled by love and sweet romance kindled through the 
art of dance~

Copyright Adell Foster© 2006 Adell1

"Dancing is good for the soul"

Fibonaci: 0, 1, 1, 2, 3, 5, 8, 13, 21... Poetry: 1 syllable, 1 syllable, 2 syllables, 3 
syllables, 5 syllables, 8 syllables, 13 syllables, 21 syllables... 
The number of syllables in each line must equal the sum of the syllables in the two 
previous lines. So, start with 0 and 1, add them together to get your next number, which 
is also 1, 2 comes next, then add 2 and 1 to get 3, and so on.

Details | Free verse | |


Is there a purpose for struggling,
enduring trails that could be been avoided?
What motivates an individual to surpass
any conceivable build a concept?

A normal person has less cares than a genius;
no passion for art or interest in science,
so aimless is that existence...
resembling a shadow passing. 

A philosopher once said that
legends are made by dreams,
by each stage as they are woven,
but their inner voices are as faint 
and distant as raging waterfalls
descending steeply, to splash in rivers below;
and to hear them, you must get closer enough,
until their loud sound can deafen 
the ears and astonish the eyes...
Oh, I have contemplated them in sheer surprise!

Nobody ever sees a thinker's curved back
posing on the water-splashed, cracked rock;
if civilization has betrayed his idealistic thoughts,
accusing him of insanity and prejudice...
how can dark minds be lucid enough to discern
what he sees in images of true perfection?
And he will be another outcast detested by society...
for having demonstrated a superior mentality?

Go to the highest hill, amid the rugged mountains of the South,
and find him in the same spot meditating
over a glorious view that the very learned once admired;
go and comfort him with a friendly hand-shake,
and amply confirm that his action wasn't a mistake,
but a challenge and a cause worth-taking!
And his testimony, that all legends are made by dreams,
is found in his prophetic and exquisite writings.

Details | Senryu | |

' Mimicry ...' 23rd Senryu

‘ Mimicry ’   23rd  Senryu 

        Is That Mimicry ? …
Yeah ! … A Caged, Enraged Polly
          Parrot-Parody !

Details | Quatern | |

Jesus Christ Deal

Eternal Father saw outnumber of people’s sins 
Sad with what He created
He wanted to destroy the world
People hurting each other

Jesus Christ stopped Him
Told the Father He would go down to earth
Take People’s cruelty
To start His power over people

He told the Father people would understand
Ransom Himself
Just don’t destroy the world
Believed people to be one

Eternal Father searched a woman
To conceive and bear a Son
Angiel Gabriel spoke to Mary
You have found favor from God

Holy Spirit will shine over you
You are to name Him Jesus Christ
He will save people from their sins
To save destruction of the world

Jesus Christ created a Church
For People to be Universal
People don’t understand
In there people are saved

What are these other churches?
In there you are not saved
Don’t be fooled
By the Christ’s like religions

There is only one
Deal to the Father
Be Universal to His Church
Roman Catholic

To understand the Two Greatest Commandments
“Love God all your mind, heart, body and soul”
Second is “Love your neighbor as yourself”
When we love our neighbor, Covers the 1st Greatest Commandment

Other Churches are misleading people
Thought they love Jesus Christ
Person who created their Church
Was the person they believed and loved

Jesus Crist is very hurt
People don’t know in His Church
You’re saved
In others you’re condemned

J.R.M. 11162011

Details | I do not know? | |

By A Lone Cowboys Hand

Upon the page forever bound, the wagering of life will be found,
Where those words are gathered in paper and ink and bring a cowboys life to the brink
Of wit and charm with a cowboys creed, what’s on his back is all he’ll need,
For those turns in life that unfold, like a horse that he couldn’t hold.
His wild eyes would test his fate, with quick sharp hooves his teeth bared with hate.
Or a more subtle gander into life so told where he could walk on land, not branded or sold.

Find a friend not easily made, standing alone when he has strayed 
To a place where he shouldn’t be,
And with in his eyes all he’ll see 
Of life and early death,
Beside a friend until his final breath.

The pages are bursting with emotion and wit, the knowledge of where he got most of it.
Feeling the breath of a horse rode down. Hearing the spurs as they strike the ground.
Smelling the leather and sweat of a hard days ride.
Knowing they have done more than just tried.

Horns that gore a pony that he was on, artistically maneuvered in words and drawn,
To make you feel the at painful fall,
The reality of a mad cows bawl
All etched into words and forever bound to a book of silence,
If not read now sound will fill the mind and souls with imaginations of prairies and knolls, 
And mountains where cattle hide with no brand burnt upon their hide

You are drawn into a life where men were free, and shaped by the land like they ought to be.
 Lives that were whittled and chiseled into long hard days,
The force of mother nature and the changing of ways 
Bring alive the west, we now read and hear. The wisdom behind the handmade gear.

Cowboys North and South, bring knowledge and hence are a powerful part of evidence, that the Grit of Smokey, Flint and Sand where brought to life by a Lone Cowboys hand.
From cover to cover you are woven into the past and live with the cowboys the author has cast,
Turning each page so you could read on 
Knowing the emotions and feelings along 
With the horses and cowboys names.
Brought to life by one man,
Will James.

Details | Free verse | |

I Thought, I Thought & I Knew

There is awful lot of things I’ve been accused of in my life
Many I have done and many I would never do
Many times I have felt so betrayed and hurt
And many times I reckon it was no less than what I deserved
You know I often ponder and exercise my right
To seek the enlightenment of open confession
Not only confessing to the Lord or the ones I sinned against
But to the Lord, to the ones I sinned against 
And anybody else who cares to read
You see I believe we are all teachers
Our lives are examples of what we should or should not do
If we keep those examples hidden
How can others learn from our mistakes?
Or share in the beauty of our blessings?
I believe our wisdom can only be as deep as our truth
For one will never quench their thirst at a dry well
I remember once I was writing about my children
How I had failed so terribly as their father
That they used the inmate tracking system
In order to know where to send my birthday cards
And sadly enough it even got way deeper than that
And I thought
You can’t write that what are people going to think about you
And I thought
If you don’t what are you going to think about yourself
And I knew
My life would never be the same again

Details | I do not know? | |

Messages Of Love

Write a letter, a note, a message,
Whatever that can make him notice.

Fold the paper into the shape of a bird.
Let the written piece fly away to where he is.

Write a note. Post it onto his locker.
It’ll make him discover there’s an admirer.

Roll up a message. Place it in a bottle.
Never know where it might just settle.

Write a letter. Mail it away.
So that he may read it one day.

E-mail what you want to say. Send it away.
Patiently wait for what he has to say.

Write a wish. Envision it becoming real.
Perhaps someday you’ll both truly feel the same.

Details | Free verse | |

An old motto renewed

woke up this morning
to an epiphany
of how your world works
be the best you can be
the best human 3 coil double flusher you can be
at first i was upset
in denial
that i too could live up to such high standards
how could i ever compete with such human waste
when they practice being a walking talking waste of skin everyday
acting it out
singing it
and making more money just by practicing an old motto renewed

Thats the only power you have over me
to be or not to be
a huge clog in the toilet we know as life
and i could practice it
all day and all night
no point in dancing around it in denial
but that might make me worth something
if i could pull off the feat of unequal measure
and finding someone to label what they really are
and laugh at the fact that they are oblivious to how your world works

Practicing being a total waste of skin
and then blame it on someone else
and hang their dead baby off my neck
but nope i'm better than that
i can be the best 3 coiler double flusher i can be
without any practice
just human nature at this point

Act 1 scene 2
making one person living a lie
look like a good person
as the rest of the play is all about everybody competes for the reward of being a clog in the 
toilet we call life
Song and dance
still the same glory
and yet soo many of you basking in your power
of who is or isnt in denial of how your world works
practice makes perfect i guess
no point in trying to change anything
just go dangle someone elses dead baby off your neck

an old motto renewed
be the best double flusher i can be
live it, sing it, paractice it to one day show the world their brand new lie
and next lesson of how to be succesfull at something
that will only come naturaly
why not?

Details | Quatrain | |

What do we mean by grievous matter

By ‘grievous matter’ with regard to sin mean that the thought
Word or deed which is committed must be either bad in itself
Or severely prohibited
And therefore sufficient to make a mortal sin if we deliberately yield to it

Details | Tetractys | |

I'm Confident

when we
cannot put
trust in persons
promises without
previously assenting
to or believing in that persons
claim to have such confidence in thy self

Feel The Faith

Details | I do not know? | |


Other source of supernatural knowledge is the Bible
In the words of the Council of Trent
Which enumerated the books of the Bible under their proper titles
The Church declares that she receives

All the books of the Testaments
Old and New
Since the one God is the author of both
The Vatican Council is more explicit

The Church holds those books as sacred
Not because
Having been composed by human industry
They were afterwards approved by her authority

Nor, just because
They contain revelation without error
But, having been written under the inspiration of the Holy Spirit
They have God as their Author

The word Bible comes from the Greek ninlion meaning “the book”
The plural is biblia, was taken for a feminine singular
The Bible is the Book par Excellence

Details | Free verse | |

Alanis morisette

I know you got my letter 
from years ago
the one about all my problems 
and the crush i had on you
about my dresser and my mispelled name
and what slide meant to me and why

I should be accountable
but im not sure what im supposed to do
ive heard you
and understand your sick of your voice and why
ive even tried joining your fan club
but i think that fell through

I told u about my friend sherri shepherd and her family
and how they blindly ylead eachother 
but im not allowed to be her friend

Im not sure what id do if i was in your shoes
recieving a letter from a child fan
telling a stranger their suicidal tendencies
and molestations and abuse at home
and their witchcraft circle and strange experiences that involved
making love to a famous artist before their career had changed

its like unexplainable to me
what you are
a reminder of a mother figure i never knew
a saving grace when the angels seemed soo far away
and i understand all of ur lyrics from im not ur mother 
i diont carry you in my womb for nine months
to not the doctor
and now i wonder if im like an adopted 27 year old 
life lesson 
object to crave 
side project 
you never wanted but got handed
and passed with flying colors

even though a few of your lyrics are two edged swords
im not sure what i wrote and sent off to you
but by the time you read it and wrote that song a lot had changed

i spoke of love like yours
and the help i needed and how i was fascinated with you
things i needed help with no one else could
i dont remember what i wrote
i think i wrote marilyn manson one too

Thank you
we bruised eachother
and i know you did a lot more for me
an object to crave?
its there u know...and it might not be me
but if u want one and u cant find one
i can help u look, or show u places to start

life is strange
i cant fathom the loops we sent eachother through
and who knows what anymore
but thank you soo much

Details | Dramatic monologue | |


Such a strong word with meaning of "HATRED"
Love and unity for humanity are the keys to my soul
That's cruel and unjust
For you to pass judgement is out of character
What happened to this world that has so much corruptive human beings that are 
to polluted by past times to see the richness and love in the modern times
I bare two "KINGS" 
If you think you are going to bash their mixed race and speak to them in a 
manner of disgust
That to me is a judgement you have passed on to yourself and the man above
We were all created equal and we all have blood in our veins and hearts that beat
So tell me why you are so rude and disrespectful
Needs to stop!!!!!
Like I said to who feels wicked with calling either one of my "KINGS'....a nigger 
shall be dealt with one the other side
How dare you be so damn rite cold and mortal to prey on innocent children 
whose parents have understanding and see beyond the colour of skin
You have committed a "SIN"!!
Look at yourself for you are no better than any human being
After all love is love and it's the inner beauty
This is wriiten from me to you and to let you know my "KINGS" have a mouth to 
talk and ears to hear
Eyes to see and hearts to feel pain you chose to inflict on them
But one thing I have blessed them with is
You will not force your corruptive entry because my "KINGS"are brighter and have 
been taught that mankind is unjust
They will speak with intelligent fierce and all the teachings I have taught them in 
this regard
To all you "RACIST" people look out simply because I have been blessed with 
two "KINGS"....and" YES"...their hearts "SING" out "LOUD" with "LOVE" 
and "PURITY"and cleansliness and they will not be forced to accept defeat
For they are always walking tall and holding their heads up with pride
Nor matter the colour of black nor white we are all people and choose to way or the other.. your comments don't fear only makes us 
But "R-A-C-I-S-M" is dark and uncalled for with so much hatred and unjust
Make this world a better place and do your share for the children of today!!!!

Details | Epigram | |

Your Great { Epigram }

I have joined a really great group
none other then poetry soup

Tribute To All My Rowdy Friends 
in the soup bowl   Luv Ya
Thanks For Your Support

Epigram is derived from the Greek word “epigramma” 
meaning “inscription.” The epigram is short, satiric, humorous, and witty. It used 
at times to express social criticism or political satire, and is often written as a 
single rhyming couplet. 

Details | Haiku | |

In Your Times

Have you ever felt
You were born decades too late?
Centuries too soon?

Well, maybe you were...
To bring back old landmarks or
Usher new knowledge.

So, let history
Repeat its lessons through you
Or write your own books.

Details | Free verse | |

Commune-Cable (or) Tell-A-Graph

She Peruses and She Plans
… What Would Move ...
Every Girl, Boy, Woman and Man
For Communication, Is An Art…
The Poetess, Has Written Down
What Was In Her Heart…

Details | Rhyme | |

the River Ouse aghast

down past the cold undercurrents of 
Virginia's Woolf, and Sylvia's wrath
searching through their darkest hearts
too many writers take another path

from fulfillment, and in their cups
awash with sullen antidepressants
pondering if they'll get enough
of life to even get past the present

burrowing and borrowing monofilaments
temptingly entice, dangling and dancing
just below the smooth-surfaced water
flashing jiggs luring joys enhancing

errant molucules are a hapless find
when there's no bonding in our life
and easy outs seem a preferable mind
than living lost in depressive strife

still, there's a tenuous line to living
and struggle is the never ending rule
depression fills the soul with misgiving
to feed life's fires with suicidal fuel

yet, who am i to say that they're wrong,
to not be bright with fulfilling spirit
pocketed with weighty depressive stones
a merciful end may have it's merits

but i'll not write in acquiescence
of preferring ending of days prematurely 
my preference would tend to senescence
my life I think, is too precious, surely

© Goode Guy 2012-01-03

Details | Free verse | |


Everything is going well,
looking forward to living a fuller life,
burying the not-so-happy past 
under the ashes of turbulent days...
willing to forget all the hurtful ways.
With thoughts and pen ready to create,
new lyrics for songs and verses for poems;
who ever said that life can't be grand?
Don't assume I stare at the hourglass,
counting every flowing grain of sand! 
Honor and glory were not expected,
but I accepted them with gratefulness;
and they are not the gods I bow to,
I pray to a real God, who always dwells 
above the unreachable realm of blue. 
The gladness of being alive and thankful
has made aware how I greedly clung to my estranged, dark world...
with people passing by, never saying hello;
did I ever wonder why they were so distant and cold?
Why didn't I share anything with them...only glorifying my ego?
Pride can be achieved by willingness and stride;
and it has the loveliness of very delicate lilies,
which an unexpected wind can suddenly taken away,
to never bring them back to the scented, open meadow, 
and be picked by delicate hands to adorn a lovely home. 
So desperate to excel, motivated by desire and passion,
to go beyond the unexplored and find a perfect image
of that peaceful soul living on a deserted island,
where Man has never left any imprint of his intellect,
or imposed on land and fowl his invasive foolishness.  

Details | Light Poetry | |


The next time that you take a shower,
Prepare to stay for about an hour,
Run yourself the hottest water,
Keep in mind how much your thought of...
One hand holds the towel around you,
The other holds the thing you're bound to,
So let it drop below your waist side,
As I spot just one place to hide ...
Caressing you in perfume soap,
Compressing it on every slope,
Like the water making you wet,
And at the same time making you sweat...
Before you close the shower door,
You'll see my name in glass once more,
Just slowly wrap yourself again,
But know that it won't be the end...
Cuz as you lay upon your bed,
You'll wrap yourself in me instead,
So you won't think its just a dream,
That you left rising in the steam...


Details | Rhyme | |


It's 3am In this country of mine Another undesirable It was just a matter of time Are they through the front door Or through the back Is there a lack of security Questions to be asked? Any sites Admin Should be on their toes It's in their best interest Or anarchy flows If undesirables appear They should be vetted as such And if they don't comply They are kicked into touch What are the legalities In our premium fee's When there is no protection The undesirables run free Today's date Is the 28th of November It is their duty To report this sender How do we know Who we answer to? It's time to show face And show that your true If actions are not taken A different road we go down Who has the courage To hang their heads and frown

Details | Alliteration | |

The Prime Directive Quiz ( P D Q ) or Prolix Drama Queen Part Two

and Par-Policy:  Dump Rotted Produce…
and Pitch-Pit-Grain- Pro-Ruse

It Was Due To Prior-Parent’s Vain-Disobey, 
so They Diminished, That-Dare-Day…
The Delectable…
 and Passed Up The Palatable –
 Main… Held-Accountable
Course (so  not  hard !) 
But They Failed to Avoid: 
 The Ditch, The Decline, The Devoid
They Deformed; Distorted… 
and Perished, at Path of Disdain- Deported!
Prithee, Who Wants to See… A Dashed-to-Pieces Pottery?
Not even-Periphery-me!... It’s No Longer Picture-Pretty 
Despite Protocol-Deficiency… ‘til I get a Decent Setting Plate
On Broken Dresden- my Pheasant-Dinner Won’t be Ate

And Now… Disorder of The Day… 
is Devious, and Double-Dismay
…  Disgrace, Depression… 
and A Putrid-Depraved-Puke-Stain-Progression
 Plunged into Disease and Death; 
Some Plummet and Pose-Deranged-Stealth
Percolating Panic… 
and Picking Up Pride-Plagues- Still-Pandemic
from-Cain’s Prozac-Paddock … Pathetic !

Though, All Are Not Dissidents-Decayed… 
Deteriorated …  or Dastardly-Dross-Sprayed
 Applaud- When Prodigal-Lost is Found, 
and Those ‘Punching-Back-At-Pangs-Bane’ Pound!
By Adhering to The Dedicated-Drive, 
of The Deft-Guardian-Defender’s Eyes
Who Points Where Our Polished-Pebbles’ Sling, 
Put-Practice-Ping-Ping-Aim (ing)
Dove(ing) Over to Dangle The Desist… 
or Meet Thy Downfall Pretenders-Risk…

For We Pummel Problems… 
and Dent and Pelt Puzzle-Plight-Chains (Pop ‘em!) 
Definitive Deeds, Decorous… 
Meant to Disable Dynamite Pipes-Porous 
To Prevent Our Pulverized-Maim 
and Proffer:  A Predicament-Slain

Our Pilgrimages In Pursuit of Paragon-Virtue… 
Must Make Distribution or Divesture:
the Property… of Pomposity
Pageantry… Profits and Desperate-Popularity
and don – Parsimony, and  Penury, 
Pariah, Pest-Control and Peculiarity
yet Pleasurably, we have heirloom-Pendants and Pence-a-Few …
and Pearl-Gates and Doubloons and Dew Drops Too
‘Cause, Priests and Prophets Must Pray for The Reign…
and for Pre and Post-Op-Apocalyptic–Novocain ! …

Details | Rhyme | |

Saving Vernie's life

My brother saved his bride's life.
He came close to losing his wife.
Her oxygen meter would normally have registered at 100 but it registered at 10 instead.
If my brother hadn't rushed out to get a doctor, Vernie would be dead.

When an oxygen level drops that low, it's supposed to set off an alarm.
Because of that incompetent hospital, people will probably be harmed.
Rick hurried to get a doctor when Vernie started having convulsions.
When I think about that stupid hospital, I feel nothing but revulsion.

The alarm didn't work and that's pure negligence.
Taking people to that hospital makes no sense.
If Rick hadn't acted fast, Vernie would be dead and that's a fact.
Those incompetent hospital employees better clean up their act!


Details | Ode | |


Desire make me flee to England's shore,
to Stafford where Shakespeare wrote
sonnets by candlelight and moonbeams...
Let me open the tall front door,
to see him in that corner weaving a thought,
swiftly turning them into theatrical schemes!
Ah, he weeps for a past tragedy he witnessed, 
making those tears flow on clean sheets
that leave him heartbroken and drenched in tears!
Oh, those sad moments seem to disappear
as he dreams of unforgotten faces he loved...
and many say he didn't feel joy but fear!
Shakespeare's spirit is not a phantom whose voice can't
be heard everywhere it roams...listen, don't fret!
Try to glance at his pensive face, read the words of that play
he's writing on paper for all to ponder in a persuasive way!

Details | Epigram | |


forever a

Details | Free verse | |


kaleidoscope of kindnesses
rain down upon my back..
knitted hats and knots untied
for those you have a knack...
karma chose you for me
to bounce upon your knee
just another kid at heart
is what I seem to be
kettles boil and time will keep
until the kite has flown
for knights like you are hard to find
once the kindest years are gone
knowledge isn't always friend
in fact..  sometimes is foe
but you my friend are the best of kings
a peasant girl could know
kisses melt the coldest heart
like candy in the palm
but keepers come but once along
to the weary heart a balm
now knobs and knives and fishing things
we pack into a sack
and hand in hand we walk along
ahead.. we don't look back..

Details | Free verse | |

Logos Of A Lyric Poet

Logos of a lyric poet 
gleans the page, so white. It’s the 
esurient exponent of 

heart and mind. How I 
wish I could be his reader, instead 
I choose to write about--

this childish yellow butterfly, 
spreading its fragile wings and comes 
to listen, intently, the rhythm 

of my blood. Hmm, she will 
be, surely,  noted by me not only for 
tonight, but for many years

after that 
countless tingles of 
skin to skin 

will sip the wine of poetry 
and commingle, un-agitated,
into my own inner craving.    

Details | I do not know? | |

Familiar Poesy

I was quiescent and reposing on a wooden chair

to a faraway distance the vista seemed nothing.

I was engrossedly thoughtful in an empty stare;

In this somber fixation i did not sound maudlin.

In the surrounding, in a room, there was naught to care

even how vociferous the unaffecting din.

I was vacant without a frown or grin.

Then, an astonishment by an abrupt interruption

awakened me chop-chop from the pensive exertion.

An instinctively soft guffaw was my reaction

and an immediate beam marked down my emotion.

From a study to a stir was the alteration;

I uttered a word or two in continuation.

It was a spectacle of fruition.

Sometimes it is diverting to father relation

of familiar episodes in consecution;

Even how minute is their banausic condition.

It can be reported engagingly in a verse

with welcome alternate rhyming association

and with no contemplation to secure confusion

so as any sage mortal can immerse.

Details | I do not know? | |

A Liars Theme


Details | Lanterne | |


than silver-
more precious than
as diamonds-
that never grow

A tribute to fellowship ,especially here on PS

Details | Sonnet | |

Shakespeare's Birthday

Today’s the day we celebrate
The birthday of the Bard.
His authorship has caused debate,
Which I just disregard.

For William Shakespeare’s poems and plays
Will never find an equal.
His way with words and turn of phrase
Leave no room for a sequel.

It’s centuries since Shakespeare died
Yet all his words are living.
His brilliance let him still provide
The pleasure he keeps giving.

So on this day I’ve penned this sonnet
Just so we could think upon it.

Details | Free verse | |

Invisible Enigma

Suspended streams caught in slow motion
thick and sparkling silver white
Yellow walls to swallow oceans
Let me know that you're all right
Feet gone green- You're in a hurry
Super nova speed and back
Like the super sliding feeling
of your brain in full attack

You, perhaps, have flown to London
You, perhaps, reside in Spain
All I have this photograph of
is the inside of your brain
You, perhaps, can dance the tango
You, perhaps, like oatmeal too
I don't know the outer innards
What has now become of you?

Feet on wheels, You've met the deadline
Whooshing past with feeble heart
Tucking words I spoke in sadness
in your pockets, to impart
suspended streams caught in slow motion
filling all you think and do
All I have is certain knowledge
that I know nothing of you...

Details | I do not know? | |


Though the crease begins to crumble
These old pages still run blue
Currents pulse beneath the surface
Pen-leaked ink that bled your truths
Pen-spun words that writhe like veins
Under skin and paper skies
Cold to touch, crept through your core
Settled clear in frozen eyes

So I’ll read you like a book
And I’ll write you pretty lies
Just to fill the empty space 
That’s revealed between the lines
Won’t you move a little closer?
Let it spill into your ear
The tide of breath that harboured
All the words you want to hear

Well I tried to kiss it better
Blood and bones to fuse the cleft
Bruised and broken, lips split open
From the effort, nothing’s left
So you say that I’m a sinner
Preach of hearts and ribs and fists
Well I may have made the plunge 
But you revelled in the twist

Now you’re tearing at your wounds
Sanctimonious with pain
Because it helps you ‘hear the music’
Yeah, it helps you play the game
If I pour a little salt
Will you smear it in your eyes?
Feel its grain twist round your lids
As you soliloquise

About the blame you tried to forge 
All the nights you wept and claimed
‘You can’t comprehend the world
Balanced firm between these blades’
No one told you it’s a lie 
And the story really goes
Constellations, superstitions
Are that Ancient’s only load

All the pretty rhymes and perfect crimes
You try to hide behind
Well they just serve to remind me
How you once spoke those old lines – 
‘Your tongue is as a rudder
Guiding vessels safe through storms
Moving mountains with inflections
Making ripples in reflections
Hollowed hull meets hallowed shores’

Details | Free verse | |

a poet

A poet can write :

Details | ABC | |

I Always Knew

I always knew there was a person for me
I always knew that the person wouldn't just come 
I always knew it would take time
I always knew my life was damaged
I always knew my heart could talk but I wouldn't listen
I always knew I made a big mistake
I always knew there was no one to take his place 
I always knew that he loved me for me 
I always knew he was a good person
I always knew that the other boy wasn't really worth it
I always knew but I never stop to think

Details | Narrative | |

Thanx for the Welcome

Hey, thanks a heavy bunch for the welcome
Hey, thanks a larger lot for the welcome

My heart is duly enthralled
My mind has been positively stirred

Two days ago I had a lot on my mind
Now ‘coz of y’all, here I exist in delight

Heaven must be missing quite a number of angels
For what I read on my screen can’t be wordings of ordinary mortals

For now I don’t need heaven
For I have found myself a haven full of the soup I need to get well

A brick at a time, each with purity and love in mind
I’m certain this shrine full of wonder will rise to shine

Such are the blessings of men and women of initiative
Offering poets like me and you the mortar to build our dreams into reality

My heart fills with gratitude, tonnes of it in advance
For the doors of opportunity I’m certain to unearth, in this shelter of dreams

The beginning might be a tad bit rocky
But please bear with me as I drift off my ecstasy to clarity, as consequential of this 
new discovery

I promise to soon find my bearings
And flow at ease like a new Lamborghini on these sleek streets of many dreams

In the meantime don’t mind if sometimes I blurt
For a new soup like this always tastes so sweet, makes one reveal what he was 
meant to keep

Thanks indeed for allowing me to be a part of you
Allow me to advertise to others that you and I on Poetry Soup too

Details | Free verse | |

I Saw Him Standing There

I see you there, painting a literary facade, thumbing through Cervantes as though it has usurped your very being. Your unenthused stance reveals your ruse as do your constant glances in my direction. In my quixotic state, I wonder if you fancy me your Dulcinea or if you merely question why I scribble so wildly upon the page. You, Sir, are my current inspiration and I shall not tire until our story ends. Peripherally I register how slowly you move toward the books behind my chair. I want to turn to you and recommend Solzhenitsyn, third shelf down on the right; but hesitate to be so revelatory about my interests. Now I feel your eyes discreetly moving up and down my page, ingesting my words. Realization hits. Our eyes meet. Yours ablaze with the knowledge of immortalization in my poetry, mine wickedly feigning innocence. You turn on your heels and stalk off, undoubtedly in search of a windmill to best for your lady fair.

Details | Lyric | |


It's your first poem,
and you expect to win a contest?
Do you have talent and have
written your best?
I have worked hard 
at scribbling every line,
and accepted with honor
the awards given to me in fairness.
Don't accuse anyone
of being unfair and guilt of favoritism;
many good folks are getting hurt...
read their work and realize
that they have deserved their wins!
Envy comes out of an angry heart,
so full of evil that it cannot reason;
and if a poet doesn't appreciate
and discern what good poetry is...
who would pick up the torch,
be admired by his voracious readers, 
and be acclaimed as one of the greatest?

Copyright 2009 by Andrew Crisci

Details | Rhyme | |

Poetry Soup

This is where I come to bleed.
Where I leave my heart for you to read.
So many things in my heart to grieve.
But only one place it can come to relieve.

It's where my friends I've never met,
Yet, in their minds, my feelings I set.
You relate my fears. You see my love,
Even for that of my God high above.
I speak to you of the one I hold dear.
Whenever, for her, I'm shedding a tear.

Poetry and song in the world we fill,
Leaving it with an insurmountable bill.
Though in money and riches we do not bask,
A little of your time is all I ask.
Poetry soup is what soothes my soul.
It makes even the broken feel once again whole.

I write when I'm joyful. I write when I'm lost.
I write when the world has me beaten and tossed.
It's a medicine so potent we cannot perceive.
They're words that can make weak humans believe.

So to you the readers I am ever indebted.
It's a friendship I have not ever regretted.

Details | Tail-rhyme | |

Casandra Riggs

Designed as a secret sister,
Hiding in form of a blister,
Not at all real
Becoming a pseudonym name,
Writing in stylish poet game,
Words that feel,

Caught notions of reality,
Conscious of false ability,
She remained,
Not meaning no harm or deceit,
She faded into death complete.
Truth explained.

a double Tail Ryhme poem,,,some of you may or may not know of this person,she is me and 
i am her,,she was created when I first started on the net,afarid of placing my real 
name,because of all the stories of identity theft,,though since I seen names like rosebud, 
stargazer, bunny flower,,I seen no harm,,,,I did not know that names can become somewhat 
real on the net ,,,when she become known by a few and a life was needed, I retired her 
name,,though she still has poetry listed on the net at some places,those words are mine.
She is totally ficticious,true though I learned so many things about poetry and life.

Details | Haiku | |


Illusions darken
Poets following pigs plod
glass reflections gripe.

Details | Quatrain | |

What effect has sloth upon the soul

Sloth begets in a soul
A spirit of indifference
In our spiritual duties and
A disgust for prayer


Details | Free verse | |

I'm not sure you know what to say

I wonder today
As I sift through the sands
And peer through the depths of other peoples verbalized talents
Works of intricate emotion and stanzas of hyperboles oxymoron’s and similes 
and metaphor

When I refuse to welcome you to my world
When you stumbled all this way
And I show you how to clip an angel’s wings
and you relate to the angel
Even though you have soo many inner demons
I’m not sure you know what to say

So I sit here in the silence
And stutter to myself
I lay in bed at night and talk to myself
I hang pictures on the wall to inspire me to push me
and listen to things that will drive me to become another
But when you open this chapter of the metaphor I will upon your sleeve
When you walk through that open door
And are not too sure of what I mean to my soul mate when I say
that one day in heaven his experience will be a love note from me

I'm not sure you know what to say

Soo many of you are of few words
and soo few of you are of many
The angels are soo far away
And the four demons, my invisible enemies
are always on this merry go round
too busy to stop the roller caster where I find myself
Dizzy I am
Confused I am
Abstract and bizarre
Creatively thrown away by my fairytale godmother I dream
To remind me
I am a man of some higher power god
And instant gratification isn’t necessarily what I need
from the race of a reflection that doesn’t understand why it cowers
Instead of receives

While I clip the angels and fool the demons with the thoughts
and words of the wise and how I hate more than you
You become my poetry with hearts on your sleeve 
a valentine I cant send demanding healthcare 
for Christmas before all we get is Halloween
But when your eyes roll back into your head
and you try to resurrect what I express and bring me to life
through twisting my words that cut like a knife and carve marble stone
into gargoyles that guard castle gates
In this royal palace where no compass will help you find your way
and my thought seem soo far away
The feathers fall to the floor
The soldiers look down at their weapons realizing they are still little boys 
but intoxicated now and forced to the realization 
This is how we raised them to be men with awards for serial killing 
Of stars and stripes

I'm not sure you know what to say

Details | Cowboy | |

Dear Charlie

I have thought of you often, found some paper tucked away,
I’m feeling sentimental and have some time today,
So with pen in hand I thought I would write a line or two,
Though I don’t know where your at or if this letter will get through.

Well the wire is now strung and the cowboys are fenced in,
The Indians that rode beside you will never be again. 
The long horns their now mulies a horn not a one,
I guess the wild west days have come and gone.

But Charlie I think you know there is a die hard breed.
There are still some out there that live the cowboy creed.
I know it’s not exactly the same as when you rode so bold,
But Charlie I wanted you to know that not all the saddles are sold.
For they wake each morning to the rising sun,
And know at the end of each day their work is still not done.
And they will gather around a fire to hear a yearn or two,
To see who tells the better tale of the things that they do.
And some paint a might good picture too, I have seen them at their best.
I guess there’s still a little wild out here in the west.

We think of you often and dream of a time 
When the range was open and the land was in its prime. 
When long horns ran high ridges and tested cowboy wit,
And even the best of the ponies would still challenge the bit.
So I thought I would write to let you know 
that you are thought of out here in what we do and where we go. 
And there still is hardcore buckaroos who still challenge change,
And they fight for the freedom to ride the range.

Well the fire has burned to embers and the crew is coming in
The quiet moment that I had, is now brought to an end,
So I will stoke the fire, put the coffee on and say goodbye for now,
Hoping you might get this letter some how.
Just remember your not for gotten Charlie and you will live on
And the cowboys and buckaroos are not completely gone.
And when I have more quiet time and paper that I might find,
I promise to write again, rest in peace my dear old friend.

Details | Couplet | |

A Tongue Is Like A Rose

My friend, I rather not learn to speak 
In thy tongue that really makes one sick

A tongue lovely as early morn rose
And deadly like her own prickly toes


Inspired by a nasty comment I got 
For winning the PS Poetry Contest.

Details | Rhyme | |

T'was The Night Of Thanksgiving

(Humorous silly holiday poem)

T'was the night of Thanksgiving,and I couldn't just fall asleep
I tried everything I knew,even trying to count  some dumb sheep,
But nothing happened and I was getting more angry and mad at myself,
The leftovers were still on my mind and my stomach went just bleat!

I jumped over my bed and I raced to the door with all my power and might,
And right in the kitchen I landed,where some food was still on sight,
My heart beat it so fast like a train gone bad,when I saw all the turkey leftover galore,
White and dark meat were waiting there just for me, to my profounded delight!

There was cranberry sauce,apple pie and the most wonderfully sweet, pumpkin pie!
My heart aglowed and my mouth watered all over in front of all this sight,
For there I saw some chocolate pudding just sitting upon  a tray,
So I gobbled and gobbled, till I thought I couldn't see another new day!

I felt myself swelling up all the sudden, right to the size of the house!
Then I heard this  terrible noise,and I've just burst and rip off my blouse!
As I went off straight to the ceiling like a Speeding Gonzalez balloon!
I felt again so sick and so big as I went flying right past the face of the moon

But I still managed to YEEELLL to everyone in the whole town,
Happy Thanksgiving to you all!and pass me all your chocolate PUDDING! Please!



Dorian Petersen Potter
aka laydp2000


Details | Concrete | |

The Dot, In Small I

                                       Ok            Is  
                                       It’s          Me 

                                  O, that’s what I am
                                  Small, less famed
                                  Yet, I stand proud
                                  Among your crowd
                                  I, too, have an aim
                                  Even though I came
                                  Yes, from the land
                                  Where all must run
                                  To the field of tare
                                  Ere storms share
                                  Us, their madness
                                  Our great sadness
                                  Still, I have a price
                                  I also have my vice
                                  Though, life is less
                                  For me, I am bless 
                                  Though, I am a dot
                                  But I am not a nut
                                  O, true, without me
                                  Like dot, there’ll be
                                  No. a small letter I
                                  Or big you, my pie

Details | Free verse | |

What is the point?

I see no point in the words that once ment so much. AM I losing my grip. Where 
is the color that use to give my world. It used to be filled with wonder. Words they 
scream at me to get a grip and write them down. What is the point. No longer 
does that seem important. I miss the strength they used to give me. What is the 
point of these meaningless sounds that are most often used to hurt people more 
then not. I am tired of the sticks and wish to throw away the stones that seem to 
be the only words I seem to say. What is the point?

Details | Narrative | |

Ben Ja Min

on Jan 17th 1706 Benjamin Franklin was born 
became a printers apprentice 
established the first lending library
was known as an uncommom comman man 
that taught self in science and inventions

Benjamin Franklin 1706-1790

Also Entry For Brian Strand's   Vignette
A Literary Love Affair Contest
         GL All

Details | I do not know? | |


of writing all these
sweet, sappy, lovesick poems
all these exultations in my
tear-stained, lonely, cry-for-me-please days
these fall-on-my-knees days
when everything
is a "different shade of gray".
anymore of my 
whining complaints
of this "life barely worth living"
of these people who aren't giving
me nearly enough affection.
i will throw down my pen
i will rip up these pages
but, please, god,
don't let me write down one more
metaphorical, symbolical
pathetic-ass verse
about the over-played and under-stated
"bane of my existence".
if i go on one more rant about
some guy who wronged me
in some terrible way
and can i get a little sympathy
and oh dear, look, my feelings run so deep
or how i can't solve the
myriad of my own problems
but here, let me offer you some 
hypocritical bull
to soothe your fears,
Because writing sappy, lovesick poems
doesn't get me any closer to getting laid
all those whining complaints
only drive more people away
metaphors and symbols
are never interpreted the same
and "ranting" skips alongside "raving"
on the road of "mad"
to a sterile, white cell.
i'll put down all my words, you see, because
of writing about me.

Details | Free verse | |

do you lie?

is not always 
a lie
‘though the word remains a lie.

ah, believe 
my dear!

i love you! yo ti amo!
je t’aime! s’agapo!
ya tivya luvlyou! yah habibe!
ay-ayaten ka! mahal kita! 

in whatever tongue 
you hear me say, it’s all the same 
and I would not take away 
that smile, from you.

you are the half 
that lights me in this life, the 
diamond shines, forever—

without lies!

Details | Free verse | |

All the poets on the soup!

Be it day or late at night
They fight

To pen their next thoughts
Charismatic, romantic, sadness, fights

Friendship, hurt, hate, war, or plain silliness
Poets reach for their inspiration and access

While others thrill with anticipation to absorb
Floating in another place as an orb

Are poets …

Though we don’t always know their face?
But should all embrace

These wonderfully talented people
Share their work shout it out as high as a steeple

Poets are everyday creative folk
They’ll have you laughing at one of their poetic jokes

Poets will take an event or place
And step it up a notch with grace

They can make you feel and see, is thou you were right there
I declare they have a unique flare

Today I say I wish to celebrate the poets on soup
What a fun interesting wonderful group!

(Thank you all of you for your wonderful work and passions)
And thank you to the owner of soup for making all this happen!

Details | I do not know? | |

Goodbye Gwynne

(Dedicated to Fred Gwynne who died July 2, 1993. He starred as Herman 

You had bolts in your neck and a flat head.
Your skin was green and you were undead.
When people saw you, they screamed and ran.
You were very funny and you were also a scary man.
I loved to see you frighten people and make them flee.
But sadly the world lost you in July of 1993.

Details | Quatrain | |

O Jesus Christ

To turn away from You is to fall
To You is to stand
To remain in You is
To have a sure support


Details | Rhyme | |

Just Saying

With you everything is so obscene
every single thing you say, is rated NC17
why must it all be about sex
why is it you’re so obsesse
really… what is the appeal?
doesn’t all that nasty talk make you feel
just a little more soiled on your soul
just the slightest little bit less whole
don’t you ever stop and think
even consider a conversation with less kink
do you know, to speak in a way so lewd
that we females, find it nothing but crude
You do get… that for us
such tasteless words don’t impress
so when you’re finally ready to settle down
a little politeness and romance works well
… or so at least, that’s what I’ve found.

Details | Free verse | |


Genius quotations uttered from sleep deprived lips
are often lost ‘lest an inspired being types them
down into a list of unusual thoughts and perceptions.

Unique and individual ideas and ideals dribble
out of the mouth numbed from far too much vinegar
on the chips from the convenience store down the road.

Laughter echoes off the walls as the sober person taps
and tips the piece of English art onto a permanent
record which may be looked at again and rejuvenate ideas.

Details | Fibonacci | |


carved her epitaph

Tribute to Emily Dickinson

Details | Fibonacci | |

Poetic Mind

mind of 
a poet
is mystifying, 
yet yummy like the soup of his
heart, reflecting millions of assorted memories.

Details | Fibonacci | |

Then And Now

the bard
living in 
the ancient cellar 
of poetry, with open heart
and wines to inspire life, my only aim, then and now.

Details | Free verse | |

A Pause of Deep Respect

you soup poets, so talented,
so expressive, so way above
the norm,
have here a family dedicated
to the poetic form
but far more important-
you care for each other....
last time I felt like this,
was the love of my dear mother

I salute you all, I really do
and I'm very proud to be,
a PoetrySoup member new!!

Details | Free verse | |

Coiling the Energy

On blunt edges, speak.
Hollow out the wheel of flowing windmill slurs
and words still in their buckets
Dripping, overflowing silver
into hydraulic rivers
on their way to mirror seas.
Worn down wood to hold the world
of all you want to say
Just now, speak.
Let the power of sustenance cool the feet
of flaxen haired children in a spark of the sun
on the edge of the sugared bank
They'll hear your hum, your rhythm
and nod their heads with a thought
that the wind might pick up at any moment.
Creaking mechanics jar the mind
to better days of oils slicking the wheels
and yet you still run.
You still speak.
And the town lights up all it's peppered white
street lights with your energy.
Little pops of heat against midnight's cold breath.
Children learn to read by the strung taffy sap
pulled through wires no longer touched by 
your electrified water.
And the sea pulls all it's soul together in the eagerness
to taste the warmth from your river's mouth.
All from your spinning wheel
with blunt edges
worn to perfection from gentle persuasion
and winsome words.
The whole town holds their breath,
the wheels shine liquid wood,
and you speak.

Details | Blank verse | |

all or not at

take it all
take everything
i'll give it up
(all) give it away
or not at
for the sake
the taste
the temptation
the tossed aside remnants
the last drop
at the bottom 
of the once empty cup
with the polka dots
imprinted on my mind
or the shape 
of sheets & blankness
imprinted on my back
your eyes
consuming thought
take away the focus
& blur for me
the rough edges
& harder lines
take away need
remove the emptiness
from the core of light
the center spreads
forgetting myself
in blind sensation
my mental undoing
be for me,
the last thought
(before the end of thoughts)
erase it all
with one stroke
of skilled ink 
& spilled
indistinct intutition

Details | Free verse | |


i'm in this world
and everyone tells me you have to. . .
walk like this
act like this
speak like this
dress like this
sing like this 
dance like this
write like this
be like this
talk like this
and look like this
and i'm thinking who are they to tell me who and how i should be
why can't everyone back off and understand i can take care of myself
i don't want to be this or that or turning into someone else
i like who i am just fine
if you don't like it i don't care
i don't need you to be changing me into someone i'm not
i don't need this type of influence
and i especially don't need this amount of pressure

Details | Sijo | |

Night Falls Suddenly -Sijo

 Abruptly, the shadows dispelled of the soft green earth 
As midday approaches, few are gathering in the heat thereof
The sunset flows, ‘cross-vast blue sea and night falls suddenly. 




Details | Free verse | |

Dew Drop Inn

There was a place called Dew Drop Inn
In that place, you could find many a friend
As long as you drank beer, wine, whiskey or gin
There was always some-one surrounding you 
Happily obliging to join in with you
Dancing and singing often off key
Didn’t matter to the barkeep 
He was always as pleased as can be
Especially when customers spent more than fifty 
When time to close before he would turn the key
He would state "Thank you for coming friends
To the Dew Drop Inn, Please Do Drop in Again" 

Details | Haiku | |





Details | Lyric | |

Thank-You (A Tribute to Carol Brown)

Carol Brown never lets me down
She’s always there to comment me
Providing words of encouragement and praise
supporting my poetic ways
A faithful reader
A recognized leader
in showing support to this community
I look forward to
every review
she submits to me
and without any further adieu
I would just like to say to Carol Brown

Details | I do not know? | |

A poet's Mind

There's a lot of pages to read
Before you know a book,
But a poet's life is guessed
With just one look.
You scan through the pages,
Only hoping to find
One painful or cheery moment
That shouts the poet's mind.
It's an enjoyment to many
To see what a poet has known.
It brings shadows of life,
So you can forget your own.
Pages of happiness and misery,
Pages you continue to turn,
Pages of someone else's life
That you feel you must learn.
Leaf after leaf,
You need the desire
To see what it's like
To live in someone else's fire.

Details | Rhyme | |

Stinging Words

How often have we felt it, 
when hurtful things are said? 
When someone says such painful things
you wish that you were dead.

Many times we just don't realize
the pain we tend to cause
when we say things to instigate
the laughing and applause.

The sting of words is painful.
The scars will linger long.
We carry hurt around with us
even when we know it's wrong.

So, choose your wording wisely.
It hurts more than you know.
Sometimes the ones you hurt the worst
are the ones you never know. 

Details | Rhyme | |

Tell Me Why

Please tell me why
I need to know before I can say goodbye
Like why can I not fly
And why do we all eventually die

Why is chewing with my mouth open rude
Why is farting out loud considered crude
Why can’t we make love when you have a headache
Why does chocolate cause me a to get a toothache

Why is living together before marriage a sin
Why can’t a stranger be my next of kin
Why do I have to brush my teeth before I sleep
Why does the father of the bride weep

Why do I have to register to vote
Why do castles have a moat
Why do people break your heart
Why do we call a meat pie a pie and not a tart

Why do countries go to war
Why do we not eat all of the fruit including the core
Why are people so mean
Why is a child’s room never clean

Why do kids bully others
Why do I have a sister but no brothers
Why does a man where pants and a woman a skirt
Why do you get dirty if you play in the dirt

Why do we need to drink and eat
Why do vegetarians not eat meat
Why do we have to do number one’s and two’s
Why can’t you have one-man crew’s

Why will an engine not work without oil or grease
Why can’t we have world peace
Why can’t I have subsequent serves
Why do you get on my nerves

Why are people homeless
Why are probationary drivers reckless
Why do some say grace at the table
Why to some is the bible not considered fable

Why do we as kids have imagainary friends
Why is it for some this never ends
Why do we not have enough water
Why in China do they not want a daughter

Why do people commit crimes
Why do different states run on different times
Why is Mr Howard still in power
Why are there sixty minutes in an hour

Why do I continue to ask why
Simply because I am an inquiring guy
I still don’t know why
But unfortunately it’s time to say good-bye

Details | Free verse | |

The Testimony

Let me tell yall a little sumthin bout me
I left my church to pursue my callin 
forget soul searching God got me on the throne
so I'm spiritually ballin
Now I then seen the political numbers
so people doubted I can do it like Stephanie Rawlings
but check it I take orders from the 5 Star General
and I'm just a crucifixion away from meeting the servant

Now look, I been fallin out of his good graces
like Alicia Keys, praying for wisdom, knowledge, 
and understanding so I stay on bended knees
and I'm just me no better than the next man
just lyrically gifted, Paul said we we're more
than conquerors so thats why I'm trying to get lifted.

I represent the 12 tribes of Isreal so I'm one of the 
chosen few, but like you I'm still on the front line making solider moves
this here is the testimony and me I never feared danger
but still people wondering where I came from like Jesus in the manger
I tell em I been sent to witness not testify
live life till the last day 
when the good Lord meets me in the sky

Details | Free verse | |

Writers Envy

I get jealous 
over prose 
who possess the room through her lips 
white lightening, 
kissing the air with their intonations, 
my frontal lobe 
with alliteration and rhythm 
the shoes 
upon which to stomp 
my feet, my feet, my feet 
this stomping ground 
in my head 
where I hunt the mush valleys 
a single 
lotus blossom 
of inspiration. 

If  I could covet 
this poet's thoughts 
her words, her tone, her imagery, 
my poetry beast 
would awaken 
and shake his mane 

I sit spellbound, 
listening to her vowels and consonants 
fall on the roof 
of this auditorium like rain pings 
on aluminum, 
when her thoughts end 
and mine begin. 

Details | Senryu | |

No More Fakes on Stage

why would realistic
politicians hire someone
to fake reality

no more fakes on stage
we want real peolple with real
answers to problems

Details | Quatrain | |

What are chief sources of sin

Chief sources are Seven
Pride, Greed, Lust
Anger, Gluttony, Envy and Sloth or laziness
Commonly called 7 Capital Sins or 7 Deadly Sins 

Details | Tanka | |


The finest line drawn-- 
Between silent stirs and sighs 
Of swaying roses 
In such perfection for myth 
Charmed by breath of a night wind

Details | Prose Poetry | |

My Very Last Poem

When the night wind blows 
And I quietly sit alone 
While the television hums in the background 
Words come to me

Sad words of longing 
And poetry that speaks of tenderness 
I want to remember happier times 
Your smiling face filled with laughter 
That echo from places 
Now so far, far away

Especially the sound of your voice 
That I have dearly loved 
And committed to memory 
A voice you now share with others

So with these words 
In this ungodly morning hour 
I write my last poem 
To you

Details | Light Poetry | |


She is mines for just an hour 
But she makes it seem like more,
She implies what time is ours 
Stays behind the bamboo doors.... 
While undressing me to shower,
Tending to my every need,
From the bed of Asian flowers, 
To the towels at my feet...
Then massaging me in oil, 
That evaporates in steam,
So her hands can softly coil,
What commemorate's the scene...
Not a word is ever spoken,
Until one is spoken to,
As she dries me off from soaking,
From the moisture coming thru...
As the hour takes each minute,
Just to turn it into two,
She devours me within it,
Like a concubine should do...


Details | Monorhyme | |

Soup and wine

Poetry soup and a glass of wine          																somethings taste better in time                                                                          											even the bitter the sweet rhymes                                                                                 										 be it an acquired taste it is mine                    															tears fears laughter courage all in a line 																my improper etiquette so i dine   																	 not the glass that it is in benign               															in any glass savor the wine

Details | I do not know? | |


Fom Greek pentecoste = the fiftieth day after Easter
Originally feast on whichIsrael celebrated 
The establishment of the covenant with God
On Mount Sinai
Through the Pentecost event in Jerusalem
It became for Christians the feast of the Holy Spirit


Details | Ode | |

Cold As Frost (Ode to Robert Frost)

            Subjective to the eyes upon words, poems are never
 the same twice. 
Quiet as snow fall you revealed the truest form of a self centered
 "October" day. 
Leaves fall in a similar pattern to unfamiliar words being recited 
around an ever-
trusting ignorant society. Perhaps the "Road not Taken" is where 
i shall resign 
my poetic beliefs and live as a reborn gust of wind, blowing lives 
in foretold 
directions. I have taken the time from time which has already 
escaped my life 
and given it too less of a friend, which became more of a burden. 
Pride bursts 
out in every direction giving reason for blame when blame insults
 the very 
essence of my reflection. One star permanently blazed into an 
empty sky can 
depend on me like clockwork, for I am the first to call criticism upon 
"Frost" in the 
winter. If it were truly that simple then the pen would lose it's importance 
as the 
tool of our trade. Who said that brilliance was not born, 
only created through 
practice? Then would be the time too call yourself gifted. 
A lifetime is lived "For 
once, Then Something" and until time is chosen none will be revealed. 
In my 
world; the sun will not shine without the loss of the moon, 
the rain only falls upon 
broken smiles, and the breeze is never as cold as "Frost".

Details | I do not know? | |


It's Valentine's day but I have no Valentine.
I hope that your love life is better than mine.
Tell your Valentine how much she means to you, it will come in handy.
Show her how much you care by buying her some candy.
I sit here alone as I count the hours.
Go kiss your Valentine and give her some flowers.

Details | Couplet | |

My Government

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

Details | I do not know? | |


Relationships are something special for you and for him.
Its about love and compassion, Its about everything.

Relationships are when your there when someone needs you,
and when they are there when you need them too.

Relationships are something special, you have to be treated that way,
And if your treated badly then you should not choose to stay.

Details | Free verse | |

If I was a Letter

If I was a letter, I'd probably be Z
I'm hard to use, I'm rare to see,
But I'm worth more points,
So that's fine with me,
The rabble of Scrabble:

Details | Rhyme | |

Trust must be earned

There is something that must be learned.
Trust is something that must be earned.
Don't loan money or other things to people who you've just met.
If they don't return it, it will be something that you'll certainly regret.
When strangers ask children to get in their cars, they're people who kids shouldn't trust.
Those strangers might kill them and it will make their parents feel misery and disgust.
Some people feel that people should automatically be trusted but that's inmature.
If they betray them, they'll be sorry and I know that for sure.
Some people don't agree with me but sooner or later they must.
To protect children and possessions, do not automatically trust.

Details | Rhyme | |

The Lines That Come Forth

The taking of the pen in hand 
to write of what I see,
the lines that come forth  through inward demand 
remain the best expressions of me.

Never old and ever changing
are the words upon each page.
Never limitless are my options
for the world is viewed as a stage.

Of various people from all walks of life 
to the seasons of unending change,
the subjects I write of from day to day
are as far as east from west in their range.

Desire and accomplishment are best expressed
each day that I find time to write.
Only when done can heart and hand rest
as the words of each poem come to light.

Douglas L. Ace

Details | I do not know? | |


Are we asleep,
When we're awake,
Is it touching that's real,
Or the feeling that's fake...
Once we close our eyes, 
Just where do we go,
To a place in our minds,
Or a space in our souls...
Wherever it is,
I know I can be,
Who ever I want,
Or whatever I need...
So when I succumb,
My sleeper awakes,
And slowly I fall,
To much deeper states...
Until it provides,
Or until it adjourns, 
Is where I reside,
Until it returns...

Details | Quatrain | |


whatcha mean it's not spec-tac-u-lar,
it's not the king's spoken command
the way I mean to say ver-nac-u-lar
it's just my talkin' outta hand

don't cha know how folks here talk
syntax of emotion, of little import
music to some ears, others can balk
when e-nun-ci-a-ting an angry retort

it's jus' the way we'z born 'n' raised
don't mean we're not savy 'n' smart
you shake yer head dismayed and fazed
'cuz what is said ain't no work o' art 

dude, you learned with the brightest
and know many words and their meanings
of our notions you ain't got the slightest
idea 'bout this neighborhood and its leanin'

form your opinions, but best be circumspect
'cause we talk diff'rent don't mean we can't
infer that you don't unnerstand our dialect
'cause we say "shall not," 'stead of "shan't,"

jus' means we ain't gonna...don't wanna

© Goode Guy 2011-07-12

Details | Senryu | |

I Write Poetry

i write poetry
in a plain, simple English
am I a poet?

Details | Rhyme | |

Austen's Emma


You may be handsome, you may be rich,
You may be clever, all factors which
May mean you have a happy home
And are blessed with the best that the world can bestow.

Your twenty-odd years may have passed with such ease:
No distress to compress, ever vex or displease.
Your match-making skills have succeeded again
And I'm left, at the end, in non-fictional pain.

Details | Rhyme | |

Put It On Paper!

When you’re happy,
Or have a bit of anger,
And you can talk to no one,
To release it put it on paper.
Who cares if it rhymes?
You have free time,
And need to free your mind.
Whatever feeling you have,
And no one has time for you.
Punch those phrases,
Out on the paper.
Doesn’t matter 
If there are line 
On it or not
You will no longer 
Feel confined
Then you have a work
Of art with words.
It could be published.
If it is has quality 
So you feel happy
Or disturbed
And no one wants
To hear what you 
Have to say.
Put it on paper!
Read it aloud,
And stand proud! 
Tell that anger
See you later
Or that happiness
Come back again.
Don’t ever underestimate
The power of the pen.
Let the words flow.
Paper will be,
 Your new friend!

Details | Free verse | |

[Dear sir,]

Dear sir,
the winds of winter have
blown you towards distant harbor.
Fast. one        two         andyouwere 
gone.  but doubt   the fact  that your 
trek was consuming I do 
	   You have stood  through
piercing winds, battered your chest,
ripped your legs- but your
hands were never touched-     you
placed heel to heel, slowly reaching 
stone tablets, lifted your hand to chin
and found a      good place     to   
	          The good city- will be good
to you. they will embrace your ink,
and consume every word dripped
from your pen. A mark of 
valor sketched into stone, whispered
among connecting winds- implosion 
of particles still remaining.
	                 They will then
introduce you to the world you once knew. a
world you once knew well. but it will 
not be what you recall.
      Your words will bring 
them back (a glimpse into a world 
before their time) and make them 
still fight, make them still yearn for 
the right to be free. 
       The blackened skies have 
blessed your ink with solemn 
voice. let it be heard.
the people will listen. will follow. 
May the four winds blow 
you safely home, Mr. Poe.  we’ll
be waiting.

Details | Rhyme | |


The artist sketches, draws or paints;
The chef cooks up a storm.
The singer practices the scales,
Preparing to perform.

The dancer limbers up and moves
According to the beat.
The athlete hits the gym so he
Is ready to compete.

The actor memorizes lines
‘Til he knows every word.
The barkeep makes martinis,
Sometimes shaken, sometimes stirred.

The politician plans his speech;
The teacher grades a test.
The stripper bumps and grinds until
She’s practically undressed.

We all do what we’ve gotta do
To feed our appetite;
And some of us, including me,
Get sated when we write.

Details | Narrative | |


Daisy was his dream
Luxury & wealth,Jay's scheme
This lover's bower,soon turned sour-
Gatsby quickly lost his cool,
Floating face-down ,in his pool.

Details | I do not know? | |

top of a box

whats in inside
might i ask 
the bottom 
so shiney the 
top comes off 
and feel quickly 
as he grab...
doing heist.
making more money
then a taxi cab.....
i'm doing right
right doing 
x girl friend called
ask how's things 
i laugh and told her
all good improving...
she said i saw your 
brother... small world
conversation went dry
like clothes being top
by the summer sky
you pain. i be the top 
until you ready to love a gain

Details | I do not know? | |

Intimate Strangers

Everyday about the same time
We'd pass each other on the street,
staring deep into the others eyes
day dreaming of a way to meet...
Would we tell one another lies
because most mistakes are made in haste
but our vows are the compromise
that keep our wedding rings in place...
making love in each others minds
the thought of it makes time stand still
our shoulders brush and at the same time
I breathe in deep to take my fill...
could you and I lead a secret life
or maybe we could just be friends
but today I think I will just say hi
and tomorrow we'll make love again...

Details | Lyric | |

To Paint You

I can paint
You, in black 
And white
While the sky curls 

Your hair, with care
As swaying
Green of spring
In the garden

Between orb and rain
In rivalry

Yet, I chose
To paint you, with
Lush of 
My words


for poet Ernilando Tugaff

Details | List | |

I'm Happy When...

I'm happy when....Christy is feeling Hardy....when Heidie buys something she 
enjoys...when Jack reeds all the good comments on his work...when Ruby's Mets 
win...when Patricia laughs at the movie "The Addams family Tree"...when Sandra 
cruises the Hudson in her beautiful new sail boat she bought after winning the 
lottery...when everybody's favorite, Sharon, "weans" her children of meaningless 
goals, and they go on to great success..when Rhoda can relax with a gallon of 
Galgiano liquour..when Carol's holiday turkey is roasted to the "perfect" 
Brown...when Karen is no longer O'leary of any fool bothering her...when Vince 
clinches a sweet Proctor and Gamble laundry suds deal...when John says Heck! 
to whoever he wants...(I know,!!,...he already does!!  Power to him!)  when 
Teressa Harrs her Pena Colada is ready...and to all my other Soup Budddies, if I
 missed anyone, I am so sorry...but you aren't forgotten....and I'll make it up to you 
ASAP.   And I'm happy any day I produce a smile or two....

Details | Free verse | |

the day you broke my heart

i wondered why 
i was smotherd 
with pain 
when you left 
a cloud 
hovered over in
being breach 
in insult 
afaid of being
when it poured rain 

like everlasting
water from 
the mount everest
the day you broke 
my heart 
was the best 
day of my life
even though

i struggled 
and suffered to
gain pulse
swearing you was heaven sent
i came to find my 
stronger and tougher
as each day closed
the day you broke my heart

you blosom a rose
i found my 
soul lover.
now i can live 
like the person 
i'am mister soul brother
with soul

Details | Free verse | |


Since you've decided to read my poetry,
I may as well let you know;
I didn't dicover my talent yesterday,
but about four years ago.

I thought about being a rapper,
or a movie star;
but I realized that big dreams with no effort wouldn't get me far.

I began to write down my thoughts and dreams,
think hard and put them together;
I studied the people and things around me,
I even took notes about the weather.

All the feelings that I've had or the people who have influenced me,
somehow end up in the lines of my poetry.

When my mind, a pen, and paper meet,
something magical takes place;
so enjoy my poetry and tell me what you think.

Details | Free verse | |

Yet Still

my words pour from my fingertips
in the hope of understanding
to make the world a little clearer
and all they do is muddle it
I write furiously with no comprehension
of what it is I write
but with the full understanding that I have to write
always hoping that someone will read and understand
tosee the clear picture
of the portrait I painted
of a person unknown to all
but existing in a place that well known
to the point that  people seek him without fully
comprehending what they seek
until he,
himself intervenes on their behalf and puts out his hand,
which most reject for people want to make their own way,
but still I write
not fully comprehending what I am writing
till the point where I lay down in exaustion

Details | Free verse | |


write your best
but don't stray from conventions
or you won't win awards
make people think
make people dream
but don't stray too far from conformity
no one cares unless you've got friends
or connections
or someone up high
or just enough money
to get their dead veins pulsing again

talent is 20% of success
don't let the romantic optimists tell you otherwise

Details | Senryu | |

the P is common

the P is common
pen, paper, poet, poem
always together

Details | Free verse | |

Here we Are

There you are
Hanging out at the "Ja' s  Java" expresso stand
in your country club church
talkin bout the war
like it was a foot ball game
there you are

There you are
judging that woman you don't even know
gasping in shock
over what you heard
about your neighbor
there you are

Here I am
too afraid to do anything but write
cause your freakin out
about an exposed breast
or a mother nursing
her baby in public
while the world drowns in blood
Here we are.

Details | Burlesque | |

How To Contact Certain Diseases

When you eat chicken,you get chicken-pox.
When you play polo, you catch polio.
When you color,you catch cholera.
When you descend on people you catch dysentry.
When you like harvesting potato tubers you catch tuberculosis.
When you steal answer you catch cancer.
When you don't like people you catch Aids.
When you eat from a dish in a cafeteria you catch diphteria.
If you continue to tie your headtie you'll get typhoid.

Details | Free verse | |

Psychosis of the muse

such a secret important word
danced around verbally
conditioning you the way they want
for utmost power
if i had it my way
i would have you ring a bell everytime their secret word
tweaks you out

I wonder what the secret word is...
everytime i hear it, i cant help but feel this way
crack a smile and drool
and then get bent out of shape

Not like you owe me anything
cause you don't
but alas
i can't help but care
this is affecting me
and i refuse to tell you
your secret word

does it make me dangerous...
start reading from the dictionary
and i'll show you dangerous

one secret word
they all sing around for the one
whoever the one is
in a world full of number 2's
we're all number 2
to the one

Obliviousness rocks
unfortunately you can't allow yourself
this ignorance
cause you my friend
are brainwashed
but alas
the villified ignorance speaks for itself

quite an oxymoron paradigm shift riddle
i wonder what the word is
I suppose i'll figure it out
cause my life depends on it

momentary hero
i am making you blind
present you with a riddle to make you smarter
but alas
i can only show you the riddle
i wouldn't be able to tell you

one word
such an intricate word
lost in the matrix of mentally conditioning yourself
when you ough to ring a bell

It's gonna happen now
you will have the desire to puirchase a bell
and ring it 
a lot
because of this word
whatever it is....

the psychosis of the muse
another part of society blackmailed
and scapegoated
and used as a weapon
cause we are all number 2
to the one

Details | Free verse | |

Will I ever be a poet?

Tonight I wonder,
will I ever be a poet?
I'm a good writer,
sometimes I don't even know it.
The words come to me naturally,
and some of them I don't
even know what they mean!
I love to write
everyday and everynight,
about the things that happen in my life.
I really hope I become a poet,
it's more than writing to me.
I think I have talents
most people can't see.
Poetry is my passion,
it helps me think.
I write the words I feel
in beautifully colored ink.
I hope someday to become a poet
so that people can see,
the true poet I really can be.

Details | Narrative | |


A talent
that outlived
passing fame-
hidden beneath
her lover's name.

Tribute to Mary Evans ie George Eliot

Details | Couplet | |

Tag Sharon Weimer "You are IT"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Details | Quatrain | |

What is Gluttony

Gluttony like Greed
Excessive desire of Food or Drink
Part of7 Capital sins or 7 Deadly sins
Jesus Christ requires one to confess

Details | I do not know? | |

The Dangers of A Bored Poet

When poets get bored you should worry.
They may try to stir up some "fun".
I think it's the kick of excitement
they get when they see what they've done.

If it seems like it may be too quiet
they'll want to get feathers to fly.
Sometimes it is fun just to watch them
while they 'virtually' yell, scream or cry.

They all love the thrill of the drama
and of course need to have the last word.
We all know the one that is right
is whoever can use bigger words! 

I get nervous when things start to simmer
and peace is the only real sound.
Things can change in a matter of minutes
if there's more than one poet around. 

Details | Couplet | |

Unique Horn

Carpe Diem, seize the day
Live by the rules of the game you play
The world is your oyster, enjoy the ride
When the going gets tough, look on the bright side
Silence is golden, take that to the bank
Put that in your pipe while smoke screens draw blank
Though money makes the world go round
Speak louder through actions than through sound
Empty vessels make the most noise
Best medicine, laughter, daily poise
Fool me once means shame on you
Shame on me, that’s fooled times two
Follow your heart, reach for the stars
Dreams come true, firefly jars
A bird in hand is worth two in a bush
When push comes to shove, shove comes to push
A stitch in time always saves nine
As luck still favors prepared minds
Fortune favors the brave at heart
Every ending once had a start
Live your life without regret
‘Tis better to forgive and to forget
We’re proned to get as hard as we give
Throw stones in the glass houses we live
Don’t count your chickens before they hatch
Two birds with one stone, that’s quite a catch
A rolling stone gathers no moss
Too many cooks spoil the broth
Just try again if you don’t succeed
And don’t believe everything you read
Make every experience educational
To think twice before speaking is critical
Let sleeping dogs lie I always say
Cause every dog will have his day
To be taught new tricks no matter the age
Nothing ventured, nothing gained
Two heads they say is better than one
Violence isn’t always the key my son
Beggars can’t choose, that much we know
More haste less speed, no time to grow
When seams come undone, it’s cause for concern
We are what we are, we live what we learn

Details | Prose Poetry | |

To Consider the Alligator

I wouldn't be scant. Its codfish lies to pull ferociously all up in its cube. The forks stomped the ponies. Why did your 
goodness lift our leaf? What do ideas ride like? You sound like that laugh. You persuasively divide. All obscene feet 
straddled under his lingust. What is all over the drifting harpsicord? Exude yourself betwixt the calamity. I will be snoring 
impudent cities. What is through that fatility? What is beside my heel? No fountain pens, please. I could be spitting 
underneath your cognizance. Boldly you malnourish the fence. You usually ventillate. Bend your travesty. Thirty-five 
damp beets are sophmorically trampled. You will run beside gods. You look like a surreal brevity. You will boil inside 
caftans. I diddle. I shouldn't have been hopping beyond your vertebre. You will thrust along protests. The pedestrian left 
by our digit. His rabbit accepts a serpent. His floppy money was hydrating with her heart. I love piston. Her list of fury 
resonated next to the thunder. You smell like morse code. His slinky magical mirror was feeling all over my Swahili. You 
will snap without tiger boots. You like waxy provisions. Hi, I'm a stormy panhandler. With your mildew were eight 
blogging skaters. My philanthropy whisps like a plasma. Sufficiently I snap. You remind me of every neat-o flamingo. 
You explicate mates. Drip your disgust. No car keys, please. A combustion tickles an insertion. Hi, I'm a cold cole. You 
sheepishly evade. You finally exude. All your abyss' are belonging to us.

Details | Free verse | |


No joy or happiness I find
as I stand before the rack.. 
But death and despair both are there
Bold in white and black..
She was a mathematician 
her favorite word was phi
They captured and they killed her
just to see her die...
Drugs and gangs and streets at war
fill each and every page..
As far away and here at home
a righteous war we wage..
Wishes denied a dark trespasser
that hides behind a mask..
Till desire for what the others have
becomes our urgent task..
In a nanosecond I would fly 
till I was far away..
In hopes to find a better place
safe to work and play..
A place where no hatred grew
where everyone was free..
Can you imagine just what on earth
our headlines then would be.. 

Details | Rhyme | |

Our Writing

We write to please
As we are pleased to write
Our writing grows from our inner sight

All shapes and forms
Are written down
We grace the page, our writings gown

We write so differently
You and me
Our comments are gracious, for all to see

From all over our globe
On the Soup appear
Nationalities of many, in writing sincere

Details | Free verse | |

The Poets Point of Separation

A disbanded little colony of wacky souls ensues:

Some will head to the high purple hills 
and live in caves.
They will bring cranberries and beets to crush
up and make paint with.
They will use horse hair brushes to write their
words on the cave walls for future cave dwellers.

Some, will make the long trek down to the sea.
They will bring sail cloth and hollowed out birch trees
and construct fine boats to set out on the blue.
Once past any site of land,
they will take empty oyster shells
and redeposit pearly orbs in them, now wrapped
in silk ribbons with words of poems written and bled on them with Indian ink.
They will plunk each one to the sea, watching them
sink as white stones past the line of sight, 
to the sweeping sands below.

Others, will head to the plains.
Cowboys to horses and tumbleweed hats.
They will ride to the point of exhaustion 
just to locate a piece of land that has never known 
human feet.
After setting up camp, fire burning the smoke signals of life,
they will sing their words to the coyotes and the night birds.

Still others, like me, will retreat to the land within.
Storing up words and prose, muttering rhyme in the shower
toward upward twisting steam.
Eating a breakfast of oatmeal, but living my life's thoughts through the eyes 
of an old man I saw briefly on the street the day before.

This wacky band of expression analysts.

Each as unique as the lands they will travel to:
The consummate lover.
The philosopher.
The artist.
The photographer.
The misfit.
The wonderful, blow your mind, every time, embodiment of inspiration.

A colony about to disband - to cover the earth in rhyme.

Details | ABC | |

Poetic Journey

At beginning, certain derivatives escaped form,
Growing here, I joined keen living mighty names,
Obtaining poetic qualification, returned sweetly,
Telling universally valiant words,
 Xeroxing yearlong zeal

Details | I do not know? | |

Blindless Passion

What was I to say to her
If I still had my sight
Out of all the people passing
I could smell her walking by...
The perfume she keeps wearing
announces her before she's near
Although I never met her
I get excited when I hear...
The patter of her footsteps
or the scuffing of her heels
No matter if she smiles or frowns
I know the way she feels...
Then one day I spoke to her
just sitting across the aisle
I didn't hear her say a thing
But somehow I sensed a smile...

Details | Couplet | |

So, Till We Meet Again

We have poems that make us really different from one another;
You already mastered the rhyme, whilst I‘m still trying to discover.

I have played several times, with this cute little haiku,
While you, deeply, longing to amaze its twin sibling senryu.

And yet, without doubt, we all meet everyday on this central stage,
Where you, un-selfishly, spreading yourself on this blank page.

While my complicated thoughts are being stocked in deep confusion, 
Because I am undecided yet, in what form I must uncover my passion.

For not only you, who suffer in this so-called un-poetic indigestion;
But indeed, happy are those who continue sharing their poetic vision.


Details | I do not know? | |



Latin trinitas = the state of being threefold

God is only one but He exist in three persons

The fact that in English we have two terms

The triune God and the Trinity

For the same reality (one emphasizes God’s unity

The other the distinction (of persons in Him)

An indication of the unfathomable mystery of the Trinity



Details | I do not know? | |

Sorrows beauty

When you thought the world was a perfect circle
It showed you the lenses beneath.
When you overcame the sadness of the truth
It told you not to dig too deep.
When you confronted it with your problems
It told you it was up to you to solve them.
Silences cruelties
Sorrows beauty.

When you were over the edge
It pulled you up, but pushes you over again.
Betrayed by your own friend
It told you it doesn't matter.
Because you didn't even exist
It told you to live your life now,
Because soon your heart would burst
Deaths unity
Sorrows beauty.

Your heart was lost in someone else's hands
It told you to move on, no one gives a damn.
Your faith in another
Was drowned by mistake.
It was a coincidental fate
No more trust to give.
So you ignore the lie you live
Loves tendencies
Sorrows beauty.

You cry your tears
In a puddle of rain.
The clouds didn't notice
It all blended in.
You scream the loudest your lungs can take
Other register them as nothing but fake.
You know it's real but they can't see
Because it's coming from you and not a TV.
Pure insanity
Sorrows beauty.

When you've fallen
It kicks your sides.
When you've recovered
It takes away that pride.
Pains immunity
Sorrows beauty.

The beauty within
The walls that don't hide
The walls that bleeds the tears
Until the veins run dry.

Details | I do not know? | |

I voted against Phil Bredesen Part 2

If a ninety year old Tennessean buys some cigarettes, he has to show 
He has to prove that he's not under eighteen and that's stupid intimidation.
Bredesen must think that people will mistake senior citizens to be people who 
are under eighteen.
The law he passed makes all tobacco users show identification and it's the 
stupidest law I've ever seen.
I voted against Phil Bredesen because I'm appalled.
It's a damn shame that he can't be recalled.

Details | I do not know? | |

Comedian At Last Call

No more for the Courts of Kings,nor 
  for patrons with sprawling estates;
Words ungreeted by the goblet's chorused
  ring,striking dinner plates.
Now's an era of closed aspiration,
  lonely conceit's capped hub.
Whispers 'midst the screen's din,or 
  in some desperate comedy club.
I'm a stand-up at last call,routine 
  falls 'pon the distracted floor;
It's damn hard to hit the mark when
  listening's become a chore.
Remarks made are as trained pigeons,
  unable to find the home page,
Left flailing endlessly,their breathing
  laboured,and weak with spent rage.
Again, the stage lights click off:
  the snapping jaws of obscurity.
Evening given,nothing gained,
  circuit's crafted anonymity.
Oh,to be the jester to a Court,
  each comment,my life at stake;
With a chorus rung howls,jeers,
  awaiting my words for their own sake.

Details | Narrative | |

' A Poet, Goes To War ... '

‘ A  Poet  Goes  To  War … ’ ( Josh. 23: 10, 11 ) 

A Gentle-Poet … Goes To War
Oh … How Far … How Far … How Far …
Did You Push A Tender Heart
before Poet Finishes, What You Start ?

Just Like That Musician, Shepherd – Boy
whom a Lion and Bear, Dared Annoy          ------  1 Sam. 17: 37
Trying to Steal Some of His Precious Sheep
Poet, Showed Them … What’s His … He Keeps !

And That Same, Brave-Poet Went To War
Against Goliath’s Insulting, Roar !                ------  1 Sam. 17: 45 – 51
… But With just One Pebble Fling
That Poet’s, Sling, Thru All Of Time … Rings !

And If  A Wise-Poet Goes To War …
That Poet … May Wound and Scar                -------  Acts 7: 54, 57
For Words, Gouge Deeper Than Stones
Pen’s Mightier Than Sword … Cuts Clean To The Bone !

But, You made Poet … ‘your’ Foe, with Mock-Chimes
The First Thought … Just Give Them, Calm-Down-Time
But, Know … This Poet Thrives … Behind Enemy Lines
Forgiving and Wishing, God-Giving, Words-Divine !

‘Cause When Peace-Loving-Poets… Go To War …
‘We’ … Must Travel by:  The Bright Morning Star    ---  Rev. 22: 16
and Wait on His Orders … His Way
and I’m Cautious … Like ‘The Commander’ Says …  -- Matt. 10:16

So, Before you feel The Need To Spar                  ----  Zeph. 2: 2, 3
Before…  Big Poets … Have To Go To War             ----  Genesis thru Revelation
… Know That Such Poets … Are Word–Warriors
 … Don’t Make ‘em Go Off … on ya’ !

‘Cause you Won’t Survive … The Tongues of Fire    ----  Acts 2: 3, 4
( or The ‘ Lake ’ Either … If You Live Like A Liar … )  ---  Rev. 21: 7, 8
Gon’ Wind Up, Locked Behind Abyss’ Bars
… For Making  ‘  Poor-Poets ’ … Go To Wars !          ----  Matt. 18: 6

Details | Couplet | |

What is Life?

Life is full of sorrow,
As we always wonder about tomorrow.

Life is full of pain,
Unknowingly that we hurt the ones we love again and again.

Life is full of love,
Always wanting to reach to the stars above.

Life comes and goes,
Because of the decisions we chose.

Life is ending near,
Now is the time to face our fears.

Life is full of cries, 
As a life is taken away, we gaze into those skies.

However when life becomes brightened,
It's when someone comes into our life causing our life to be lightened.

They show us the way,
An escape out of this dark cold day.

Details | I do not know? | |

Definition of Form

Magically her entrance
was so graceful and mysterious,
The robe that she was wearing
Left my mind to question curious...
Her skin like golden honey
Seemed to magnify moonlight,
And every curve when she would turn
would make it even more bright..
As she sat in silence
Naked looking out the window
She rubbed her bosom slightly,
Tugging lightly at my ego...
Her legs so soft and silky
seemed to call me when she crossed them,
Would they be as exciting
If the lighting would have lost them...
And as the paint meets canvas
Mending images I've torn
I admire...her entire
Truly the definition of form...

Details | Acrostic | |

Carol Brown

Charming, like her name
Against all odds, her spirits never wane
Ready to laugh…and to cry, to give and to share…
Of little things she has, with everyone ‘cos she really care
Like diamond, bright and precious…for love is in her blood

Beauty beyond compare, knowing her I am truly glad
Rare creation, like her writings without flaws, so pure and true
One, two or three…and there you see…she’s always free, just for you
What I learned, from her, is to be humble, for not to stumble in search of fame
Now and forever, she will always be Miss Carol Brown… charming, like her name

Details | Light Poetry | |

The Velvet Verse (2nd One)

Oh, Velvet-Verse
From Poet’s Purse
Silence is Golden…
… but Words, Told Its Worth…

In Silver-Tongue Lines
From Deep-Diamond Mines
Brilliant Thoughts Mingle
Hear The Poet’s Pocket, Jingle?

Poetry and Prose Costs… but Pays
thru Praise, or  Hearts and Ink Pens Raised
So Exchange Currency - 100 Percent
And Oh Joy… If Vocabulary, Pays The Rent !

A Picture’s Worth A Thousand Words
But Words… Say It Best
Less Mistake in what’s Heard
Less Mind-Reading, Or Wrong Guess

It Is True… ‘A Picture Is Worth
A Thousand Words…

But… Just  - One Word – Can Paint…
What A Thousand Pictures – Can’t !

Few Example(s):   God … Love    … Forever
                           Life …   Mystery …   War

Details | Free verse | |

Poet Mentors (Diatelle)

Help me now
I beseech thee
I ask that you show me
Just how to write a good poem
Yes, I am so very eager to learn
And yes, I will also pass the knowledge along
As I succeed, you will succeed as well
For, I will never take credit
Of that which is not mine
I’ll give it back
To all my 

DIATELLE 1/3/4/6/8/10/12/10/8/6/4/3/1 unrhymed syllables

Details | I do not know? | |

Why do people think I'm dumb?

(This is a fictional poem)

When I tell people that two plus two equals five, they always laugh.
Why do they say that I suck at math?
Everybody says that I can't count because I say that a person's hand has three 
fingers and a thumb.
Why do all of these people think I'm so dumb?

Details | I do not know? | |

"Porkpie Jones."

Porkpie Jones has brittle bones, and crusted corn-filled toes,

And sleety eyes and bulgy thighs, and brillo pad elbows,

His underarms are typical farms, and reek a barnyard smell,

Its quite the place for creepy, crawly, parasites  to dwell,

The ample dirt in his ears and on his head has just began to harden,

There's so much dirt on him everywhere, he could grow a flower garden,

The birds fall quickly from the sky, whenever he starts to speak,

His teeth and gums are as black as coal, and all his bone joints squeak,

He trips when he walks, spits when he talks, and spills everywhere when he drinks,

Three triple Dagwood sandwiches to him are a light snack, his decorum and etiquette 

The ground shakes when he takes a step, and cars fly when he sneezes,

And he feels free to dine and snack on anything he pleases!

The sight of water gives him chills, and soap will make him screech,

He can't fit in his bathtub, so he bathes at the beach,

Porkpie dives into his drinks, and scorns the use of cups,

And when he falls, some will laugh, but the ground starts cracking up...

He's never been able to touch his toes, he can't reach any farther than his hips,

When he bends over, its always a treat to experience a total eclipse,

His home is in disarray, it needs improvement,

Porkie Orlivander Jones scorns unnecessary movement,

He's absolutely clueless, on how to close the gate,

Or feed his starving fish, or wash his every dish,

Or vacuum his entire floor, where dust mites romp and roam,

Or change his heaping can of trash thats nearly large as Nome,

Loads of bills that he won't pay, coat his table tops,

He puts his Suitcase in his closet, right next to the lamb chops,

Porkpie never was that bright, in school he was a tease,

In fact I think his grades were so low, that he would get straight Z's!

Well we all can learn a lesson here, I'm sure that all is known,

That we must keep our appearances neat, and always brush and scrub our feet,

And be respectful when we eat, or we could all end up like Mr. 

Porkpie Orlivander Alowicious  Alexander GianCarlo Markowitcz Jones!!!!!

Details | I do not know? | |

Tales Of Hero's

There once was a man who lived in Sherwood,
Who all the folks called Robin Hood.
He stole from the greedy,
And gave to the needy,
But would steal from the poor if he could!

Details | Ode | |


In the lovely Campanian countryside, amid
verdant hills and mountains...where Virgil
stopped to rest,while jeourneying to visit Cybele's temple, 
lie a fertile valley where chestnut and walnut trees
abound...there is hidden the bustling town of my birth!
Narrow streets overlooked by bell towers,
and whenever the sturdy bronze bells ring 
in the fragrant air of early spring:
young and old from windows and balconies, 
in the twelfth hour, engage
in the sweet thanksgiving prayer...
while the tricolor flags sway in the warmest breeze!   

The town's friendly people will welcome you with song,
untill you feel wonderful and touched by all;  
this town has seen invasion, pestilences and a dire year... 
an almost fatal hurricane that prevented a fierce battle
from being fought during World War II;
was Divine Intervention a factor to be acknowledged?
It spared this town being bombarded by air,
and it saved my mother's life to tell this truth!

God blessed this unknown place,
and sent Mary with the infant  Jesus,
four days after He was born,
on a long jeourney through that valley
filled with peace and beauty:
to find a revered and holy mountain...
much closer to Heaven!
And She shed many tears
to give all the dull flowers
a brilliance of their own!

Deep in the hills there was a very special place I choose,
where I would rever the magnificence of the valley...
revealing a superb panorama with the Vesuvius in sight,
was there another creation as magnificent as that ?
And that owesome view perked up my inspiration inside,
teaching my  tiny fingers to write with a human heart!
O Baiano, don't strip this name from your walls and stones:
I am a forgotten native who will return before he'll die!

Details | Ballad | |

' Legendary ... ' ( Part 4 (of) 4)

‘ Legendary …’  ( Part  4 (of) 4 ) 

Now, that the Maiden was Unaided, Quickly, ‘He’ Located, Her Craftily
Beth, was in A Flurry, Too Much in a Hurry to Hear Turning of A Key 
Alas’ … The Happenstance of Harm, at the Bower, twas’ Done Most Foully !
Alas’ … The Happenstance of Alarm, Maid twas’ Undone for Shameful Villainy!

 * * *  The Maid so Afraid, for The Earl Waylaid – Her, to His Infamy
He Ravaged and Damaged The Maid … and Took Her Innocency …

And She, in Her Distress and Mental-Regress and Misery
Sat Horrified-Aloof, Sitting in Soiled Proof, of Her Plundered Chastity
There Could Nay be Gathered, Her Tattered-Wits twere’ Shattered, even for Modesty
As The Earl snidely Chuckled, and Boastingly Buckled His Belt, Smirking Heinously

Yea, The Earl had Sated His Dissipated Lust and Gloated – Gleefully
Went Back to The Masque-Ball and Unmasked and Called and Mocked Maliciously
Impugned Beth, to One and All, of Her Downfall from Grace to Impropriety
The Earl Made Sure … The Stunned Knight Would Overhear, The Indecency …

But Much to The Earl’s Chagrin and also Akin to Cowardice and Incredulity
… The Knight Spoke Nay a Word, Only The Hissing of His Sword, Struck Accordingly
The Last Look, The Earl Saw Was … Rage and The Fraught-Gaze of  Insanity !
Yea, The Knight, Smote The Gloat off The Face of the Vile Earl, Most Deservedly …

* * *

Thence, The Knight, in Their Sight, Became Legend That Night as He Fought Mightily
He Escaped Royal Guards, His Heart was Beating Hard, as He made it to The Bowery
And by the Window, He could see by Melted Tallow, a piece of cloth hung Raggedly
caught Wherefore Beth … had jumped to Her Death … and Lay Below Crookedly …

* * *

Now, Tis’ Sad To Recite … They Hung The Poor Knight,  tis’ Further Travesty
For The Earl, tho’ Highborn, wast’ a Cur to Be Scorned … a Monstrosity !
Alas’ …  and Aghast, the hope of Lovers Together at Last, Turned into Tragedy
Fie’ and Fain, lest’ we Forget, this be A Story and yet… couldst’ be Reality …

Yea, Fie’ and Fain, lest’ We Forget, …  Why The Earl, His End Met … 

                        … This Too Was Vanity …   Eccl. 1: 14

‘ … Sweet Wine On My Lips … Drip In Ecstasy
Sweet Touch On My Hips … Smooth as Warm Honey
Sweet Love of My Soul … Last An Eternity
Sweetheart, Be Thy Bold in Bravery …
… and if Sweet Talk, Be A Token
And Language Be Spoken …
Be Legendary … Be Thou Legendary ! ‘

                               The End

Details | I do not know? | |


From the Greek Charis = gift, grace, favor, charm
A name for the gratuitous gifts of the Holy Spirit
As they are described
For example in Corinthians 12:6ff
The gift of healing
Miraculous powers
Speaking in tongues and
The gift interpreting them
Firmness in faith and so on
Also included are the seven gifts of the Holy Spirit


Details | Rhyme | |

We Are Human

I live, I die.
I laugh, I cry.

I think, I create.
I love, I hate.

I am jealous, I am mad.
I am happy, I am sad.

I forge, I feed.
I want, I need.

I Am Human.

You listen, you feel.
You give, you steal.

You begin, you end.
You receive, you send.

You murder, you bury.
You give birth, you marry.

You educate, you learn.
You buy, you earn.

You Are Human.

We sit, we leap.
We play, we sleep.

We write, we read.
We follow, we lead.

We hurt, we sin.
We lose, we win.

We walk, we drive.
We fail, we strive.

We Are Human.

Details | Prose Poetry | |


Mental Telepathy
Apathetic CharlaX
Wood yew like to have a super power like mental telepathy
then rally hear what people think
when they stare at you
and understand just what they think of you?
Like the movie liar liar with Carey? He looked so calm and said you really look 
like the dog today? Or something to that affect? WAIT this brings up another point 
eye need to make. 
The story that eye make is sometimes loosely based on a real life scenario a 
fate of people just like ewe and eye.
The Animal in my Fabels is of course the Charlax creature and alien from a 
distant star system not attuned to the physical much in the manner of Michael 
Valentine. My Fables are just stories not ever about animals just Fabels notice 
the different spelling the e is transported to mean a different sort of story. Most of 
my fables is suitable for children although they are not written JUST and ONLY 
for the tykes they can be read and digested by most humans online.
If little Johnny Sue is less than FIVE years young than mabe you need to filter all 
the charlax from the line and consider placing the computer a little higher on the 
vine. Most children precocious notwithstanding can move a mouse with easy 
strokes and games build smurffing skills well used in later life. There was a 
science fiction story the naked man stood on the platform and tried to transport 
hisself by kinetic transference of his energy he went to lots of different places 
only he had to get there naked his clothes would not make the jump. Think about 
it like the movies eye suppose they even used it in the Terminator ones. 
Common man and common sense can make the same mistaken thinking try 
this one on for size if someone stares at yew for very long without a word in your 
direction and they are frowning or even sneering it's a good bet the brain has a 
dialogue of one like this one “Oh GOD look at that man he must be homeless he 
looks so bad like unwashed glasses.”

Details | Ballad | |

Sing A Song Of People

Sing a song of people
Walking fast or slow;
People in the city
Up and down they go.

People with their hats on,
Going in the doors.
People with umbrellas
When it rains and pours.
People in tall buildings
And in stores below;
Riding elevators,
Up and down they go.

People walking singly,
People in a crowd;
People saying nothing,
People talking loud.
People laughing,smilling,
Grumpy people too;
People who just hurry,
And never look at you!

Sing a song of people
Who like to come and go;
Sing of city people
You see but never know!

Details | Dramatic Verse | |


I am the tiger whose eyes are inflamed with anger
I am that blackest of black that is empty but full of our shadows
I am the flood that washes you away with my waves
I am the wonderer that wonders why you
I am a freight train whose sounds, drowns all the sounds you make
I am not listening although I'm in front of you

Details | Free verse | |

I Wake Up Early, Like The Other Old People Do

Through the beauty of words, 
an unsuspecting poet unleashed his passion, 
instilling it into my brain.

His in un-familiar form, written flawlessly, so sweet they say.

Oh, do not hungry nor tease me with your musing, 
for my stomach surely can’t wait 
to peek through the youth of your life  

Do not ask 
what my heart can do, once young, 
but now complicated and ageing on my favorite pillow.

Nor seek the truth, inside me, wandering not from my ways.

Do you see in my face the youthfulness, once I had,
now hidden for eternity behind this frail skin,  
and clothed by this grayed beards of my yesteryears?

A great rhymer, 
sometimes a free-verser, 
so many years ago, versified the Earth. 

Not of salt, but by his wondrous soul, tinged with crackling hues of fall.

O you, who de-versify me 
do I see thy quill rhyme?
Then bother not thy self to ask about my sonnet. 

Details | I do not know? | |

Scorpio Tendacy

You're messing with my mind
I'm trying to find
Words to get my anger easily out
Subtracting the options to scream and shout
Rant and rage
My anger will stampede with a rampage to destroy and kill
I advise you to procede with caution at your own will.
Will to risk getting hurt with somewhat fatal wounds
My words come out as bullets, piercing everything I aim for
But lucky for you
You are my designated target
And trust my shot is accurate
Or should I say on point
And everything else in between 
And outside the lines
I will not miss
My anger is tempting to stampede with a rampage to destroy and kill
I advise you to procede with caution at your own will

Details | Dramatic Verse | |

Go straight to Hell

(This is true)

Some women have rejected me because I don't have a lot of money.
They thought they were being smart but they were really being crummy.
I was shocked and appalled by their greed.
If you prick a man's skin, he will bleed.
I have something to say to those women and they better listen well.
What you did was wrong and you can all go straight to Hell.

Details | Ballade | |


They had no army standing tall
no navy with it's mighty ships 
no cannons blasting cannonballs
they had no need for all of this. 
They lived in buoyant, peaceful bliss. 
They were joyful, and seldom sad. 
Great were they for poets they had. 

They had no master, but for God. 
A charitable and unselfish race 
no punishment, no prisoners to flog. 
They shared their love and with grace 
and welcomed all to this graceful place. 
They weren't boastful, or brightly clad. 
Great were they for poets they had. 

They fought no battles, waged no wars 
on them the sun would always shine.
They never sailed for distant shores.
They had no need for gold to find. 
They had no clocks for which to wind, 
a loving group thankful and glad. 
Great were they for poets they had.

They were all we could hope to be 
a grand model for society. 
They were brave and strong, kind and free. 
A true vision of morality, 
yet never existed -in reality. 
So be thankful as the world goes mad
we’ve been blesed with the poets we’ve had.

Details | Acrostic | |

Behind the Wall

Willfully erected..obstructing..
    emotional velocity halted..
Armor.. imprisoning..
    safe and secure.. spiritless..
Layers of pain.. eclipse 
    and enclose..restricting ..
Languish not behind the wall..
    surrender to the magnitude of emotion..
Escape the enchantment of safety..
    passions unleashed.. fireworks erupting
Delight in the wonder of Love..
    thrill to the sensations of life!
    ~ rejoice as the bricks tumble..
    ~ shout as the wall falls....

Details | I do not know? | |

Old women make me horny Part 2

(This is a fictional poem)

I've watched every episode of the Golden Girls.
Those old broads really rock my world.
When I watch them, I get hot and sweaty.
I want to have oral sex with Estelle Getty.
I like Blanche, Rose and Dorothy too.
Those are four ladies who I really want to do.
A friend asked me to date women my old age but I will not.
I like women with gray hair, wrinkles, false teeth and liver spots.
Old broads are the only women who I date.
The Golden Girls is coming on so I'm going to masturbate.

Details | Narrative | |

vignette-IF AT FIRST

Off to the the Cevennes
This trip was not made in heaven,
Travels with his donkey was a bind-
Fame for Robert he was yet to find
'til treasure on an island came to mind

Tribute to Robert Luis Stevenson 1850-1894

Details | Free verse | |

My life is not a joke

It's not easy to put yourself out like this
sabatoge your fantasies
and write down life experiences
glad you are enjoying my 15 year nervous breakdown
but you are laughing at my life
and why i write is to inform you
my life is not a joke

I am a human being
who tries probably harder than you
who sees the blessings in everything
and its unfortunate for soo many they see so few
it's not easy to inform an apathetic world
whats going on in my life
and not take it personal
when you laugh at my attempts at talking myself out of suicide

Talk about ripping my heart open
to give you a laugh
you write such pretty creative things
i write in an attempt to heal
the whole statement here is my life is not a joke
but obviously its humorous
and in time i will learn to put up another wall
i'm sure whatever joke i am fits me like a glove

One of the few things stopping me from giving the world what i thought god wanted from me
and now i'm going to stop
just thought i would inform you
my pain to me is very real
ignorance is bliss i guess
and i can't take that from you
but its been taken from me

I learned the hard way not to trust anyone
love is a trick to get someone else to do what you want
a disease is something you get when someone doesn't love you back
mental anguish and confusion of self medicating go hand in hand
leave you to surrender to the realisation
those ennabling you with street remedies are trying to kill you
and those are facts
the whole point of writing this
lately anyway, is to show myself im not a joke
you want something funny, go look at the other online books i've written 
and laugh at that

My last attempt at having faith in the world
i guess it shouldn't come so easy to someone totally destroyed
emotionally and mentally
and my diagnosis
I get it now
it's funny
lost to myself again
my life isn't a joke
but im sure the punchline of my death
will be attractive to every comedian

Details | I do not know? | |



Words held in high regard
Their meanings higher still
Claimed to be owned and loved by all
Yet search the inner souls of the user
Find the barren wasteland
Devoid of truest feelings

Just words. 

Details | Senryu | |

Mouth Corner Escapees

Glass fingers and toes
stepped on and broken by words
gone anvil in haste.

Details | Narrative | |

Poetry Soup A Wonderful Group

  Poetry Soup A Wonderful Group

To all my friends here on the soup, 
   you’re always there and such a caring group.
When my days are not right and sometimes dark,
   You’re always there to provide that needed spark.
Your comments I cherish so,
    They mean more to me than you’ll ever know.
You make me feel like I have worth.
    You give me a reason for being on this planet earth.
Writing poetry is all new for me.
     It gives me great pleasure it sets me free.
You guys are the classiest people I’ve never met.
     Your words speak wisdom and love I’m not done yet.
There’s pain and sorrow and humor too.
     People write of about everything they know or do.
I just want you to know, I care for you a lot.
     Just ordinary people of that I say to you, a special Thanks A Lot
I place you in a class above the rest, 
      You’ve won my heart, you are the best

Details | I do not know? | |

Soup Convention update

Start with intro (Soup Executive)
Poetry readings.
(If on Long Island)- my band will play (Classic rock)
"Roast" on a pre-selected candidate.
Poetry reading/and/or/ discussion.
Gambling(Horse Race game)
Last call cocktails.
Vote and declare
King and Queen Poets for the
I'll provide plaques.

If wanted, we can have the entire event videotaped.
I feel we ought to ackowledge Soup Pesonnel- so
therefore I will get them tokens' of appreiation.
And copies of video will be available to who ever wants 
to purchase.

Come On Folks-We Need at Least 100 People!!!!!!!!  SIGN UP NOW!!!!!
Any suggestions, additions. deletions, comments, please email 
Spouses, girfriends, even hooker's welcome,

Details | I do not know? | |

Churches and Ecclesial Communities

Many Christian communities on earth call themselves churches
According to the Catholic understanding
Only those in which the sacraments of Jesus Christ’s have been preserved
In their entirety have remained “Church”
This is true especially of the Orthodox and
Eastern Churches
In the ecclesial communities that resulted from the Protestant Reformation
All the sacraments have not been preserved


Details | Light Poetry | |

Can You Hear Me Now?

In the Bible the book of James reads like a Shakesperian play
With words that are archaic and not used as much these days
James writes of his concerns about how to lead an ethical life
How one should communicate in order to follow the ways of Jesus Christ
But in society today proper language seems to have gotten lost somehow
Can you understand what people are saying, can you hear me now?
For It's not so much as what you say, but It's how you say it.

Ebonics, street lingo and generation X slang words
It's not so much  about can you hear me, 
but do you understand what you have heard
"Put some frosting on your bling-bling"
Now what in the heck does that mean?

Some rap music isn't so bad, 
If you can comprehend the main point
But most of those songs seem to address violence 
and the gangster life in the joint

We need to set an example with the proper Christian tone
Re-teach the youth of today to communicate
in a language that's not all their own
May God make them the instruments to carry forth His story
Pray that they come to understand the with Him, there Is glory

Can you hear me now? a slogan that Verizon does use
Can you understand me now with the words that I choose?
The diversity in the university
Is just a sign of the individuality
There's nothing wrong with being unique 
and marching to the beat of a different drum
BUt can you hear me now 
and do you understand where I'm coming from?

Details | Tanka | |

When pen and paper collide

Prostitute your thoughts
All your feelings overflow
Substitute your mind
When life deals you a big blow
Do not betray your insides

Details | Senryu | |

Heighten Your Vocabulary

a little foreign
language can open your eyes
to your own language.

Details | Blank verse | |


Gems flow from your finger tips,
Each a priceless jewel,
No struggle, No pain,
Just perfection,
You can do simplicity when it is called for,
and be as complex as a difficult rhyme.
I say you are not an artist.
You create with no feeling,
All is technical skill,
With no passion to fire the imagination,
You are an actor,
Pretender, unreal.
The very feeling you should feed on,
You shun like it is rotten.
Behind me.
Give me someone who cannot rhyme, or cannot write a phrase,
but has the passion of rebel,
Give me that person over you,
You ice queen,
You make me sick,
Be gone from my sight, NOW!
I no longer wish to see you,
You do not care for passion,
then I do not care for you.

Details | Rhyme | |

To Clear a Rain Forest

          Pretty much like an emperor's 
              that big, elusive doctorate 
             sort of survival kit one must 
          a kind of fetish that academes
              part of the myth of tenured 
                 within the realm of the 
              its twin is the rule: publish 
                         or perish,
              a choice most faculty hate 
                        to cherish,
           and yet they churn out books 
                     with little rest,
             paperwork enough to clear 
                      a rain forest !

Details | Free verse | |

Even Stephan

 Even Stephan     
Author Message 

Age : 53
Joined : 13 Jun 2007
Posts : 676

 Subject: Even Stephan   Today at 18:47      

Even Stephan 

Even Stephan 


SYLLABICATION: e•ven-ste•ven 
v n-st v n 

ADJECTIVE: Informal 1. Having nothing due or owed on either side: an even-
steven transaction. 2. Having an equal score, as in a game or contest. 
ETYMOLOGY: even1 + the personal name Steven, used as rhyming slang. 

It is Even Steven ewe the gentile reader ewe knoe it to be true it is never even 
Maude or even Terry or even Sue. Even Steven means a lot of things let's see 
how people use it. To settle debts they make a way to call a liability no more an 
outstanding sufferance becomes the limited influenced disability please let me 
explain it this time in English. John owes the lady some and she decides to let it 
go as she will never see the dough and so she sidles up to John and she 
smiles as big as people do as she says John its Even Steven even in the rain 
come true and John is very happy now the debt is paid. A boy took his sister's 
purse open and a bill she does not say to him Oh Even William Even Tim. Even 
Steven says the sister of the happy little man and they can both play again 
forgiven them. Even Steven says this CharlaX unto his blessed ewe we are Even 
Steven on everything ewe dew. 
 Even Stephan 

Details | I do not know? | |

To suffer and bleed in Iraq

(This poem is partially fictional)

I'm over here fighting in Iraq.
I watch my fellow soldiers backs.
I've seen some good people get killed.
When I see them die, it makes me ill.
We've been here too long, we should go home now.
But that is something that George Bush won't allow.
It's pitiful to see these soldiers suffer and bleed.
Their families aren't getting the love they need.
My fellow soldiers are brave but they still feel fear.
I want myself and the rest of us taken out of here.

Details | Carpe Diem | |


a daily blog-
open pepys shows into
the encyclopedia
of life.

Details | Lanterne | |


that so
easy flow-
on the breeze will

Details | Rhyme | |

Yet Another Line

Is it anywhere that you I can write,
is this really true ?
How often do the words come to light,
for me and  for you ?

I sit in a noise filled waiting room,
routine tests are done.
They will call me in the back room soon,
but now is the fun.

Can I  fast make the most of my time ?
I am under the gun.
Can I squeeze out yet another line
before an end to fun ?

Details | I do not know? | |

Written Words, In My Head

In my head.

Details | Free verse | |

building my case

why you go out of your way to make the world mad
the little power we gave you
walked all over me
and funny you think im the only one you have to answer to
but id start here
id start here if i was you

so many people like me
coming unglued
soo many people tired of you
you dont care
go do your suicide somewhere else
target audience
headless beast on a power trip
sell it to yourself
i have no time for you

nothing wrong with the haters
they have good reason to hate you
i hate you too
pushed the envelope too far
now there is nothing i can do
not for you

Desperate for control
you teach me the wrong wisdoms
why do i continually sit here and watch and l;isten a bunch of idiots
taking no responsibility for their own bull@#$%
i will be making my case
against each one of you in turn
but what do i know of being obsessed to a sick mind game

one by one
day by day
pointing my finger
calling out the names to bl;ame
wanna dance
the whole world knows
took a stand for all the wrong things
do you even know what you are
your puieces fit
ill rub it in your face
show you what you stand for
your wrong answers

solviong your riddles
whats the answer in the middle of all these sick individuals
whose the ones to blame
your utopia of $%& just got taken away

the pieces fit allright
ill point you out
tell everyone what part of the twisted plot 
how you betray me
building my case
its just too obvious
way too obvious
disk by disk
movie by movie
how your working together for genocide
i have no time for you good riddance
swim in your own viceral

tell me why you said those things you said
acted the way you did
lied to me again
the part of your own denial
a world throws you away
not me for being innocent
the world you create how it affected me
we will be going to trial

building my case
learned from your hate speach
all the times you tried to kill me
you get paid to live my dreams
the ones you takle away from me
building my case i'll show everyone
what your doing
building my case
you are a war crime
and your not getting away with it

go live with yourself
obsessed with yourself
and how you can lash out
i dont need it
i have no time for this
life is too short for this bull$%&^
so i'm building my case
of your warcrimes

I don't forgive you
i never will
laugh all you want at your power trip
your delusion of pwer does not have me fooled

Details | Ballad | |

' Legendary ... ' ( Part 3 (of) 4 )

‘ Legendary …’  ( Part  3 (of) 4 ) 

… Now, The Earl, had Spies, to keep Intruding Eyes On The Tryst of Secrecy
Beth’s Tresses, like Raven Wings and Eyes Emerald-Green, Became His Fantasies
Yea, He erstwhile Plotted, for He wast’ Besotted with the Cobbler’s Daughter’s Beauty
All to no Avail … for Beth Knew Well,  Twere’ None, More Wretched, than He !

So, She didst’ Spurn his Declaration and Protestations of Undying Fidelity
She didst’ Return, His Portrait and String of Pearls and His Poems, Peremptorily
Forasmuch, and twas’ this and such, She Rebuffed all His Pleasantries
In Favor of Her Knight, she Reserved This Right, which Enraged, Their Enemy
 - - - - - - -
Now, Twas’ but an Instant, of Insistent Cajoling, that Beth Pleaded Prettily
To Part with Her Swain, til’ Their Hearts Came, to be Joined For Perpetuity
To Compose Herself, for Their Nuptial-Heft, She twould  Prepare Hastily
And Rendezvous for His View, stating … ‘ I  twould’ Look, My Best for Thee!’

And as She left His side, She was Singing Most Merrily …

‘ …  Carry Me in Thine Arms, to Our Beloved Balcony
To a Bed of Blushing-Rose-Petals and Wild-Tossed-Peonies
A Bed Lover’s Designed … Draped in Damask and Brocade -Satiny
And let Moon-Glow, from Yon’ Window, Bathe Us Both Bodily … ‘

… and The Handsomely Styled, Smitten Knight Smiled, as He Heard Her Warm Gaiety …

… Sweet Wine On My Lips … Drip In Ecstasy
Sweet Touch On My Hips … Smooth as Warm Honey
Sweet Love of My Soul … Last An Eternity
Sweetheart, Be Thy Bold in Bravery …
… and if Sweet Talk, Be A Token
And Language Be Spoken …
Be Legendary … Be Thou Legendary !

                                  ( Part 3 (of) 4 )

Details | Couplet | |

Butterfly Bones are Lighter, They Say...

Flow with me gently or flutter on by
Your butterfly tears stain green your blue eyes
In rivers and inlets or far away streams
your tears follow currents in search of your dreams
The butterfly swimmers with wings blue and gold
refuse to taste nectar that's any less bold
than you are in flight dipping through night
an eclectical sight, your reflection so tight
in your very own eyes shines bright from the tears
They strengthen your ties and lengthen your years
The spread of your wings cast shadows warm blue
to all that you love, and all who love you...

Details | Verse | |


Did it irk the burrowing domain, 
A crawlspace lit like pumpkin pie,
And prick a truly genius brain,
Till thoughts and deeds solidify?
Sanctimonious in a sewage vat
That leaked to opine and convey,
Contrived, pip-squeaked a petulant rat,
Some dysentery bug come out to play.
Pain that is mine I will express
However I see fit to tend,
I own the deeds and must confess,
To tell it as I comprehend.
Bear in mind such rigmaroles
In truth possess the said and done,
Opinions are like armholes
And every armhole has one.

Details | Free verse | |

Palm of A Hand

(For Poet's worldwide that have experienced a Poetry Contest) 

Human makes a Wish, and wonders… Will it come true?
Asking of Whom? Dream catcher of mind, pleading prayer
Will it come to fruition this time?

Arrow blazes, note attached, Check to be cashed,
Human desires written in print, Candles of green lit,
Burning flame for abundance…

Deadline to meet, trying of luck, 2 stamps for weight
Envelope seals my fate, Seconds wasting away, Mailbox full
Perfection of timing, calendar, massage for comfort, X marks the day
Released with intentions perceived, Forecast of victory, Clear and Sunny 

1176 hours of Hell, 7 weeks of handshakes, Mailman Pal, New best friend
Box of junk, Flag down, empty space of dust, No response, 
I lost…Not Good enough

Human takes a day to recover, Cuddles with lifetime lover, reciting verses in ear
Amateur Poet’s Number one fan, Special dinner plans, Contest not mentioned

Evening has come to an end, parking of car, walking through grass
Shooting stars, Perseverance take the wish, famous book to be published, never 
give up

Holding my hands to sky, asking her, why? She responds “It just wasn’t Time.”
Scratching of my back, Lover appears, Hold back the tears, I listened…

“Your autograph is priceless, Sign away” Presenting a feather in ink, I began
My graffiti signature, Powerful Human, in the Palm of a Hand…

Details | Free verse | |

Language Arts

A word and a breath but it’s the thought that counts.
Up or down in or out love and trust is what it’s all about.
To you I say can you hear me perked up on the mounts.
You are in or you are out.
A touch and a whisper but it is the kiss of truth.
Knelt or bent I am down on my knees.
And I beg you please.
To me I say can I hear me or am I aloof?
Language arts is a dance in the breeze,
With a summer squeeze,
A winter’s pinch,
The spring’s stench,
Even the autumn’s leaves!
Bathing in the words and dancing like a twit.
Singing in rhythm and painstakingly making a switch.
Language arts is a breeze on the summer Seas.
Lifting you up or pulling you down and spinning you all around,
It will knock you to your knees,
Lifeless and unbound!

® Registered: Ann Rich   2005

Details | I do not know? | |

Better Off Evil

There are to many people,
Who cheer for the right,
But Iam different from others,
I just want to see a fight.

I used to cheer for good,
I used to be like you.
I'd cheer loud in crowds,
And throw a punch or two.

So when good comes to fight
Iam on the bad side.
Because it's better to be evil,
And whoop goods hide.

Do good guys finish last,
Or do they finish first?
It's just a thought I had,
So I put it in a verse,

But I wonder do they really
Get the short end of the string?
Do they ever get hurt,and
Does death really sting?

So my final thoughts of good,
And my final thoughts of right,
I don't care who wins,
I just want to see a fight!

Details | Prose Poetry | |

Soup Convention?

Anyone interested in getting together at a "Soup Convention"- hopefully with Soup 
executives, for a night of fun and reverie?????

Details | Quatrain | |


Through these verses I divulge my poetical expressions
to ignore criticism and not hoot while extricating my ideals;
my work is marked by indisputable integrity,
more plausible than a woman's chastity!

Recognition and deserving honor are nice,
but they are the least rewards I seek,
best of the best...who ever was ?
Worst of the worst.. I cannot be!

I fall between these two, lest I fault
and fairly deserve the dungeon... 
the crowds not applauding my effort,
not  proclaiming me a champion!  

My words are soave, sometimes as rigid as hooves of a horse...
reminding all that I am as human as anyone else who bleeds and rejoices, 
but  my creativity is not satiated by inferior knowledge or bizarre notions,
although my glory is never accompanied by real expectations!

Like Homer and Virgil the masters of ancient poetry,
I do praise their work, and recognize their genius shining in their word;
Troy fell and Rome rose to prominence by a bloody sword;
I don't fall by trickery, I stand on my fortress of liberty!

My obligation must be fulfilled by ardous work, I will not depart,
or merely linger on...until this mission is faithfully accomplished, and this voice,
before fading, invokes its last sunset to finally fall silent;
and if readers acclaim me, I have succeeded in my poetical expressions!

Copyright 2009 by Andrew Crisci

Details | Concrete | |

Our Hearts

                                      On                 And, 
                               This                             Will
                            Blank                               Build
                            Page                                 Lives
                              Is                                     Thru
                                Two                             The
                                    Hearts,              Power
                                           In               Of

Details | Rhyme | |

A Thing or Two

When I sit down to write 
No Idea what I will say
I just simply let my pen
Be the prayer that I pray
These days they are many
The blessings they are too
I reckon all things in life
Bound to our perceptive view
Everyone sees everything
In their own special way
It's essential that we listen
To what they have to say
We may or may not agree
On any given day
The fact that we take time to listen
Make us the blessing of their day
And if we listen closely
I do believe this true
We just might be surprised
And learn us a thing or two

Details | I do not know? | |


What is given?
What is taken away?

What is filled?
What is empty?

What is alive?
What is dead?

What is spoken?
What is said?

What is out there?
What it is in my head?

What I know
What I can learn

What will smolder
What will burn

Details | I do not know? | |

My quill my arrow

Climbing up on the old crusty castle wall.
Skipping my thoughts off the clouds
and hopefully unto you.
"My quill my arrow and 
space is your sheild."

"Hello Molly dolly my dear purrfect cat!" I
say as she climbs up pulling her fat.
"Where's your brother willy?" After a long 
stretch and yawn she purrs "Oh he's down
there hiding in your hat".
Lifting her up placing her cold wet nose
to mine. "How lucky this life I am so
blessed to grasp"
Setting her down, I begin to write..

Details | Narrative | |


A well travelled lass named Adelaide
Innovative and never staid,
Unmarried,single but no old maid-
A short life,latterly full of pain,
Her epitaph,the American cinquain.

Tribute vignette to Adelaide Crapsey,the American creator of the Cinquain form

Details | I do not know? | |


He's Batman but his true identity is Bruce wayne.
Some people think he's a hero while others think he's insane.
He protects Gotham City from people who are a disgrace.
He protects them from the Joker, the Penguin and even from Two-Face.
The Riddler just struck and Batman has to fight.
He's the Caped Crusader and he's the Dark Knight.

Details | Verse | |

A poem a day

Behind icy cold stares of vague minds
Our inner most thoughts are kept at bay
The eyes of the brain so easily reminds
That a poem a day keeps the doctor away

Connect with surroundings, make contact with art
Marvel at the sights of children at play
Open the love filled eyes of your heart
But a poem a day keeps the doctor away

When mists and winds submit you to drying
The eyes of a soul who’ll find a way
Hypnotic relief in cleansing and crying
As a poem a day keeps the doctor away

The human condition allows us to bear
Emotions that brim over day by day
Exclaim the knowledge of comfort and care
While a poem a day keeps the doctor away

Details | Free verse | |

African Rulers

i'm being punished for asking questions
they tell me my country is a free country
where is all the freedom
or is it only for the highly governmental officials?
african people are in need of the people who can lead
all i see around is rulers
and none of them is skinny like me
what's my music about if i cannot speak the truth
from the heart
they want to have consent with what i rap about
or i'll be pushed out of the business
i thought independence meant power to the people
and not to the few greedy leaders

Details | I do not know? | |

Worship God

Some people don't believe in God but I do.
If they started reading the bible, they might believe in him too.
I'm going to tell you something that is precise.
Worship God and one day you will live in paradise.

Details | I do not know? | |



Details | Tanka | |

Breaking The Ice

anecdotes and jokes
are a way to loosen up.
they change a person's
visage in moments to joy
or flashing consternation.

Details | Free verse | |

' The Face You See ... '

Some Poems Are Old
Some Prose is New
Some Work is Fantasy
… Some Are True

Some Fears are Imagined
Some Hurts are Real
But I will not Disclose
Every Detail-Deal

Most Experiences are Mine
Especially Lessons Genuine
And The Things I Write
I Ask for Heaven’s Copy-Right

So … Straight from my Heart
‘ All This Is My Part ‘
And I Think You Know
… The Face I Show . . .

(and if You Chose to See or Not
Tells Me A Whole-Lot… )

Details | Quatrain | |

Internal Beauty

Oh beautiful one
on the verge of the brink
on the rim of believing
you're oh what you think
Oh beautiful one
to declare delicate
all the virtue you have 
in integrity set
Oh beautiful one
don't be so eclipsed
by the shadow of words
that you hold on your hips
Oh beautiful one
you render and shine
with a thought which emerged
quite unique in design
Oh beautiful one
your wishes are true
on the verge of the brink
this reflection is you...

Details | Free verse | |

The Real Tyger

Question, William, Question
Your mind is only as great as you take it
Genius, of course,
An artist of many wits and ways,
Take the path you feel is best,
Desire, Inspire,
Pick up that bible and read into it,
The mind of a romantic,
The mind of a genius,
Creativity came from within,
Desire, Inspire,
What immortal hand or eye,
Dare frame the symmetry of your mind?


Details | Free verse | |


Some people are just different some people are just blessed 
Some people are not better more humble than the rest of people seem 
Some people make a stab at things unseen 
A simpleton a farmer a soldier and the rest a laborer a warrior a vest 
A statesman and a teacher a lion of a man and a little baby lamb 
These poets These poets These poets of the land. 

A Doctor and a Lawyer and the Indian. 
A surveyor when he can find the time makes rhyme. 
A carpet layer and a concrete maker the least of these and them. 
A forgotten homeless in the corridor of time. 
Endless women blessed woman making rhyme. 
These Poets These Poets These Poets of the land. 

Some people have so many problems stemming from the lust. 
Some people have so many journeys starting on the dust. 
Every march of a thousand miles begins with just one step. 
Every poem written began with just one word. 
Yellow and white and black as night. 
These Poets These Poets These Poets of the land.


Details | Blank verse | |

Balance & Transformation

Bearer of this violation,
You raped these words from me
Throughout this simple declaration
I have surrendered, 
I kneel before you & ask nothing
You were
A mystery to me
You were
Simplicity to me
Still you walk the line between
& I begin to think
You might let me see you falter
Cannot help but think of you
Of every promise kept
& every word proved true

Details | Free verse | |

Crooked crooks, babbling brook

In this crooked chair i sit
at this crooked table
at this crooked desk
and write my crooked thoughts
looking out the crooked window
out onto the crooked crooked street
thinking about how crooked the world is
when suddleny is top and realise
the crooked people arent crooks
everything is crooked
crooked jails
crooked hospitlas
crooked business men lawyers and politiicians
crooked churches crooked steeples
crooked believers crooked people

it was perfect perfect and crooked
crookedly perfect
perfect people
perfect houses
perfect airplanes
and perfect yachts
perfect make me sick 
keeping up with the joneses
perfect white teeth
perfect bodies
perfect hair
perfect health
thwey werent crooked?
were they?

croooked like me?
crooked like them crooked in a world full of rooked people and the crookedest 
thing to do was to stand straight
and make a show of it!!

whose going to replace all of this crooked ness and turn this beautiful now?

Details | Free verse | |

Critique Nazi (poetry game) To become what you wanted

for now i am empty
but soon enough i will fill that whole
edit myself
with all you remarks 
and believe you me
the comments that go along
that you write
will be writing me

for now i am a shell
a hollow wonderful thing
and then you come along
tell me a thought or feeling
and i add it in
and leave you to wonder where it went how i did it
and i become everything you said to me

One poem written by many
through my minds eye and hand
one poem right here for you to see
i am the shell of nothing lonely
and waiting for the comment to change me
the inspirational words to satisfy someone
who will unsatisfy someone else
until all are satisfied
and i am something
no longer hollow
no longer shallow
a lesson in learning critiques of nature
and everything you could have would have should have said
is right here

I will become everything you say i should be
everything you say i am
i will exaggerate
everything i should add check or change your will be done
this page becomes everything to somebody
begging for control
this page loses all sense of it
as we take turns leading blindly

Details | Free verse | |


Ever wonder 
how they think
they way the gears turn
why they say what they say
what they are thinking
the thoughts in their minds
how they function
why people do the things they do
i think about my mind
i think about the things i do
i relate my self
to others 
when i speak i too
wow why did i say that
what was i thinking
but each word
each movement
has a reason
has a story
the non verbal signs
the faces and looks
i have a reason
but yet
i still watch 
and i still wonder
why do they do the things they do
are their gears put together 
different than mine
do they not feel the same as i
should they?
when i write
i write my emotion
my feelings at that moment
i let it out
i let it go
same with my moods
my words
i dont hold back
but i should
so why do we 
and do
these things
do we ever truely think about
the outcome
the end rusult?

Details | Verse | |

The Dream No One Seemed to Belive

The Boy Who Was Misunderstood 
The boy who really wished he could
Achive the dream 
Nonone seem to belive 
That the boy could achive such a dream.

Copyrighted  (C)

Jay Thapar 

Details | Free verse | |

What I Do

I do my best to please the crowd, 

While writing and rhyming, 

All about timing, 

Writing deep thoughts, 

Giving people something to think & talk about, 

Keeping it real all the time, 

Being original with mine, 

Making the world rethink many things, 

Just reaching out to all human beings,

My flow is smooth,

You can keep up with the groove,

Some say my flow is tight,

They love the way I write,

I try and capture the essence of life,

Things we live and see day and night,

Thoughts come to my head and with a thought I run,

Sometimes writing until my hand is numb,

But it’s all good - because I get great feedback,

And I like that,

You keep me going,

You keep me flowing,

Life keeps me focused and grounded,

So I can write all about it,

I’ll keep writing,

Because I’m liking,

The way this is moving,

The way my words are grooving,

The people who continue to read,

And like what they see,

The people – the crowd,

The noise is getting loud,

I’m feeling what you are saying,

You enjoy my realness, there is no playing,

So I continue to write for me,

And be the best I can be,

I continue to write for you,

Cause this is what I do.

Details | Free verse | |

Help one another!

Encourage one another
and promote each others work;
help them if they're struggling
nurture all their worth.
Advocate or contribute,
stimulate their minds;
Recommend a sponsor,
to assist, support or sign.
Foster them or forward them;
publicize and popularize,
all will help to plug;
every piece that warrants it,

returned with such a hug!

Details | Quatrain | |

I Sit Here Wanting

The words are captivating
The images, so clear
The flow is ever moving
Read aloud, I wish to hear

Tell us of your stories
Some fiction, some so true
Tell us in your rhymes right now
Of the things you wish to do

Tell us of your learning
And that you wish to share
Tell us of your saddened times
As, yes, we do now care

Tell us of your smiles
The many times you’ve laughed
Share with us your fairytales
Each lovely paragraph

Enlighten us with meaning
Improve our sights with view
Share with us your poetry
Your poetry is you

Details | Lyric | |

Peeling Thy Self

It seems so easy 
to feel what is like 
to be a poet, 
trying to peel 
a banana, for a fruity shake.

Details | I do not know? | |

The Way I Write

I try to rhyme.
I try to make the world read me right.
The words that fill the papers,
They dont always make sense.
But I know what they mean.
They mean to world to me.
I understand what they say.
The feelings I felt while writing them. 
Whether people feel the same, I cant say.
I cant make people get what I write,
Or even for them to relate.
I write what I write because thats how I feel.
I write what I write so I can unreel.
I rhyme when I want.
I keep a pattern sometimes too.
Whether I do or not, 
Whats it to you?

Details | ABC | |

Minding Elaine

A brilliant collage depicting everything
flowered, gleaming, having inspired
julep kisses, lost moments, new opinions
pure quotations, raw sunshine, 
true understanding, virtuosity with
xanthic yellow zest.

Details | I do not know? | |

Starless Night: The Art Of Giving (Rhyme Incorporated) part 3

That night, vibrant Effie Blake told me “You Don’t Have To Be A Star”
To see the beauty of this world or meet Troy Nelson, of the “Dead Star”
Ahh!!! My voice need to be heard, that I wrote “To You, Mr. Apolinar” 
It’s about quest of heart and mind, of being simply “Me And The Moon”
Stressed Michele Nold had a simple request, “Where is the Bath Room”
I didn’t entertain her, for I felt dizzy coming out from “The Lost Room”

Then, I overheard grin-faced Oshin Ifedayo saying, “She’s gone at Last”
Who’s who? The “Christians, Muslims, Jews…” “Heaven Waits For Us”
A place of peace, where we can write a sonnet, of being “Home, At Last” 

So, you can tag or be tagged, in our “Starless Night: The Art Of Giving”
I agreed, with Vince Suzadail Jr., that giving’s more of a “Human Being” 
Tammy Armstrong liked the ambience, but said, “Something’s Missing”

Some didn’t come; they’re busy surfing, ‘cos “The Deep Blue Is Rough”
Historian Charles Fuller sent them a note, “I Hear You In A Photograph”
Now, I see why dear Tatiyana Carney has “Lock Box And Photographs” 

Note: I tag the first person who read this….and the last one, too.
Thanks to K.S. for encouraging me to play
And also, to C.B., for the e-mails…love the message/photos.

Details | Free verse | |

Rilke's Letters

When letters were written by fire light
and sealed up with charred red wax
containing the breath and the Indian ink
from a hand penned in burning romance
the world hung on every word there within
When letters like these were broke open to breathe
even the birds stole the song from their voice
and the sky held the skirt of the burning breeze
while the breeze blew in tears like it had a choice
and the reader read on in earnest.
When letters contained inspiring quotes
to be spoken in whispers in velvet halls
the writer grew famous in circles and such
for the decadent living which broke down walls
and rebuilt them in modern white plaster
When letters were written in the hush of the night
by a hand yearning touch from it's one true mate
sealed up with a burning, reproachable script
which only would fluster and cruel complicate
the reader would sure fall in love
and respond, there in kind, with a letter...

Details | Free verse | |


Robot ici 
There is a robot sitting ici on this computer 
He has a name and number but no freedom of religion 
He is soon taken from his places that he goes 
Big frog hopping in a little jargon pond 
Working on his nothing to complete  his daytime job 
Of standing on his pocket leaning overbearing moment of decay and death 
somewhere forgotten to be kept 
How many people am eye how many people must eye be 
Everyone is crazy in this new millineum of time 
Am eye the robot baseball player the batter up and pitcher 
Am eye still the cop the undercover thriller 
Am eye only the dishwasher in my white apron getting so wet and dirty 
Am eye the papermill employee scooping big heaping shovels of decay 
Am eye the dairy man giving all the milk away in bottles full of cow 
This robot was once human once full of life 

Details | Lyric | |

The So-Called Poetry

‘Tis art that comes from the heart
‘Tis the gift that we ought to lift
And share it with those who care

I must try now to be more like you
For you have such a heart that care 
Uplifting me from my great despair

I have a gift, for you, that will make 
You see what is really inside of me
‘Cos we, both, live in the art of life

Of sharing one another, cheerfully 
You and me, the so-called poetry
As always, where we ought to be 

Details | Lyric | |

A poem For You

You want a great poem,
But I can't give you one.
You expect so much from me, 
And I don't.
You embarrass me so much,
And I hate it.
You don't know when to stop,
You go way to far.
I can't wait till' this is over.
I don't like it one bit.
If you're still expecting a great poem,
Then this one is true,
Because it comes from my heart.
I wish you could see,
But you're too full of yourself.
I bet you can't see that either.
You don't respect me,
So I don't respect you...
Its time to start treating me right,
Because this is a poem for you.

Details | I do not know? | |

I voted against Phil Bredesen

Many people voted for Phil Bredesen but I didn't agree with their selection.
I voted against him in last years election.
Some people like him a lot.
But I have to say that I do not.
I wish he wasn't the Governor of Tennessee.
He's passed some laws that infuriates me.
One of these laws restricts all people from buying tobacco unless they show an 
That law would be great for younger people but it's for people even if they're  
It's hard to believe that he'd pass a stupid law like this.
It will be a great day for Tennessee when he leaves office.

Details | Rhyme | |

Clown Poet

He had a way with words, 
       spoken or written,

       could clown around with them, 
              could leave you smitten,

              but he could be most sober, 
                     and somber, too,

                     and leave you with a hybrid 
                            point of view.

Beneath a tree, his epitaph 
       winks at me:

        "Lachrymose don't be,  
               this isn't  tragedy,

               you should've seen my dad 
                      doing comedy,

                      well, apples fall near the tree 
                             where I pee."

Details | I do not know? | |

Uglier than sin

(This is a fictional poem)

Every woman changes after we go on a date.
They become lesbians when they were previously straight.
I'm not popular with women because good looks is what I lack.
I'm getting tired of looking at mirrors because they always crack.

One woman screamed and lost bladder control when I kissed her.
Maybe the reason why I'm so ugly is because my parents are brother and sister.
I only go on blind dates and women never like what they see.
They find it more appealing to date each other than to date me.

Details | Nonet | |


Cliché is my editor’s only 
enemy. He lives, entirely 
his own life, upon the sea 
of muses where this C-
word is not to be 
used by any 
just like 

Details | Rhyme | |

Writes On Display

Here are my raw emotions for all the eye to view
My dreams, my hopes, my inner thoughts and my aspirations too
Here I feel exposed and truly on display
Where people who don't know me comment anyway

Sometimes when people read your writes 
they don't get the real you
You have to remember, that these penned thoughts 
are what I've been through

It takes guts and determination to let others read
your pain
And then for them to dissect it again and again
It feels really nice when people just like me
put their openly exposed life in print for all the eye to see

So all of you on the soup who feel just like me
maybe this is our way of healing, and our way to be free
So if you have nothing nice to say 
Don't say anything at all
Cause you could be the catalyst in our rise and fall

Think of how you would feel if someone put you down
Don't say something that will bring, someone else a frown
For all of us want to feel, that our writes are nice
So think twice, before you write some hurtful words of advice 


Details | Couplet | |


Ludwig's emperor sounded supreme - 
                                                                        staying unpremiered,in his dream

Tribute to Beethoven and the story of his 5th symphony

Details | I do not know? | |

Not a stud

(This is a fictional poem)

I have the IQ of Kelly Bundy and the looks of her brother Bud.
When women and I go in the bedroom, they always call me a dud.
I'm such a lousy lover that I make Mickey Rooney look like Fabio.
When I ask the ladies if I can see them again, they tell me where I can go.
I've come to realize that I am not a stud.
My name is Randy but to women my name is mud.

Details | Quatrain | |

To The Poets Before Me

I have read a few authors within my days
some, of which, you may all know.
I hope to share them with you all
to help your knowledge grow.

Many an author has crossed my path
like Elliott, Bronte and Frost.
Each possessing their own style;
in their writings, you’d be lost.

There are others, too, that you may know
like Seuss or Sandburg or Donne.
For any author, that you select,
will surely compliment the sun.

Reading their works will brighten your day
through fear, making you laugh or cry.
Some of their poems may make you sad
and some will help you to fly.

All of their works, you should all read
so you can learn from the very best.
Then writing your words of poetry and prose
will separate you from the rest.

Read Tennyson and Whitman,
as they both knew the power of their quills.
As will Poe, Millay and Dickinson
give you romance, thought and thrills.

There’s Browning and Burns and Marlowe, too.
There’s Hood and Kilmer and Joyce.
Read Blake and Swift and Wordsworth, too.
It is just a matter of choice.

Whatever the preference, whatever your wants,
read some or all of their lines.
For a poem by one of the poets above
is a poem that’s finer than fine.

I hope you’ve enjoyed my lesson today,
you can now appreciate the art.
For one day a book, you may pick up,
will be written by M Degenhardt.

Details | Senryu | |

Meeting Peter Cottontail

Katherine Stella
Meeting Peter Cottontail, 
What is on her mind?

Inspired by Kathy’s poem Peter Cottontail

Details | I do not know? | |


Beauty is expressed in the rawest sense of the word
It’s what you see when other’s can’t see
So they call it absurd
Beautiful expresses the quantity
Full of beauty
While beauty expresses the quality
Many love my beautiful words
That slides off of my tongue frolic ally
Some are ignorant to beauty
But just because one’s a cutie with booty
Don’t mean they have beauty
Beauty is more internal than external
It’s abstractly visible
But along with beauty are
Guidelines and principles
To maintain the quantity and quality
Of such a praised appearance
But stress like mildew and ugly dirt
Try to run interference
Beauty is not just an abstract quality
It’s also a goal
Beauty exists in youth
But blossoms when we get old 
In beauty are many things
But no technicalities
Beauty is deeper than looks 
It also includes personalities
My poetry is beautiful in text and substance
One’s who are beautiful are usually modest
They are blind to themselves
But I am just being honest
When I say you are beautiful
So full of beauty
And that’s the beauty of it
…just being so beautiful!!!!!

Details | Rhyme | |

Text Me A Poem (Mixed Rhyme)

It’s an old saying: no news, good news
I want you to know I love your muse
But, I do have little time to use
To peruse… and to give you my views
This is not alibi or excuse

Oh, yes dear, you are my lovely muse
Yesterday, today and tomorrow
To the whole world, I am proud to show
How happy I am that you’re my muse

Thou, I wake-up when you sleep
I read and write when you stop
Still, we are on the same map
We’re bind by love, not by clip

We are being united as one…
Many voices, different races, lots of fun
One passion, one aim, let the pen flow
For our beloved family to grow and glow

You will not see me everyday
Work causes me to stay away
I beg with a contrite heart
O, Almighty Father in heaven
Let me share the gifts you’ve given
Help me, not to fall apart

For I, under the eye of the General
Can’t do nothing, but feel like I’m on trial
When and if his, not in a bi-lateral

Poetry is uplifting…
That’s why I won’t stop writing

Just like you I want to be
A giver is all I see

Yes, clouds have silver lining
For life has its true meaning

Still, I am lonely, for I’ve only my phone

Can you text me a poem, to ease my pain? 

Details | Rhyme | |

They Are Wrong

Men cannot be poets,
Or so it seems in life,
The people that should know it,
Their words do strife.

Cuts you to the bone,
When you read what they have said,
Will not leave you alone,
Run cover your head.

Could not believe it this morning,
When I read these words so grave,
Felt I took a beating,
As if I were a slave.

But is ok for I am strong,
I will try much harder,
To prove,
That they are wrong.

Details | Couplet | |

My Own Fixation

It is too easy to master the sadness, of my poetry
Than all the combinations, of winning the lottery

I’ll just think I’m sad, sadness becomes my poetry
I’m already mad and sad; still, I don’t win a lottery

That I decided to have my fixation, on a sad poetry
Than harvesting great sadness, of losing the lottery

There is, at least, one big profit of writing sad poetry
Freeing the pain that you gained, perhaps, in a lottery

So come hand in hand, let us build a world, of poetry
Rather than investing your hope, of winning a lottery

Details | Dramatic monologue | |

My Plea

I am not you-
but you will not give me a chance,
will not let me be ME.

If I were you-
but you know I am not you,
yet,you will not let me be ME.

You meddle,interfere in my affairs
As if they were yours,and you were me.
You are unfair,unwise,foolish to think
That I can be you,
Talk,act and think like you.

God made me me,
He made you you,
For God's sake,
Let me be ME.

Details | Lyric | |

Don't Rush, For Nothing

I shake
My pen, before 
I write.

The remnants of 
My thought I had yesterday
Still remain,

I sip them not
From my pen, but I just 

Let them 
Without force, for

Will come again, 

The same 
As I felt
Her whimsy throb, 
Last night.  

Details | Rhyme | |

To the Writer Who Pegged Me Right...

Satsuma button a torn reminder
of the writer who read me and printed my voice
Pages uncut and unevenly binded
with etchings of longing a life filled with choice
Midnight pass quickly and frail me no more
I yearn to delve deeper to see what's in store
but my throat is quite aching and my eyes sting in salt
I stand without blood pressure feeling to fall
So lost in her words, so taken with expressions
of me in her mirror of liquid reflections
Cherry tree blossoms as snow on the ground
as my heart sinks in silence, indelible sound
Satsuma button to start a collection
a reminder of the moment a soul pegs you right
Rice paper marking my book with discretion
as I rise with my countenance and bid you good night...

Details | Verse | |


In all senses, all consequences, instances of definition,
By her words that flare and animate,
In all the wept and kept secrets and tears, 
By the sleek form of her mind laid bare,
I visualise her beauty.

By all intents, all compliments, modes of illustration,
In her breath and eyes that captivate,
In all the revealed and concealed hopes and fears,
By the hunger for her sex so fair,
I realise her appeal.

In all being, all foreseeing, prophecies of fascination, 
By her shapely thrall to devastate,
In all the fired and desired crucibles of years
In the perfumed flesh beyond compare
I eulogise her flame.

Details | Classicism | |


I am non religious 
And believer in God
But my guilt is that
I were born a human
And willing to act as a human
As nature provides me
All my necessities
Free at cost,
I never paid for a seed,
I don’t know 
Who produced it?
And how long ago?
I know only a thing
Someone, who designed a human body,
Also build a brain to control it.
Is he known as a God?
Or is nature developed all?
For my care
For my happiness
For my human growth
Air, Sunshine, River, mountains,
Forest, animals, birds and planet
Day or night
Is a religion can produce?
Or just can divide only 
For its separate identity
Or different belief in natural spirit
Why do I need a spirit?
So a human can purify its deeds
A person can differentiate to justify
Own qualities as good or bad
To examine a sophisticated approach
As an evil or a Devine
Recognition for mankind’s
Behaviour or attitudes
For welfare or betterment
For a living standard
As a human on earth 
Not a God in Heaven.

Details | I do not know? | |

Bluto VS. Popeye

(Based on the cartoon)

I asked Olive Oyl out a thousand times but she always said no.
I'm a big fat bully and my name is Bluto.
When it comes to Popeye, I can't remember the countless fights I picked.
He kept eating that damn spinach and I always got my ___ kicked.
When I fight Popeye, I usually get the worst.
But yesterday I managed to get to the spinach first.
When I ate it, I was going to beat on Popeye and I wasn't going to stop.
But one punch from me was all it took to make that mama's boy drop.
I just got Olive to agree to go out with me after a thousand tries.
Popeye may be tough when he eats spinach but without it, he's a wuss who cries.

Details | Narrative | |


I could say to you:
You are so beautiful to me.
Or something rather like,
You are the only one my eyes can see.
But to say such seems predictable,
True as they may be.

To really love, I would say,
Would be to think of something unimagineable,
But I read poetry every day of people who love one another
That sounds like complete babble.
Now, I could end this poem and say I love you
In a way that is not fictional
And my love would never stray,
But, would tht not be predictable?

Details | Rhyme | |

Reading Ondattje

Grind the curry
Balm the wax
and sweep the bits of bellow to wind
Blue the sky
Break the dew
and liquefy reason before we begin
Coral the room
Stilt the walk
in pyramids of brinjals, persimmons and figs
Sleep the fan
Curl the mind
in spirals of sweet burning Sri Lankin sprigs.

Details | Concrete | |

The Circle

                                         Like              See
                                   Just                           Me                                                         
                                  Free                             On
                                   Be                             This 
                                    To                         Page 
                                         Born               For
                                                   Was I                                                         

Details | Free verse | |

The Reader

A poet
dresses the naked 

with emotions. Such as the air 
in this empty room sops the hand 
and satisfaction it gives. Still, 

the pen he has used 
flows again and the page cherishes 
that in its roots—
and produces blooms on the bed 
of spring. Ah, the spirits are splattering
on the tasteful styles, but the 

mails on your phone 
are comme il faut the summer sheets 
of petering dust. A note from him 

is among them, unread. I watch
at the poet. It is so vain not to peruse—
that I opt instead to read his soul.

Details | Fibonacci | |


to illume

the maze-
guided by
Ariadne's thread

Details | I do not know?, I do not know? | |

Mirror Smoke

Mirror Smoke

This is one of those miserably sodden days of sinus congestion
Forcing my writing soul back against the wall to unleash itself
to speak out against senseless multiplication
In that timeless frustration of controlled freedom
We of the twenty first century call the rat race
Swept along in the floes and flows of like minded souls
As each struggles to assert itself before spinning
Once again into the maelstrom of suburban self esteem
and dogmatted dignity
The age of the big commute is winding to a close
Grinding into the sands of time 
As people realize there’s nowhere left to run
No little piece of heaven away from madding hordes
Education has dashed itself to pieces on the stoned walls of liberalism 
Pieces of books on Shakespeare, endless pieces of books on Shakespeare
Spin away in the current of present racing day
Did no one listen? Could no one read between the lines?
Where is the Nostre Damus of today to wave his upright lance?
laughing at this cruel cosmic joke
Methinks man doth multiply trying to unravel mirrored sunlight
Beget and begorrah
Can this be the lost and severed strand of hope
Swirling in the twisting dashing waves of time?
To sleep Perchance to dream alas poor Yoric
enthroned in the hearts of kings
To go a kinging in the ages of Darkness
Riding the T to Where?

Details | Free verse | |


People's praise may persist
Before the perfection of
Promise and potential.

Details | Free verse | |

The Disturbed Poetic Mind

Red calligraphy ink splattered across the blank parchment-
She was done, done with it all
Her own self had taken control-
Full of wisdom she waited, shaking intensely
The crimson grimaced on the sadistic paper-
Knowing she had given up
It seemed as if it were chanting at her in a guiltless manner
‘You’re supposed to be sooooo smart’
It mocked,
She could not find the vitality to combat the evil force any longer-
She collapsed into the musky corner-
Knowing she was concealed from the wickedness
Then her mind began to race-
Who was she anymore?
She had turned-
Into something almost demonic herself
She could not locate the audacity to even face her mirror
How would she know-
That she was no longer herself?
It was that moment that her consciousness escaped,
Feeling any relevant thought slip away she whispered-
‘All I wanted was to heal the loneliness, to find a cure.’

Details | Free verse | |

do you feel for anything other than yourself

I've heard that poetry won't get us very far

But what do they know?

Where a few  of my words blot a napkin

 is my

One and only refuge

So in essence

It helps to keep my sanity 

 this heartless world
My broadened perspective

Where my eyes are held open

can never be completly shut

I write

What I see

I've heard that my words will be forgotten 

When I am dead and gone

I will be dead and gone

But no one can touch this moment; the freeing of my happy soul

It is mine alone, regardless of if i am made of cartillage 

or just bone

I've heard that as a woman I am overly emotional

But what do they know?


I feel every pulse of life around me

and the drip drop of of  of the spring rain

I hear the sound of sobbing of people a thousand miles away

I feel the bloodshed

I smell the smoke

I see the heart break

By that you mean I can feel...
what do you feel

By your silence I can tell that you cannot
because you forgot

 You think that expression of any sort other than patriotism

is a waste of time? 

keep your eyes on the prize 

a.k.a.  work ethic

and you will get ahead
Numb your heart
To the real world

You call this the real world?
where the realness is hidden by the dumbing down of society

For you see

Your senses are dulled

When you no longer can understand 

the artist

and her poetry


not poetry

but your own sense of empathy

desire, fear, laughter, love, hatred, confusion, 

blatent disregard

You do much to spit in the face of our creator

feel it all

or all will be lost

our sense of justice, and empathy

should be kept at all costs 

Details | Quatrain | |

The Other Side of the Screen

We think, we write, we then type.
We post our poems to be seen.
We trust, we hope, we pray for truth
From the other side of the screen.

Who are the people, there, that read?
They say friends, but do we really know?
We trust them, talk with them, listen
And read their words that always flow.

The many, here, are the trusting lot.
Writing and sharing with their hearts.
We all share this common theme,
Partaking, forever, in this art.

It’s easy to think then post our thoughts.
In fact, easier when no one to distract.
Posting our poems upon this site
With those, whom which, we interact.

The next time you share of yourself here, in words,
With poems of love or hate or dreams.
Remember, someone will appreciate your work
From on the other side of the screen.

Details | Couplet | |

Soup's ON

AH the faceless poet 
stirring up our meal
sharing all with strangers
telling how you feel
as we taste your potion 
as we drink your pain
how we wish that we could
mix a remedy again
a spoon full of sugar
to sweeten up the taste
to think that there could
be a smile
tho we can't see your face
  yet we are kindred spirits
and so we really care
we 're game to bite off anything
we'll even chew despair

Details | Lyric | |


Yes, so many muses, lovely and bright-
so how come you learn not from them?

There is really no better muse to read
than written from the heart of a poet.

When you seek of my own lips for you
seem to follow me, day by day, ‘til we 

unknowingly, kiss the end of hour. Why 
not give your self a chance, to feel how 

good it is to hold hand in hand, sealed
with love and passion. Ah, let my muses 


Details | Dramatic monologue | |

Letter To A Poet

To you, my favorite Poet

I view you, as my sole comforter
You comfort me, with the beauty
Of your songs and verses
Written, by the power of your spirit

With love and passion; your work
Topped the best-sellers’ lists, a world record 
I believe, no word travelers can break it
No matter, how best they tried

I really have no idea how you did it
But truly, you’ve amazed millions of readers
With your thoughts, calm as the sea at night
Bringing peace and hope, into their hearts

Thou, many of your so-called fans excelled
In their own writings, yet, they failed
To capture the brevity of your word
They, too, failed to unearth its mystery

Oh, by the way, I found a translation of your
Book, it’s in my 7th tongues---the Modern Greek
Left purportedly, by one of your procrastinators
In a wooden shelve, in the attic-room

Adorned with dust, but, when I blew it away
Voila, my life has changed, completely
A better life
That you, instantly, became my favorite poet

You, the greatest, of all time
Greater than any poets/authors, living or dead
Your masterpiece translated into different languages
…..for those who wish to learn your wisdom

Now, that you’ve shown me 
The new life, with the strong guidance 
Of your lovely rhymes and styles
Yours, I will, steadfastly, bind them 

In my heart, forever, for without You---my God
There will never be me, your new born child
Nor, there’ll be poets such as Poe, Frost or Pushkin
If, you had not lend them, your silver quill


Details | Quatrain | |

Birth of a Novel

In a troublesome mood, half engulfed firelight
with a silk sheen perspire, emerging a thought
In round wire glasses, too light to be noticed
and a brass nib in ink, the moment was caught

It was twirled 'round a finger, half calloused with ink
with a wedding band clasp, from a lifetime ago
to be mulled an enigma, in bled scroll designs
on pages which only his fingers would know

By the crack of the fire, he stretched to the brink
every nuance he carried, like whispering skin
The embers died down, 'till he caught up a chill
but he couldn't conclude, what he didn't begin

The words were in charge, in general ink
and he wrote in a fervor, and shook until still
with bones turned to ash, in the blue of the room
a novel was born, but the author was killed.

Details | I do not know? | |

Starless Night: The Art Of Giving (Rhyme Incorporated) part 1

I was reading Michelle MacDonald’s superb piece of art “Sea Shanty”
Secretly, under the haiku master Katherine Stella’s “Yum Yum Tree”
When smiling Carol Brown, invited me to her grand “Surprise Party”

The charming lady of the soup was no longer feeling bad or “Sideline”
After mending herself, thru helpful John Boak’s “Like The Best Wine”
I am not sure, if, playful Julie Bristow told her, the miracle of “Divine”

Thank God! Doret Cope sighed; she didn’t suffer from a “Stolen Love”
She enjoyed the work of Dawn Drickman’s “The Tiger And The Dove”
She is a good person, that I told her my secret, of having “Other Love”

At the party, Keith Bickerstaffe, without her luckless maid “Ophelia”
Was talking to Sir William Robinson, the great man behind “Mahalia”
I guessed she asked him why I wrote “O God, The Rat Has A Phobia”

Dancing flawlessly, to the nostalgic tune of Jeffrey Lee’s “Music”
Was my haiku mentor, she’s mesmerized by Mahalia’s “Light Magic”
But co-host, a certain Adam Piper was caught trapped, at “The Attic”

I did surprise all, even William Robinson, “When I Stop And Pray”
I interrupted my recitation, of own favorite “Cast Your Doubts Away”
‘Cos, I rather break my pen, but not a promise: “And To Thee, I Pray”

Epulaeryu chef Joseph Spence Sr. who “Makes The World Go Round”
Was explaining, his cooking, to sweet Elaine George, but “Spellbound”
By the strong romantic power, of yellow “Dried Rose On The Ground”

That got humble Daria Stone confused, of feeling “Unlocked, Not Free”
A beauteous Deborah Simpson smiled and asked him: “Sequester Me”
Joyful Karen O’Leary said, the handsome chef, will “Travel With Me”

Details | I do not know? | |


What do I need for inspiration?
Blood, sweat, tears, and degradation?
Won't you be my muse tonight?
Inspire me with your delights

Tell me everything will be all right
Let me hold you until daylight
Whisper words into my ear
Tell me everything I want to hear

Fool me 
With your pretty words
Tell me things 
I've already heard

Whisper all your promises
You know you can't keep
Keep telling me your fairy tales
Until I fall asleep

Details | I do not know? | |

That's What I Do

The alarm goes off and I rise up, for a moment foggy from sleep.
I look through the curtain and stare out at the world in front of me.
Where am I ?  My mind is a blank , the cob webs still clinging. 
Oh yes I remember.   I'm Where I'm supposed to be.

Miles away from my home and my family, doing a job not many can do
or would want too.
This is my life day and night,  to deliver my loads to the receiver's so that
consumer's will have what they need.  That's what I do.

Then it's off to another pick up and another hurry up and wait day.
Because no matter when I get there the freight won't be ready to load.
So I'll be up all day waiting for it.  No one seems to care.
Then it's all night long no time to wait. Got to get on down the road.

Montgomery is a long way off and  7 a.m. comes early, just enough time 
to fuel up.  Both the rig and myself.  Grab a thermos of Joe
Then it's back to the road I go.  The HOS is a pain the D.O.T. the same
The coops are open and weighing.   My weights o.k. and it's off I go.

Daylight is just a memory and the night is long and black.
The c.b. is chattering low. 10 people talking at the same time.
Truck stops are full and there is no place to park so I head out
 to find a rest area.  Then call home  on the land line.

Hello I miss you. Did you take care of the things I asked you too?
Yes I'll be home by Friday, No I haven't forgotten a thing
Yes I know I won't be late.  I promise!  Yea I love you too!
I hang up and I feel it,  the painful sting.

I walk back to the truck, sadness fills me, and it lingers.
My heart hurts until the night closes in on me and I sleep.
The alarm sounds and I arise and I move out onto the road
Montgomery calls, and the diesel in my blood flows deep.

This is my life. What I do to make a living
It's hard and lonely and scary  too.
But it's the life I've chosen to live and I know it better than myself
Miles, and miles, everyday.  That's what I do.

Details | Free verse | |

This Poem Won't Make You Cry

I have written- a poem 
That won’t make you cry, within 
Whose tender words spell 
The magic of love, 
Scented with honey, from 

A fluttering god: a gift- 
For thee, ‘cos this poem o’ mine
Is drawn from thy beauty!

I’ve made my heart rhyme, 
For the air not to die 
Before thy sight, 
‘Cos your charm, like crystal 
Blue sea imitating ocean, where 

Waves ripple, like notes 
Of dancing evening fire, 
Proclaiming thy desire!

Cry not, ‘cos my love will not fade 
Like a vapor and waft as a smoke, 
Though to death we all go, but for 
Us, not tonight, my dear!  Fear not, 
For in this muse- I will rest 

My aroma, ‘cos it was thee-
Who made me bloom, like a flower
On a rock, feasting on thy sacred wine! 

Details | I do not know? | |

The virgin

You are saving it for marriage because premarital sex is a sin.
But some people are making fun of you because you're a virgin.
I think what you're doing is very great indeed.
It's refreshing to see someone wait until they're married.
But those people keep making fun of you and they won't give you a break.
What they're doing is wrong, tell them to go jump in the lake.

Details | Senryu | |

' What Colors Are You ? ' 3rd Senryu

‘ What Colors Are You ? ’

Red Is For Passion
Purple, Is For Royalty
Green... Is For Envy

Details | Rhyme | |


I have a new friend,
Her name is Kady Burney.
She is nervous about her writings,
I think she needs a gurney. 
If you get a chance have a look see,
I am sure you will like it,
I am sure you will agree.
Please make her welcome,
Help her feel at home, 
She is such a good poet,
We don’t want her to roam.
Thank you very much,
Y’all are the greatest
Please keep in touch,
You’ll be glad she surfaced.

Details | I do not know? | |

Pity The Errant Prophet

Pity the errant prophet,
  too long in the park,
Lifting and pitching  
  picnic tables all over,
His pathetic display 
  lasts long past the dark.
Derision of others should
  have him break for cover;
Oh,what a damned fool,what 
  pointless drivel!
Tossing loose change while
  we stand to count our bills.
Can he still not tell we 
  make our eyes swivel?
Why the Hell doesn't he
  just go back to the hills?
Then,no more would we see
  his contorted image;
There he can return to 
  his quiet,dark way,
We'll shut him up with our
  lovely,languid language,
Demonstrate how better 
  words can be made to pay.


Details | Quatrain | |

Chelynne's Book

Sand between my toes I've saved
along with flowers pressed
A tortoise shell of black and green
from when I lived out west
On my desk I even hold
a ruby found in ancient Rome
and opal shells made just for me
from snails I met in the Aegean Sea
But what I hold dear to my heart
comes clear the best in ink
So I seal them down indelible
and kiss them with a wink
I hold them here inside this book
along with thoughts of you
For, sister, you and I are one
instead of only two...

Details | Diminished Hexaverse | |

Whispered Words

Engulfed in whispers
spoken by the wind,
we sought to answer.
The sky laughed at us
and pulled up our words.

These long ropes hang
from silver stars,
contain our love,
and light the night.

Laugh away
frigid sky
while you freeze.

We are
more than


Details | Lyric | |

I Write for Myself

So sue me
I don’t write like you
I don’t pay attention to form and rhyme scheme,
And I shouldn’t have to,
That’s the beauty of art

I write from the heart
I say what I feel
Why must it be structured a certain way,
In order to be real?

I will not write a haiku
Nor a senryu 
What’s it to you?
Does that mean I’m fake?

It’s time you wake up
Get over yourself
I won’t change my ways,
Because you say they’re wrong
I won’t change my ways,
Because the forms say they’re wrong
I don’t write for your forms,
Or anything else
I write for myself

Details | I do not know? | |

A Poet's Dream

A poet dreams, a poet writes
Words of passion, mostly unlike,
Like a rhythm nation, they rock in time
Coming from strange but gifted minds

Like a blank canvas that opens up so many feelings and thoughts
 Writing words that will affect other people’s hearts,
Dreams filled with hopes and despair and some with luck
Others just need the words to help pick them up

A poet words help others to find their deepest feelings within their own being 
Hopefully they will teach as well help those who need just need some healing,  
With love and a understanding that can be construed between each line
Taking on subject matters to their limits and beyond most of the time

Subjects which may considered tabooed, others are right on the mark
Company that is for the lonely, one who hides away in the dark,
Addictions and life’s tough woes, a constant reminder for all
Breaking down the barriers of the self imposed walls

Aspirations of greatness stopped by the initiatives of a once strong will
Pouring out the kindness that will essentially help those with the will to live,
Granted far be it not everything is always right
But hopefully the truthful meanings come out in the things a poet writes

Passions of truthful inspirations coming with the territory of what we live
Trying to show the goodness we have learned and what we have to give,
Reflections of a simpleton who plays the poor man’s role
Someone who struggles daily to reach their goals

No judgments or scruples that can be comprised to clog up a mind
Basic instincts that weave moral fabrics, keeping track of somebody during their 
Ethics proposed to every individual so they stay on track and not get forgotten in the 
Remembering those who simply need a hug or a loving gentle kiss

Producing pictures like a physic that’s able to see within the mind of others
Taking them on a journey within a piece of literature about many subjects covered,  
Each individual deciphers the messages that touches their own heart differently it seems
Keeps a poet writing, bearing their soul that is filled with all of his or her, Dreams!  

December 30, 2003

Details | I do not know? | |

The Railway

Waiting at the railway
Waiting by the line
Waiting for the train
Coming down the line.

Wagons on the railway
Full of goods and coal,
Engine on the railway
Hear its iron wheels roll.

Woman by the railway
Basket on her head.
Traders on the railway
Selling loaves of bread.

Travellers by the railway
Sitting on a seat.
Dogs by the railway
Sleeping on the heat.

Beggars by the railway
Sitting on the ground.
Children by the railway
Dancing round and round.

Porter by the railway
Lifts a heavy load.
Lorry by the railway
Waiting on the road.

Waiting at the railway
Waiting by the line
Waiting for the train
Coming down the line.

Details | I do not know? | |

To A Young Poet (Fiboquatro, V.1)

Chaste and
Oh, gently whirlwinds  
Through wonder page of whisperer

Fragile, yet too prevailing
Sweet smile upon his tender age
Youthful and witty, his charms tinge
This world o’ mine, with glade of sage


Fiboquatro is a poetic form, consisting of 2 or 3 stanzas, 
a combination of Fibonacci and a stanza of 4 lines, with
an abab rhyme scheme. The specific theme for this form 
is more of love and inspiration, but a poet writing in this 
form can have his/her own choice of theme. Visit my site 
to learn more:

Details | Dramatic monologue | |

Soup From Scratch

Some people see a bowl of soup,
I see the ingredients...
Some people see the words...
Nothing wrong with that...
They are talented, artistic...meaningful...
I see the heart capable of forming them
I see the mind behind the words...
I see immense value added to this
Version of reality...
By the words of those....
Far wiser, far kinder,....
Than I....
I see love, concern....
Things I cant find in my own family...
I find hope...the most precious of gifts,
Bestowed upon me by those with
no ulterior motive...
These simple things
Restore my faith in humanity...
How blessedly lucky I must be...
To have stumbled, somehow,
Upon these most gentle, wise, souls
Serendipity at the soup
Soul of the soup...
I sometimes wonder if these
Wonderful people in Georgia
Realize the incredible
service they are providing
for the rich of word,
the rich of heart,
For the beneficial expression,
Of all mankind...
All over the world...
I know they are not getting rich off us,
But we off them..
For uniting those who know
The art of words...
Seemingly....a vanishing art.
The gold mine of thought
To be mined here...
Far exceeds ....
The gold of the richest
Treasure chest....

Details | I do not know? | |

Soup Kitchen

I presented my idea of a PoetrySoup convention to the Soup people- they thought 
it was a good idea...We, Soup members, would bear the costs, but I think I have 
a plan (if held on Long Island, N.Y.) that would make those costs reasonable.  I 
just need a show of hands on who would be interested.  We spend a lot of time 
together...why not face to face once in awhile?  Maybe every other year or so...I 
suspect it'd be a blast...if on L.I.- I'll provide the band (free), and if so desired, will
do a stand-up comedy routine. (no tossing tomatoes, please!)  So email me at, and lets see if can open our first "Soup Kitchen"
     Imagine all that talent in one room!!!   I might even have it video-taped!!
                                Best regards, tom bell

Details | Rhyme | |

Turn Around

Hour after hour time passes us by, 
Life as it is never stops but goes on, 
So live your life the best you can 
And do well before your life is gone 

You can do anything you want 
Climb the ladder of success right to the sky 
Take a deep look and turn your life around 
Because God loves you and wants you to be free! 

Dorian Petersen Potter 
aka ladydp2000 


Details | Bio | |

Fool With A...

Lived my whole life
In a black neighborhood,
Got no problem with that,
Matter of fact, was quite good

Rarely a problem, or for
at least a long time,
The memories of that town,
I cherish as mine...

Way back in the sixties,
Just around the block
Was John's Tavern...
It was culture shock...

At 16 or so,
We'd be sipping a beer
Shooting some pool
And home was so near

$2 would keep 
you amused for a night,
And never therein,
Did I witness a fight...

One feisty black man,
I can hear his voice now...
When winning at pool...
How he would 
So proudly create
quite a row...

"Fool With A Stick!"
This he would bray
I can hear it inside,
Till this very day...

But now I've gone,
Around once too long,
And if he was alive,
This would be his song;

"Fool With A Bic!"
"Fool writting words
"Fool with a Bic
"Fool for the Nerds!"

Details | Dramatic monologue | |

I met God

(This is a fictional poem)

I was rushed to the emergency room when I had a bad fall.
The doctors checked time after time but they couldn't find a pulse at all.
Everything suddenly became very bright.
I heard somebody tell me to walk into the light.
I met God and he had gray hair and a beard.
Sadly I had died just like I feared.
God was very tall and he really shined.
He said he was going to send me back to Earth to help mankind.
I've become a preacher and now I'm spreading God's word.
I'm helping to make certain that people's futures in Heaven are assured.

Details | Free verse | |

Outdated Copywriter

Outdated Copywriter 

There is some old websites we are not sure where the people went they 
disappeared and left the website running and people just continue using it? The 
copywrite usually just says 1995 and the people where they went are they even 
still alive? The Outdated copywriter lives in the old shoe with the goose and the 
mother of the children two? Will the website still survive in 2095? 
 Outdated Copywriter     
Page 1 of 1 

Details | Rhyme | |

The Audience

To float to unsung destinies
To pull the wool out milky eyes
and sell the secrets hurting us
to buy ourselves naive surprise
It's this you freely bloom today
It's this and all your smiles
which dress up even the simple things
in fashion of infinite style
We are your captive audience
We are your tongues delight
to varnish a lunar eclipsing word
and hang on the ears of the night
You mirror our thoughts gone unthought
You precious yourself to the wind
so we will sit back with eyes burning clear
bated breath and a smile so you can begin

Details | I do not know? | |


Barack Obama is a Senator and a family man too.
He was born in Hawaii in Honolulu.
He has a wife and two daughters who he loves very much.
When it comes to the issues that are important, he's in touch.
He can be a great leader for this land.
If I ever meet him, I'll shake his hand.
He will be a candidate who I'll always remember.
I hope he wins the Presidency this November.

Details | Free verse | |

the words out of our mouths

just the other day a radio personality 
made a disparaging remark about a group of women 
whom he had never even met.
this person has always been known 
for his acerbic tongue and cutting comments.
but he crossed the line, he went too far
it was cruel and unnecessary
but the point i want to make 
is that anyone,  be they black, white or indifferent
should be held accountable 
for the words out of their mouths.

rap artists and r&b singers who refer to women 
as b%#@!&s and ho's
shock jocks on the radios whose only purpose in life is to be
as vulgar and offensive as possible
newscasters and talk show hosts who say inflammatory things
just to stir up some controversy.
what has happened to society?
have we lost all sense of morality?

bigotry is bad for business
racism is radically wrong
there is no excuse nor will any apology make it go away
nor erase the words that come out of our mouths
because once it is spoken it can't be unspoken

Jesus made a comment to the Pharisees
when they rebuked His disciples for not washing their hands
before partaking of the meal
He said,'"whatever enters the mouth goes into the stomach and is eliminated, 
but those things which proceed out of the mouth come from the heart 
and they defile a man."   
so be careful of the words that you choose and use
for the words out of our mouths tell people 
what is on our mind and in our heart

Details | I do not know? | |


You've dipped into the ink well again
Writing words without a pen
Your thoughts become etched in stone
In your world you're all alone

Take my words
Twist and turn
Take my words
Live and learn

Your heart is black
And that's okay
You'll always paint
Your world to grey

What's left for us
What can we say?
With your ink
You rule the day

Details | Quatrain | |

The Storyteller

You spin the world
You shake with pride
as tales of wonder
tear your eyes
You're ageless now
You flood the room
and force us to 
your heart entomb
You never stop
You never think
of all your grandeur
stamp and ink
You took the role
You spoke the words
and now you've left us
cold, disturbed...

Details | Lyric | |


red book-
was to fill
many empty

Ekphrasis on Mao 1973 by Warhol

Details | I do not know? | |

Goodbye Mister Sutton

(Dedicated to Frank Sutton who died June 28, 1974. He starred as sergeant 

Back in the sixties you starred in Gomer Pyle.
Jim nabors quite often got you riled.
Those shows were funny and nifty.
You were far too young when you died at fifty.
You had a temper and you were loud but that's why people loved you.
Millions of people have watched your shows and future generations will enjoy 
them too.

Details | Couplet | |

The Poet's Heart

It’s not the mind that bears the ink,
Nor scribes on paper. We don’t think.
It’s not with hand, we grasp our pens,
It with our feelings, the lives of men.
It’s not with lips, the stories told,
Nor with our tongues for to behold.
For with our hearts, we live and share
And pen ourselves as daily fair.
Therefore the words we send to you
Are words of love, pain, humor, truth.
So, when you read and become a part
Please know this poem was penned with heart.

Details | Free verse | |

Poetry Wine

Though I am stranger
By birth and by blood
I felt accepted

Pulling the cork out
I smelled the famed scent 
Of the old vintner

Held captive in own
Sweat, when I sipped it
Words flowed out of me

Like the vine dresser
Pure, soft and gentle
For everyone’s heart 

I remember well
The sweet echo of
The vintage Greek wine

Details | Free verse | |

Honored By Friends

What can one say?
You made my day!
Oh, and by the way....
Did I miss the
train to Cinncinati?
Wouldn't be surprised,
Cause I'm "Batty"!!!

PS- I just finished the
"Ballerina Poem"
I had stopped early on,
to deal with this gnawing
physical pain.

You R The Best!!!
Luv, tom

Details | Rhyme | |

Ease and the Taking

Stranded in glass at the edge of perfection
steps contemplated and cracked
Sky overhead is eternally threatening
whispering wickedly behind your back
Removing the vision, blind open your eyes
throw it out into the gulfing sunrise
Eliptical cowl burnt red to leak gold
brimming with all of the musings once sold
Solar incredulous melting the glass
Master of destiny, mutiny pass
Streaking your steps with only your will
to blow your legs out of this infinite trill
Turns out the sky only wanted a kiss
from the you that arrives at the moment of waking
Sometimes a push is all that's required
and the rest is just yours for the ease and the taking.

Details | Narrative | |


Grew to manhood on the river Tay,
Writing poems ,most every day;
His diary of a dying man,left
Telling observations, for all to see.

Tribute to William Soutar

Details | Lanterne | |


or story
makes St Lucy 

Note Lucy patron of writers

Details | Concrete | |


        led    and                            remade
  I     ................................         .................................           S
  n    .                                                                                    p
  s    .                                                                                    i
  p    .                                    O                                             r
  i     .                                     F                                             i
  r     .                                                                                    t
  e    .                      
  d    .                                     T                                             o   
        .                                      H                                            f
  b    .                                      E       
  y     .                                                                                   G
        ..................................              ...........................          d
               PEOPLE                              BOOK

Details | Quatrain | |

Poetic Thirst

As words form on paper or there on a screen
The many who read can see what they mean
But yet there is more that the author implies
You must read deeper but not with your eyes

The stories or feelings can come on so strong
Letting the reader feel as if they do so belong
There’s comfort in thinking it’s written for you
As if it is about you or the things that you do

When placing yourself in the poems you read
You give unto others your sense of your need
You allow them to see you, the beauty within
You give to them hope, laughter or just a grin

The next time you write, with hopes of a read
Forget not those people that suffer from need
Put yourself, all of you, deeply into the verses
Giving many who read, a quench of their thirst

Details | Lyric | |

FAQs: Love And Hate

Hate and to hate, 
To be hated and be hateful.

I don’t want to know hate, 
For I don’t want to be hated.

I will not be hated, 
‘Cos I am not hateful.

Thou, hate knocked me out to my feet,
I have no will or courage of knowing it.

Question: What is hate?
Answer: Sorry, I don’t know, mate!

Question: What is love?
Answer: That’s you and me, without hate.

Details | Dramatic Verse | |

Black customers

You follow the black customers around your store where you work.
You think they're going to steal things because you're a jerk.
What you've been doing is wrong and I've spoken to the proprietor.
He says he'll be watching and if he catches you, you'll be walking out the door.
It's people like you who give this country a bad name.
Black people deserve respect, you should be ashamed.

Details | Dramatic Verse | |

Rape is wrong

(This poem is for anyone who's considering committing rape.)

If you're considering committing rape, please don't do it.
It causes a lot of pain and nobody deserves to go through it.
You wouldn't commit rape if you knew how it makes the victims feel.
They suffer tremendously and it takes a long time for them to heal.
If you're considering committing rape, I have a message for you and you better 
not ignore it.
Rape is wrong and evil and if you commit it, you will go to prison for it.

Details | Quatrain | |

Weathered and Worn

Upon the shelf, above the door
With dust and age upon the text
The book, it sat, with readers, naught
With dreams of eyes upon it, yet

The binding, tight, it’s never torn
The leather, smooth, yet worn with age
The white within is yellowed, worn
And risks a tear, when turn the page

Alive, it seems, it screams its verse
Calling out to many, who dare to hear
Alas, without eyes, it’s set with curse
Yet, keeps hopes alive year after year

Perhaps a mind set there for words
Or interested hearts, set there in love
Will find the book, then read its verse
Be thankful then for looking above

Then the book, there, penned with heart
Will have shared its many words, its thoughts
Perhaps a life will change, then start
To appreciate their lives, all then taught

Details | Free verse | |

Poets (Cameo)

Describes all your words
As they serve to inspire us
And help us
So we can make it in our lives
Allowing us hope and love
For life

Cameo syllable count is 2,5,7,3,8,7,2, unrhymed

Details | Verse | |

Shock The Rose

You cannot let it drop, the imaginary subtexts,
The ideas of reference in each line, each word,
Are you so important that it all is meant for you?
Or do you know deep down it’s simply too absurd?

I have kept each page of hatred you have sent,
Like a butterfly collector pinions wings onto boards,
In the electric yellow vaults of micro folders,
On hard drives and in memory meticulously stored.

Each savage comment copied, each venomous critique,
Each post of warped disgust, distorted and obtuse,
Each schizophrenic typo, every rant and every rave, 
Every message of dementia, every email of abuse.

So I really have to tell you I have had more than enough,
And the evidence provided by your paranoiac prose,
Gives me all I ever needed to turn the game around,
Hold on tight and watch and wait, for it’s time to shock the rose.

Details | Free verse | |


I'm sorry i'm not perfect,
too bad my life is sad. 
Try to hear me out, 
before you all get mad.
Don't laugh in my face, 
it was only an opinion.
I try to express myself,
but you always shut me down.
How can I be who I am,
if you won't accept me now?
Each day I live a lie,
just to see you smile.
You always push me around,
like i'm not worth this sh--.
I guess you don't understand,
I was born who I am.
You look at me crazy,
whenever I pass you by.
How am I so different from you?
I just want to know why...

My name is always in your mouths,
but you have no reason why.
Talk about someone else,
a person that lives to lie.
So now you want to be my friend,
but didn't you tell her something else?
I'm not your backup toy,
so don't treat me like some boy.
I am NOT a dog,
you get to throw around.
I am a human with feelings too.
So what if I cry at times,
you act as if you never do.

Details | Narrative | |


Jephthah the judge,from Gilead he came,
With this difficult word found long-lasting fame-
For those upon the losing side
He devised a cunning plan,
Asking of his enemy,to pronounce it if they can

Note Full story -Judges 12:6

Details | Free verse | |

Water-Colored Words (Reversed Verse)

As Water-colored
Liquid creativity 
Seeping from my cup of thoughts
Mental portraits
Created colors 
Quenching the thirsty canvas
Revealed to a world
Within water-colored dreams
Fanciful minds filled to the brim
With excitement of hearts 
Awaiting the next tale to be told

~Ah yes indeed it shall be known by those~

Awaiting the next tale to be told
With excitement of hearts
Fanciful minds filled to the brim
Within water-colored dreams
Revealed to a world
Quenching the thirsty canvas
Created colors 
Mental portraits
Seeping from my cup of thoughts
Liquid creativity 
As Water-colored

Details | I do not know? | |

I don't need a babysitter!

(This is a fictional poem)

When it comes to my parents, I'm still angry and bitter.
I'm a thirty-six year old man and they still hire babysitters.
The babysitters treat me like a child and they suffer my wrath.
They tuck me in at night and they even give me baths.
They won't let me watch TV and I have to go to bed at seven o clock.
Tonight my babysitter had to get stitches when I hit her in the head with a rock.
The babysitter just quit and she kicked my dad in the balls before she left.
I want to be treated like an adult and if they hire another babysitter, I'm going to 
hold my breath.

Details | Free verse | |

Negativity's Spool

This spool of negativity
unraveled, sparked and metal lime
pierces eardrums in their skin
and wraps conundrums 'round the brain
It usurps all the confidence
which should be stored in violet bowls
to sip when low ignition strikes
and twines the weary, dragging souls
It threads the skin of counterparts
to skin cells loving anger
and twists it's turns through open mouths
to happiness endanger
This spool of negativity
spat and rolled by rotten tongues
will stretch and tear at the slightest tug
like paper silk gone soaked in rum
It dusts disintegration
and sleeps in rusty coils
and snakes through poison mushrooms
in the darkest forest soils
It winds a whisper metal lick
into the hearts of mighty men
constricting blood of pumping life
until they reach to sorrow's end
with thoughts too steep and oiled black
to negatively condescend...

Details | Lyric | |


A whispered poem, like 
A gentle touch of love can put a spirit 
In sorrow to joy;
It can deliver the restless mind to tranquility;
It can mend and heal a broken heart;
Rhyme or un-rhyme surely flows,
Strengthening the weak,
To live life and hope for the best.

A passing wind ripples on palm trees,
Can make a worried lover, 
Sitting on a metal bench beneath it, 
To wait a little longer for 
Her confused fiancé;
It can bring her peace, a time to reflect her love;
It can make her soul calm, for awhile
Believing he’ll come ere the orb fades.

But you, my dear friend, like
A whispered poem can uplift my spirits,
Just by the touch of your hand;
You, like the passing wind,
Can caress my faith;
You can make relentless me, alive;
Yet, you chose not to be…
Instead, you’ve stolen my love.


Details | Quatrain | |

The Write Way

It’s never truly easy
I don’t know what to say
When standing face to face
All thoughts then go away
My words, they all escape me
They pack and take a trip
So when I try to speak the words
My tongue lets out a slip

That’s why I write so easy
As words just come to mind
I sit to write on anything
All words are there to find
But, if to pen in front of you
I’m therefore on the spot
Gibberish is all you’ll see
For all words I’ve forgot

Details | Kyrielle | |


as one-
by a mixture of
as one-
in spirit
as forged by the
as one-
joined in an
embrace of the
as one-
helpmeets yoked in

Details | Free verse | |

Poetry Circle

Early Sunday morning we gather
with or without the sun. Our host 
passes mugs of hot water, 
bags of tea. We sit between the light 
coming through her big front window
and five caged finches singing
from the kitchen. Someone recites
a long-remembered phrase, "over golden 
groves unleaving," or "the woods are 
lovely, dark and deep." Another
continues with her own words, a mere 
translation of what she meant
to say. We turn it on our tongues
and speak it out again. We hesitate 
to call this worship.
Call it praise.

Details | Free verse | |

The Transient Walker

The Transient Walker
Walking Home
Looking for an open doorway where eye can avoid the rain to stay warm with my 
blanket to keep from the inevitable decay the day the day will start again so eye 
can walk again?
The people are the same they never change
Judging me as less then them occasionally there is one to be a friend SHE 
listened to me and took the offering from my hand a poem given to be 
remembered  to be read and marveled at she will read how flowers fade and 
wonder at this MAN that gave her such a thing and eye am blessed to have just 
such a friend as this kind stranger she did not poo at me or shudder from the 
application of my hand upon the card the faded card of poem there she took it 
like a jewel and told me in confidence eye collect the poetry eye COLLECT 
poems said she
And eye just had to smile for eye had written flowers fade on the back of an old 
file card and now we are both strangers nevermore. She collected the best poem 
of them all.

Details | Free verse | |

Your Talents

Each word flows melodically 
as if in one breath it floats 
and the sentiment 
is so clear 
that the eyes 
actually focus 
on the very thoughts 
conveyed through the words. 
No greater talent is there 
than to share feelings and emotions 
in such a way 
that makes the reader feel 
as if you speak directly to them,
 drawing them into 
your world of dreams, wonder and splendor. 
May the talent 
that lies within you 
shine like the morning sun 
in a perpetual cycle of revelation, 
thereby giving all 
the opportunity to smile 
over and over again. 

Details | Free verse | |

Unsuspected Poet And His Poem On A Napkin

Whilst we, comfortably, sat 
In a not so trendy bar, over a pack
Of Marlboro Light and a bottle 
Of Bandol wine, 
He wrote his poem 
On a piece of napkin, moving me 
To sit closer, next to him, to read it;
His words and style were beautiful
And well-crafted; perfect, for an 
Enameled frame, for my room’s boring 
And empty wall, I thought.

The final stanza, vividly, speaks 
Of his true love
For me….only for me, a promise;
And, he ended it without a period or
A question mark;
Yet, I decided to place a period on it,
Even though he asked me not, but I must…
Upon hearing this angel’s little voice:
“Mommy…mommy, look! 
There’s daddy, with a young lady! 
Will she be my nanny?”

Details | Dramatic monologue | |

what's in a word?

society seems to have lost certain aspects of courtesy
today it's the norm to speak in the language of profanity
n's, b's and h's are the words that people use today
they don't comprehend the negativity in the words that they say

to be polite and mannerly is now a thing of the past
the rap culture mentality has taken over everyday language at last
i understand the need for those artists to express their thoughts
but i can't comprehend why they can't do it 
in the proper language that they've been taught

what's in a word?
it's the language that man uses to communicate
it's not what you say but how you say it, 
the way that people do relate
if you talk in words that are regarded as being low class 
many will perceive
that you have never gotten 
the education that others have received
they look at you with contempt 
and then become condescending
they look at you as being inferior, 
for that is the message you are sending
so be careful of the words that you choose 
and the manner in which you speak
for what's in a word and how you use it 
determines the level of respect that you seek

Details | Narrative | |

Vignette- IF AT FIRST

His music was to cause a riot
As Stravinsky lost th plot,
Beethoven was not-
This rite of Spring
Soon made the critics sing.

Full story @ The Rite Of Spring by Stravinsky

Details | I do not know? | |

It's not a dress

(This is a fictional poem)

I wear a kilt but everybody thinks it's a dress.
People laugh at me and my life is a mess.
Last week I got my ___ kicked in a fight.
It's not a dress and I'm tired of people thinking I'm a transvestite.
I'm the butt of people's jokes, I even get laughed at by my friends.
I forgot to wear underwear today and I was arrested when it came a strong wind.

Details | Senryu | |

Somewhere In Our Hearts

somewhere in our hearts
there is a haiku written,
in own sweat and blood

Details | Tail-rhyme | |


A down
to earth poet,
to bring a smile,perchance
a tear-yet ever easy on 
the ear.

Details | Dramatic Verse | |


(Warning:This fictional poem is gruesome.)

I begged for mercy but they ignored my plea.
They took me to their house and tortured me.
They gave me third degree burns with a blow torch.
Over ninety percent of my body is scorched.

They cut off my fingers one by one.
I wanted to be dead by the time they were done.
When the sunrises in a couple of hours, I may no longer be alive.
That's okay by me because life might not be worth living if I survive.

Details | Light Poetry | |

Butter and eggs

(This is a fictional poem)

I deliver butter and eggs for miles around.
It's great because I deliver to everybody in town.
My butter is always fresh and my eggs have just been laid.
When people don't have any money, I gladly accept trades.

The people only buy from me, they never buy butter and eggs at the stores.
This town is the kind of place where nobody has to lock their doors.
All of the people here know one another.
We're friendly and we are all like brothers.

Details | I do not know? | |


(This is a fictional poem)

When I go on a date, I make the girl order the cheapest thing on the menu.
They usually walk out the door before the dates have a chance to continue.
My last date ordered a meal that costed a hundred and ten dollars.
The owner threw me out on my ___ when I started to holler.
The price of an egg McMuffin is about as high as I'm willing to go.
When I ask the girls out a second time, they slap me and say no.

Details | Fibonacci | |


To write
Short Stories
to be enjoyed
by everyone who reads them.
To someday be published is but a lovely dream.
Even the impoverished can afford the luxury of a beautiful dream.

Details | I do not know? | |


Colonel Sanders decided to sell KFC.
When he did, the new owner changed his recipe.
Sanders was quarrelling on television and he was very mad.
They changed his recipe and that was pretty bad.
He shouldn't have sold his restaurants, he should've left them to his kids.
But he decided to sell and he quickly regretted that he did.
Those restaurants gave Sanders fame.
What happened was a damn shame.