~ Linda-Marie The Sweetheart of P. S. ~
When it comes to a friendly hi!
One of the best poetry, hearts we can't deny!
Our Sweetheart Linda Marie
No one is smoother and sweeter than her- our peach tree
Always stopping by to say hi, no matter, rain/sleet or snow
Her contest Zany Zoo, one of the soups best show
A woman who never judged me from the start
Linda Marie, thank you for being such a sweetheart
Sharing her delightful poems, a double doze for me
Oh Me- Oh My- That woman can write so much poetry!
I am sure she is loved by the poetry soup staff
LOL! How this blonde bombshell made us laugh
Remember, when she took her laptop to a sandy Island
She smiled, and shared, how the laptop was damaged with so much sand
Hanging out with Linda, it's like singing "Kumbaya my Lord"-- I felt her holding my hand
How sweet of Linda, when she invited us to meet her new Husband?
Linda Marie is loved by her very own BBF team
Letting us know, life has been more than a dream
Her heart so big, she worried when her BFF's weren't around
Leaving notes, making sure we have not hit a poet break down
She keeps us in her heart when we are not logged in
Her beautiful and clever/witty poem will forever remain
Most of her poetry made me smile
Linda Marie's poetry had so much Style!
We prayed for you when we heard about your son
Thank you for sharing your faith in God. -Linda You're #1
A poet I highly recommend
Linda Marie my poetry soup best friend
~Linda-Marie The Sweetheart of P. S. ~ 2012
~I"M gonna miss you, 2013
Happy birthday to you :-( Don't leave, 2013
(STILL MISSING YOU) Love always, YOUR BFF -- 2014
Sending my Heart, To one of the soups Leading Ladies
RIP. Linda-Marie Bariana You are forever loved
Terror seizes you, and it isn't kind.
You try to go somewhere peaceful in your mind.
But the pain rips you right back to here and now.
Not wanting to give him the satisfaction of even saying "ow."
You try to be strong, but he tears from you, a scream.
Oh God, please let this be a terrible, terrible dream.
I thought he was supposed to be a friend of mine?
As the tears grow down my face like vine.
He tells me I wanted it, even though I screamed no.
He says my attitude and outfit told him so.
In the same breath, he threatens me never to tell.
If they ask why the tears, you better say you fell.
As I got out of the car he pulled me to him and hugged me tight.
He kissed my forehead and said Don't worry you'll be all right.
Just remember, if you open your mouth, no one will believe a dirty whore.
Now go inside before I take you for another ride and give you some more.
Into the house and straight into the shower.
I was in there for what felt like hours and hours.
My grandmother knew right from the start.
Please don't tell, it would break Daddy's heart.
Please, Grandma he's not worth Daddy going to jail.
For my sake and his, you can never, ever tell.
She kept her promise and never uttered a word.
At night, she told me, my cries she heard.
For six weeks I kept my secret and told not another soul.
For six weeks I sunk deeper and deeper into a hole.
Not until I heard that he raped a fourteen year old girl.
Knowing I could have prevented it, shattered my world.
I finally told my horror story to the cops and to my Dad.
I don't think I'd ever seen him so violently mad.
Mike was arrested, but in jail he would not stay.
He lived around the corner and we had to move away.
He got probation, but not for me, his word against mine.
I was sixteen, of legal age to consent, so for me he'd get no time.
His punishment, probation for only a couple of years.
Me and his other victim were left with our fears.
Would he find us and take revenge for what he said was a lie?
Would my father hunt him down, and go to prison for a rapist to die?
He got away, pretty much scot-free for his deplorable crime.
His victims were the ones who were serving the time.
This IS a true story, my story, but not my story alone. After 8 years and raping several
other women Mike was sentenced to 35 years in prison. As he pleaded his innocence, we were
all in some way vindicated. He never did a day for brutally raping me, NOT ONE DAMN DAY.
But he's doing plenty now. I hope he gets ALL that he deserves.
Fashion cover girls these days make me sick,
All haggard and thin, they look like a stick.
Picking on South Beach diets to trim flat waists
Do they have a life with surgical pastes?
We XL women may not be limelight’s bet
But golly, we're blue chips in the market.
Guy buddies say they like plus- figures more,
Because there is punk in us to explore.
Media buzz makes flat models look so grand
It's annoying to think they are in command;
Oprah, Latifah weigh two hundred pounds
Yet their kind of beauty walks on awed grounds.
Who needs a lipo; do not get depressed,
At times when nothing fits as you get dressed
Just remember one thing, my natural ones
Tons of men relish our charm and round buns!
What Annoys You Contest: Frank H
The thorougher the skin peel,
the stronger the sex apeal.
April seven is joined together in two special ways
My wife and Carol Brown were each born that day
In so many ways, they remind me of each other
For each one has the heart and soul of a mother
Like a great big clown riding a little bitty bike
Antoinette and Carol are the type we naturally like
Two separate women who hold pieces of my heart
Although, each one holds a completely different part
Antoinette was able to see what no one had seen
Inside of this nightmare lived a very beautiful dream
Carol’s beautiful heart was able to help me to see
Poetry Soup was exactly the place I needed to be
Two very different women with two similar souls
Played significant roles in my reaching my goals
One helped me piece together my shattered heart
The other helped me keep it from falling back apart
I think I’m truly about as lucky as any man can be
There are so many different people care about me
Carol is just one of many I love here on the soup
I’m lucky to have landed in such a beautiful group
Carol, never doubt the truth in these words I say
This is the highest complement I could ever pay
To be written alongside a poem with my wife
Means “I Love & Respect” every drop of your life
You’re the very first to have landed in this spot
Old friend I reckon that means I love you a lot
April seventh I’ll proudly find my knee’s and pray
You’ll have a wonderfully blessed special birthday
i wanted to write Carol a Happy Birthday poem
but I wanted to give it special meaning. Anyone
who knows how much I love, admire, and adore
my wife; knows that for me to place someone in
a poem alongside her, is the highest complement
I could ever make. Carol thank you for the love,
friendship, support and prayers you have given me
over the years. I'm very honored to be your friend.
My mother takes me to different places
and laughs at all my silly faces.
She runs me a nice warm bath
and helps me with my math.
My mother makes me healthy snacks to eat
and sometimes let's me have a treat.
She takes care of me when I'm hurt
and cleans me up when I'm covered in dirt.
My mother talks to me about all the dangers
and reminds me not to talk to strangers.
She tells me not to lie
and wipes my tears when I cry.
My mother always brushes my hair
and teaches me how to share.
She claps for me when I'm right
and comforts me in the night.
My mother is 5 feet, 4 inches tall
and she is the best mother of all!
by Ana Espinola Collins
I wrote this poem for children years ago....I thought today was the perfect day to share it with everyone!
The lights of Bethlehem still burn,
For Ruth’s mother-in-law to return.
Since her unfettered faith, so strong,
Convinced Ruth, with her, to come along.
Facing bravely the consequences of God’s plan,
Ruth, with Naomi, went to the Promised Land.
To live on in Bethlehem was their decision,
Both seeking to receive God’s provision.
God doesn’t stop being God in adversity
Is what Naomi taught Ruth to believe.
So there in Bethlehem, Ruth sought for a man
To help her with the consequences of God’s plan.
And Boaz of Bethlehem, Naomi’s rich kinsman,
Found Ruth to be both charming and winsome.
So he shared with Ruth the bounty of his field,
When he learned her faith, though foreign, was real.
Thus they became one with the grace of God’s will
And with a prophecy of God their duty to fulfill.
Ruth’s faith in Naomi’s God found reinforcement
While lovelorn Naomi was freed of her resentment.
God’s will it was to give Ruth and Boaz a boy,
And for Naomi to restore her spiritual joy.
A girl who has beautiful eyes
more honestly lies.
It takes planning, a graveled path, herb sets
to create a heavenly perfume
some time around bloom time
excess pruned down by a third and hung.
We see a bit of the hanging God then
in the silky down of lavender, thyme
offer homage of pressed violets,
golden suns of marigold as tune of awe.
The mincing of the mints is heavenly
as candy, sharp peppermint, mellow lemon balm,
the bedding down of chamomile, poppy maw,
the spiral sweets and gingered leaves of geranium
shavings of orris root, too many iris anyway
so free them all and set the scent create a smelly sum.
Add carnation stars, sticky sweet hollows of fennel
to tell the men, here is where the women live
won’t you remember your marjoram, your rosemary
with the pots on to boil, or laying head on crisp sheets and sigh.
It all takes planning, to decorate, alleviate, scent
create the corners of a life. Let’s go set the herbs.
Then breathe in the heavenly scent of potpourri lent
as offering, homage to all the plenty wonder of our lives.
Walking, the mail man once carried a bag
Slowly, he now drives a jeep to mail box
Brown spots over my mail; a little moist
Like coffee stain probably from the gutter
Lazy! just sit, won’t get out the vehicle now
Months ago, he walked until women came
Hissing teeth, “Just suits me fine, he mumbles”
Recalled my dog, Ruff, chased him one day
Running, the mail scattered all over the street
Like ginkgo leaves spinning in autumn’s wind
Now I wonder, “What in earth am I to do?”
This new mailperson, different yet the same
First a lazy mailman until women appeared
Rules of the game just immediately changed
It’s no longer mailman; it was never mail woman
Now just mailperson; wow women have power!
Some women are awesome! Roses will be great
She ought to smile and bring much more mail
She may come to my door; sensational smile
Active! I bet she will get out of the vehicle
© Joseph Spence, Sr., February 4, 2009
© All Rights Reserved
Joseph S. Spence, Sr., is the author of "The Awakened One Poetics" (2009), which is
published in seven different languages. He invented the Epulaeryu poetry form, which
focuses on succulent cuisines and drinks. He is published in various forums, including the
World Haiku Association; Poetinis Druskininku, Milwaukee Area College, Phoenix Magazine;
Möbius Poetry, and Taj Mahal Review to name a few. Joseph is a Goodwill Ambassador for
the state of Arkansas, USA, a college faculty, and a military veteran.
When I read your words they hurt a lot
Some men are men some others are not
Perhaps sex appeal he doesn't lack
With his power women take him back
He's a women hater of the worst kind
He lives to play his games with womens minds
Telling you somehow you are not enough
Through his dark lies you re-live some bad stuff
Yet in the end you come to realize
This bad boy is a devil in disguise
When you reject him he falls to his knees
You see the real him he is a disease
He never deserved you just walk away
For in the end you have the final say
Inspired by Becca's poem "No longer will she agonize"
If I picked my Valentine
she'd be a perfect 10.
She'd have blonde hair with highlites
and answer where and when.
She'd be a little shorter,
yet tall enough to kiss.
Her reach a little longer
to torture us in bliss.
Her shape would be the bomb.
As sexy as they come.
With hair up for the moment
I'd meet her at the prom.
She'd talk a little faster
with words I'd say are smart.
Yet keep me to attention
in hugs up to my heart.
A smile just like a lion.
Her face a source of pride.
One to show my mother.
And then to make my bride.
My Valentine was perfect
as I lost her way back then.
How was I to know that she
would find her perfect 10.
I’m on a planet with a golden kiss
It shimmers with glory, such bliss!
As I zoom in, it turns into a dark land
Peep in, I’m afraid, I cannot stand!
In darkness, I see a bright glowing tower
Inside, a plethora of so called ‘man’ power
Zoom in; I see ‘beast’ kind disguised as ‘man’ kind
Alas! Not a single kind beast could I find
I hear roars of uncivilized beings
And moans of so-called weaklings
I see a trail of emotional turmoil
Those 7 deadly sins wrapped in a dazzling foil
Gifted to humanity, his power, his grey matter
It separates humans from animals and allows us to shatter
The once created planet with a golden kiss
Will it ever show the signs of holy bliss?
Girls aren't sure if they are always bright.
And they are often absolutely right.
Communication by touch
is not for every old dutch.
I'm angry, about to throw a fit, and I wish a poet would challenge me.
Follow me into the fiery bottomless pit, and I'll show you demonic poetry!
I have a need to make a poet bleed, but no one can be found.
My mother was impregnated by a demons seed, and so i was already hellbound!
I may change my name back, and metamophose into my alter ego.
My back pack has more poetic bombs than Iraq in case you didn't know.
I am the Poetic Warlock, I cast spells with my illuminating writing pen.
When I grab my c#%k, I think of Ms. Comstock, and how I'd like to do her again!
I imagine being in the center of a group, several women surround me.
It's several beautiful women of PoetrySoup, and all wanna piece of my sexuality!
There is "Audrey" with her luscious ass, and exotic accent.
I'm a little tipsy from the wine in my glass, so be aware of the content!
There is "Deb" with her deliciously round breasts, and soft yummy lips.
I did her like I was possessed, and avoided being caught up in any relationship!
There is "Lay" with her angelic face, long legs, and thick thighs.
Such style and grace, for that booty in them levi's looks like paradise!
There is "Ali" who is sweet and innocent, yet ready to go down.
She blew me like an instrument, and so I passed her my crown.
There was Madison, A/K/A, "Ms. Poe," but she could not handle the humor in my
It was a poetic TKO, when I told her, 'I'll take her poetic virginity!'
There was beautiful Jennifer who wrote with a dark pen, and I felt our spiritual
But I soon recognized her ugly sin, which deflated my raging erection!
There was my sexy Latina sister Skat, who played both sides of the fence.
My salsa couldn't tame this pussycat, but still I had plenty of confidence!
There was P.D. who thought she had me possessed, yet she was in love with a drag
I just wanted soupers to know who's best, so I introduced her to my poetic
So many women along the way, and all were she-devils in disquise.
I've kept all these poets lingerie, still inhale their scent, and fantasize!
As I end this last couplet, how can I foget the first woman that touched me.
Charma's sexuality was like playing Russian roulette, and I wanted no part of her
NOTE: This poem was written all in fun, imagination, and to satisfy my own dark
humor. If poets take offense, they should just frankly "Lighten the hell up"
A lady in arms
more rapidly charms.
Show Them Which Way
World may have blanks as well as zeroes
But many in military happen to be heroes
Leaders who always love our great land
Which is what our gracious God had planned.
God placed them on this tremendous earth
And each one he made was beyond all worth
Soldiers' and sailors' souls shall constantly
Live bravely in America home of the free.
President, professor or people of means
Should surely be shown all of the scenes
Not only that will be an astounding sequel
To God's story which never had an equal.
God's Son will soon return here again
To be with the military's women and men
Who worshipped and prayed through dying day
To heaven, God will show them which way.
James Thomas Horn
Only Eve is a madam,
who is known from Adam.
If married women were painted blue
so men knew who to hit on to.
And fatter women came with numbers
so men could tease their weight than wonders.
If meaner women wore bright socks
so men could save themselves hard knocks.
And stupid women's shirts had stripes
that dumb old men could find their types.
If all these wonders became true.
The day when women paint themselves blue.
reveals a bitch.
His ass; a tale each women said.
Of one held high - he rendered it.
Like men of past to honour it.
A rogue like him - a dawn of wit.
They followed him a stern dead hem.
Each judged him; sire'd for him.
To each love they were fair and grim.
And some would say they're all a whim.
Some do bawk and claim him nay.
Most keep circles; waits and times.
Elite approach to spread their chimes.
While late provoke him for his crimes.
One man's wake that goes oblivious.
Her clueless cause for dancing.
Love together comes 'a prancing.
THE END; his soul will wait for lancing.
You are a chosen woman,
Made with power, style and grace,
God looks for opportunities to put a smile on your face,
With victory in your veins,
You can conquer and obtain,
When the pressure gets to hot,
Remember Jesus has been in your spot,
You are special and unique,
All you need to do is seek,
His mercy and understanding,
And you’ll see it’s His love that’s handing,
You, all the strength you need for this life
Don’t fight or seek out any pointless stife
Rejoice in justice and relax in peace
For when it’s over you will feast
On eternal blessings and everlasting love
From the one who lives up above
But also lives amogonst our hearts
Don’t ignore or tear apart
The special gifts inside of you
To his will you must be true
And when the battles overtake
And you feel the earth under you just shake
Know that you are never alone
You’re a special creation being sown
In the Potters hands there can never be a clone
Be the best you that you can be
And watch how your life will be filled with ecstasy
Watch the enemies of your soul permanently flee
As you walk in your full destiny.
By: Sabina Nicole
Even our serious age
does not make us all sage.
The real beauty's "No"
does not offend, you know.
Ladies keep themselves always clean,
if some gentleman by chance will lean.
If there's not enough ale
all attempts to love fail.
MEN AND WOMEN
Some men prefer violence
Some prefer violins
Some women want to be chased
Others want to be chaste
It's another mild day and the sky glows white
The air is still and cool as the midday light
Admirers giggle, perhaps at a young caller
One hunches over, the other stands taller
They don't look wealthy, yet they don't look poor
Perhaps trusted servants, but what can't they ignore?
They've taken jolly notice, as if on a whim
Of a miming youth who should be pruning a limb
Posted at the window the younger one peers
At this croaking lad, flattered by what she hears
Hunching near the potato patch across the way
He waves in a fluster with a few word words to say
He's glances side to side, behind the wall, stepping back
Emerging again from a passageway's crack
Between the tool shed and the gardener's house
He sneaks with the startle and twitch of a mouse
She remains calm, though tickled by his manner
For he might as well wear a bright purple banner
The older woman chuckles in faint squeaks
Hidden by the shutter around which she peeks
The younger one looks quite near seventeen
With floating white sleeves rolled up yet clean
Her girlish neckline, cut wide and low,
Displays to her suitor how well she can sew
Her hair is tucked with a bow on one side
Her grin is reserved with her eyes opened wide
Could her silly boy still have his pruners in hand?
Is he skilled with the saw and tilling the land?
Two women at a window, quite content
Is this how many of their moments this day are spent?
Some rich men are bored to tears
with visiting racketeers.