Submit Your Poems
Get Your Premium Membership

Social Write Poems | Social Poems About Write

These Social Write poems are examples of Social poems about Write. These are the best examples of Social Write poems written by international PoetrySoup poets

If you don't find the poem you want here, try our incredible, super duper, all-knowing, advanced poem search engine.

Details | Free verse | |

Reality's Angel

I am Reality’s angel resting on the broad shoulders of discovery the truth feeds darkness and engulfs its target ideas and concepts in turn become meaningless to you there is a creator of all things He is just and patient many still have fallen into the masses of shadow wrapped in their own filthy idols of philosophy I have seen grown men fall like rose petals and weaklings rise into unjust leaders forever the follower of furtive evil dominating only to remain inferior the most important answers lie in the unseen regions where no sense can fully give assurance the mind that so many unreasonably twist and turn grows weary because of the distance it must take and truth be told the distance is not what frustrates it is knowing we are seeking something far that could very possibly not exist, that our minds can twist into theoretical, idealistic nonsense it is knowing all we really think we know is meaningless and yes—even a lie all that has been written thus far rests under my wings under the warmth in which you refuse to feel can you believe in me— though I am completely unseen? how much more difficult would it be to see Him?


Details | Sonnet | |

Andrea Dietrich

Angelic words she places in lines with care.
Never heard a discouraging word, she did share.
Deeper emotions she does write so clear.
Reality is her concern, realism so sincere.
Excitement sometimes rules her lines.
A woman of deep and emotional designs,

Deeply passionate about so many things in life,
I never met her though read her poetic rife.
Each time she visits others words she reads.
Telling others so sweetly she plants seeds,
Respectfully she instills poetic writings in another.
I saw onetime she felt like a sonnet unwritten.
Carefully I wrote this for her, an earth mother.
Having friendship in mind never was smitten.


I have a sort of gift that allows me to sense certain feelings about people without even meeting them....and usually my first intuition if you want to call it that is perfectly correct.
....no matter what it is about or who it is about I have to write it or my soul is clouded and pain grows within...Blessings..Cecil


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 | |

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...
Procrastination!


Details | Free verse | |

La Sociedad de Miradas

Camino en sociedad de ignorancia,
Donde palacios son corruptos por efectos de arrogancia;
Pasan por nuestros lados,
Echando el ojo, tratando de disimular;
Donde la conciencia es absentista,
Donde todos dicen ser abstencionistas,
Pero, todos son ambiciosos, consumidos y absorbidos por hipocresía...

Camino en sociedad abolicionista,
Donde abolicionan toda aventura,
Donde la única aventura es abolir la sociedad,
Siendo una sociedad abstraída y egoísta,
Poniendo todo lindo, pero con abusividad escondida,
Siendo una sociedad de imbéciles accionistas,
Mostrando intransigencia acérrima y decisiva,
Pero, todos son perezosos basados en negligencia anarquista...

Camino en sociedad de advertencia,
Donde los reprimidos quedan agrisados,
Donde los rechazados y solitarios quieren valentía,
Donde la paz social va desvaneciendo,
Donde la minoría quiere acracia y amnistía de la sociedad,
Para derrocar la corona trastornada y distorcionada...

Camino en sociedad amorfa,
Donde nos han forzado ansias a través de propaganda alarmista,
Donde existen muchos agiotistas fraudulentos,
Donde propias convicciones son raramente afianzadas y aseguradas,
Donde la autoridad permanece en mordacidad y acrimonia,
Donde los realistas son fastidiados y ajusticiados,
Donde las miradas autoritarias son falsamente alegatorias,
Donde muchos permanecen injustamente en incertidumbre ambigua...

Solo a través de sabios ojos,
Es que existen verdaderas experiencias;
Con mirada fiera,
Con mirada de ira,
Con mirada desamparada,
Con mirada sigilosa,
Con mirada misteriosa;
Con toda mirada real existe vida lúcida y estragos mortíferos...

Camino en sociedad de odio,
Donde toda mirada se vuelve rencorosa,
Camino en sociedad de miradas,
Donde las paredes escuchan y hablan,
Donde las divisiones son provocadas,
Apuñalando nuestras espaldas;
Piensan que es un simple juego de carcajadas,
Pero, todos son hipócritas a través de siniestras miradas,
Que me tratan de dejar en agrafia,
Con el juego de las miradas...


Details | Personification | |

Puzzle Piece

A puzzle piece you are to me 
Like a vine without any leaves. 
Your heart is pure your soul is 
Gold, the sweetest thing I'll 
ever hold! A miracle in my eyes 
it seemed, knowing they said 
no babies for me! Always a 
surprise you seem to be just 
like a puzzle piece! At 9 months 
you walked but not until 4 did 
you first talk! Always a terror 
making a beautiful mess always 
a surprise that has yet to be 
met! The twists and turns I 
know we will see will seem 
somewhat like a roller coaster 
to me! The milestones and 
special gifts you bring will make 
my life seem Like a dream, my 
special boy I have always said 
How special I knew not till 
Aspergers they said! The 
journey will be trying the 
journey will seem long! But 
with our family together we will 
chug along! My special boy I 
love you so and cannot wait to 
see you mature and grow! Now 
we have a goal we have our 
dream you see to make you the 
perfect fitting puzzle piece!! 


Written by: Christina Kirks 
McCullouch 04/05/2012 For 
Jonathan S McCullouch Jr 
Mommy loves you to eternity 
and beyond! Forever and 
always!



Details | Free verse | |

Three Inch Cliches

The Soul is the Beautiful Light of Love
Shining like the sun through the 
NO
As the reader, I’m going to have to cut you off there.
Here’s a metaphor for you…
Reading is ****ing.
And your words hit our auditory canals
Like a hotdog down a hallway.
As an experienced reader, I’m after 
The virgin vernacular 
The aphrodisiac aphorism
You know- the big… black words
You feel me?
Because a line is a flashlight, exposing the world’s nudity-
And we’ll never get anywhere shining it in the same spot.
So kiss me with classy couplets
Smack my assonance!
Bring me to the climax-
And we’ll share a smoke together,
Warm beside the fire of your Three Inch Clichés.


Details | I do not know? | |

Untitled-Free Thoughts-Rap

Oh well here I go again, 
wishin for a dream that I could be wrapped in, 
entrapped in, 
torn away from addiction, 
destroy the tele… 
vision they strive to force upon you, 
its all false but you know I’m true. 
They will not protect you when you scream your broken cries, 
they are merely evil faces of masked men behind illuminati eyes 
with which they hypnotize, 
brainwash you with their lies. 
I've got those deep thoughts pouring in, 
all the roads I've traveled down
conditions I have traveled in 
here in my pretty town, 
the 910 deserves a crown. 
East Coast I'm representing, 
I promise you I am not venting. 
High on that purple haze, 
And still haven't slept for days, 
excuse these bloodshot eyes
with a krispy kreme glaze, 
some will try to say its just a silly phase...
My mind is so graphic, 
use words like special tactics, 
unmistakable like D'Jango, 
or a peace signs' angle, 
destroy the crave for war and struggle, 
no need to explain all the trouble, 
with places burstin’ into rubble, 
Rebel! Rebel! We’ll show ‘em hell! 
I’ll be fightin’ when I'm dead, 
kick and scream till my blood is shed, 
let authorities know the message will be spread! 
Put on a show with a little bit of passion 
or the bad things will continue to happen.
Get the love through your head, 
all this hatred should be dead, 
what I'm saying must be said, 
before the gauge goes into red. 
With vocabulary this brilliant makes a female more vigilant, 
like brothers boston what I speak 
my words alone will make you weak, make you faint, 
Like blood spilled by hands of a vigilante saint, 
trust me lifes too short,
you dont have the time my young cohort, 
wait until your words make an enemy
cause their threatened by the uncertainty 
that you will make it this far 
make a point unlike this war
next thing you know you see ‘em sweat
words fresh like paint drippin with purpose, 
makin ‘em wet.  
I finger paint a master piece with a just simple rhyme, 
just don't pull your piece on me just let me speak, my mind, 
while I unwind, rewind all this blasphemy, 
continential catastrophe, 
I may have to beg and plead so that my boys can rest in peace 
sorry for the interruption, 
don’t blame me for the corruption, 
for now I'll put my words at ease, 
hope you told someone you loved them today and that it wasn't a white lie, 
just a tease.

04.27.2013


Details | Sonnet | |

THE LIFE OF A DRUNKEN WRITER

They assigned me me to write a sonnet about the life of a drunken writer
whose dream wouldn't shatter, but his foolishness wasn't in the past tense; 
he spent endless hours reading blogs of people who didn't make sense...
in chat rooms he found geeks, charlatans and a casual liar. 
These are the ones who can text all day as kids do for fun... 
what's the excuse for being late and perform with a brainless head?
Here's proof of his laziness: he didn't write anything to earn him bread.   
" Wake up, your work is piling up...you snore as pigs in a barn! "
the co-worker in the next booth sneered as the boss approached Fred
who stuttered and tried to explain why he couldn't get the work done...
while his breath stunk and couldn't stand him looking awfully mad.
" I need that article by tomorrow, or you'll get a pink slip and are gone! " 
" Sir, the last article was a hit...you liked that sex-pot with those boobs! "
" Why can't I write about today's generation who have the speed of raccoons? "


Details | Rhyme | |

DARE TO INSPIRE

My dreams and desires
Are to write to inspire
I have so much to give 
That is my reason to live
Peace always invades my spirit
I’m so glad my soul welcomes it
My compass to my life is lost
I cannot navigate the way home so pen pays the cost
I will always write to find my way
To my God I pray
As the realization dawned on me
When my pen flows I’m free
I can be anybody I want to be
So many of us have to settle for a life of deception 
I shall soar beyond this world's limitations
In all things, follow your heart
In life be careful how you walk and talk
Think it, believe it
Don’t hold back do it
Let your dream grow
Please let God take control











Details | Rhyme | |

A fresh start a new beginning

 by : Sashi.Prabhu (zeauoxian)

 
The day before yesterday was laced with dismay in every possible way, Yesterday was better but has into the backdrop faded away. But today is another day, New stuff to think, do and say. Today I will brave the world all alone, And enjoy my freedom full blown. I will live life with zest, Try neverto do things second best. I will live to be sensitive, Towards others be more receptive. I will live to be forgiving, Be more tolerant and caring. I will speak to all who walk my path, Make peace with all and unnecessarily not unleash quaint wrath. I will correct all my wrongs, And tell this to all by making them my songs. I will proudly write notes about the new me, And publish and upload them for all to see. I will work to be creative, And learn to open my mind’s eye and not be obstructive. I will always proudly wear my own neoteric attitude, To succeed, master the skill of gratitude. The day before yesterday was laced with dismay in every possible way, Yesterday was better but has into the backdrop faded away. And today is the right day, To commence these fresh new things that I write and say
theme: a fresh new start date:9th march 2012,


Details | Free verse | |

Why

Why go to sleep?
Why we are the ones that have missing things.
Why take a breeze?
When I am the one that needs zephyr.

Why cry until you are satisfied?
When you are always dissatisfied.
Why go and feel contempt?
When we only need respect.
So, why do you expose yourself?
When you haven't cleansed yourself.

Why go and overreact?
When you sometimes don't make a great impact.
Why go and bite?
When you know you cannot eat more than you can chew.

Why give?
When you only deserve.
Why shed some tears?
When they sometimes aren't clear.
Why are you happy?
When you know you are lying.

Why are we bleeding?
When we only need healing.
So, why live?
When we go and die.
And why die?
When we want life.

We might fall down,
But it is never too late,
'Cause life,
Starts now...


Details | Concrete | |

Observer

A serpent underneath blue sky,
in shade of man, in twinkle of an eye,
above brick wall, in the structure, at the floor,
venom of white dove; contaminated food, undrinkable water,
misguided youth, pregnant daughter, unfaithful father and hateful son,
mothers do pray while we walk through Babylon;
on teli and in the press, on top shells,
price none the less, in bedroom and at your door..
dawn of a new day seemed to be dark,
after all.


Details | Free verse | |

They're Watching You

They're watching you,
they're always watching you,
check out the daily news.

Henchmen rob bank,
two officers killed,
change channel.

Reality T.V.
a celebraity stumbling out of a club,
drunk as hell.

Change channel,
a gay couple buying a house,
in a white collar neighborhood.

They're watching you,
they're always watching you,
even when you don't know it.

Someone is always watching you.
Take out the trash,
wash the dishes.

Watching,
survalling,
like a camera.

Terrorists,
they're always watching you,
Politians always watching you.

School teachers,
police,
FBI and CIA
Always watching you.

Smile for the camera
they're watching
so just wave and smile.

Bullies on playground jungle-gyms
looking out for the ugly nerd,
found him.

Hiding under the woodchips,
get him, beat him up,
I told you, they're always watching you.

Look at me,
look what I can do,
can you see me?

I'll drink to that,
cheers,
for they're always watching.


Details | Verse | |

The Poetic Blues

I think I self-sabotage unknowingly 
because of fear
So my message goes unheard because I’m afraid to let the people hear
And end up drowning in the poetic blues
doubting my ability to write about the truth;

I dug deeper and deeper into myself trying to write a poem good enough to be free of judgment
Then I stepped out on faith and suddenly I was triumphant 
and my writing grew 
and I was loving it
I had finally passed the fear of speaking and caring about who the fu*c! was judging it

As I wait to be inspired for the next poem, 
I sit and think alone and drown in my sorrows
Listening to jazz, blues and a.m. radio
trying to find an excuse not to perform at the SLAM 
because again I can’t think of a damn thing to write…..
Drowning in poetic blues
Will this be the one that will be thrown away and never be used 

Or will this be the one that transcends the others  
and finally prove that poetry is blues and blues is poetry and hip hop and jazz and r&b, 
Poetry is music and the words dance around in my soul 
and I am free once they become spoken 
In the meantime the paper is where the words will rest 
until the silence is broken

Drowning in the sea of proper delivery 
My voice, my stance, my intensity
How will others interpret the words that I’ve chosen so diligently?
I wrap my soul around the possibility that none of the words I choose – 
will keep me from becoming deluged and trapped by the poetic blues

Somehow my heart refuses to accept that I don’t deserve to have my words heard 
and it takes over this whole process
No more time for shrinking and feeling less
I was born to  make my words manifest light
I am a gorgeous medium to the truth yeah that's right
I was sent here to give you a piece of good news
Remember that God is with you when you get
The poetic blues


Details | Free verse | |

Ignored

We talked,
But I wasn't heard,
We walked,
But you scattered,
We built,
But you destroyed,
I thought,
But you acted,
We were determined,
But you exterminated...

You were blind,
I was sighted,
You were darkened,
I was lightened,
I was myself,
You weren't yourself...

I was lone,
No one cared.

I was ignored,
No one cared,
About my emotions...


Details | Free verse | |

We all fear

Why do we feel hatred?
We fear discontrol.

Why don't they get it?
Why don't they comprehend?
Why do we wait?
Why do we protect?
Why do we run?
We fear destiny.

Why does it hurt?
Why does it burn?
Why do we fight?
Why do they betray us?
We fear love,
We fear friendship.

Why do we keep?
Why is it deep?
We fear the abyss.

Why hell?
Why heaven?
Why purgatory?
We fear darkness,
We fear light.

Why do we live?
Why do we die?
Why do we suffer?
We fear death,
We fear life.

We all live,
We all die,
We all keep,
We all fight,
We all suffer,
We all cry,
We all love,
We all wait,
We all give,
We all receive,
We all trust,
We all wish,
We all dream,
We all remember,
We all feel...

We all vanish,
We all rise,
We can ignite.

We fear destruction.
We all expect,
We all regret,
We all lie.

Why hate?
Why do we create?
Why do you stare?
Why do they glare?
Why explore?
Why hope?
Why goodbye?
Why shine?

We all think,
We all see,
We all go,
We all deserve,
We all pass,
We all fear...


Details | Rhyme | |

Might these be

Might this be a wonder,
Might this be a sunder,
Might this be the blocker,
Might this be the warder,
Might there be a plunder,
Might it pass the border,
Might there be a dweller,
Might they be lodgers,
Should they be squatters,
Should they be trespassers...

Might they squander,
Might it scatter,
Might this be a sputter,
Might there be a clutter,
Moght there be to many clusters,
Might this be the controller
Mightit get power...?

Might these be handlers,
Might these be forcers,
Might these be the squashers,
Might these be the breakers,
Breaking some of the order...

Might this be a night,
Going to a wretched midnight,
Coming from a raging twilight,
Until these be ended, throughout nighttime,
Later waking from our bedtime,
Maybe dying to see the morning light,
Might this be happening tonight...?

Might there be a knight,
Might there be a fight,
Waiting for a shining might,
Coming from some rainbow's light,
coming slight from the nighttime,
With some waiting for their fly...

Might these fight the ghouls,
Might they get to their goal,
Might this vanish some ghosts,
Whom want all of our souls...

Might this be other things,
Might these be the lives of life,
With some asking, might these be I...?


Details | Free verse | |

You Are Rich

Festered lament maddens me
Why must the despair of my heart’s desire
Truly enlighten me? 
I rested among the sick and lame
And found myself no different from the rest
For a troubled mind holds endless poverty
Penniless regret marks as a sickness no doctor can prescribe
For the bottles of balm are empty
And medicinal hope grows angry
I derived my madness from creativity
Revealing the remains of my humanity
‘Cool off, child’, I heard a soft voice whisper
But can’t you see I live off the flame?
It asks for no nickel or dime!
But it seeks to destroy all the same
The small voice returns at times
And often my heart listens
But we all listen
And only believe in the inevitability of pain 
I speak of the majority
Not of you
For you are blessed and beyond disgrace
You have a life—a beautiful face

And most of all, you are rich
With attributes I can only dream of 

You are rich with life and purpose
Holding inscrutabilities I can only wish to understand
You lift me without touch or care
Disposing me from your treasures
Because though you meant no harm, 
You are rich with blessing
And must remove all possible threats
So my festered lament
Remains an enlightenment

I can say I am rich in poverty
But you are forever rich
In Mystery

What hurts the most is knowing
I may be wrong about you
For you are so obscure in this mind
And as empty as I am I wish to be filled
In your richness
But we all are filled to the brim in the end
And sometimes I cannot distinguish the good from the bad
There is nothing I wish to discard
So I hoard in constant deficiency and despair  
And I hoard the idea that you are beyond compare

That you are rich
And always will be richer
Than me—or he


Details | Personification | |

from the heart

ive got hurt feelings ive got hurt feelings. it hurts our feelings when you say were not wrappers were wrappers. some people say wrappers are invincible were vincible. ive got hurt feelings ive got hurt feelings.  i ask my friends to post on my poems but they just say behind my back that its close to terrible.  ive got hurt feelings ive got hurt feelings. have you ever been told that you dont write poems. I WRITE POEMS you just dont know what poetry is.  it is whatever comes from the heart!  ive got hurt feelings ive got hurt feelings.


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 
sentences.
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
uneducated
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 | I do not know? | |

The Cowardice of the Taliban and The Silence of The Good Muslims

The Cowardice of the Taliban and The Silence of The Good Muslims.


When hot lead tears the flesh of a 14 year old girl,

ripping through her skull,
leaving her to bleed out and die,

does Allah not recoil in horror,

to see His child whimper,
to see His daughter cry.

Where is the indignation,

the anger that often boils over and manifests itself as flags and books and videos are burnt in mass orgies of hollow piety,

where are the voices that scream so loud,
that denounce all but their own creed,

where are the men, the impotent men who crave for nothing more than their fascist egos to feed,

where are the voices that so loudly proclaim,
enemies here and enemies there, always quick to condemn,

where are those voices when the enemy walks amongst them.

14 year old Malala Yousafzai was shot in cold blood,

her crime?

Advocating the rights of girls to an education.

Shame on you, men of bigotry and men of cowardice.

Shame on you, silent and mute accomplices in this carnage.

Shame on me,
for my inaction,

Shame on us all,
who proclaim lofty ideals,

yet are conspicuously silent,

when a 14 year old girl is shot in the head,

by fascist fundamentalist bigots who only worship bullets of hot lead.

Not in my name!

Not in my name,
shall the cowardly men rain down abuse,

Not in my name,
shall the bigoted men light the communalistic fuse,

Not in my name,
shall Malala Yousafzai be shot in the head,

left to bleed out,
while countless mothers' tears are shed,

not in my name,
shall religious murderers,
be left to wander free,

not in my name,
for I dare all believers to open their eyes,
to see!

To see,
the innocence of a 14 year old girl,
wanting only an education,

as the men of the cloth,
prance around with their pathetic self-righteous indignation.

I write this today,
the anger raging in my veins,

yet I fear,

that I shall write more of this,

unless we stand up and say 'no more',

I fear that I shall be writing this again,

until we all,

reclaim the true principles of humaneness,

until we silence the voices of bigotry,
of rage,
of fanatical insanity,

I fear I shall be writing this again,

and,

until the muck-ridden bile,
is not excised,

I shall continue to say,

NOT IN MY NAME!

Or else I shall have nothing,

but my unending shame.



(for Malala Yousafzai, 14 years old, in a critical condition after being shot in the head by the Pakistani Taliban, for her work as a young activist advocating the rights of girls to attend school)


Details | Verse | |

Children Listen

This is a poem.
It's not abstract.
So if you just sit back and listen,
you'll understand
I'm going to say this poem twice,
so listen with your heart the first time
but listen with your heart again

Say good morning when someone says good morning to you
Speak when spoken to
Look a person in the eye and be confident even if you're not
and be willing to learn what you know not

Don't be so quick to speak out loud
and then cover your mouth in shame 
once you realize what just came out
It's too late - so think before you shout

Be accountable for your actions
Your character is defined by what you do when people aren't looking
because when they are
They see in your behavior all the doings of the heart
So be honest with yourself and do the right thing...it's not hard

Learn!
Use life's resources
I know what it's like to be in dark places
going through trials - unhappy child
But learning and reading and growing is all relative to your future
So escape in a poem or good book
and don't let the enemy defeat you

Stay in touch with positive members of your family ties
Record yourself saying wonderful things about your life
Recite them daily...then write

Be the first to offer respect
Stay calm
give others a chance to talk
Be humble, but never nobody's fool
Don't allow others to mistreat you
Stand up for your rights and have a voice,
but do it with dignity and be tactful.

And girls...
Go ahead..wear your skinny jeans and your bangles
but accept other for their style, their view
see things from their angle

And fellas...
Pull those pants up..tuck those shirts in
and stop trying to be gangsta
If I can see your underwear thats unacceptable behavior 
and it's not okay
It's embarrasing to the struggle and it's a disgrace

It's time to move past the stereotypes of race
I know you got alot to face
but once you learn what your ancestors did to get you to this place,
It will seem like a walk in the park
and you'll be proud to have helped the case

Young people I tell you
if you follow these rules
You can change the world
and become a generation renewed


Details | Haiku | |

versus

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 | Dramatic Verse (Verse Drama) | |

Emotional Hole

I did not find myself to be so important
So I ask my friends do I seem distant?
When I ask the question I had received an answer, Yes
So I think that made it clear that I had been not the best
I am a friend of a friend that talks so many things
That friend talks to much it is insane and insanity it brings
I do care, about my friends they are all good people
They tend to stand on their high steeple 
Today I find myself not so aware
Disbanding my fear of regret and care
Walking many different paths I see that I have found holes
It is the path that people choose to use to fuel their rage with coals
Coals are partially burnt wood or fossils a piece of fuel
It is the source of burden and fire a rage of emotions that stands cruel
It can be warm and caring, but it also can be baring
I just start to feel so low, below the ground I keep on staring
I reach for my friends so many times I feel so ignorant at times
Just once I feel I should not rely on them when feeling I can not find 
I dig my hole deeper and I can not climb out
For some reason I am just full of doubt
I care about so many things and what I have is confusion
One person should be all I should think about to get out of that illusion
My battle in my heart and mind is not at all so pleasant
I feel so alone in an island that is shaped like a crescent
My emotions is like coinciding with a diameter of the semicircle
Not a full emotion that is complete like a circle
My feelings is circular full of incomplete thoughts, so much deeper
I feel it will wake up my evil half a evil soul that is a sleeper
What question should I ask myself? to believe that I am not so alone
As I feel like a person who is deteriorating to the bone
I ask my friends the same question once again
I figure I should do it, to know what kind of feelings I should end
So many thoughts that come out of my feeling
I feel like my friends take, an emotional trauma of stealing
They ask me questions and I answer theirs
But when I need mine answered I feel burning inside like a flare
Are they even friends when they do not take me serious in anyway
Just put me in my hole cause I feel nothing in their will be getting in my way
It's just so simple to answer someones problem
I answer friends with beauty of a rose, but when they answer mine I get the stem
I know the stem is very important in life, with out it how can a rose be a rose
With a hole to put the root and stem in how can it grow
The words we speak I guess is like all natural things we reap and sow


Details | Rhyme | |

The Pen


This enables a message
From one who can write
To be sent to a friend
To receive it first class or overnight

Many a lover has used one
Showing the feelings of the heart
Which may bring a proposal
Or get pierced by a dart

Without the ingredient of ink
It would be of no earthly use
But with many choice of colours
There’s so many to choose

poetgord


Details | Rhyme | |

Be Her

You see her?
Why don't go be like her?
No one likes you,
so this is what you must do.

You must stop being yourself,
get off of you shelf.
You must please everyone,
to do that, you must be number one.

She's the perfect girl,
you're the no one in the world.
So go ahead, and give yourself away,
since you're going the wrong way.

You are no longer you,
see what you can do.
You are now her,
that's better than what you ever were.


Details | Free verse | |

Hail to the Dragon Slayers

We know we are right and we will fight
If you dare appose us we will bite
When good doers think they have a chance
We take their idea and we do the dance
We are the law that makes the choice
And no one can keep their face in a good poise
Because we will smack them with a hammer
As we see them we will make them stammer
Just because we are justice
And we try to do some odd practice
Now we will get back on track
We the people take charge and attack
Wait, what are we attacking? the people that are not right
Oh! thats just my brothers and sisters oh! they are a sight
Now look here, we, we the people makes laws
It doesn't matter how many people open their jaws
I'm all confused, we are the people, did we not choose?
We are, but certain people are just to loose

Fine, this is what the new law we want to appose
Why? because we are confused about what we chose
Using we as a word is to many
It takes all of us even granny
So this is what we want to do, is put I and you separate
And the other that we are to choose to elaborate
I am going to say this, we are to many individuals
So we separate the ones who are good doers
That does not make sense
To put all the yous and I's in a group, it's just dense
Are you with me? no I am with myself in this
I am going to rub it in your face and be in a bliss
So I will do the justice myself, and you has decide to disobey
This is what I mean to do, and it will be O.K.
Debating myself is some what kinda weird
You need to be by my side because we make choices better
So this time you and I will just make justice a letter

The clue is what we do that is some what true
It's funny when words play a game to argue the virtue
When I mean I, I mean I, and when I say you, it is you
When I say we, it is us, and that is what my argument is all about, too.
Fifty, fifty is what the Dragon Slayer is saying, it becomes no greater nor smaller
We are all at fault and our decisions that we have made is for all of us to stand taller
Even when it is wrong and we do things to put down the strong
And our arguments become pointless and long
Our justice is when we started to put it on paper and making it a law that stand
So all of us, in the long run will simply decide to band





Details | Quatrain | |

ME, MYSELF, AND I

   I guess you could call me a silly guy
   For humor is how I get through the day.
   I love telling stories, writing poetry, and romance
   Each in its own separate way.


   I could be called a "Hopeless Romantic"
   As I have always been sentimental inside.
   I learned that feeling growing up
   Watching my parents, and their worlds collide.


   I knew my Dad better than anyone...I think
   He and I worked together for some time you see.
   And when he died at an early age
   Everyone seemed to be in tears but me.

  
   Of the six kids in our family growing up
   I had a brother named Ron that I was closest to.
   He had a sense of humor and devotion to his family
   And he would always find strange things for us to do.


   We loved driving around in his old MG
   When it worked it could do no wrong.
   He took me for rides I'll never forget
   To teach me his favorite Irish drinking songs.


   His death really put me on the writer's path
   As I eulogized him with "Remembering Ron".
   But afterward I could not stop the words from coming out
   As if a spigot had deliberately been turned on.


   So I have written poetry, stories, and a few songs too
   I'd like to publish something some day.
   Getting to read and write here on the Soup
   Pehrhaps, I will finally find the way.


   I believe in the goodness of man's inner soul
   And that God intended for us to be happy here.
   The love of Wife, Child, and Family
   Just make me want to stand and cheer!


   I'd like to see us not have wars
   Or even have cross words with others we meet.
   Sometimes I plead my case in the words that I write
   And sometimes, the proverbial "Dead Horse" do I beat.


   I look at history as a great learning tool
   For I've studied Antropology in college you see.
   And all the past comes into the present time
   At least, it does for me.


   So I will write works about historical things
   As much as I write about family, love, emotions, and silliness too.
   Just so others can get some insight into me
   And perhaps their own lives as they should do.


      I don't know who will read my work
   Or if they benefit at all from the things I say.
   I only know that this passion to write
   Is one that is here to stay.


   Some people think I'm kind of grumpy
   I guess that is also true.
   But the words I write fill that void inside me
   This is but one more poem...for you.


Details | Rhyme | |

Insignificant Matters

To write a poem of which make a person change
is not so insignificant and strange
Without those people things will always be the same
then their would be the blaming game
I write this poem to the Insignificant out their
because they do not deserve the bad stare

To write a poem of which make a person change
is not so insignificant and strange
Without those people we would not be guessing
people would just plane stressing
I do understand how feeling are
because I do stare into the star

To write a poem of which make a person change
is not so insignificant and strange
Without those people we could not be our selves
people would just give up and leave things on shelves
I do think people that is insignificant are life batter
because everyone in life is not insignificant they all matter


Details | Rhyme | |

BLOSSOMING GIFTS

  Oh, but for the gift of the written word
  When it comes that time of day for solace.
  They become the friends whom I seek
  As much as if they were Kings in a palace.


  Would I but get to know them better
  As each and every one reads past.
  Time will not allow me to meet them all
  But the ones I do, seem to fill the chasm so vast.


  My mind thinks on them every now and then
  Only to be tempted to sit and touch them more.
  Not only with the thoughts I had and have
  But with the emotions deep in my core.


  When I find that my words do not come 
  I cry for the ones I cannot know.
  Then I read the words of others who share
  Their words, like blossoms, within me grow.


  It is their kindness to me for which I am thankful
  As their words wash o'er me in time.
  To each of them I am the quiet reader
  For the words they write stick in my mind.


  These gifts to me are not to be overlooked
  As each one is a treasure wrapped in its own rhyme.
  May the Lord continue to bless all those who write
  With the gift of words, both simple and sublime.


  Is there anything else I need to say?
  There is but one thing I hope to do.
  Write words of emotion, comfort, elan, and voice
  That I might help to fill other chasms, too.


Details | I do not know? | |

Why Do You Write?

People ask me,
"Why do you write?"
"Who do you write for?"

I think,

I write for myself,
to vent my emotions
to tell a story
to spread a message
to calm myself

I write for poets,
who enjoy reading
who need inspiration
who like to encourage
who try to find similarity

I write for you,
to tell you how I feel
to send hidden messages
to make you feel good
to show what you meant to me

I say,
"I dunno, I just like to write"


Details | Free verse | |

THE REDKNUCKLE STORYTELLER

Greetings from the RedKnuckle Storyteller,you may find he;s ann odd kind of feller.
Though he'll do his best to write from the heart,and what you don't like you may always tear 
apart.You see,this storyteller has lived an awful life.A life without family,children,a beautiful 
wife.Now some may say my poetry expresses my pain,others say it's a release in anger I 
gain.Personally I write about a society in grief,so many hurting with no sign of relief.I am so 
proud of every man,woman,child from these hoods,for when it comes to unity and strive they 
truly deliver the goods.With the streets getting younger every day,what's a careing man do 
but kneel down and pray.These are our children out there,so who's in charge to step up and 
care..It pains me, that i'm but a single voice heard.who's only given inspiration is sometimes 
a single word.Now go find a drink and a comfortable chair.For we are about to embark on a 
poetry journey where others would'nt dare.

Dedicated to all the missing Women in Vancouvers lower East end.

(MAY THEY NOT BE FORGOTTEN!)  PEACE AND LOVE... T.R.K S


Details | Light Poetry | |

JorgeSouthKorea

This is the man that I am

No need for a detective because I have few mysteries

Whatever you don’t find its trapped somewhere inside my mind

I put my life into words for the whole world to read

I hope you enjoy what you see

A South Korean English teacher by night

An avid writer by day

A helpless romantic somewhere in between

The smile and joy from my students is priceless

Seeing someone enjoy my writings is pretty rewarding as well

I feel that everything in my life is finally going well

From my writings you may find that hard to tell

Sorry I don’t write more fantasies or fables

To convey happy emotions and attract more followers

You are getting my life through my eyes

I don’t have a sweet tooth so I don’t sugarcoat things

I write what I have seen and how it has effected me

My adventures and journeys have been vast

Come with me on this ride

Together we can both be pleasantly surprised

With what I will write

This is the the man that I am



Find more of my writings and poems at jorgesouthkorea.com


Details | Rhyme | |

Thoughts

We all claim to be the master of our own universe, yet fold under pressure of this small world. 
When we are forgotten and taken out of the spotlight, we are crushed by solitude.
What happened to having dignity and self esteem and knowing what you are valued?
In the mitts of all the opinions of people have we lost the ability to think originally, leaving our creativity building weights uncurled?

What is to become of the few that will think for themselves and object to the teachings of falsehood?
The few will be frowned upon and made out to be the saysers of lies.
And the few will be tortured and taken to the breaking point, where falsehood thrives.
Is this what is to become of thinking and all that is good?

Will we black out the sun and complain about it's shine?
And will we wander the night, lurking for purpose in the dark?
Wandering though the alleys filled with with sharks and persuasive dogs with loud barks,
Is this where we will learn who you are and what destiny is mine? 

Without wonder and curiosity, are we better than the wild beasts?
Has our curiosity run dry and conformed to the mind of the collective opinion?
Has the mobs opinion grown like a conquering kingdom and set up it's dominion? 
Are all our thoughts and actions infected by their beliefs down to the very least?

If so, I refuse to take part but would rather be one of the few in search for proof. 
Though tortured and despised, they are the philosophers of our time.
Their convictions will be their salvation at the end when all clocks are stopped mid-chime.
For they thought for themselves and did not settle for the mobs lies. They will surely find out what has been taken from us, truth.


Details | Free verse | |

FROM THE MIND TO THE HEART

Where does one begin to write,
away from the streets' nioses and children's screams,
forgetting those bouts of loneliness
that evade the inner peacefulness?
One starts with a pad, jotting down appealing ideas...
never having to fear they'll be lost.


I have a private place where I compose
a new poem, then read it aloud to myself;
such a place has a window that opens 
to the brilliance of a blessed day,
and sunlight impinging, highlights its words
to amaze me of a would-be greatness. 


After midnight I refuge to this quite corner,
when most people sleep and the luminiscent moon
projects her beams to enlighten my dreamy face,
I stare back at her and wave as I do with friends;
moon as eternal as unseen planets more colorful,
do you have the faintest idea why I indite?


Some write for fame, others to empty their souls of painful reasons,
or to glorify Heaven and love for their continous existence,
but invoking death instead of life is so detestable and inexcusable;
and from their voices I reckon the useslessness and torment...
may I never become like them, to burn hope in blazes of smoke,
watching its incineration until it turns into hot ashes!


I write out of an urge, which swells inside and needs to burst out,  
leaving my psyche, to let it land on prude hands that welcome my gift,
until I pulsate with satisfaction, and purging those who show dissidence...
might raise questions for them who are easily aroused to anger;
I create more in quietitude....not being disturbed by airplanes' roars,
or trains speeding on tracks making all windows vibrate.

 
From the ancient to the modern poets, their intellect is stimulated
by urban or rustic sourroundings, and I have choosen them both in my writings,
and they manifest themselves glowingly, enticing this reason for existing;
open my pages and read all the passionate verses exciting the eye and pleasing the soul:
these are from the mind to the heart, a testimony of an enthustiastic life...
streaching out to every boundery and race, making everyone savor my delights.


Copyright 2010 by Andrew Crisci


Details | I do not know? | |

Story of a Child

A little girl walked to school one day to find her friends already playing. She stood 
wordlessly, and watch them pass a ball about. They ran and frolicked, and 
jumped with glee. With out even a word passed her way. As silently as she came 
she turned and left. 
In the school she went down turning halls, and up twisting stairs. To the highest 
point she could find. Here she sat near a window facing her friends down below. 
She removed a book from her bag. Its cover was black, and lacked a title. She 
opened it, its pages were blank, and began to write a story. 
Many years came, and passed, her friends had all gone on to different schools. 
Some stayed in contact with one another, but as they grew so did the distance 
between them. The friendship that had meant so much years ago, had all but 
vanished, But the little girl always remained.
One day a teacher approached the little girl, and asked her why she wasn’t 
playing outside with her friends. The little girl dropped her pencil, and looked up 
at the teacher with a smile. 
The unity between friends will never last, but in my story it can last forever. 
The little girl picked her pencil up, and began to write once more. The teacher 
walked off still astonished to hear such words from a child. She was almost out 
the room when she turned, and faced the little girl. 
Your right friendship doesn’t last, but it will also never die. For every persons life 
you touch a part of them you take as they take a part of you. New friends will 
come, old ones will leave, but that part will always be yours. Yours to keep, it 
helps unite us, it helps make us one. 
The little girl closed her book, and then she vanished. The teacher walked closer 
to the desk, but found only dust. The book still laid atop the desk. The teacher 
picked it up, and began to read its story. She cried while reading, she cried at the 
end. The story of a child who’s life had come to an end. 


Details | Rhyme | |

Write a Letter

It has become a rarity
in this age of text and email
to write someone a letter
stick on a stamp set it on its trail

In former years receiving a letter
was something to look forward to
to write well constructed communication
was a gift only a few could do

Our fast pace world has lost
in its so called progress
what is true communication?
their word best is press

The gift of listening
today has been lost
taking time to hear a friend
has became filled with frost

So what can be done
to address this lack
get our communication going
prove pen and paper is truly back

poetgord@2013


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 | 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 | Free verse | |

The First Sign

when you've developed a formula
that's the first sign
that you should go back and rethink things
when you've come up with some way 
to write the perfect pop song
that's the first sign
you'll never write one

when your dreams have become
a part of your everyday routine
that's the first sign
you should drop them
if everything you want to accomplish
revolves around the possession of money
that's the first sign
you should shoot yourself


Details | Free verse | |

Need Some Company

So many people in here
But still
You're alone
Must be in some way better than home
Still
The TV shows what can be real
I don't wanna be aggressive
But your pull infected
Me and my instincts
Like a sweet disease

NOW WAIT NOW!!
please!!!!!

I'm sure you have a cure an anti-venom so to speak
Restore my heartbeat back to it's normal pace
I beg you miss
Don't think I'm full of it
Cause I speak quickandawfullyslick
Off hand I'll let you know it
I'm a poet
Born one going to die as one of "thee" one's
I write to en light everyday
Though I want the chance to write it for a Someone.......
If I may
I want to be paid
But my only charge to you tonite is a smile to replace
That frown on your face       Right?
If you smoke I'm going to pull out the fire
If you drink
Think of me as the ice cubes that makes it cool to sip
that tickles your lips
Excuse me, but, Is someone else sitting here?

If not can I join the table and bathe in your presence
Wash the stranger's mystique off
Let you see me as I am while we talk
Need some company?
Be mine at least ....
If I can't be yours


Details | I do not know? | |

POEM OF AN INDIAN

       One determined night sitting down to write a poetry...
            I could only think of the creaky wooden chair and the acidic itching in        
my stomach,
            I tried to close my eyes and conjure up a gold papered vision,but the only
 available picture was of an obliging colleague,paper mounts,ink spills,one 
rupee tea,unwashed lunch boxes,unpaid bills,nagging headaches,fighting for 
seats,hot sleepy afternoons,sterline evenings,endless grey staircase,tired 
wating room and sweaty clothes,
             I got up!! could'nt any way write poetry as now...i caught my self living it.....


Details | Bio | |

Just Me

I'm no poet 
I just write what I feel
There is no way you can say my name
for it to be in the hall of fame
everything I write is real.
Whatever I say
You can believe
forget what you heard 
I am the only me.
I'm not a movie star or model
i'm just like you
with my own unique style
and people hate me because
they want to walk in my shoes
but what are my shoes to walk in
other than a life of misery and blues.
I don't write to impress
I write to release
the pain and ill emotion
that has grown inside of me.
Its been their so long
I could almost write a song
called "The Pain won't fade away".
I'm just like you
with no perfect life
try my best to keep smiling
such as writing at night
like when I wrote this.
Ideas flowed in and out of my mind not knowing where they came from
never thought of myself as a writer
Actually never liked writing or rhythm
never saw the point.
I'm no poet
I just write what I feel
There's no way you can say my name
for it to be in the hall of fame
I can't help how you see me
I'm just being me...
Just me.


Details | Quatrain | |

My Last Poem

To write no more, shall be hard to do.
to push never again my crocked pen
across the page which once was new
now so stained from pain within.

No more I write to an ascending voice
to hear their laughter from the back.
Knowing full well this be my choice
to write no more for skill I lack.

There shall be no loss to none but me
to find my thoughts uncarpeted then
to let my poets heart blow free
my scatter verse unto the wind.

I write no more I've had enough
to feel their sneer at my printed word
their descending mock for that I love
I drop bitter tears upon my verse.

From my heart so torn and I forlorn
so this shall stand as my final poem. 


Details | Free verse | |

I'll Do Tonight

I’ll write tonight;
Yes, I might write to night.
Subjects, matters, situations: who cares,
I’ll write, maybe, to fight the tears,
To fight the fears, I’ll write, for our foreign affairs.
I’ll write, in spite, of my insomniac tears,
To bite the ears like Tyson on Holyfield’s;
To incite the fire – within – light up the Darkness.
God gave us the vision to – light up the Darkness.
Thus, I’ll write tonight, to night, for might to fight, bite, incite, and – 
Light up the Darkness.


Details | Verse | |

For My Bind

Don’t write so lengthy,
A person can’t understand,
Don’t write so hard,
A person needs a dictionary,
Please write so simple,
A person shall read it to think,
A person shall read it to smile.

Don’t feel shame on my advice,
Please write if you want to read my heart,
Please write if you like to praise me,
Please write if you want to co-operate me,
Please write, if you want to share my pain,
Please write if you want to keep me happy,
Don’t write if you feel I shall be annoyed.

I like to read to strengthen my mind,
I like to read to go forward not behind,
I like to read to learn a different kind,
I like to read to work hard for honest find,
I like to read to choose someone for my bind.


Details | ABC | |

FLOWERS IN YOUR HAIR

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
 
I was standing on the corner, in a place I've never been;
the merchants of enticement, were inviting to come in.
The ladies on the corner; were hoping there will be;
A chance to make some dollars, from any man they see.
The bums up in the alley, were trying to lose the're minds
While swaying to the motions of intoxicating wine.
Hanging in a group, were guys all dressed in black;
It appeared that they were hoodlums, who lived across the tracks.
A grungy down beat rhythm, was blaring from the bars;
The signs outside were claiming, that the girls inside were stars.
Coming down the street and looking out of place;
Was a man inside a Bently, with a cigar stuck in his face.
All at once I heard it, a fight had just broke out,
Knives and guns were flashing and some girl began to shout.
Oh my god they shot him (she said; I think my baby's dead;
I didn't see what happened but he was bleeding from the head.
People from the bars, were hanging out the doors;
And the bums up in the alley, started running for the store.
The guys all dressed in black were frozen in a stance;
And then they started hopping, like in some kind of dance.
The ladies of the night, were trying to make a plan;
They were trying to find a way to get, wallet from the man.
I turned and started walking, away from all the fuss;
I walked a couple blocks and then I caught a bus.
It happened up on Broadway, on the night of New Years Eve;
In the town of San Francisco, the city by the sea.
I was twenty one and looking for some action;
It was more than I had bargained for, in fact it sent me packing.
The next time that I went there, I had myself a gun;
And some fellows from the posse, but all we had was fun.
There were other things that happened,other times that I was there;
And I might write about it, if I see that any care.
So if you liked the story and care to read some more;
Be sure to write and say so, I'll pull my notes out of the drawer.