Nowhere near a force of nature
Challenging a source of nature
Building with the will to survive
A small measurement for those who strive
Lessons when it comes to strength
Multiplying the time found in length
Stop and learn the sound of weakness
Hard to find when one is relentless
Improving in a mental task
The answers are found when we ask
Stamina mania, you and I
To perform bravely in all we do
pump for long
yet never strong
Learn when ideas seem to fail
The wrong action is to bail
Thinking, thinking what could it be
Will not solve the problem between you and me
Practice is the best energy
Memorize it-- stamina will come naturally
Copyright © SKAT A | Year Posted 2010
There once was Castle just over the hill
That belonged to a King with an iron will
Nestled safely behind his Castle wall
With an army to insure they wouldn’t fall
It was clear for the entire world to see
Destiny would record him in history
The richest King in all of the land
A beautiful Queen at his right hand
He ruled the land from shore to shore
Tell me, “Could any man ask for more”?
Turns out this King had just one vice
He was so great he forgot to be nice
Against any force he was bound to win
So the devil attacked him from with-in
Such a great King skilled with the sword
Much too great a King to turn to the Lord
Watched his entire Kingdom crumble away
Because he was to great to kneel and pray
Copyright © Michael Jordan | Year Posted 2008
I was a bright, outgoing boy, who sat at the front of the class.
Then, one day that all changed, i feared to even raise my hand for a pass.
I had many close friends, loved sports and school plays.
Then on that day fear beset me, and long gone were those days.
I remember my school, i knew it inside and out.
But now i have blank spots, certain things i've shut out.
Thanks to God and His mercy, i don't recall that foul act.
But i know that it happened, no doubt, that's a fact.
Now, to the person who did this, i have nothing to say.
But, my God will remember, and He'll get you someday!
Copyright © stanley copley | Year Posted 2006
All the little bunnies were lined up for a race. Why, you may ask?
Because the dear old Leader Bunny was stepping down with grace.
He had led the others for years without disgrace, in all pursuits.
He was their advisor, friend, and confidant... solver of disputes.
Such a lofty position was dearly sought by all…from all around.
But he could pick only one to wear that lofty, wonderful crown.
So a race was determined to quickly resolve, the question therein.
And a lovely little laurel crown was offered, to the one who did win.
Now many strategies to win emerged from within the race.
The most common was the notion to set the fastest pace…
A few would use tricks that might hurt, in order to slow others down.
A few were mean, for they wanted the power that comes with the crown.
Two were clever and would catapult each other at the very end.
A few just practiced running to gain the added stamina needed to win.
Only one little rabbit found shoes for the poor, for it was a rocky trail.
And when the race began he helped those hurt in the prevail.
Now the dear old leader had never actually worn a laurel crown.
His had been symbolic; his works had brought him his renown.
When the Leader Bunny gave the laurel crown to he who won the race…
Only a few were surprised, when the little helper won the Leader’s grace…
Though some would go on to complain because he had come in last…
It truly takes someone who knows how to serve, to lead and guide the rest.
But my moral to this story is that…. Regardless what some may think…
It takes compassion to correctly lead…and sometimes the last can be the best…
Copyright © Carol Eastman | Year Posted 2012
< Cascading lakes and streams
The loon stands out it seems
Minnesota's state bird
I know it must sound absurd
Adopted in nineteen sixty one
Wails and yodels heard under the sun
Black and white bearing red eyes
Wingspans five feet can make one cry
Body lengths up to three feet
Yet clumsy on lands and moss peat
They are high speed flyers
And great underwater divers
They can dive up to ninety feet
In pursuit of fish they want to eat
They are even on our license plates
An critical habitat drawn on metal slates
Twelve thousand of these unique birds
God that has to be a lot of turds
But for now I'll enjoy it's captured views
Of this beautiful loon and it's most colorful hues
Written By Katherine Stella
Entry For Mini - Blog Beautiful Bird Contest
By Constance ~ A Rambling Poet
Copyright © Katherine Stella | Year Posted 2010
Earth is what we become and makes us whole.
Air is the first and last thing we breathe in.
Fire is what consumes us and eats our sin.
Water cleanses us, mind, body and soul.
Spirit is in us all and makes us who we are.
Without these we would fall oh so far.
Invite them into our sacred circle and pay tribute.
As we are condemned, we are resolute.
We love fiercely and fight for our freedom.
Ignorance breeds fear and unwisdom.
Thank them for gracing us with their presence.
While we give our thanks and recompense.
Exhilarated and feeling like a newborn child,
Wow this circle's "magic" is wild.
Copyright © Aleera Canino | Year Posted 2009
Willy the Wasp
There once was a wasp whose name was Willy
And some people thought he was really silly
Fluttering in between each humming bird feeder
Thinking his food was measured by a meter.
here were some things unbeknownst to me
Where would Willy the Wasp possibly be
Some say after he had heard nature calling
He started playing around with all the pollen.
Willy would distribute it here and there
Ended up all over the place and everywhere
All of his efforts had made much more room
For the nice fragrant flowers to start to bloom.
After all of Willy's history I further did inspect
He helps keeping control of a certain insect
And if you like me often find yourself frugal
You can go get your answers by going on Google.
Copyright © James Horn | Year Posted 2014
"THE whole truth and nothing but the truth"
I have never failed or cheated, on any test I took.
Though I have taken best guesses upon one look,
I know I was a nerd, I read everything in every book.
Maybe that is why now reading is not part of my nook.
Poetry is the only thing I can handle by hook or crook.
I would have to read a recipe if I was going to cook.
Maybe there was one test that I almost failed, I took.
It would have been English, which I passed in a rook.
Now the only thing mostly I read is a manual book.
Except for poetry, which I read out loud, upon my first look,
Not that I am very smart, I guess luck is what I took.
Truth is, if it were not for luck, I would be a closed book.
this was my quest:
Cecilia, how about a truthful question!!!! have you ever totally flunked out on a test, or cheated on a test... I want the whole truth and nothing but the truth, in a poetic way... p.s... make your answer fun as can be... I think limericks, or couplets would do your question perfct..always..pd
Copyright © cecil hickman | Year Posted 2012
In for a penny, in for a pound
money makes the world go round.
“Baksheesh, pretty lady, Cleopatra eyes?”
foreign intrigue in a bantering guise.
“What do you want, My Queen?”
“Just for you, right here, behind the screen.”
One dollar, five pounds, the world goes round
in for a penny, in for a pound.
“Oh my beauty, please stay, please.
Come, come here, to my shop, stay for tea?”
“No hassle, so honest, nice things abound!”
Money, not love, makes the world go round.
*Baksheesh means a TIP in arabic.
Copyright © Debbie Guzzi | Year Posted 2010
“That’s not my elephant”, the complaint of little Cinder Ella.
Her teacher’s aid, a student, was a very perplexed fella.
How could he find their drawings? They all looked like spaghetti.
“Oh there’s my cat. I’ll sign it”. He watched as she wrote Netti.
He was surrounded by a mass of searching second graders.
He felt caught in the middle of a sea of small invaders.
He wished there was a “Bill of Rights” to help the situation.
Wanting to quit, he managed to resist the great temptation.
“Oh there it is,” cried Ella. Very much to his surprise,
Her drawing of an elephant was easy to recognize.
Perhaps Ella would be the one to rise to wealth and fame,
And help him to find his worth in his chosen teaching game.
For Matt Calairi's contest. "That's Not My Elephant"
Copyright © Joyce Johnson | Year Posted 2010
Each One, Teach One
by Rick Rucker
Is there something that you do,
In a way that is uniquely you?
Can you write a poem, or build a raft?
Or some other art, or craft?
Teach a youngster how it's done,
Then have him show another one.
If you were to take the time,
You would feel so Sublime,
To give a lesson from one Older,
Letting him sit on your shoulder,
As you demonstrate the art,
That will become a treasured part,
Of his personality,
And he learned it all for free!
Then he can teach another,
Or even sister, or brother.
Through The Population, this could spiral,
Heck, it might even go VIRAL!
Copyright © Rick Rucker | Year Posted 2010
Sitting in class bored out of my mind,
If I give up, I'll be left behind.
I just don't 'cause that goes to show,
I have many amitious goals.
Maybe one day I'll be the president,
Or take care of unable residents.
Maybe one day I'll open my own business,
Or find the cure to a rare sickness.
Who knows what I'll really be,
But anyways, want some tea?
Copyright © Shaina Rodriguez | Year Posted 2015
Nature’s Single Dad’s
THE LEAFY SEA DRAGON
Gracefully swaying without need for speed
Are creatures of beauty, disguised as seaweed.
Up to twelve inches long from tail to snout
These delicate creatures just drift about.
They carry, as they move like galleons in sail,
Silk-like appendages, leafy and pale
On back spines, projecting as masts on a ship
Sailing the oceans, they rise and they dip,
To the rhythm of moon tides; full or neap,
They travel the seas; these Dragons of the Deep.
Through weed-covered reefs and meadows of sea grass
There’s neither a neigh nor a moo as they pass.
They resemble sea horses in flowing silk gowns
Drifting on rhythms, dancing up and then down.
They slow dance through the water just moving around
No fire, no flames from these dragons; not a sound.
The mother will lay two hundred eggs on Dad’s patch
Of soft sponge, where safely they’ll hatch.
The sun flashes golden as she drifts on by,
While in the shadow on his tail, his offspring lie.
This single Dad of the deep tends a new generation,
Of Leafy Sea Dragon eggs; a fascinating creation.
Less than one inch when first hatched from the eggs
As newly formed babies; ready for life without legs.
They drift as if they feed, gaining the silky covered bone
To a length of twelve inches by the time they’re full grown.
The cycles of the moon dictate the rhythms and motion
Of this Leafy Sea Dragon in the great Southern Ocean.
The Leafy Sea Dragon is just one of Natures' Single Dads worthy of a mention for the survival of the species.
Copyright © J Eliza JAMES | Year Posted 2012
People who are kind and wise
their success will surely rise
Copyright © Maylin Wongjarupun | Year Posted 2013
They said I was chosen, one in a million
Part of an elite few, the men among children
Chosen to leave everything behind for education,
Engineering students, the pride of the nation!
Four years of hard work and determination,
Came close to failure, arrears, termination;
Dreams shattered, spirits broken, total annihilation;
New goals, new beginnings, rose up, rejuvenation.
Attended classes, learned stuff, ultimately forgot it
Placement time we revised, made up stuff, they bought it
Now we are placed and getting ready to face the world
We overcame; we conquered; we are Engineers!
Copyright © Samuel John | Year Posted 2012
I was read to as a child,every night at bed
Fairy tales, short stories, prose, or poems is what was read
Beatrix Potter, Mother Goose, Childcraft books were chose
But my favorite things to listen to were poetry and prose
I learned these things all by heart knew,when to turn the page
Mom thought I could read quite young ,was advanced for my age
But I was a fooler to those around ,cause I would memorize
Each page that was read to me, my reading was just lies.
I was fortunate to have a Mom that was well versed in liberal arts
I was read all sorts of things and would recite different parts
I listened to many poems from Percy,Keats,Frost and Thoreau.
Wordsworth,Longfellow, Lord Byron sometimes we wouldn't know.
When a child is read to when very young they get well versed in rhyme.
Then writing them as they age is something that fills their time.
Copyright © Jennifer Marie Oliver | Year Posted 2013
A is for angry, a passion hot and burning,
B is for beautiful, always a damsel yearning.
C is for callous, the ungodly wicked act,
D is for doting, such love can so much impact.
E is for energetic, big strong pocket Hercules,
F is for foolish, an unwise approach to my exercises.
G is for greedy, synonymous to a glutton
H is for hot temper, a destroyer of virtues gotten.
I is for impetuous, the risk of irrationality,
J is for joyous, a state of delight of souls nationality.
K is for kind, rewarding act of helping,
L is for loving, found a synonym for doting.
M is for meek, angelic attribute and non-devil…,
N is for new, the same for the word 'novel'.
O is for ossified, father's rules rigid and fixed,
P is for peaceful, the calm feeling when kissed,
Q is for queer, strange like the itch from a peppermint balm,
R is for reliable, God's attribute in every Psalm.
S is for soft, the touch of a mother,
T is for tedious, boring, pants for another.
U is for united, one mind, a great entry,
V is for vociferous, my sister's repeated loud complaints to a tree.
W is for willing, not compelled like the call of saints,
X is for xenophobic, the fear of strangers' paints.
Y is for youthful, prepared to take on life's dangers,
Z is for zealous, the weapon of the power rangers.
So much fun learning vocabs of adjectives,
Like wielding magical powers of elves.
Ayoola Goodness Lanre is my name. Born 2nd of March 1989. I am a Nigerian. An
English language teacher. A poet and other genres of literature. Love children.
Copyright © GOODNESS LANRE | Year Posted 2013
Math is great
At some point I could get.
How could I get rid
When it is definitely a need?
I prefer writing an editorial
Than solving a perfect trinomial.
Math is a trial,
Oh! This is crucial.
Math has magic,
But sometimes it's tragic.
Striving for Mathematics,
Optimistic in finding tactics.
When it reach high quantity,
It challenges brain's quality.
Favor with Property of Equality,
Struggling with Conditional Inequality.
Math is a distress,
But it is a need for success.
Sometimes it makes me cry,
But it doesn’t stop me to try.
Struggles are enough,
I now ought to laugh.
Need to be even,
Thinking of my favorite number seven.
Math is use everyday
Though I deny to say.
It makes my brain an aleph-null,
Yet it doesn't makes me dull.
Solving with optimistic
The problems in arithmetic.
Math I learned to love
With the help from above.
Copyright © Rhiza Periwperiw | Year Posted 2016
How often do you visit the Library? And what do you see?
I see oceans and seas of books plus a homeless man doing zzz’s..
He’d apparently been reading before, he fell deep asleep.
He can stay there, they say, as long as he doesn’t lie down to sleep.
Sitting up is OK and of course, as long as he doesn’t create a scene.
He’s kind and gracious and a little strange but can debate any role
When he walked over, we had a talk about the devil verses mind control.
Without asking, what he really wanted was someone to buy him lunch.
There’s a McDonalds two doors down from where we were bunched.
I don’t know what I expected when he woke up and looked around.
But when I asked if he was homeless he wasn’t fazed at all.
Yes, I have been for a while, he said, but my boat will soon come in.
And I realized the library is a warm, safe place to relax and to be.
And the librarians seem content to just let him be.
In the end, I was sorry I couldn’t buy him that lunch.
But recently, my abilities to do so had become a little stretched.
I used to buy the books I read… now the library is more my taste.
I just hope if it comes to that… he’ll graciously share this place.
The library even has computers from where you could write.
And the people there are varied and really rather kind.
I’m on the edge but whole family’s once prosperous are already there.
Cheap hotel rooms in even cheaper hotels, once skirted are full.
The jobs don’t pay for anything more. They are: Bitter, Disgruntled, Lost.
Needed are better and more jobs to re-establish the American Dream.
To give them some hope so they can go back there again…
And don’t just act toward them… like they’re your library man…
Give them back their American Dream as best you can.
Voice of Reason Contest
Copyright © Carol Eastman | Year Posted 2011
Literally this, Literally that
First it whites, Now its the blacks
It started with a dream
Turned into a horror movie
Diluted in Arms
To date based on race
jungle fever a disgrace
With the prettiest face
All in the name
Of pointing fingers and blame
How it started
Of diluted minds
A game of exchange
What is the problem
With ignorance they explain
The cycle continues
A story of shame
Copyright © Tiffany Diaz | Year Posted 2015
I received my report card today
and "damn" was all I could say.
Where am I going with all these grades?
A child like me, what have my mother made?
How can I ever look anyone in the eye
when all I had to do is get my grades high?
And how will I cope when I already failed?
I was the head, now tip of the tail.
Maybe I was distracted and couldn't think
but all these months are gone in a blink.
I want to change...but it's too late
because this report already determined my fate.
Now I am lost, I couldn't try more
because nothing is interesting, everything's a bore.
I had dishonored my family and let down my life,
and to no man could I be his wife.
For who would want a disgrace as their dear?
and neither do I want to be their burden nor fear...
What can I do without a qualified mark?
The only place I belong to is the dark.
I tried so hard and got nowhere.
Should've realized life was never fair.
Those who did least, often got the best
and those who tried best always got detest.
It's a trend, an agonizing rule
that turned these geniuses to idiotic fools,
that broke their heart as the clock ticks,
that made healthy minds corrupting and sick.
The time has come to make up my mind
to face reality or hide some place only Death can find.
Maybe this temporary regret would remain
and make me suffer from inevitable pain.
Copyright © Celine Tran | Year Posted 2012
There is a lot to be said about the spoken word,
But sometimes it takes silence to be heard…
Copyright © Tirzah Conway | Year Posted 2012
Copyright © Volodymyr Knyr | Year Posted 2014
Words Gone Rag
what a pity
college grads have lost their words
grab at every
prep they have
don't know what the trouble is...
at computers they can whiz
don't know what will happen next----
whatever it is
will be found
Copyright © Victoria Anderson-Throop | Year Posted 2012
< I really hate to do laundry
Why can't it be hands free ?
Copyright © Katherine Stella | Year Posted 2011
< this poem is not about what is written, but what is not written
like the smile upon her face that looks nil and somewhat smitten
and lochs of hair hanging instead of with bows and lace
tell me my angelic angel have you fallen from God's good grace
has your garments of thread gone out of time
has your dance with the butterflies gotten out of rhyme
have you been cast from your lovers heart
or are you just looking to start over with brand new start
has clouds silver lining rained upon your dreams
has leafs dance gone frozen in crystal streams
time stands still amidst wondering thoughts
time stands still when lovers cant be sought
Written By Katherine Stella 7/4/11
Entry For A Rambling Poet's
The Unwritten Contest
Copyright © Katherine Stella | Year Posted 2011
Just a young girl with hope in her heart
Enjoying education thats when the rows start
Father wants her to get married she is only fourteen
Sending her to Pakistan to marry a man unseen
Her heart isnt in it so she has said no
Locked her in her room nowhere to go
Remembers a number thats hidden in her beads
Needs her phone now to her mother she pleads
Do you want to see me married to an old man
Wringing her hands as she pleads with her Mam
Please get me that phone let me make that call
Or a life of heartache will be my downfall
Risking her life her Mam gets the phone
She dials the number asking for help whilst alone
The young girl hugged her Mam for the last time
Knowing she will never see her family again
By defying her Tad she is no longer their daughter
If found by the family, they would definitely slaughter
It brings shame on the UK this is happening
Where are our laws to stop it occurring
The rights of parenthood should be restricting
Saving the life of these girls who think education is constructive
Copyright © SEREN ROBERTS | Year Posted 2013
I am a party animal, my heritage is mixed
quite content to lounge about when conditions remain fixed.
Suppose that’s the nobility which Krypton must provide,
maintaining stiff upper lip when I’m all buzzed inside.
Then too, I’m mostly nitrogen, which is very stable,
tamping volatility of oxygen: it’s able
to combine with hydrogen (that’s also in my make up).
Uncontrolled? Oh that would lead to an explosive break up.
Carbon Dioxide? Its percentage varies night and day:
vegetative respiration, or so the boffins say.
I wonder why I don’t glow multicoloured in a storm:
my neon, argon, radon being Vegas lighting norm.
If I had more Helium the humans would sound squeaky.
I imagine the attraction of that chap Enrique
Would suffer greatly from affliction. He’d become mundane,
and prove downright offensive if I gave him more methane.
I’ve also Nitrogen Oxide, not Nitrous NO2,
and a soupçon of ozone which had once protected you
from harmful rays from Out There much more than now is measured.
It seems that humans cannot see what really should be treasured.
I’m moved by friction of the Earth and pressure off the bat
while Coriolis effect pushes me this way and that:
north and south of the equator, the opposite I spin.
Any other speculations, my friends, are simply wind.
Copyright © Perry McDaid | Year Posted 2014
< I have dipped my pen in the sublime, it's my gift to you
Now use it wisely and write about some captioned caught views
thus that of an snow-capped mountain with an eagle that soars
or white sandy beaches where ribbed tides rolls back to it's shores
maybe stars and moon dance reflecting off stilled bay's port
in ones head you must determine choice of words to now sort
from beautiful to just pleasure does not hit it's mark
beneath recant memory that caused the ignited spark
observer of denial you can not destroy ones voice
within pens stroke there comes a poet with another choice
seize the day and come bow to the chosen word of the day
dont let an overpowering object just get away
Written By Katherine Stella 6/26/11
Entry For A Rambling Poet's
Writing In The Sublime
Copyright © Katherine Stella | Year Posted 2011
Dr. James E. Martin
Reading is an education, many have learned,
Its results are gigantic and enjoyably earned.
Copyright © DrJim Martin | Year Posted 2013