There was a girl that no-one knew her name
Everybody took for a silly little game
Every day she was crying
Every day she was lying
Until one day, she found a place to hide
And then she tried to commit suicide
But she was saved by someone very nice
But then tried to do it twice
But the second time she was afraid to do it again
So she started to get rid of her hate and pain
After a few days, she was strong and happy
That girl was I and my name is Julie
Now she doesn’t forget her powerful beauty Lives every day knowing that she’s lovely
Not worrying about what people say For great things were made from muddiest clay
Holds in her heart her power which is love For she was made from the Creator above
She doesn’t try to be somebody that you’re not She learned to be content and appreciate what you’ve got
She doesn’t forget whom she’s meant to be Never giving up she stays as bold as the sea
Copyright © Julie Alcin | Year Posted 2013
This mighty school, this boiling stress,
Supposedly makes me the best of the best.
But how can I be as good as they say,
When I barely have the attention to pay?
From the dark of the morning, to the dark of the night,
I am constantly struggling to keep on the right.
I arrive their so early, and return home so late,
Only to find myself a fish caught on bait.
I feel like I’m breaking this one crucial rule;
And falling behind in this thing they call school.
Copyright © Josh Adams | Year Posted 2013
Drops of sweat slip from my furrowed brow
Eyes squint, select a number and let fly now
Miss again, a millimetre is a mile once more
Aimed for triple twenty, only got double four
The walk of shame, my oh so familiar friend
Silence broken, on alcohol I forever depend
The steel point of eyes bore into my neck
My opponent leaves me a juddering wreck
I lose the match; the wife won’t give me a kiss
I wish I could have been anything else than this...
Copyright © Dan Keir | Year Posted 2013
I write poems quickly with not much patience
And need suggestions with recommendations
Regarding poems which were written by me
Designed for the average and not aristocracy.
The following comments are what I received
Was she by my poems really being deceived
And also many of my points may have missed
You could add to a awfully, really very long list.
Some fine themes and ideas are in your poetry.
Yet, I get tripped-up by some of your forced wording
(that really detract me from your intent)
And your basic grammar often can be confusing.
I do wish you would proof-read your work for spelling,
grammar, and understanding before throwing it out there!
Any and all serious writers ALWAYS revise their work.
You have such a sensitive heart and also so much to say!
However, my opinion is that you need to focus more on
"polishing" your poems up when you want others to value
the concepts that you want to and are trying to convey.
Above are comments I received my Poetry Group Coordinator.
In her earlier life, she was a thoughtful teacher and an educator.
The same also applies to most of the other members as well,
And I am different from them all of them, you can always tell.
There are almost 20 at times in the poetry group.
Of them all, two or three others and I are the only males.
To me, writing poems like therapy in the form of a release.
Each poem which I write just comes naturally flowing out.
Often thoughts and ideas are from what I heard on the news.
It may only be two words which I woke up with in my head.
If you see anything confusing in my poems that you don't
understand please be sure to let me know what they are.
James Thomas Horn
I now have entered over 300 poems in my Poetry Soup account.
Copyright © James Horn | Year Posted 2014
Should Be Fading
Islam women, they are always degrading
Habit into past should be finally fading
And the be replace by total equality
A much better place our world will be.
Suppose Mother Mary never had been
Or Son Jesus to save us from all sin
Just who would we be here and now?
Either some sow or maybe a milk cow.
Noah's Ark had contained each animal;
Two by two until it was frantically full
Themselves had to learn how to please
And none of them had been Islamese.
All of us have become completely hysteric
By actions and atrocities that are barbaric
Which not even an animal would try to do
Like cutting off my head and also maybe you.
James Serious Mysterious Horn
Copyright © James Horn | Year Posted 2014
He comes in the garage and can't get out.
In an effort to help, we wave and shout.
He ignores the door, flies to the ceiling.
Attempts to guide just send him reeling.
A beautiful bird with deep ruby throat,
complimented by green iridescent coat.
Terror causes panic, he is in its clutch.
It is obvious we aren't helping him much.
All day he flies with nothing to eat,
inside the garage in sweltering heat.
We know, eventually, he will surely die.
At the end of day, he can no longer fly.
He finally gives up and falls to the floor
and lies there panting near the open door.
We are then able to end his grief.
Poor helpless bird, what a relief.
The children all bounce and clap with glee
as we return him to a nearby tree.
In our human frenzy, sometimes we
gaze at the solution but fail to see.
Often, our struggle with self will end,
with a little help from a sympathetic friend.
Copyright © Cona Adams | Year Posted 2014
It was a marvellous, sparkling affair
Everybody they had invited was there.
Friends and relatives from both families
Filled the small country church with ease.
They said their ‘I do’s’ then exchanged a kiss
The looks on their faces were of identical bliss.
This was the day they had planned for so long:
It was all so perfect, nothing had gone wrong.
The beautiful bride in her white wedding dress
Felt like she was a fairy-tale princess.
With her handsome groom standing at her side
She felt her heart swell and fill with pride.
There was a time when she doubted she would see
Their plans come to this eventuality
For opposition had stood in their way:
Putting in doubt the coming of this day.
A jealous former lover, full of spite
Tried with all her wiles and might
To win back the heart of the man she once loved
But his heart was cold, stony and unmoved.
Her campaign was ended by the arm of the law
Knocking authoritatively upon her front door.
Then arresting her and throwing her in jail.
Ensuring her plans of disruption would fail.
With glasses raised and to the sound of loud cheers
And with love and best wishes ringing in her ears
She feels tears of happiness well up once again.
And drip unchecked into her glass of champagne.
Copyright © Andy Morfett | Year Posted 2016
like a stone , cold then, i have become
numb to feelings, i've turned to a scum
after glamour and shine here comes the time
when regarded a shrimp not worth a rhyme
do i have to leave life or bear the blame
bear the slings of poetry, i lost the fame
used to smiling to playing, and to fun
it's all over, i wonder what have i done?
If error is human i am human no more
not even devil, only then God i implore
take me away from Earth, and cut my days
and keep Earth sane, i'm having lethal craze
from Plato given the sense and romance
and Freud taught me both libido with trance
angel and devil are what form a man
i feel much more devil than angel, i can
Copyright © True Feeling | Year Posted 2015
Life is good but can subject one to a rape
the most agile can become the next dying Ape.
Poverty exhibits its victims in awful display
who work so hard but to achieve a trophy made of clay.
In desperate search, still far is this opened door
never giving up, even if it means crawling on its piercing floor.
Suffering a lot, weak and morbid are the eyes
still projecting forward, longing to reach the skies.
Far away, life fairly gallivants its pride
crossing borders in a moment like this makes decisions collide.
It is said, the value on the other side of a sheet
is on this side ten times more than a major street.
Through the Sahara or Mediterranean is a difficult contest
but on misfortune, it is the clearest option to protest.
Taking on this trip planned without a clutch
reaching such a paradise which disappoints to give the same touch.
Atmosphere so appealing, lively and electronic
yet not to all is it really supersonic.
The difference in the struggle is only the change of hair
creating a puzzle of where is favourable to bear.
Copyright © Funom Makama | Year Posted 2016
Can I Borrow,
Do You Have,
Can You Spare?
Written: by Tom Wright
I’m tired of others looking at me as their bank,
When I’m just a small fish in one big ole fish tank;
They never take advice, just stuff, mostly money,
Casting gloom on my day, and making theirs sunny;
They always say borrow but it’s never returned,
And each time it happens, once more, I feel burned.
If you borrow some tool, please don’t make me ask,
Just bring the sucker home, if you’ve finished your task.
Most abusers are close and I feel given little choice,
Today, I’m battling myself, and that small inner voice.
I know those guilty will never read this, but then,
I’ve vented frustrations and feel better again.
Copyright © Tom Wright | Year Posted 2016