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Epic Dedication Poems | Epic Poems About Dedication

These Epic Dedication poems are examples of Epic poems about Dedication. These are the best examples of Epic Dedication poems written by international PoetrySoup poets

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Details | Epic | |

Pledge of love and loyalty

This pledge that l,Ntando, make today serves
as my guideline that I shall follow
happily, ungrudgingly and tirelessly
for the sake of our love life.
Indeed l am well aware of the fact that
the beauty of this pledge does not only lie
in word alone but in action as well.

For that reason in every season
I shall show steadfast commitment
to the implementation of this pledge
with a great deal of astuteness.
I therefore commit myself to be your
devoted and delivering husband for
all the years l shall live with you
on this earth.

I shall treat you with the love and care
you deserve as my wife.
Indeed l shall treat you with
the distinction and dignity
that is befitting of the queen of my heart.
That body, that bone, that breath
shall be my mine to treasure,
for sure;
a dearness to promote and protect
for dear life…and love!
I shall stand by and with you in all the
situations of our life.
If the situation demands that we sail,
sail we shall together.
If the situation demands that we
climb we shall together.

I know very well what l am getting into:
I am getting into a marriage that is
overflowing with blessings.
This marriage- with our mutual
will stand the test of time.
I know very well what I am getting into:
I am getting into a relationship that
brims over with a transforming power
of love.

This marriage-with our
mutual commitment –
will transform naivety into maturity
troubles into challenges
pretence into practice
pride into progress
bachelorship into companionship.
I pledge to be your steward and partner
for all times.

I shall value the consultations
and decisions that we make as
husband and wife.
As head of the family I shall do nothing


to derail our love train for anything else
least of all for personal and selfish reasons.
Now and forever

I am your lawful and loving husband…
This pledge that l, Nothando, make today serves
as my guideline that I shall follow
happily, ungrudgingly and tirelessly
for the sake of our love life.
Indeed I am well aware of the fact that
the beauty of this pledge does not only
lie in pronouncements but in practice
as well.

For this reason every season
I shall demonstrate untiring love
and loyalty to you;
a love and a loyalty that is a living
embodiment of our marriage vows.
I therefore commit myself to be your
honouring, supportive and loving wife
for all the years l shall live with you.
I shall treat you with the love and care
that you deserve as my husband.
Indeed I shall treat you with
the dignity and nobility that is befitting
of the king of my heart.
On my mind it is always fresh
that I am the flesh of your flesh.
Green or grown

I am the bone of your bone.
I know very well what I am getting into:
I am getting into a relationship that
elevates me into a kingdom of wifehood.
I shall endevour to put my family first
with all the rights, obligations
and privileges that come with wifehood.
I shall endevour to wipe off and ward off
loneliness and lostness from our relationship,
seeking nothing but your companionship;
banking on your stewardship,
sinking together any hardship.
Since you are mine
I shall not do anything else to undermine
our relationship for personal
or egotistical
Now and forever
I am your lawful and loving wife…

Copyright © Ndaba Sibanda | Year Posted 2012

Details | Epic | |

Trust No One

~My Heart~

•      One last night before the grave
•	Thousands of thoughts of you I save
•	-Every night, I experience the same dream
•	That you haunt me, exposing my sensual needs
•	You push me,
•       Into a pit of everything that terrifies me  
~LOVE~ I confess, I fear, I avoid!!!

In the back of my mind, the moon can’t be as large 
My heart bleeds, to feel more than two worlds apart
Tonight I will embed, your fantasy, my fantasy, 
The Astros; I project --into your arms, of security
Your eyes render 
A heavenly sanctuary, a slight sick smile to my face
You stay, I stay, in a dream we touch lips
I venture my heart then I stray, Am I afraid?
Feasibly, I’m not open-minded  
I hide under this mask, these covers, that make me hold back
•	I echo the moods of past dreams
•	I proved to sustain a closed book, yet open your way
A trusted aspirin, can’t make thoughts of you go away
Dramatize persona, the erroneous kind of light
Yet it continues to run like hot lava, melting my mind
I’m ever so soft, when lost with your words,
I’m weak, I feel each time I cross my fingers
I’m loss of words I babble, my heart sings
Then pretends, nothing is going on
Then, I hallucinate of that kiss, and then slowly it fades
Tomorrow's another day, every mood will get in the way

•	Today, I will strain
•       And make sense of what clogged my main artery
•	In a holding cellar, like wine it will be worth the wait
You plead for me, you pinched my eyes
I fall back to reality

Avowal, Instructions, Discipline, and Lock Down 
That explains it all!!!


Copyright © Poet Destroyer A | Year Posted 2014

Details | Epic | |


I LOVE YOU EVEN IN FAR OFF PLACE Fever of love cartwheel snaillike but where are you? Round six o'clock noon, sunken is the moon gazing behind deep orange-aubergine feather skies, its shadowy light floods the shivering sea, I, standing still amidst the tickling water, my teary eyes softly wander upon endless horizon, my hypothermic skin long for the kisses puffed by you. Barefooted, I amble along the silky sands seagulls fingers rushing to caress my feet but droplets of August rain run fast above my head. The crisp wind wafts whispering something in my ear t'was the songs we sang second week of February honeysuckle times gone but still my celcius sprint. Softly, I tread back to memoirs playing a chemistry where there catena of reactions descry revealing we... Cleansed from river tears, blessed by suns of home, my heart didn't surrender in wanting your presence soon. Crossing limitless borders where our lamp is trust, the choice to continue gleams in the name of freedom, as we daily counteract two strategic villains: the odd times and the eight thousand miles distance. Yes, afar but this NOT THE BARRIER. Us baring our souls. Us stepping onward, offering ourselves, to attain one goal. I listened close to your voice as we talk by phone My oh my, your tone, your giggle magnify my thoughts! but this not enough 'cause I yearn to hold you most. I want to ask: what is it that's not in my heart that fate acted so long in keeping us apart? Perhaps... Ah perhaps! This must be for us to rightly spell the language of love... The long distance vanguished, frozen fears diminished, sapphire eyes cushioned by cherry color skin sings as he stares whole from rosy chocolate coated cutis to eyes touching tears, directly screaming: "I love you..." __________________________________________________________ EPIC ---ONLY - Poetry Contest Sponsor Name -- SKAT A ~7th Place~ Olive Eloisa Guillermo 10:59am, July 24, 2015

Copyright © Olive Eloisa Fraser | Year Posted 2015

Details | Epic | |


Repulsive Slumber  

Down the basement, 
not a single color of envy,
flat-lines, are standing still all around.
The stillness is suffocating,
everything coming my way.
Different from,
the morals,
of my old organize ways.

"Still Round The Corner There May Wait, 
A New Road Or A Secret Gate."  ~~J.R.R. Tolkien~~

In certainty!
Someone will help me dismantle this knowledge!!

A movement so loud that bleeds, 
irritating metal in the open wide.
Time standing still
tossing the dice.

Sleep walking in a slow pace,
paralyzed and lost in a smoky haze.
So blurred, my perception slips.

The concept is so untouchable,
Finding peace, I find the thrills,
I conquered.
Screaming! I wake up,
Tangible evidence, released.
Rough, pillows, invade me.

I follow my guts,
I finally found the right feelings...

Exhaling one final breath, I freeze it!
Avoiding the demons!

Impossible, slumberous visions,
entering the atmosphere ,
thickened, loud voices, ~  "WANT TO BE HEARD!"
Sliding into my slumber,
locked in one solid dream.

My slumber, 
I lay so quietly,
Voiceless, still I feel.
So repulsive, still redeemable.

My slumber,
dry like black soap.
Stillborn, yet still breathing!
Stillborn, yet still moving!

Reaching for the ceiling,
and I try hard not to dream.
An empty pyramid, winding up to a new start. 
Imperceptible pencils in my slumber, beneath me.

Now I am in wonder,
breaking my mind with this, 
from all the solidness. 

Only I can revolve around this light.
Taking hard cold metal,
stabbing it behind me.
My repulsive slumber.....
an ongoing punishment with dark fantasies.


Dedicated to NIKKOS... poem  *Elusive Dreams*

Copyright © Poet Destroyer A | Year Posted 2011

Details | Rhyme | |


Sad Heart, now thou art wither’d from the Sun,
What man, or god, will near thee run?
Wrought in twist like branches in Tempests' gasp,
What Comfort, or Gauze, shall be near to grasp?
True ones begotten are the ones now Rotten
And the ones now Rotten will never be forgotten
They are merely sad remains of assiduous Tears
That have been meddl’d with and tatter’d Raw throughout the years

And thou, cruel Mind, that sat’st still thru toiling trail of Night;
Must dream your broken Dreams; thou’rt a sanely flight!
Can thou extinguish passions of Fire, Disease, or Rain?
—tho thy distinguish’d influence trains to abstain
Thy Remnants brought to debris in thy Empty street,
Devour’d by Vultures, their bestow’d beaks entreat
Merely are they cleaning an inexhaustible Mess
Alas! Leaving thy rudiments of Identity to redress....

Copyright © Laura Breidenthal | Year Posted 2012

Details | Marsiya | |

I'm my Daddy Made Over

Dedicated to my Dad Jerry W. Niday 3/20/1952 - 6/18/2013

I am who I am because of him
He’s the reason for my son’s name
He gave me my courage & my strength
To stand tall even when standing wasn’t easy
Stand for the ones who can’t
To think and fend for myself
I’m my Daddy made over

Taught me to fight back 
To never back down
How to pick myself back up
When I’ve been knocked down
Fight for what I believe
I’m my Daddy made over

He gave me my stubbornness 
Gave me my pride
Gave me my temper
Taught me not to take crap
To speak my mind no matter who
Work for what I want
I’m my Daddy made over

How to keep my emotions in check
How to handle large amounts of pain
When in trouble he always had my back
He knew how my mind worked better than anyone
I got it from him
I’m my Daddy made over

Even though he’s gone
I’ll stand and continue on 
I may stumble I may fall 
May even get hurt along the way
But I’ll pick myself back up
I’ll dust myself off and stand tall
I’m honored and proud to say
I’m my Daddy made over

Sabrina Niday Hansel

Copyright © Sabrina Niday Hansel | Year Posted 2013

Details | Haiku | |

The Internet: Rtrn

A void of Facebook
Creativity dies here...

Copyright © Dan Keir | Year Posted 2013

Details | Couplet | |

The Leader Bunny

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

Details | Epic | |

The Old Worn Out Poet

By the light of a window sits an old man, his pennies he does count.
His hair is gray, his eyes are old, and there’s little in his bank account.
He has lived his life by the book of what is good, kind and just.
He had some fun when he was young, was a man you could trust.
He’s done all the things you have, he worked his whole life thru.
And now he sits, by the window of life, wondering what he will do.
As his health went away, his life went away, he never doubted it would.
He saved and was frugal his whole life long, he did the best he could. 
But the way of money is often misunderstood, and it often slips away.
Now he wonders how he will keep all those predators at bay.
The economy went bad; his job went away, his medical insurance, too.
He’d already been sick, medicines were high, and he lost his house to boot.
The new medical insurance is high, so much he can’t afford any treats.
Air conditioning’s a dream, heat may be soon, but he’s not on the streets.
Now in an apartment he will rest his head, and sparingly he does eat.
Gloom and doom are not his way, so a new life he will greet.
He can’t write, he shakes too much, but with a computer he gets it done.
He has trouble traveling. Finding work is hard. None his way will come.
His mind’s not sharp, but he’s seen so much, he’ll find a way to get along.
And he still has a passion for words, the world, and of course for song.
So with that in mind, as a poet he was born. And as a poet, he has grown.
He’ll never be Shakespeare, Milton, or Poe…but a poet all his own.
From his work, great poems will come, as his foundation is solid as stone.
He’ll write about people and places, and in time his light will be shone.
Some poems will be up, and others down, and a few of dreams he knew.
His thoughts and work gave him a passion for life, to which he will be true.
So tell a friend, and buy his book, have them use it in their school.
It’s the history of people, places, and things, a beautiful history jewel.
His life went to dust but now thrives, and he’ll gladly continue to work. 
The rest of his life he’ll be a great poet, it’s a responsibility he’ll never shirk.
In his poems, his hope, bright soul, and heart will continue to shine.
It’s something that again calls to his heart, that he can say is truly mine.

Impress Me4 Epic Carol Eastman Written 2009... for all poets...

Copyright © Carol Eastman | Year Posted 2014

Details | Free verse | |

I'm Your King

A burst of white light gamma rays, overbearing a flash of brilliance burns through to my soul everything is like hell the world starts to melt in the blink of an eye just the cold blackness of night I don't care if I am not again what I once was, for at this moment I am greater now than ever before I took the path between teetering, tight roping walking right up to my right divined in my unholy state I thought I told you I am your king still you sit there, hesitating I know you hate me what does that mean? I hate just about everything still I'm chosen I did not wish before now bow down to me refuse me no more for I shall always be your demon until you accept me as your King. I don't even know you though you say we used to be best of friends, you and me the day you ditched me I remember now exactly how it played out back when we were just tiny things even back then I still was King you thought me stupid just a ruse I would laugh inside, you see? not one of you single, mean people ever even knew me in a world, mostly seen to me that is why only I can be your true King and bring forth a new source of light everlasting. As two worlds collide slowly aligned one wrapped in shadows one bathed in white evils swirling in the clouds above I'll always be the king you love to hate or despise as in your blood I thought I told you, I am the one I am the way, the way out shall be shown breathe in my spirit as it carries you away breathe in my faith it shall carry your empty space and deposit you gently on a cloud just enough higher than you've ever dreamed of for I am king now, and your in my hell your in my imagination, I'll just never tell you'll feel as though dreaming, you'll feel now if you try and see you were always found the most shared in the light cast upon me the last bright star in heaven. Denounce my name, if you may One year later, still not afraid A black sheep, a darkened spade That's just life, I'm not right I'm in the wrong, follow along Like a piper, I'll pitch a song Mesmerized, the weak wills sing I thought he told you, he's still our king.

Copyright © Bj Fard | Year Posted 2011

Details | Romanticism | |

Pursue Love

Pursue love,
the love that has no meaning,
the silver ports of the moon,
shine so bright,
that it blinds you in the twilight
she is beautiful and she is divine
she is the song sang by the sweet nightingales
in the gardens of worthy, overgrowning and blooming roses,
like wildfire grow tall and the thornes of the vines
tangle around her feet and drag her ever so slightly
throughout the garden of beauty.
As the roses lay along a table,
as she sits at the table
and she waits for me, the wordman
to come to the dinner table at the stroke of nine
and sit with her,
start a scene or two of romantic setting,
to pursue love in her name.
Love is around us,
the candlelight shines and reflects in her silk hair,
as her evening dress glitters and shines
and her bossom shows itself in the nightsky
as we lay together,
we pursue a dream together,
forever we live together forever,
as we stand upon the belcony of Romeo and Juliet's love scene
we swim in a pool of sweet divine care and love,
we swallow grapes and drink wine
hand and hand on Persian rugs and virgin white cloth sheets,
we dance to a simple, yet sweet Chopin's masterpiece
of his beautiful nocturnes,
which make such a sweet and romantic song in our heads.

We stomp out the flames
as we dance the night away,
and you lay in my arms,
and I kiss you upon your lovely head,
and you hold my hand,
and I hold you tight
never thinking of letting your love go away from me,
I would take my own life,
before I lose your love.
See us together,
it is a painting that lasts lifetimes,
that needs no touch-ups.
I care for you and love you!
Love me, I know you will.

My sweet and loving portrait lady,
who in reality is more beautiful than a fully bloomed rose
that sits on its green stem,
in the garden of beauty that sits outside my window.
Come up to my chambers
as I picked roses for you and pettles litter the atmosphere
as love's tension grows
and suspence brings us together,
let us make love tonight
seal the passion
and pursue love once and for all.

Then shall we wake with the first rays of the blazing of the morning sun,
I shall wake next to your beauty and glory,
and I shall point my attention to the heavens
and thank the Gods for sending you on the open road,
toward my chamber door, I call my heart.
Then we shall dress, and walk the pathways
in the garden of beauty
and I shall pick a bauquet of roses
and we shall sit by the lake and pursue our love
for one another
and nothing, not one earthquake shall shake us apart.


Copyright © Chris Boskovski | Year Posted 2013

Details | Narrative | |


for such a time as this of political upheaval and economic uncertainty
how does anyone go about determining what is their God-given destiny?
what is our purpose in the grand scheme of God's desires?
what is it from us that the Lord Our God requires?

God gave each of us life for a reason
and will call upon each of us in due season
there will be some sacrificing and moving out of comfort zones
just remember that whatever God asks of you, you won't have to do it alone
for the battle is not just yours it also belongs to the Lord
and God won't let you write a check that you cannot afford

God will move you to a place and then give you an obstacle to overcome
but through Jesus you have the victory so consider the battle won
just trust in God to give you all that you will need
so that His set purpose for your life will come to seed

like Queen Esther, Harriet Tubman, Margaret Sanger and Rosa Parks
women destined for greatness who were beacons in society's dark
they did what was necessary for the greater good
to put the needs of others before their own as we all should
they stood up and confronted the so-called powers that be
in righteous indignation in order to save humanity

so let God position you where you'll prosper and be strong
and then use you as a vessel to make right a wrong
it might not make much sense to you and you might even disagree
but God knows what's best when it comes to determining your destiny

so just say yes to any and all that of you God does ask
and believe unconditionally that He'll equip you for the task
and as long as you remain resilient in your resolve
between you and God the situation will get solved

destined for greatness as mothers, mentors, lawyers or teachers
destined for greatness as activists, doctors, scientists or preachers
it matters not the capacity nor the career for you that God did choose
we're women destined for greatness and as children of God we cannot lose

Copyright © louise nelson | Year Posted 2009

Details | Free verse | |

Hounds from Hell

Hounds from Hell take their toll on your soul
as you walk the mainstreet of mainstream
and watch Saturn and Neptune dance to a simple tone
of silence in the outer space.
As you sit in the middle of the world
free yourself from the sense of hopelessness,
only see yourself in the mirror of deception
as your reflection laughs at you and looks right through you,
and doesn't have remorse for what it says or does to you.

Hounds from Hell take your soul,
chock you, cut of your air,
the smog and fog blind you in the city of ash.
Hear the hounds from hell howl for your soul,
go now, barracade your soul behind sins and temptation,
Alone, listening to your soul die away,
watch love go away from you, with suitcase in hand,
picture frames broken and collect dust through the sands of time.
Till the cleaning lady comes on Monday, to clean the mess
that you left behind.
You are gone, without a trace of ever returning.
Looks of the Hounds of Hell came for you and stole you from
comfort and warmth,
till the sorrowed heart cracks and pain spills out
and you look at it all spill out over the floor.
The Hounds from Hell have paid a consumable harmage to you,
and your rich soul of sorrowness burns away... slowly.

Fear darkens souls,
innocent souls burn with a new day,
a slumber that has no end
with nightmares haunting every light of hope
there is left in this desolate Wasteland.
Fear and darkness tears a hole in the darkened universe
and we all go to hell to see the Hounds,
who come for us all.
The graveyards fill,
and death guards the tombstones of the dead,
and the flowers burn away on the feet of the dead.


Copyright © Chris Boskovski | Year Posted 2013

Details | Light Poetry | |

A Merry Band Of Adventurers Part 1 of 2

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Part 1  of  2

Copyright © MoonBee Canady | Year Posted 2009

Details | Rhyme | |

The True Love of a Man

When I was just a little girl, I dreamed I’d meet a knight. He’d proudly wear his shining armor, and guard me day and night. I kept on dreaming half my life and searched as I grew. Until I found my knight one day, I found my knight in you! Before our paths crossed that day, my struggles had been great. But when I laid my eyes upon you, I thought it must be fate. You gently got to know me and embraced me as a friend. And as our friendship grew in time, we knew it wouldn’t end. As our lives were set in motion, we climbed mountains and sailed seas. And as we’ve shared our lives together, we’ve blended with such ease. Our friendship grew as years passed by into such an enduring love. This thing we have together now was blessed from God above! I know we both have said it. We feel it in our souls. We’ve devoted our lives to each other, and together we’ll grow old. The love we share is very rare, and should be held with high esteem. For some may only find this kind, only in their dreams. This is what God planned for us, to live here on this land. To be the best we both can be, walking through it hand in hand. Even when our roads seem rough, we must have a faith that lasts. We’ll smile as we share many today’s, and reflect gladly on our past. I hope I’ve touched your life my love, as much as you’ve touched mine. For this is the love I’ve always dreamed of, a love both gentle and kind. I believe we meet our “soul mate” only once in our lives. This blessing from God has come to us, I’m proud to be your wife. With all this said my poem will end. A poem for my love, who is also my friend! I want to thank you with all that I am, For showing me Darling, the true love of a man!
With all my love, Michelle Merry Christmas – December 2006©

Copyright © Michelle DeGironemo | Year Posted 2010

Details | Quatrain | |

The Crone

A warning breeze bore tale of a familiar and fiery rage;
in the dread of night, a crone hobbled, accursed of her age  
by smoldering orange glow, she took to an ancient black tome 
raptly reciting incantations from a frail and ravaged page.

A century past, was the last time she’d seen them roam; 
that cursed dark knight and his dragon with scales of chrome.
Overwhelmed by terror, she’d tried hiding herself in her bed
but the dragon knew…he could sense her, and lit up her home.

Scarred by the inferno, disfigured she looked like the dead.
The whole village feared her, and quickly rumors had spread,
“You’re a witch, you’re a monster, you’ll curse us, don’t venture so near…
stay away from our town, leave us alone.” they had said. 

90 years of solitude, the crone spent every night with her fear;
entrenched in lore of ancients, spells feeble and others severe.
She committed her life to mastering the forbidden art
and now to her dread, dark knight and chrome dragon, drew near.

Though the breeze had granted her time, and a decent head-start,
the dragon had sensed her, and it wanted her heart.
Shaking, she whispered, casting spell after spell in the night, 
transfixed, she fluidly traced out a primeval star chart.

When she had finished, she took up a shawl brilliant white, 
hobbled out of her dwelling, and sang in the twinkling starlight.
Above her, the knight on his chrome beast made a dive
His sword in its sheath; he was expecting no fight.

The crone raised a finger, and with it, her will to survive.
Perseus, Prometheus, Orion, and Apollo did revive;
The lion, the ram, the bull and scorpion, from heaven crept
Beasts and heroes, gods and titans of ages past, came alive. 

The blanket of heaven descended, and all who had slept
marched on the dark knight and his dragon, to intercept.
The battle was fierce, but swiftly it ended.
The crone ended her song, and then finally she slept.

The life she had granted the stars had expended
what life she had left, though that was as she’d intended.
She’d committed her life to protecting her homeland
though they’d sent her away, still their lives she'd defended.

Now there’s a rare constellation of a gnarled old hand
choking out a chrome dragon which appears to be manned.
Written somewhere on a frail and ravaged page,
is a spell to summon her...though that book has been banned.

Submission for: FANTASY
Hosted by: Mystic Rose

Copyright © The Grahamburglar | Year Posted 2015

Details | Rhyme | |

The Shadow with Scizophrenia

I walked upon an empty step,
Where a shadowed body was kept.
The shadow was beat,
Turning as cold as winter sleet.

It had bright blue eyes,
That extended all through the skies.
The shadow was nine,
Living to be blind.

I walked to the figure,
As it would evilly linger.
People would laugh at it,
As it snarled and bit.

The shadow diagnosed with 
Beating itself, the others, as if a 
No one could reach out,
No one gave it water, as it was in a 

I was determined to bring its colors,
Be the one to treat it like no other.
The shadow hated me,
Told me Hell is where I should be.

Not giving in,
Not creating one other sin.
I drew it pictures, wrote it letters,
Tried to blossom its feathers.

Then the day came,
When there had to be an end to the 
Not wanting to leave,
Not wanting the devil to its thieve.

As I was bout to walk through the 
The shadow came upon me, on the 
open floor.
Held out his arms,
As I smiled and lowered his alarms.

The shadow had a name,
Brought about with little shame.
The shadow was a boy,
Played with by the devil as if a toy.

I played with fire,
Burning loosely like a run away tire.
But he finally knew I was there,
Someone who was willing to care.

Copyright © Matt Daniels | Year Posted 2012

Details | Free verse | |

Carbon Monoxide (CO) Week 2: Carbon Cabrona

Smokeless inhales hurt.
I cough tar on my shirt.
As my black lungs breathe,
Shrilling exhales wheeze.

Falls me
Down to
My knees.

The nicotine cracks
My will.
My composure

I want 
I must 
Have this.

I sink
The brink
Of madness.

Copyright © Hyle Chu | Year Posted 2009

Details | Free verse | |

The Beauty In Futility

my heart breathes its last breath
Embraces its own death
Ready to be reborn 
and made anew

Can’t live a lie
Refuse to “do”
and I’ll DIE....
Focus now on why I’ll live 
And never touch the sky. 

I have to forget you
I have to reject you 
But I will never love anyone 
like I loved you.....

I heard you whisper 
and you never knew it
I wiped the tears from your eyes 
But you couldn’t feel it

You’re lost and you’ll never find you
And neither will I 
And I’m so sorry--
but I’m NOT. 

I'll attempt to reset
Try to forget
But you know, I never will. 

Be my dirty little secret 
My very worst-kept secret 
Sweet, smooth, beautiful poison 
My infernal and endless attraction 
towards complete and utter self-destruction 

I fell in love with the devil
And it will take one heck of an angel
To save me from the likes of you....

My addiction 
my confusion
my nightmare
my dream never to come true

Oh, I’ll never forget the times
we never shared
I’ll never forget 
how you were never there

Always me, the stars, and tears
And I ask you,
what kind of life is THAT?

I have to face the facts 
I don’t know what happens now
but it happens without you. 

The stains will always be there
the scars will never fade
But the memory of you----
it HAS to. 

I could carry the torch forever
But it would only consume me
I can’t cry another tear for you
Or I’ll dry up completely

It doesn’t affect you
and you never deserved me

You’ll go on with your life, too
All, all alone
Because you’ll only ever be in love
with you. 

Copyright © SLS It Is Rife With Ambiguity | Year Posted 2011

Details | Free verse | |

Jamaica IsLands

Sun blazed;
Crystal clear
Skies, sparkle
Diamonds of
True beauty bliss...

Jamaica Islands
Exports with "JAH LOVE",

SO Break-Out the tanning-oil
and beach towel kick-off 
your shoes, let your
Hair down N' hang- loose...
For awhile.

Take A swim to refresh 
Your mind and feel relaxed
Sand tickling your toes.

Peacefully and Enjoy Life:

Written By:


A Tribute to a great poet n' writer:
                                        SOUP " FAM" TO THE END....

Entered in contest Letting your hair down
Sponsored by: Yasmin Khan

Copyright © Carma Reed | Year Posted 2012

Details | Free verse | |

Carbon Monoxide (CO) Week 1: O.D.A.A.T.

Chain smoke until
I'm in care of the CO.
There's one left, still.
I smoke it really slow.
"It's the end," I anticipate
As the last inch evaporates.

I can't get
Over it;
It's over before 
I know it.
Butt, I can't quit.
I'm possessed with this 
Obsession; I'm addicted.

My lungs have oxygen,
Yet I'm suffocating inside.
I can't breathe again
Without my 'noxide.

Copyright © Hyle Chu | Year Posted 2009

Details | Free verse | |

Romeo and Juliet (Our Story)Pt 2

Years and years have been lost to time, thousands of days,
 nights, and morrows seen and despised out of immense ache,
The Juliet of my early youth is no more, transformed into a
stranger, yet my love dies not! Though I plead and beg for
her to recall and rekindle the love affair of many moments ago,
She bears news of her plans of wedded bliss to another, news that
I curse my eyes for seeing, ears for hearing, and heart for knowing
is true! With desolate heart and soul, corrupted mind, and disregard
of future as that of a mad man, I fall to my knees and scream,
"God and heaven alike, I defy and deny you both! For no
father of mine would rip asunder my motivation for humanity!
Nor does any paradise remain alive without her presence!"

Be it his decree that I hurt for eternity both alive and deceased
then be it my decree that his life and love never was!
Thus I have become what I am, with no rue nor shame,
For I am not the tender Romeo that once lived and breathed,
No more do I dwell in her heart or mind, and no more do I wish
any essence of a Romeo dwell inside my soul, for my Juliet
is buried and lost in abundances of new days. No day, nor night,
nor morrow is good for me, Sans trust, Sans faith, Sans morality,
Sans love do I wish to have or hold, Dead but still breathing I am,

Condemned to memories and dreams of  elated yesteryears, 
denying my own will, but loyal to that promise which cannot
be broken by even the cold lifelessness of heartache, I shriek,
and yawp, and yell, and raise my voice beyond the sting of pain, as
I wake each night, bleeding the same sound from my lips,
"Juliet!, Juliet!!, Juliet!!!" Repeated until my eyes are dry and
my voice is drained to the most silent of whispers, I force out,
over tears, over ache, over agony, over all, in one last breath,

Copyright © Audonus Taylor | Year Posted 2010

Details | Light Poetry | |

Everthing is Everything

In the summer Hot Weather, is the season of expressing the ultimate calamity of days of
unbearable treasure.  The measure of pleasure is fullfill as the season soon turns bitter
cold.  And now we prepare ourselfs for a new-season, a new direction as we get use to the
change in the atmosphere we give respect to the fact that, "Everything is Everything".
That an awsume creator in his infanite wisdom rain comes in all seasons and snow comes
in one season of Winter.  I can remember the fun throwing snowball fights I share with my
brother and sisters and my friends growing up.  The tree's change nothing seem to be the
same. Yes the cold-winter was cold, but they drifted apart, going in their different direc-
tion their shelter of protection is their own choosing, and we soon started our own fam-
ilie's, "still the season, brought on a much appreachable change". In the fall, we pull out 
the rakes and we were given responsibilitie's to keep the yard neat and tiny.  "Everything is
Everything", do you remember a season that you-not remember when you began to change.
Winter, Spring, Summer or Fall all you have to do is call, and I'll be there yes I will cause
you got a friend.  "Why do those moment seem forgotten", WHY... well those moments may-
be found through your kid's and your kid's are the moments you taught them to get up when
they fall.  The season not to walla about everyday crisis is the moments that appears dim
and a season of Uplifting decorum is in all due season.  At every believer's front door and
non believers too, is a season that the creator manifested you to be awear and that you
be the one to take everything to GOD in prayer:  "Just because the weather turns cold
from the season that it was hot", "it rains on the just and the unjust, in all in all don't for-
get that friendship is the bond that glues the reasons to grap the loose change...
In all due season, "Everything is Everything".          
                                                                                     Love too all that keeps the main
                                                                                   thing the main thing!!!.. `Cheryl
                                                                                    doll33` "Everything is Everything"

Copyright © Cheryl Moody | Year Posted 2010

Details | Free verse | |

The Universal Man

I shall live and die By my own accord Only my God may judge me To him I've proved my worth I am still here fighting It matters not what for On my ship of righteousness Headed for waters unexplored The clear night sky will darken And the clouds seem ominous I take heed to the sure signs From them I won't digress They are in the way of my dreams And hopes that fill my sails Like the wind from my heaven Keeps my skin tough as nails Evil comes to tempt me I am not immune Sometimes I play the hero Other times I'm just a fool Either way the choice is mine I make it with my free will For that's the gift he gave me And for what I fight for still The government is coming To bring a chaos they call order The line has been drawn Between two sides there is a border I feel myself being torn To choose a fate in stone Let this be a lesson Why I wander on my own Minds can be controlled I see it every day The weak wills fall like dominos That lie littering my way An obstacle before me I iron will it to the end And when the devil comes to dance with me I have already started to transcend into everything around I am the universal man my true form I shall disguise I am hiding it from this great Satan they say will come for my demise I know he will find me maybe he already has in a long gone nightmare that my soul he stole at last if I remember correctly I can't say I recall ever escaping his grip or did it ever touch me at all?

Copyright © Bj Fard | Year Posted 2012

Details | Free verse | |

Smoke And Mirrors

Let's live in a fairytale, 
you can chase away the dragons, 
who's smoke breathes to life, 
the nightmares in my dreams.

I can be your Princess,
You can hold me in your arms,
Like a Knight in shinning armor,
And hush away my screams. 

No more wasted time,
with smoke and mirrors,
You're not a Court Jester,
lets speak the truth.

Will you say a sweet goodbye,
Or will you not shed a tear from your eye,
There's a dagger in my heart,
The icy pain is all I need for proof.

Diamond teardrops from my eyes,
Hurry dear, they say you must be quick,
To capture each before they dry,
The tears of when a Gypsy cries.

Are you, nothing more than a collector,
Do I hold no beauty in beggers clothes,
Lets face reality my love, you are no knight,
And neither a Prince if truth is to be told. 

And I am no Princess,
Did I once have you fooled?
Though once we lived as such,
Our love has ever cooled.

Must I break through,
Past the freezing layers of your heart,
To see if the thought still pains you,
Of us being forever apart?

I must open my eyes,
And live in the truth,
That dragons do not exist,
And are just fiction of the soused. 

You will not ever save me,
from their tongues of flame,
But burn me with your own,
And make me feel my shame.

You will not shield me,
from poisened arrows that fall,
but with the anger in your eyes,
I'll feel as if they've broken through the castle walls.

I was once, the Juliet,
That led you to your death,
Venom rampent through your veins,
Revenge seems to be your quest.

At each word you say,
It feels as though I'll die,
My heart breaks and shatters,
And you show no concern of why.

And yet at night you pull me close,
Whispering sweet nectar to me,
That makes me wonder,
Must we still live in their reality? 

Is there hope left for our fairytale,
To have a happy end?
Love like a fairytale, or Harsh Reality,
No time left to pretend, I must know the end.

Copyright © Jay Loveless | Year Posted 2012

Details | Epic | |


The day I visited Giorgio V.
It was poetry that received me :
Poems lined after poems
Like the military in morning parade ;
I saw words command words
I saw words send words on errand
Every word in its rank and its place
Like items in Lidi or Audi’s shop.

There is gender in poetry’s palace :
The she-poems need no introduction
Their body features speak for them
But many are he-poems in Giorgio’s league
That Lexicon or Thesaurus must first introduce ;
The array is  beauty to behold
Variety is the jewel that stands here out.

Then came the Marshal
The commander of the battalion
On his epaulet I read : poetic anatomy –
His dexterity in letter wins queens ;
He grows poems where men grow hairs ,
He took first step , gourdlets of poetry were dropping
He took the next , gourds of poetry were falling 
He took another , it was barrels of poetry that were rolling down
At this point I heard a thunderous voice :
‘‘Stand at ease , stand alert 
Quick march , slow march
March in review order 
March in advance order
Open hair dresser

Majestically he walked , like the Irish Colum ,
In the columns of words as he inspected the guard ;
Sundenly he turned back and made my point his path ,
Could he have seen me ? Yes, he did ;
As he got to me , phonetically he pressed :
What can I do for you ? Like in catechism I replied :
Your servant has only come to glorify the god of poetry. 


Copyright © KAYOD5 Kayode | Year Posted 2014

Details | Narrative | |







(C)1982, 1996, 2006 ALBERT WILLIAMS

Copyright © Albert Williams | Year Posted 2011

Details | I do not know? | |


My eyes can see
That the sand is like sea
And it stretches to the end of my mind
On a ship set to sail
with four legs and a tail
Tishmandu I set out to find
Now the wind is of sand
and can lend a hand
in tearing the flesh from your bone
So your head you keep wrapped
your snaps keep snapped
and you never travel alone
The heat at midday
is to kill and waylay
if the body and soul are not one
So you pray to the east
and prepare for slim feast
begging passage under full sun
Caravan of the seed
born on camels that breed
in an endless march between wells
Over lost count of dunes
under God and full moons
blessing passage with incense and bells
At the end of the day
when gold turns to grey
and the stars brighten the skies
A device is brought forth 
to determine true north
and the path where Tishmandu lies
On the fortieth morn
pressing lips to the horn
a signal beckons us wake
Leaving water behind
on a course now refined
the final leagues we must take
Tishmandu is a place
where a white mans face
has never been seen or allowed
But the people have need
and my service agreed
in a land under sky without cloud
Like feathers of blue
in the distance I view
the flags on top of the walls
Though my limbs are worn
my very fabric is torn
I move towards Tishmandu halls
At last in the shade
a walled shelter is bade
I meet with the maker of rules
A service I bring
but to rules I must cling
or a tortures price must be paid
Twenty days and seven
in the passes of heaven
I treated the sick and the lame
With rules on my mind
the medicines I grind
The devil of Tish for to tame

As I washed the sick
and avoided blunt stick
the God of the desert did smile
For the people made well
in this fortified hell
where spirit is subject to trial
In the end I am paid
for the journey I made
and the healing and medicine new
On my camel back
salted meats in my pack
I Bid farewell to Tishmandu

Copyright © Ray Mattos | Year Posted 2011

Details | Epic | |

For The Love Of Lexicon

My Mother taught me
how to see through language, 
paper was rare, iron ink wasn't free
so she sold some jewelry for porcelain lettering, 
and we clapped and sang the alphabet into life
our life, our joy, our phonetic rhapsody,
the consonants kicked and the syllables scrambled
a speedy scrimmage to espirited syntax, rat, owl, fowl,
star, far, wish and fish...
Father's farm imparted the words of work
into the grammar of growing up grounded
to the earth, to the ethic of honest effort,
through labor we are educated
and by self motivation edified,
we pronounced productivity with pride
enunciated achievement with enthusiasm
diction being defined by determination, 
in the forests and furrows form was function
the meaning of everything was alive
spelled by sunlight and sound
definition depended on how action ended,
I wanted the source,  the roots of communication
rudiments in the mud, reason in the breeze, 
Papa found me spelling God and glory in the dirt
and told me that one day I'd build an arch for the alphabet, 
I asked, how come the British speak and spell differently, 
Papa said...Son, we're not British,  we're Americans now,
battle is beginning to breathe amongst our folk,
it's time to defend our freedom Noah...
battle broke open in 1775, revolution ripped the fabric of colonization, 
the aftermath availed a new arsenal of rights
for a newborn civilization that will not rely on the Past for promise
rather, we will move toward a future that favors the flares of freedom,
there is only one instrument of intellect that can unite us,
the Egnlish language is the linchpin,  eclectic and euphonious,
capable of encouraging introspection, industry and invention
it is the poetry and pragmatism of human potential, 
I will create the first modern, monolithic dictionary
for our nation, a book bound for every home
a scripture scribed for earnest scrutiny, 
thousands upon thousands of words
waiting for your eyes to convert them into self empowerment, 

America, a nation needing no permission to prosper,
Bravery, the truest expression of beliefs, 
Constitution, a framework of motivations establishing identity, 
Deliverance,  to be delivered out of darkness by sacred desire,
Enlightenment, uninterrupted understanding of unveiled nature,
Freedom, having the ability to determine your destiny,
Gamble, to risk something of value for greater value, 
Honesty, an awareness of incorrupt feelings,
Ingenuity, inventive adaptation leading to victory, 
Justice, the cost of living,
Kindness,  respecting the feelings of others as if they were your own,
Leadership, accepting the price for commitment, 
Mastery, having total control of your craft,
Nuclear, harmony within volatility, 
Oath, to offer your honor for an ideal,
Providence, the guiding intelligence inspiring humanity, 
Question, an excuse to explore,
Redemption, being reborn through the thorns of fault,
Sovereignty, existing outside the jurisdiction of others,
Trust, a condition in which vulnerability becomes a virtue,
Unprecedented, something that has never been done before,
Vigilance, being prepared to dominate violators, 
War, aggressive confrontation that aims to eliminate opposition, 
Xenophobia, having a distrust of foreign origins,
Yearn, to feel the pangs of obsession, 
Zest, to exhibit an excitement for life -

This poem is dedicated to Noah Webster (1758 - 1843), an American icon
who labored for 28 years to create the first modern, American English Dictionary
consisting of 70, 000 words stimulating and educating
the intellects of tens of millions of Americans,  unting the people
of the United States of America with a shared language
that has proven itself to be nothing short of divine...Justin A. Bordner

Copyright © Justin Bordner | Year Posted 2016

Details | Couplet | |

Flowing Ink of the Mind

Positioned is the brain, writing tool, paper or book until the inside technically responds, static is the look. The mind standing as the intellectual portal is an excellent feature of being mortal. Receiving sensitive signals no matter how small from the eyes the one in the inside more in activity, function and size. Then comes the needed transmission called inspiration a careful write with some processing gives fascination. Wheels of sight roll continuously to really see the revelation then emerges from the hidden sea. Navigating each thought which is fully anointed concludes on sweet words carefully appointed. Undefined is the time frame of a session forcing out ideas can put the mind under pension. Meandering sense to impress and fit into any logical rule the crafted final piece, over it is the time to mull. Thinking, writing and thinking again follows each penned stroke nowhere near baked, still wearing an old cloak. Adjustments and perfections consistently injected in each trace makes the refined piece to other minds a welcoming place.

Copyright © Funom Makama | Year Posted 2016