stairway to the stars
celestial light beckons me
no puddles overflow with tears
my life’s silent movie
reruns in my mind
not a loved one left behind
those I cherish
wait for me
lingering in paradise
below the Earth loses color
even the pyramids
to those still confined in the worldly realm
no legacy I leave
just a kiss that carries
rapidly vanishing memories
my final farewell
*Written September 4, 2014, by Carolyn Devonshire
For Guatami’s “The Poet II – Poetry Contest”
Theme: Leave you a kiss
Lost in a poets convention,
I can't recall every poem, I've read through the years
50518, unique comments I 'validate'---
Thank You For Sharing Your Happy and Sad tears
Since March 24, 2010 In the mist of every line,
I'm sending special hugs, for he/she that favorite me through the years
A praise to all poets mentioned and not mentioned
I will miss, the sweetest girl on this block LEONORA G.,
She treats me with love, adores my words and twisted poetry.
I will start with the soups famous October, 7th babies,
Frank and Kash, Debbie D, and myself, these lines belong to us,
Our best characteristic has everything to do with the mind
In our poetic hearts you'll find the symbol of justice and balance
This is not a song, it is not a poem, it's a free falling memo written with style
Back in March 2013, I said it then, I'll say it again
Andrea, you and only you are the Poet Queen
By the Queen, sits the Poet King of rhymes, Robert L. Hinshaw
Thank you both for never stepping on your loyal subjects
Carol B., & Linda Marie, no one can replace the hole you left inside
I will miss all the little poetry pups, who came and sat by my side
MAHIMA and Saanvi, and Sabrina, thank you for the encouragement
Phyllis, Joyce, Francine, Rhonda, Betty, sweet Karen A., and Catie,
Clap your hands for the lovely quiet soup ladies.
Okay, maybe not Karen A., and Catie, these ladies love speaking their minds:)
SARA K., a mentor to some, a Fairy Godmother in my book
I will miss her "Magic Pen like Wand" dearly.
Gail, thank you for spreading your wings, and teaching us how to fly.
Hopefully --wings are a nice gesture, --waving--
"One day I'll see you again, my friend."
Daver Austin, "Go ahead, make my day" thank you for the show
Now, you know why I referred to you as, "The Clint Eastwood of Poetry."
Russell Survey, encouraged my days and moods with his kind words
Scribe ML., where are you my friend?
Don't you know your BIGGEST FAN misses you!!!
Dr Ram, Bindu V, Litan D., Donna J, Shadow, Sandra A., Peter Durgan,
Giorgio V., Mystic Rose, BL Devnath and of course our Nette.
Thank you for being kind and rewinding and replying to every note.
Joseph M., Caleb S., Vincent F., Juliet L., Lucy Carrillo, Scott 37, Johnny R.,
Kelly D., thank you for the honor in always honoring my words
Roger Horsch meets Eileen Ghali, your smile, her smile always made me smile,
No matter how many miles apart, our smiles always met on the same page.
Jenish, Don J., S.Z. Kamoonpuri, Gideon, Gary, Austin E., and Jody M.,
Fatima N., Mark N., Aiyah B., Ralph F., Kathryn C., Elly, Ayesha A.,
Clay W., Erich, Syam, MIKKI, John B., Olusegun, *Sukmawati* Gwen,
Delysia H., Frederic P., Richard L., Brenda L., Keith, Debbie G.,
Thank you for painting the best IMAGERY
Michale Clarke, Charma C., Wayland B., Jancarl C., Carrie, and Harry,
M&M, Abdulhafeez, Michael B., Maria P. S., CHAN and Mandy T.
You are only the beginning of what makes this a good community
Arlid A., Dinda M., Silly Billy, Tim Ryerson, we go way back.
Ravindra, Kim M., Richard S., Honestly JT., Wade A., Dom-X.
The ingredients in your poems, makes the best soup remix
Joe M., Jack H., James H., James P., Tim B., Jon A. C., Allan K., Matthew A.
Deb Wilson, David S., David William, Thomas S., Cecilia M.
Keep that pen flowing for tomorrow needs poets like you.
Justin B., Laura B., your words will continue to be a part of me.
Owen Y., and John L., your visits, your friendship I will never forget
Yasmin and Carl F., hanging out with you on the soup was the best.
Cherl Dunn, and Colleen Bono, SandyIvy, I will miss everything about you,
Mostly I will miss your friendship and the way you took care of me.
Poet and sister Skat, keep rocking what I can't....
Copy paste your love, welcome in the new.
Show Edwina, Robin, Sam B., and all the NEW POETS they belong
Last but not least-- Behind every mess, they are the best
--Craig Cornish and Cyndi McMillan
What have you done, I admit without you this place would have been no fun.
Thank you for the spin, making every penny worth our paid premium memberships
Before I forget,
I want to take this time to reminisce and add two old friends to my hot list.
Nikko and Chris A..... My first POETRY SOUP FRIENDS.
I will never forget you, and all the fun moments we had,
Back when the soup was not like this:)
Chris, can you ever forgive me, I never stepped up to say "I was Sorry!"
As you know my kindness is my weakness
Now it's time to be strong and move on
If one day I return, then you know, I fell off the wagon
And, into arms and luring fingers of Team Poetry Soup
The Poet Destroyer
When my final shadows cling on desperately
Where I fight formidable battles
to merely hold the light
I send you loving vibrations
and soul sustenance
Deep from the cathedral
of one heart to another
where today no choirs sing
nor symphonies play
Yet it is here where we meet
in spiritual solace
here to surrender
and exchange inestimable treasures
like unopened letters
Galaxies are stretched
over chronicles of shared history
Nebula birthing stars
will be exposed
in forth-coming conversations
bringing short-lived fulfillment to you
Hungry to feast
now will be the time
to approve your blood art vision
and with my own haunting surrender
as dappled shades ink stain your chest
I will reside with you and share, mesmerised
pens - by branding
as this will be your written reams to me
your artist's pallet or brushed canvas
no need for words
and yet creating
mysterious magical moments
Bitter-sweet the music
that dances taut guitar strings
but now blood approved
please go kick your heel up
return to your laughter
and ride on the breeze
for not all are lost
for I am with you always
to love, listen and comfort as one
with you in me and I in you
Tonight,motionless is my sleep
without a thought of you passing my mind
And if the wafting wind breathes softly its zephyr breeze
upon the pearl blush of my cheek
I will not remember you
Like the rattling sound of crickets
on the first branch of Spring
you had come and gone
Now your shadow
blocks the silver of my moon,no more
Like a woodpecker in its last sonata
you stole our music
but I am learning how to dance
without your song
scattered in silence on autumn's sidewalk
Fluttering snowflakes covered my hair
with false proposals and winter frost
Your summer footprints have been washed out
I lay in solitude,I lay in solitude
yet still not lost,No,still not lost
Here I am now, a mourning swan yet still a swan
which pirouettes on a glass stream
There He comes now, splash in calm beauty
Fresh face reflecting upon my dream
Tonight,motionless is my sleep
and if the wafting wind breathes softly its zephyr breeze
upon the pearl blush of my cheek
I will not remember you
Inspired by Elton John's song- 'The One'
Slow bleeding trees stand,
pallbearers to a failing Summer’s
last warm, moist breath.
Cold moon casts shadows into
early darkness, on flowers shivering
in chilling soil. Thus does Autumn’s
beauty shield us from our pain.
John G. Lawless
for PD’s One Autumn Night(in just 7 lines) – Poetry Contest
Lightly the rain falls upon the lamp lit streets, the shabbily dressed figure
Walks with an air of uncertainty down the cobbled stone streets, leaning,
On his rickety cane, the elderly gentleman huddles beneath his umbrella Of refuge.
Shadows of the tenement brownstones line the edge of this rough necked
Part of town, here is the sheltering halls of the forgotten do dwell, the poorer
Venue that slum lords build their fortune’s foundation’s upon.
The gentlemen approaches his own dwellings dormancy with hesitations
Beating heart throbbing within his small fragile bent frame, for he knows
Tonight shall be his last night on this ethereal plane of existence.
For one last moments belief reflection he remains completely still, just to
To feel the autumn breeze against his bare flesh, to hear the rain drops hitting
Against the window panes, and to bid his final farewell to humanity.
Taking out his keys with his wrinkled twisted hands, he unlocks the doors
To his apartment, turning around to look outwards the gentlemen sighs, it has
Been a hard life, but I’m resolved to meet the next adventure, then he shuts
And locks the tenement’s door.
Weary from his days traveling the elderly gentlemen, climbs his steps upwards,
Towards his little room in the back area of his apartments, then he sits at his office
Desk for the last and final time, now to complete my journeys final entry, he thought
To himself this writer of the super natural’s acclaim.
Dipping his quilted golden pen into his ink well, the master writes one last line,
The end, or is this just the beginning?
Clumping over, clasping upon his desk the elder gentlemen’s heart lies stilled
As if at perfection’s final rest, his golden pen now runs crimson, bleeding downwards
Across the aged parchment paper, dripping onto the old wooden floor boards below.
The office door blows open a tall figure thus so enters, dressed in a raggedy robe of black,
Thread borne and full of tares and wholes, the creature approaches the dead gentleman,
As if in a screeching howl, the Grim Reapers touches him, ripping his spectral spirit
Free from the fleshes boney shell.
I’ve come for you old man, resist me not for your sins are heavy, and I’ve no time for
The ranting or ravening’s last pleas for salvations from one such as yourself, I have no
Last wishes qualms my friend, take me at your leisure, for I’ve grown weary of this life,
And it’s lonely emptiness.
Then the room grows cold, the ethereal disturbance ends as quickly as it had begun,
Leaving only the shell sitting at the old wooden desk, what happens when the writers
Golden pen runs crimson, bleeding downwards across the aged parchment paper,
Dripping onto the old wooden floor boards below?
The world of humanity thus so weeps for him, for he is the grand master of darkness’s
Written word, the skilled craftsman’s whom reveals what lies beyond the darker realms
Ebony gates, by his darker words of wonderment.
Farewell Mr. Edgar Allen Poe, we shall miss you always, you whom welcomed death
So easily, but the world of men is left empty without thee, as thy golden pen thus so
Now runs crimson and lies stilled forever.
BY: CHERYL ANNA DUNN
SCATCH A CHARACTER CONTEST
there is something about the cuddle of mist
that washes the pain of love's farewell
like a damp of healing elixir,
so softly touching my navel
to ignite back the glaze
within my marrow;
and breaths sing with playful twilight
about fresh enchantment blessed...
now i greet the flowering of joy
with unopened gifts,
knowing goodbye is a beautiful wound
as one star plays night keeper of reflective hours
humming a new tune, dainty yet unknown,
that in the solace born from ache and joy,
i welcome it all-- the fire, wonder, and sighs.
Any Poem #5 Contest: Nathan A.
free in a moment
but everyone wants it
a single second
oh so pleasant
now its gone
life rages on
here's the war
join the corps
there's the pain
that keeps us sane
the toll of death
taking every last breath
the innocence of youth
the freest of any moment
leaving now just the truth
maturity is your atonement
Have overtaken me.
All of the wondering
That flew through
Has just made
Me, be unseen by the naked
Whenever I pass
You don't say hi
The only word
that could be said was bye.
I long for you,
As you do too.
Even though you
I will never
He was always so happy
strong and bold.
He'd give you the shirt off of his back.
He had a rough life
growing up through the depression,
but like he always does,
he got through it.
He has two boys, of whom he is so proud.
Moved from Regina, to Victoria.
He had the best life anyone his age could have wanted.
But ever since his wife died,
he has not been the same.
But like he has always done,
he got through it.
just a little forgetful.
That's how it always starts out...
But like always, he powered through it,
He is not the same person that I used to know.
He been sentenced to the prison in his own mind.
Possessed by the thoughts of his dogs ashes.
He likes to play the blame game,
but we know he doesn't remember that it was him.
He wakes up in the night
shaking with pain,
tears streaming down his face.
There is nothing we can do,
Two more tylenol.
Hold on to hope
for as long as you can,
It's only a matter of time now.
He gets vocal, a very loud tone.
He'll block you in your room
and make false accusations
But we know that it's the pain induced monster in him.
Tick tock, tick tock...
You can't handle the stress anymore
you have to leave.
Just hope for the best,
maybe it will get better.
Surprise, it doesn't.
Your denial is foolish, everyone knows
what happens next.
All results of
R.I.P. William Dale Eubanks
d. July 1, 2012, aged 68 yrs., Tennessee Ridge, Tennessee
Death came as no surprise
the first Sunday in July;
it claimed you, on a ridge in Tennessee,
with kin who took you in and waited with you
through the last hard days.
You kept what fears you had well hid,
did not betray with loud complaint
the fate you could not but know awaited.
A smile, a joke, a hug – exotic meals –
And genuine interest greeted all you met.
And you were, certainly, never boring
but well-traveled and smart
beyond the telling.
We’ll miss your wit, your bright demeanor,
and will remember all you freely gave ---
and what you took from us
with your passing.
Inspired by a Art gallery and a poem by Shelly.
A room full of mottled multicolored butterflies
captured within a creative space
of artful design
to inspire and aspire
Flirt and flutter a delicate ballet
among the pot plants
A splash of color
among a drab row of urban gray
The door is opened
and the butterflies are released to freedom
flying high above
lush green trees
in clear unblemished skies
floating like autumn fallen leaves
in a gentle breeze
that rested on my heart for a while
and made it smile
bringing pleasure to my eye
A symbol of freedom and eternity
filling my dreams
with all the treasures of summer.
Peter Dome.copyright.2013. Sept.
Somewhere in our galaxy tonight shines a brand new star
Dazzling, its brilliance pierces the ebony night
At journey’s end it has sailed rugged heights afar
And hangs this night with Sirius and Zenith reflecting light
Of dust, of dirt;
suspended, lost, remarkable.
Of no merit;
forgotten, under the tall trees.
And bury him;
No accurate history serves.
buried in sand,
buried in dirt.
His face will carry forth,
past this miserable state.
Of dust, of dirt;
frozen in time.
This is what he said:
"I know you"
And he did, and he does
And that's the truth.
But now, I know him too,
And that's the truth,
Because a tall, pale ghost
(with a half smoked cigarette,
dangling from his lips)
Crept into my room (home)
And whispered in my ear,
"It is safer to be known
Than to know".
Farewell ghost-"I know you."
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.
I watched the blood flow
coagulating in pools of misery
How could a genius be so careless?
Shaving away our humanity
filtering it through an inebriated brain
Poems in the thousands
orchestrated in the ordinary
yet not quite right
Genius exacts a toll
Somewhere beyond mirrored ideology
flashes the broken image of man
the smell of whiskey
one night lays
Lonely is as lonely does
Sticks poked into blind eyes
bones cracking like porcelain vases
adorning the altar of an enigmatic fool
Are we trapped?
Are we idiots?
Do we drink from the well of insignificance?
He sits alone in an empty room
Until he thinks us out of existance
We are still here
Not so Genius
Brilliant none the less. His story is sad but his poetry is riviting.
I enjoyed this contest, facinating person of whom I was not familiar.
How can one express the baffling depths of obscurity?
How can one behold to open the shafts of the mind?
I have never been able to solve the mystery—
Of myself. . .
I wish at times that my life was no more
That I could live as another and finally see things right
But I am always stuck in this darkness
And I cannot see this mind in light
There are beasts. . .demons prowling through the wasteland
Searching for any remaining life
And if they are ever found—
They are doomed and consumed
Fear is their downfall and they never fail to smell it
Their ashes remain, dancing with the imaginary breeze
It is silent here—there are no answers
I wish there were answers. . .
But maybe there was never a reason
No answers. . .
Talons extend and clench around my heart
They will never seek me out—they left me here
It is like they knew…I had no reason—that was the answer
I feel the pulse of my dangling life
Alone in the dark, whimpering like a child
I have scared myself, becoming this dragon-daggered youth
No balm in Gilead!
No eyes to see
All I know will never be free
I don’t need anyone!
You are a disgrace—scum of the waste!
You have everything, you ungrateful little nothing
You are a joke. . .
So swallow it all up like the pushover you are
Stand your lowest and trudge right through
No questions. No answers. Just . You.
Or just lie back down into the mush of disease
It has already infected you to the core
Accept who you are, you ugly pestilence!
I hate you
Who are you to be glorified?
Dream snatcher. . .murderer of all things bright
Saturated in what you call light
I see right through—even as the reflections shatter
All of the dead kept you alive—they all matter…
But alive you are the worst there is
False savior—edited attention whore
I never want to see your face again
See, that’s why I hide. . .
Desperation. . .desperation. . .
I sob and cry kneeling in defeat
For once I am right. . .I am right
unparalleled splendor and a glow of peace
white roses were my choice
a funeral with festive, colorful displays
how out of place they seemed
color blind, Dad couldn’t appreciate such arrangements
though he was surrounded by heaven’s radiant hues
white seemed more fitting as we said farewell
gentle beauties, white roses, were my last gift to him
Dedicated to my father who died January 6, 2009.
Written January 5, 2014
So the time has come
The silent letter with loud words has arrived
Hurting my pride making me cry a river
The morning chirping of the summer birds -
It’s as though they have stopped, my heart has dropped
I’ve lost the fight, I’ve lost my pride
Rushes of sadness anchor me down for the long ride
So slow and yet so fast and so completely out of control-
Where to go what to do?
Now I have to pack my life, into a box
Take what I can and let the rest standing-
Standing carelessly somewhere in the open air where people will stop and glace
The abandoned mess filled with blood red madness and the purple dress
A lifetime of memories hidden in these walls -
The childhood scrolls across the walls in crayons of blue and pink
And here I stand my arms held over the sink -
Gosh I can’t even think
“What will I tell my kids when they arrive home from school?”
“Oh God this is so cruel”
So ok I must be strong pull it together and just move on -
The single mothers fighting song
Maybe I can call my friend to help move us out
Or maybe I should just silently shout!
(Written for the Home Foreclosure contest!)
Angel of Death,
Cloaked in black.
With black scaled wings,
Upon her back.
Angel of Death,
Coming for me.
As soon as I sleep
Then dead I will be.
Taken by the night
It swallows and consumes me.
Now I am the angel
And death becomes me.
It will destroy you
An August day
While you sweep up
On our Sun drenched
You look at me from
under heavy lashes
And say it's ok
You don't wish to be
It's ok your always
Your never stop
I'll bask in this
Thanking God for you
As tears prick the
back of my eyes
The hand around my
heart squeezes a
Until I am
breathless with it
There is a
difference to us
Making love is no
I look at you,
looking down at me
But neither of us
say it's pointless
Your days a little
A little longer
Things a little more
The hand around my
heart squeezes a
As the truth picks
away at your dreams
one by one
At Christmas we
pretend we are still
Completely in love
While in the garden
with your sister
The truth pours out
of me in great sobs
She says it's ok
your get through
We both know she's
Inside she's crying
I had no right in
making you love me
So the hand squeezes
a little tighter
round my heart
Somewhere along the
You begin to resent
Hate me for letting
you love me
And I am sorry
I stayed a little
Cared a little too
I needed this
whatever it was
So the hand squeezes
a little tighter
round my heart
Invisibly I collect
They lay in wait
At three in the
morning on a Tuesday
Quietly I get my
Wait by the window
for a taxi
As the hand squeezes
a little tighter
round my heart
Watching you hold
your new Godson
Looking at me
Knowing I can never
give you this
Tears glazing your
Looking so proud
It's wrong for me to
With me this is all
your ever be
A childless man
In your hallway
You help with my
bags saying nothing
I will never be
wife, bnever be a
Without you I'll
never be anything
As the cab pulls
You say your always
I say I know
But I have to let
I'm giving you a
chance of what I
can't give you
The most precious
So the hand
Mind wandering through misty woods.
You don't understand your purpose.
I knew you too little,
Please do not shed your salty emotions,
Not out of anger, not out of sadness.
You now lose your way so easily,
You sink, you burst, you burn inwardly.
You weep from frustrations,
From the guilt of an honest smile,
From pains, that you forget for a moment,
That come swiftly back to haunt you of your loss.
I understand, dear friend.
You once had a light and the woods seek to snuff it out.
Do not fear, dear friend,
Friend follow me, as I once did you.
Friend, now you see?
Yes, you see,
The little wisps in the fog that guide us home."
~In memory of Bill Hamman, and all else who have suffered the pains of Alzheimer's
when the last breath of life
is gone and my lips are as cold as the dog’s nose
when my friends gather 'round
for the farewell party
will you return with a smile to say
there will be flowers from those
who cry when I'm gone
and lots of tears from those I left in the world alone
and I know some will have fun at the farewell party
but will you return with a smile to say
don't be mad at me for wanting your goodbye
and dying for the smile we shared
this you need to know as true
when my life in this unfaithful world is through
I'll go away loving you still
He was her dance in the dark
that never got past the stroke of midnight,
both shared moon's light
yet, never did he leave
the empty corridors
in her mind
grief of days swept into years
which she could never seem to shake
heart's lonely ache
as they twirled round and round
when she closed her eyes
She wondered if his heart, like hers
was bound to that moment in time
love in its prime
torn from two; much too soon
now only memories of what was
She sat by the window, staring down the lonely drive
grey hair shaped around her face
a soft light filled the place
she held out her hand for the man she mourned for
gently he took hold and wisped her through the door
She arrived at sixteen in this home of misplaced minds
no name of which she could recall
nor who she was at all
The car wreck she was pulled from
left the driver dead
no more words were said
while she danced in the dark
She writes some words 'pon the paper
Then she writes one more word
Tears run down her cheeks
She crumples the paper
Letting it drop to the floor
With it the pen falls, ink spilling mixed with tears
Staining the paper upon the floor
What is this feeling--
This sudden urge?
We all come to the edge,
And we all want to jump.
For something in us is crying--
And 'Dying is Knowing' then
My new home is in a new country.
I know very little of the language and culture.
Memories of my old country will be in my heart forever
The love of my old country will always remain.
I leave for a better life and new opportunities
Hoping to make a bright future for me and my family.
Silent tears as friends hug restricted bodies,
Lingering awkward silences for moments long gone.
A hugs breath on his cheek as friends leave him alone,
Lingering smoke and whiskey shades tints the mind.
A parting quip and a crystal tear shivers in the air,
The gesture wave of failing friendship walks unsteady.
A lonely discomfort nips the soul, a hugs breath,
Clutching a card stained with friends pain,
He leaves for home and retirements reign.
2008 © S.de B.
(This is an evolving story. I keep adding verses until I'm done.)
When I was
I went to live alone
knowing the money would
forever be coming.
Going away felt appropriate
for a man my age.
The closest analog
to the womb
and to death.
To be alive,
clothed in the
warmth of certainty
amid my own unchallenged opinions
during the age of ending,
out of the business
of a bright, moving planet
my own part in the world
outdated and roots
I found a place
in the middle of the trees
with a thin asphalt egress
that made it easy
to cycle to the village.
I was surrounded by
the aliens of the earth
with their secret languages
and concentrated lives.
I truly lived among strangers,
not those wanting to know me
or able to know me.
It was like the world
before I opened my eyes.
It was here and far away.
Delivered here in a storm
under which the taxi
and the driver
were as tiny as sugar molecules.
The driver introduced himself as Charles.
He is a black man from Aruba,
Charles an English royal name.
I ran to the door
holding a newspaper on my head
as Charles soaked himself
carrying my black bags.