i curl your
long dark hair in my fingers
at your neck
as I pull you down
I wait to feel the rough end of day
on my face
your eyes close a little then open
to watch me
look at me, I whisper
looking at me
Copyright © Veronica Joseph
How could I have known
that the beauty of it all
would rob me of coherent speech.
That my eyes would find all else
pale in comparison.
Ears that once they have heard
such a passionate calling
would never want anothers song.
How could I have known
Featured Poem on Poetry Soup February 7, 2010
Copyright © Paula Swanson
Bob had been a lonely man ever since
His wife of fifty years had passed.
“Lord, let me join her.” he would pray.
“Let this day be my last.”
Each day, he went to the cemetery,
Just a short walk down the street.
After their talk, he would water her flowers
And hear passers-by whisper, “How sweet.”
One gray and misty morning,
He had hoped for sunnier skies
To plant fall bloomers at her graveside;
But, there, to his surprise…
Stood an old dog beside her stone;
Thin and dirty, but he struck a handsome pose.
He whined as Bob approached, as if to say,
“I could use a friend, you know.”
He sat calmly as Bob planted flowers,
Carefully sniffing each one Bob put in place.
Then, after the last one was planted,
He sniffed it; then turned and licked Bob’s face.
Bob smiled. “I had a dog when I was young…
Pal…he was a mighty good one too.
So, if you don’t mind old fella,
That’s what I’ll call you.”
Pal may have been an old dog,
But he was smart and handsome in his way;
So they made a deal, Bob would give him a meal
And a bath, if he decided to stay.
Pal loved his bath, then rolled in the grass.
He slept on a blanket in the den.
In the night, he dragged it next to Bob’s bed.
He intended to be Bob’s best friend.
Pal was such a good dog, housebroken too;
Never made a mess or got in trouble.
He knew about newspapers, slippers and Frisbees;
And when Bob called, he ‘d come on the double.
Yes, Pal gave Bob’s life new purpose.
A special bond of friendship was cast.
And never again did Bob pray,
“Lord, let this day be my last.”
For twelve years, the very best of friends,
Together night and day;
And so it was, until one night,
Both quietly passed away.
The next morning, an old woman,
Tears welling in her sad and lonely eyes,
Brought flowers to her husband’s grave;
But there, to her surprise….
Stood an old dog beside the stone,
Thin an dirty, but he struck a handsome pose.
He whined as she approached, as if to say,
“I could use a friend, you know.”
He sat calmly as she took old flowers
And put fresh ones in their place.
He carefully sniffed the fresh ones,
Then turned and licked her face.
She smiled. “I had a dog when I was young...
a good one too. His name was Pal.”
Copyright © Robert Candler
Obsessed with the thought of you
wondering if it's only me or
if you sometimes remember the sweet things you've said
and if you meant them how I took them
or if I'm just obsessed with what's in your head
Obsessed with your very sentences
Every response I take personal
I know it's selfishness
Have you not noticed my eyes?
They hold secrets that only you can unlock
if you'd just take time to fill the thick juices of my pride
It's just boiling with lust, passion, trust and distrust
and other things I obsess over so much
I find myself writing to free myself from this prison I've created
where only you and I reside
I become confused about what I'm really feeling inside and I
try to rid the thoughts that are highly debated as false and I
begin to cry and
think of casting love spells so that the universe can deliver this affair
I know it's unfair
but I don't care
I'm obsessed with what hasn't happened between us
I'm obsessed with your heart and that the fact that
I don't think you've even noticed my selfish innuendos
and secret undertones that blatantly express my lust
Or maybe you have and you calmly remain in resistance of distrust
If you could only read my mind by simply touching my fingertips,
I'm sure I'd catch you out the corner of my eye biting your bottom lip
I'm obsessed with the passion and thoughts I think you have
Obsessing over an experience that I may never have....
Copyright © humble b
Let me express my feelings
Let me tell you a true tale
So, my husband has a "gift"
One I can't quite tell
He has his sly fox ways
Of getting what he wants
For if it isn't his way
His ways are full of taunts
He begs and begs and pleads
Honey, baby, dear
I want to hold you close tonight
I want to feel you near
Sometimes I say ok
But others it's too hot
But before the night is over
I end up in his spot
How is that he could argue
with me after such a night
Over a piece of paper
That was strictly in HIS sight
I know he has bad days
Trust me, I have mine too
I guess he can make it up to me
"Somehow" we'll make it through
Copyright © Wandering Butterfly
There was a little boy so blue.
Amongst the pain of life he grew.
He wondered where he'd be one day,
so, Satan helped to lead the way.
He longed to walk home in the sun,
but evil forces made him run.
The Fallen Angel's sick revenge
was to use children to avenge.
He made them bullies; very cruel.
"Persecute this child to - and - from school!"
No one to trust to teach him well,
so evil led his pride to swell.
There was a little girl as well.
Who grew up in a different hell.
She was abandoned by her Mom.
Her life was anything but calm.
She was adopted by a frigid pair,
but she longed for love and truth to share.
Nobody seemed to fit the mold,
Consumed with lies that she was told.
Satan also grabbed this chance.
She ran through life without a glance.
A player; she could not commit.
Her soul-mate had to be legit.
Now, he's my husband; I am his wife.
I finally took that chance in life.
For I was ready to forgive,
But he had never learned to live.
How ironic, that these two should meet.
I'm ready to ground; he runs in defeat. .
Now here I sit back at the start,
While my "soul-mate's" going to break my heart.
See, he's still a runner and I'm here to stay.
Two people can't grow if one is this way.
He promised to give his soul to me,
But I am still one in this unity.
We have since decided to compromise and things are much better.
Copyright © Astrid Ivy Gibbs
My daughter, my Queen
as Solomon said, you are above
the crown on my head
from rubble and stone
gates for a throne
Queen, daughter, Queen
of pride and lust
forgive me intrust
not what man will give
but take what you must
Power you wield
no doubt in my vein
the blood that is cold
in warmth you will claim
what is your position
with faith as a seed
man whose fruition
is boasting to bleed
my Queen my throne
thorn in my head
blessed of water
ancient we shed
scares in the skin
Queen have you paid
too much for a sin
remember the garden
fruit of the sun
you offered me there
a kingdom undone
naked your breast
no temple of shame
I took of your fruit
gave you my name
knowing us so
Why you embrace
our invisible soul
sure, God willed
or something the same
man of the dust
woman the rain
Queen of a temple
so Godless, until
Queen, oh my daughter
your blossom would heal
Copyright © Ezra Vancil
I do not know?
'Love is patient'
'Love is kind'
The thought of love
Can turn you blind.
But... Now we must
Take some steps
To verify those
The first problem you see
Was that. . .
He lied about
You being fat
That in turn
Led ya to
He 'accepted' you.
Mirrors were made
For a darn good reason
And thinking you are nothing special
Is high, high treason...
And no! He's kind
You've lost your mind.
The recipe to love Is that
You have to love your self.
It's not about your facial features
Or the size of ya belt.
The man should be a rock to lean on
And not! A heartless swine.
So please next time. Do pick him wisely
Make sure he has a spine!
Copyright © Annie De Lys
The taste of homemade Carmel so sweet/ everyone I know desires the treat.
After one night in the kitchen covered/ half the pan gone, next morning discovered.
Is it my beagle Lily whom loves any food? / she seems in a hyper beagle mood.
I know I heard a squeak in the night / a dream ? No, for low was the kitchen light.
T'was my husband, for he can't resist/ soft , buttered brown sugar , a Vanilla twist.
Copyright © Shanity Rain
This cosy love
In guess I could rave on, and on
About every little thing
I could write about those sensual things
And the way our two hearts sing
When we lie there together
But it's so much more have we
We have this thing together
All filled with mystery.
You be the grand earth mother
As me, I be the child
You're ways are from the earth itself
You're tame where I'm still wild
Everything's so practical
With you, but not with me
Oh yes, we two be opposites
And yet I love you madly.
And even now, at seventy
There's nothing really changed
You're still the perfect lady
And you still think me strange
But I'm always going to love you
Just the way that you love me
And even when these shells are gone
This fact shall always be.
23 September 2013 @ 0530hrs
Copyright © Peter Duggan
< once came along pair gemini twins
castro and pollux from third sign in
well sons of an zeus man
all from mercury clan
sharing wealth of intelligence sin
with ever compatible libra scales
along with aquarius that wales
fire signs given few
pisces they known too
beneath sun and moon's with semi's tale
Written By Katherine Stella 6/26/11
Entry For Nette Onclaud's
Zodiac Zones Contest
Copyright © Katherine Stella
He was young,
Had his guns on his hip.
Walkin the streets,
With a cigar on his lip.
The town folk were scared,
They knew what he could do.
They have seen what he done,
To a chosen few.
The leather he wore,
Was stained from the powder of his gun.
A sign of the battles,
That the slinger had won.
A family moved in,
That no one knew.
A white man,
And a wife that was sious.
The young man decided,
The lady would not survive.
Because of her color,
She would die.
In the street,
In the middle of town,
This is where the slinger,
Where he gunned her down.
The white man,
Anger in his eyes,
Decided to give the slinger,
Leave this town,
Be gone by noon at best,
Or feel a bullet from my gun,
Deep in you'r chest.
The slinger smiled,
I am too fast,
You are an ole man,
You'r time has past.
You'r time has come ole man,
Take you'r stand,
But I tell you now,
Better have a fast hand.
When the smoke cleared,
The slinger lay on the ground,
With the white man,
The slinger had just one last request,
How did you learn to shoot that way?
The white man answered,
I'm the son of Doc Holiday.
Copyright © Charles Ruble
I want a love that
fills my veins like
sweet like sugar and
strong enough to knock
me off my feet, like a
mighty ocean wave, yet
gentle and magic
like the forgotten lyrics
to a nursery rhyme
I want our spirits to soar
into a bright forever
like two yellow balloons
released, by the
tiny, sticky hands
of a little child
I want, my man, to know
my true self
like the words to a favorite
song on the radio
to feel me, all that is me
rhythm bound from a beaten
I wish to be a bright guiding light
as the first star
to your empty night
A familiar love, as
traveling back to a childhood spot
your first love kiss...
first bully fight...
first playground crush lost...
I want a love
my senses, envelopes me
from nothing, like the
steam from my rose petal tea
filling my pores
rejuvenated and refreshed
A love, whom steals my worries
as a thief in the night
and greets me with doe- eyed
kisses, once rounding
up a fight
I speak these words into the
universe, to send me a love
to call my own
what path will my soul mate
travel to me, mysterious
mystical journey unknown
Copyright © Heather Hill
In the instant of a second, I just always knew.
A flickering flame I caught in the eye of you.
A feather in the wind and on my last breath,
A deeper breeze of Sunsets at night’s death,
A Star beams on the Moon and lights up the sky.
I am in a wonderland amazed at just how high.
Lo and behold, it comes to me at the end.
My first love left me His message to send.
Look up and you shall see me at night,
Look down and I am out truly of sight.
Hold on to the very end for I am near,
It’s my voice in your heart you’ll hear.
Take one breath or even two,
I am the one always with you!
®Registered: Ann Rich 2006
Copyright © Ann Rich
written 2nd Aug 2013
This life is not as it should be
pick up your wife, can't you see
You're her husband, stand up!
give her a reason, to again believe
She means 'everything'....to this family
shutting the door leaving her totally... Alone
Do you actually know her at all...
damaging her heart and soul, deep within it's cold
Loneliness consumes her, it's been so long
it must be asked...do you still love her?
Are you willing to help her to her feet again?
or shall you sit back and watch, as she see's the end
This is completely left for only you, her husband to declare
how much does she really mean to you...do you still care?
Will you step up, or let her rot
into that web of depression
you see it Love and care
or fall to death and dispirit
It's all up to you!
her loving husband
what will you do
for your wedding band
Copyright © Denise Hopkins
Is this fate or fiction....
the aesthetics of your love is a marvelous depiction
I am having a love seizure or is your love an affliction
Is this fate or fiction?
It must fate, our paths have crossed our spirits soar just right
you calm and sweet and never like to fight...
bring security and confidence in such a delightful way..
the expressions of your thoughts blows my mind away
Is the fate or fiction?
It takes courage to find out which one would be the exemption.. fate or fiction?
when you have been hurt by an ex's restrictions
but the aesthetics of your love has become my addiction.
No Fiction this is Fate.
Copyright © Stepheney hernandez
Pene Grande (what I learned from the web today)
When you talk about mummies, Pene Grande
Would best be discussed when the kids were away
He was a mummy famed in his life
For having (well something that sure pleased his wife)
When he passed on, his new mummy home
Was in Palermo, Sicily’s old catacomb
The story is told of a young newlywed
Whose less than large husband was not much in bed
So she took a cloth and rubber Pene Grande’s fame
Then turned to her husband and rubbed him the same
The next night she lay with her husband and felt
A much greater presence and her heart did melt
When she opened her eyes, she screamed No, No, Sir!
For it was the ghost of Pene upon her
Everyone thought her crazy but it happened again
The next time with her husband, it sure wasn’t him
An exorcist said to get rid of the ghost
We must capture him when he exits the host
So a metal codpiece was affixed to her mate
And the lady lay back as a bit of ghost bait
Then as if on cue, Pene Grande came forth
Just as her husband was pointing due north
Then holy water was sprinkled and “poof”
The ghost was expelled, her husband the proof
Pene Grande’s spirit went back on his shelf
Left the husband’s small unit a mere ghost of itself
As for the ghost, he gained quite a crowd
Of little old ladies whose husbands stood proud
Rubbed by their women who wanted to lay
Even with ghosts for a “Pene Grande”
But the mummy’s now locked up so no one can touch
Cause even for Pene – too much is too much
Copyright © mike dailey
He was right to be suspicious
She was acting suspiciously
So he followed her that morning
To see what he might see
She didn’t go towards her office
She took the road to the ocean shore
And pulled up to a motel where
They had never been before
He watched her get a room key
Then go to a cabin with an ocean view
He was hurting so much inside himself
He didn’t know just what to do
He saw another man knock on the door
Looking tall and younger than him
He loaded the pistol from inside his car
As she let the stranger in
He shot her once aside the head
Him twice in the face
Then turned the pistol upon himself
Making a full mess of the place
The police found a cell phone in her hand
The stranger left a bible on the table
The husband’s cell phone was on the front seat of his car
Displaying 1 voice message on the label
“Hi Honey, I know it’s a month early but … Happy Anniversary. I got us a terrific little room at this quaint motel down in Seaside and found a nice young preacher who said he would perform a service to reaffirm our vows. When you get this message, come down and join me. See you soon … Love you.”
Copyright © Joe Flach
Words spoken in silence,
[When language does not suffice]
Like a look or a tear, although concise
Can echo a lifetime in your ear,
Much louder than those you can hear.
Copyright © Aycan Garip
The Little Miss:
kiss kiss your little miss
and she flies flies up into the skies
away away from troubles array
to love to love her angel prince above
to love to love Armando above
The Angel’s Reply to the Little Miss:
"there was a girl precious as gold
she was found by a prince and told
that life itself was getting bold
until he found her in the world
"and he kissed kissed his little miss
and they flew flew up into the blue
away away from troubles array...
"...to love and hold each other above"
Written by Elaine and Armando
Copyright © Elaine Ho
Clare's hands were clasped upon her lap,
upon her crown, a veiled black lace hat.
A shattered calm she wore;
that took on strength
self-steadied after several drinks
If one dared look closer, to penetrate -
then one would see through the black veil's lace,
and reveal a woman, blank of face,
that long ago had left this place.
on which shine a
as do those things
that shine, then dull.
A lover's token
which she pushed and pulled.
Parades of people floated past
condolences said and sent
as people slowly came and went.
with hands still clasped upon her lap
diamond dully staring back.
All had gone, as had he,
as Clare fell to her knees
face pale and pasty white
searching for that brilliant light
that never came.
Clare stumbled out into the night
guided by vodka and
lace veiled sight
alone again; Clare cried insane
until a large sum of money came
as did twice before
when on her finger
shone a diamond ring -
lustre lost - as do those things
that shine, then dull
that push, then pull
In her closet, near the back
waits a favorite
veiled black lace hat
Copyright © regina branham
Let’s lose control
Let’s entice the soul,
With champagne swishes
Chilled in iced bowls.
From your head to your toes
Every nerve will explode,
Every body sensation
I’ve cracked nature’s code.
It’s not on paper
It’s what your face shows;
It tells me go fast
Then it tells me go slow,
Then blows my mind
Showing Lose control.
The most radiant glow,
The most beautifulness thing
Ever let go.
Feel safe…there’s no foes,
Only me…Let go…
Lover Lose Control.
Copyright © Anthony Thomas
Early one morning my Hubby was sleepily shuffling around and about.
Dawn was almost breaking and we were becoming late no doubt.
Toiletries were a waiting, as he shuffled near the morning throne.
Opening the lid, you’ll never guess what exited as a rocket blown.
EEEWWW …Poor little thing… Oh Who, you will never guess…
Out popped a little tree frog jumping at mach 2 in his quest…
Yes, he was wet and doing his very best as he stuck to the vanity.
For who can say how long he’d been trapped in there, you see?
It puzzled me to wonder… How he’d got to the second floor?
Poor little guy… I doubt he could have withstood very much more.
Now here we were to scare him… Yes, another time, I confide…
We had to get him past 3 dogs awaiting for food and to go outside.
It wouldn’t have been so bad if 3 squirrels weren’t watching from the tree.
None might have been so eager, if they’d known he came from our potty.
My jammied hubby ran for the mulch pile where sticks and leaves abound…
As I entertained the squirrels and doggies with tempting morsels all around.
Now I can’t say it was traumatic to save a little wayward froggy…
But I won’t be opening that lid without a light, especially, if I am groggy.
And I’ll move back out of range as I lift the lid… I thank you all the same.
And next time I won’t forget to clean the toilet in a timely way, to my shame.
And I won’t ask my hubby to wash his hands 10 times daily… come next May.
Now I know you may not believe me… but I'll take an oath on this… I say.
Copyright © Carol Eastman
My head rested
on the pillow of her smooth skin.
She opened the curtains of her being,
My hands slip into indulgence while
they explored her expansive dark skin.
With half words she whispered moans,
followed by screams of passion.
With her shadow I bounded, as she
swarmed waters of our endless longing passed.
Copyright © JAY JOHNSON
Wherever I go through out my whole life,
I end up struggling with lots of strife.
Thinking that my life is a total waste,
Wanting it to be over in a haste.
I can feel the pain inside my own heart,
Like someone through at my a deadly dart.
The wound is easing deeper and deeper,
Will the pain ever stop getting bigger?
Feeling emo is never a good thing,
Cutting your arm makes a really bad sting.
Blood is dripping from my arms and my heart,
Failing to dodge the largest deadly dart.
Drowning in all the lies and self pity,
I live each day but always feel sh*tty.
I have lots of thoughts about suicide,
But then I think about those who have died.
Those who have died not just from suicide,
But also those who are really nice guys.
...This "poem" was actually suppose to be a couplet (on any thing you want) for my english
class but i made this kind bcuz i was feeling emo that day...and also after i was done i read it
over and it almost sound like a rap song which, i guess, is kinda funny and cool.........
Copyright © Brittany Moon
The soldier, the war, and I
Today I am home and thinking to my self..
What would I be doing if I had a soldier coming home to me and my family?
What would I be doing if I was the soldier looking to going home to my family?
And then, I look back at all the years passed since this last war..
Many children have grown to become men, Others have grown to become soldiers
Where would I be if I had gone to the war and fought for my country?
Where would I be if I had gone and came back safely?
Where would I be if I had not gone at all because I was not qualified to go?
Would I be with my family or in a hospital injured?
Would I be standing proud, and laughing with my friends and family?
Or would I be dead, as I never got to come back?
Today I am home and thinking to myself..
Thinking of all of those brave soldiers, children still
Who are out there, suffering.. And some ill
Today I am home and thinking to myself..
How many woman are crying because of their gone loved ones
How many men are crying for their loved and missed ones
How many children are fatherless or motherless, or both!
And at the end I stop. I think no more..
I am grateful for the things I have,
I am grateful for the people who surround me...
And I am sure grateful to never have gone to a war; yet,
I sure appreciate the thoughts, courage, life, and suffering
Of all of those who have been touched by it.
Copyright © Thoubert Larus
When the light of the sun begins to fall
Echoes of thoughts begin to ball
Drifting into a sleepless state
Possibilities grow, at a relentless rate
I open my mind, in a wonderland of no validity
Emphasized by a walk, through a mirror of fluidity
Children's laughter in a sadistic tone
This dream is a nightmare, far from home
The path I am walking........leads to a house
Beyond the door, I wish for my friend, my lover and spouse
As the door creaks open a figure is revealed
I brace myself, my numbness is my shield
A wrinkled hand reaches out from the black
It grabs my wrist, leaving no time to fight back
As I'm dragged into the darkness, the figure becomes clear
The face of my victim, my deepest fear
Copyright © Nathan Kelly
Though in this world, we so often trod…
NOTHING can separate us
from the love of God!
distress or persecution…
Nor the government or it’s institutions.
Neither nakedness, peril
or even the sword...
God’s love is a treasure that can’t be stored!
As it is written; “We are like sheep
led to the slaughter…”
But God loves every son and daughter.
In everything, we’re more than conquerors
through Christ who loves us…
His death on the cross means
that he wants us!
Neither death, the angels or
the principalities to be…
Things present or to come…
Can separate HIS love for me!
Nor height, depth or any kind of creature…
Can separate us from God’s love…
This is his feature!
His love is clearly evident
and reigns supreme.
Over all of the earth and every human being!
Why not accept his love…
That is inseparable?
By accepting HIS salvation.
He’s made this possible!
Now is the day of salvation.
His gift is for us to receive.
All you have to do is reach out to him…
And simply believe!
By Jim Pemberton
Read Romans 8:35-39
Copyright © Jim Pemberton
I do not know?
A defender of justice, my stately Viking icon
A hermaphroditic mystery unfounded fears surrounding.
Reigns victorious over odium, an unlikely champion.
This brave genius subjugates falsehoods by telling…
My husband is my hero having faced differences alone.
One true champion loves; my darling has forgiven many men.
Caring instead of detesting those with hatreds so well honed.
Knowing the lack of understanding when false judgments begin.
Compassion brings to tears any tragedy borne by others.
Brawn builds a safety net protecting me from foes.
Wisdom wields a loving way of relating to our brothers.
Great insight healed my weary heart and understanding grows.
Educated intellectually and spiritually inclined.
My warrior against evil defends God’s goodly ways.
The front-runner to forgiveness with happy hopes refined.
Walking along a righteous path, together strengthening, love stays.
The victor over loneliness, now, my heart does profess.
No matter whether judgment flies, reality remains.
There is no greater love than our love, by God blessed.
Except for the love of God himself that never distains.
© January 16, 2011
Dane Ann Smith-Johnsen
Thanks for wondering, Sara, It is NOT metaphoric...it is reality! My husband was born a member of the third sex...called inter-sexed, these days. Lovingly, Dane
Copyright © Dane Ann Smith-Johnsen
Here we go again, you yelling and my head doin spins.
Now both so loud…both tryin to win.
A battle not ment to be, between two who have something so unique;
Now hot biting lips and at times can’t speak.
B_tch is a word I try not to say, I know it burns but what else can I say
You choppin at me like a tree, molding me like clay.
Into who you see in front of you,
Doing stupid things I wouldn’t think to do.
But you know what “f__k this” “I can’t take it no more”
How strong can a man be, when he like nailed to the floor.
And you can take it how you wanna
Cuz that’s where we at right now,
Cuz don’t forget what you throwing
Also hitting like kapow!!!
When all I wanted to do…was just lay down.
So could you please just stop and think of this
You and I in this frantic twist.
All I want is my baby’s kiss.
Brainstorm…and imagine me,
Think of my eyes and what they see.
Something not working that used to be.
Copyright © Anthony Thomas