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Name Inspirational Poems | Inspirational Poems About Name

These Name Inspirational poems are examples of Inspirational poems about Name. These are the best examples of Name Inspirational poems written by international PoetrySoup poets

Details | Free verse | |

Yes Friend, It Will Matter

Say not to me,
that it will not matter a hundred years from now,
that I was here.
For surely I have touched one life in a positive way,
perhaps in daily prayer
I've called your name one day.
Having no profound accomplishments or delusions of fame,
and leaving no progeny
to perpetuate my name,
still, it will matter that I was here.
For I have quietly endeavored to sow, and I have watered.
I love and am loved--should one desire more?
Life is good and hopefully God is pleased.
The tracks I'll leave, it's true,
will not be so ingrained as to stand harsh winds of time
and they shall fade as the evening sun,
leaving somewhere, only a name and date chiseled in granite.
Perhaps, if only in thought,
one pausing o'er me should question, who was this man?
Let God simply whisper, that I am His.


Details | Pantoum | |

Ever Turning Circle

In winter’s white, as angels cry
for early spring to warm the wind,
to bring to life with gentle sigh,
in love, the bitter frost has thinned.

For early spring to warm the wind,
at Valentine’s romantic calls,
in love, the bitter frost has thinned,
where dancers twirl amid stone walls.

At Valentine’s romantic calls,
rebirth of nature’s light divine,
where dancers twirl amid stone walls,
and blossoms pastel shades recline.

Rebirth of nature’s light divine,
when day equals the hours of night,
and blossoms pastel shades recline,
to hail the queen of May in light.

When day equals the hours of night,
a summer’s sun will come to play,
to hail the queen of May in light,
we chant and sing along the way.

A summer’s sun will come to play,
so life can grow as gods decreed,
we chant and sing along the way,
with warmth and light our hunger feed.

So life can grow as gods decreed,
the rays of sun on seeds we’ve sown,
with warmth and light our hunger feed,
the wealth of harvest is our own.

The rays of sun on seeds we’ve sown,
in autumn breeze that chills the heat,
the wealth of harvest is our own,
as gold and red belies our feet.

In autumn breeze that chills the heat,
a year that ends with blessed Samhain,
as gold and red belies our feet,
the call of Ancient’s name to reign.

A year that ends with blessed Samhain,
to bring to life with gentle sigh,
the call of Ancient’s name to reign,
in winter’s white, as angels cry.


Details | Acrostic | |

~His Name Is Wonderful~

Jesus~
Earned his name~
Suffered all the pain~
Under the hands of men~
Settled with hate against him~

Compassionately he forgave them still~
He loved us then and he always will~
Rising he gave us the right to survive~
Intoxicating he is to all of our lives~
Supplying our each and every need~
Thank you father, For blessing me~

Our king above kings~
Understanding he brings~
Radiant he is indeed~

Living for Christ is the greatest thing~
Only in him may you rest in peace~
Remember each day to trust and forgive~ 
Divided from him is no way to live~


Details | Rhyme | |

Andrea Dietrich

Her words flow like glorious music 
In perfect time.
Her sonnets gift us with special words
In lovely rhyme.
A lady with the kind of style that 
Epitomizes the beauty and grace
With the countenance of
A glowing poet’s face.
Brilliant words filled with imagery and emotion
Her poetry cannot help but inspire
Other growing poets with
A yearning desire.
Andrea is always right there
As she sets the best example of poetry
With outstanding grammar,
She teaches endlessly.
Andrea is my finest friend and confidant.
We who are blessed to read her poetry
Are enlightened by her symbiotic words
In perfect harmony.

© Connie Marcum Wong

Tribute poem for Richard Lamoureux's Contest


Details | Ballad | |

Body Language

What is it about me that gives you the impression that I am just your average
sleazy, easy, breezy, from the hood who can't possibly get ahead in life unless 
you are by my side.???

Is there a note written across my forehead that reads:
"Warning,
do not respect 
always neglect and,
never expect any goodness from this creature unless
legs are open and ready for business?

Does my azz have a "grab me" sign stuck to it
or is that what you would allow a strange man to do
to your daughter 
to squeeze your mothers breast or are
the words "touch me" tattooed 
across my chest?

Do my eyes unconsciously tell you to come over and try to slowly 
slide down my panties 
with your,
ridiculous lies 
heard too many times
from too many guys
who've more than once tried
to get in between 
or better yet inside
my thighs.?

 Don't get me wrong, I'm being so sincere 
I  just wanna make it clear that
there is something that you hear
if my body tells you action like the movie genre
or do I look different in every scene like a world 
premiere.?

Is bich my name in another language or,
do you see hoe somewhere on my birth certificate?
Am I not worth more than a single letter?...Ay!
or did I somehow give birth to you? Ay Ma!
Do my features confuse you or would you really prefer
a man...."Man".

How can my body speak a language that I have yet to hear?
Well before you get the wrong idea, let me make this clear.

When my azz say "grab me", that really just a lie
If my eyes say "come here" they really mean goodbye
Don't guess my name just ask and I'll let you know
and whatever my forehead region reads is just a bad typo.

It should go something like.... Always respect, never neglect, and only expect 
greatness from this Queen no matter what her pulchritude screams. 
The media degrades her as society points its finger and laughes 
all the while she's searching for your support
the support 
of her father
brother,
her son,
lover.
Why? Because she is yours....
Your mother,
Your Daughter,
Your sister, and 
Your Lover.
So...why not?
Love her, 
Honor her, 
See her for who she really is and
not for what her body says.


Details | Rhyme | |

A Prayer Away

Through everything that comes and goes,
The wisest is the one who knows.
The truest nature of God's love,
And always sends praises to the one above.

Through everything that rises and falls, 
The bravest is the one who calls.
The name of Christ even in the darkest hour,
And can stand for his name like the tallest tower.

Through everything, through night and day,
The most faithfull is the one that says.
"I am not alone so I shall never feel that way"
Cause God is only a prayer away.


Details | Free verse | |

Groundswell Girl - Named by JB

Enter a storybook tale
Where I can be 
The heroine you hail
Lucid dreams of soft reflection
A touch heated with lust and desired protection
A breathe a gasp as we succeed 
Join the fairytale with me
Valiant night within dark eyes
the right movement and I make them shine
like moonlight on the steamy hot spring
care to follow for a little dip with me
Trailing like the water at my fingertips
Grasp me around my hips
As close as the breeze on my skin 
Whisper lies as I let you in 
Lips mumbling up my thighs
bare heart exposed to the sky 
fire burning in my veins
Am I a mistress of this lust or simply a slave
Trembling with desire
Take me till we've lost count of the hours
enter this storybook tale
Where I can be the heroine you hail


Details | Free verse | |

If you name a poem something cheesy like--- Venus --- it Will only get twenty reads

"What's your story?"
she questions,
"you seem interesting."
wildflower
in eyes
I reply, "NOW."

often people become confused
by such a unique response
not this one

she's a beauty
shiny minded stone
lives warm under veins
lacks definition of alone

alone she stands
tallest green blade
unscathed
each time the oily blade passes above

erect 
she stays the same
tingling pulses exhale her pores
she'd rather sink
than have to think the way of worldly whores

still...
malice skips her
no ripples in the lake
dripping from her face
sunshine slips across tangerine cheeks

gold flows throughout waves 
streaming locks
sky clear eyes surprise those
choosing to be consumed 
by her entice

hands free of envy
no webs to spin
hips unmolested
thighs slick
turpentine

be warned
she will divide you
no voodoo 
or silly twisted games
though safe may escape you

blemish-less
untangled...
the girl
she
Goddess
baby of zero maybes
KNOWS
how?
she knows

as clarity lent us its giant umbrella 
her lipstick smacked my tongue 
from there
we never looked back



Details | Free verse | |

I SURRENDER

For Thee…Oo my Love
I hand over all of love and life of mine
In the name of life
whose sharp claws have a grip on the heart of death
In the name of love
whose flapping wings cool down the flare-up of hate
I surrender
Because
Thou are all in all to my love and life.


Details | I do not know? | |

Solomon Mahlangu: My Blood will Nourish the Tree that will Bear the Fruits of Freedom

(special thanks to a friend who shared this tribute to Solomon Mahlangu)



Solomon Mahlangu: My Blood will Nourish the Tree that will Bear the Fruits of Freedom:



Solomon Mahlangu was trained as an MK soldier with a view to later rejoining the struggle in the country.


He left South Africa after the Soweto Uprising of 1976 when he was 19 years old, and was later chosen to be part of an elite force to return to South Africa to carry out a mission commemorating the June 16th 1976 Soweto student uprising.


After entering South Africa through Swaziland and meeting his fellow comrades in Duduza, on the East Rand (east of Johannesburg), they were accosted by the police in Goch Street in Johannesburg.


In the ensuing gun battle two civilians were killed and two were injured, and Mahlangu and Motloung were captured while acting as decoys so that the other comrade could go and report to the MK leadership.


Motloung was brutally assaulted by the police to a point that he suffered brain damage and was unfit to stand trial, resulting in Mahlangu facing trial alone.


He was charged with two counts of murder and several charges under the Terrorism Act, to which he pleaded not guilty.


Though the judge accepted that Motloung was responsible for the killings, common purpose was argued and Mahlangu was found guilty on two counts of murder and other charges under the Terrorism Act.


On 15 June 1978 Solomon Mahlangu was refused leave to appeal his sentence by the Rand Supreme Court, and on 24 July 1978 he was refused again in the Bloemfontein Appeal Court.


Although various governments, the United Nations, International Organizations, groups and prominent individuals attempted to intercede on his behalf, Mahlangu awaited his execution in Pretoria Central Prison, and was hanged on 6 April 1979.


His hanging provoked international protest and condemnation of South Africa and Apartheid.


In fear of crowd reaction at the funeral the police decided to bury Mahlangu in Atteridgeville in Pretoria.


On 6 April 1993 he was re-interred at the Mamelodi Cemetery, where a plaque states his last words:


‘My blood will nourish the tree that will bear the fruits of freedom.

Tell my people that I love them.

They must continue the fight.’



Mahlangu died for a cause!



Salute!



The Struggle Continues…




(special thanks to a friend who shared this tribute to Solomon Mahlangu)


Details | Verse | |

Ding Dong The Wicked Witch is Dead

Globally, miners jubilantly jump for joy
Smiles on the faces of every girl and boy
The grins of a newly opened Xmas toy
Thatcher’s dead.

Trade unionists bounce along the street
Music blaring and the tapping of feet
From nurses to Bobbies still on the beat
Thatcher’s dead.

Street parties announced in the nation
Satan who brought economic inflation
Is deceased, now’s the time for elation
Thatcher’s dead.

Its times like this I’m sad I’m an atheist
And can only shout and wave my fist
And then go to the pub and get pissed
Thatcher’s dead.


Details | Rhyme | |

God's beautiful creation

God's creation is beautiful
from the cenary  right down to the birds  that sing
God's creation is beautiful in each and everything
God's creation is beautiful if we look around we will see
God's creation is beautiful
including you and me,  

when you look up  at the stars at night, always remember that you are precious in his sight,   wow  God bless you all         

 How majestic his his Name  Amen 

	 O Lord, our Lord, your majestic name fills the earth!
Your glory is higher than the heavens.
2	 You have taught children and infants
to tell of your strength,*
silencing your enemies
and all who oppose you.
3	 When I look at the night sky and see the work of your fingers—
the moon and the stars you set in place—
4	 what are people that you should think about them,
mere mortals that you should care for them?*
5	 Yet you made them only a little lower than God*
and crowned them* with glory and honor.
6	 You gave them charge of everything you made,
putting all things under their authority—
7	 the flocks and the herds
and all the wild animals,
8	 the birds in the sky, the fish in the sea,
and everything that swims the ocean currents.
9	 O Lord, our Lord, your majestic name fills the earth!


Details | Haiku | |

The Internet: Return

A void of Facebook
Creativity dies here...
Procrastination!


Details | Epic | |

Incineration of Love God Madan Cupid 7


Incineration of Indian Love God Madan (Cupid) 7 
 
Originally written in Hindi by my late father Dr. Amar Nath Kapoor
1899 to 1994
English version by Ravindra K Kapoor.

Prelude to this epic.
According to Indian mythology Madan the Love God or Cupid was asked to divert the attention of Lord Shiva*, the supreme God of Hindus, who was lost in deep meditation,  so that Lord Shiva may be requested to help the Gods from the attacks of the demon supreme immortal Tarakasur. However, when Madan disturbed Him in meditation Shiva became too furious and opened His third eye. Madan the Cupid God got burnt by the fire of the anger of his third eye. This epic reveals many interesting incidents about this story later in this series…..

Hindi name ‘Madan Dahan’  07


Buds were all smiling to bloom and
To welcome the Lord of the day,
By opening their pretty mouths 
To absorb the dew bubbles kissing their faces.

The living and even the lifeless too,
Were all fascinated by the charms of Nature,
Madan* entered in such an intoxicating arena,
And became mad with the flowing passion.

But finding Shiva* in deep meditation,
He thought about his domination,
And its influence on the entire living being,
Which exists on this pretty Earth.

Ravindra 
Kanpur India 27th April 2012
To continue……….
Protected under the copy write provisions of Poetry Soup as per US laws.

Clarifications:
Madan*- Hindi name of the Love God Cupid
Shiva*- The Lord of destruction and creation as per Indian mythology.






Details | I do not know? | |

A Story My Mother Told Me

someone always told me this with tears in her eyes...


(for Lata Sethi's late-mother, who was my mother’s ‘sister’ and who took us all into her heart, and for Lata and Ravi Sethi of Defence Colony, New Delhi)


a wife left South Africa in the 1960’s to join her husband 
who was in exile at the time...

in 1970 the husband was sent by the African National Congress to India to be its representative there...

the husband and wife spent two years in Bombay...

one afternoon the husband fell and broke his leg...

the wife knocked on their neighbour’s door, in an apartment complex in Bombay

the neighbour was an old Punjabi lady...

the wife asked the neighbour for a doctor to see to the injured husband...

a Parsi ‘Bone-Setter’ was promptly summoned...

the husband still recalls his anxiety of seeing ‘Bone-Setter’ written on the Parsi gentleman’s bag...

by the way, the ‘Bone-Setter’ worked his ancient craft and surprisingly for the husband, his broken leg healed quite soon...

but still on that day, while the ‘Bone-Setter’ was seeing to the husband...

the wife and the old Punjabi lady from next door got to talking about this and that and where these new Indian-looking wife and husband were from as their accents were clearly not local...

the wife told the elderly Punjabi lady that the husband worked for the African National Congress of South Africa and had left to serve the ANC from exile...

and that they had left their two children behind in South Africa and that they were now essentially political refugees...

the Punjabi lady broke down and wept uncontrollably...

she told the foreign woman that she too had had to leave her home in Lahore in 1947 and flee to India with only the clothes on her back when the partition of the subcontinent took place and Pakistan was formed and at a time when Hindus from Pakistan fled to India and vice versa...

the Punjabi lady then asked the foreign woman her name...

‘Zubeida’, but you can call me ‘Zubie’...

the Punjabi woman hugged Zubie some more, and the two women, seperated by age and geography, wept, sharing a shared pain...

the Punjabi woman told Zubie that she was her ‘sister’ from that day on, and that she felt that pain of exile and forced migration and what being a refugee felt like...

Zubie and her husband Mosie became the closest of friends with the Hindu Punjabi neighbours who were kicked out of Pakistan by Muslims...

then came the time for Mosie and Zubie to leave for Delhi where the African National Congress office was based...

the elderly Punjabi lady and Mosie and Zubie said their goodbyes...

a year or two later, the elderly Punjabi lady’s daughter Lata married Ravi Sethi and the couple moved to Delhi...

the elderly Punjabi lady called Zubie and told her that her daughter was coming to Delhi to live and that she had told Lata, her daughter that she had a ‘sister’ in Delhi...

Lata and Ravi Sethi then moved to Delhi...

This was in the mid-1970’s...

Lata and Zubie became the closest of friends and that bond stayed true, and stays true till today, though Zubie is no more, and the elderly Punjabi lady is no more...

the son and the husband still have a bond with Lata and Ravi Sethi...

a bond that was forged between Hindu and Muslim and between two continents across the barriers of creed and time...

a bond strong and resilient, forged by the pain and trauma of a shared experience...

and that is why, and I shall never stop believing this, that hope shines still, for with all the talk of this and of that, and of that and of this, there will always be a simple woman, somewhere, anywhere, who would take the ‘other’ in as a sister, a fellow human...

and that is why there will always be hope...
hope in the midst of this and of that and of that and of this...

hope...


(for Lata Sethi's late-mother, who was my mother’s ‘sister’ and who took us all into her heart, and for Lata and Ravi Sethi of Defence Colony, New Delhi)


Details | Narrative | |

The Unknown Gardener

“I’m the unknown gardener my name is mentioned in the bible, but no one need honor me. 
Just a pauper, I was in the garden that day, but my only contribution to grace works was filthy 
rags.

Hearing a rumbling it seemed from deep inside the ground, I looked toward a tomb which had a 
huge stone place over it’s mouth. As I looked I saw a steady lighting flashing, so bright it 
dimmed my sight, emitting from the tomb around the rock’s edges.

The lighting stopped as suddenly as it had began, as once more I heard a scrubbing noise and 
saw two celestial beings in shining apparel, as they rolled the huge stone away from the mouth 
of the sepulcher. I was amazed, made weak in the knees, my countenance was overcome.

One of the celestial being said, “Fear not I am Michael, the archangel, I came to attend the 
Master. This day thou also hath somewhat to offer unto him.” I wondered, amazed within myself 
as I pondered in my feeble mind, ‘What on earth could a meager pauper have of worth to 
give!’

A beautiful being stepped forth from the tomb, such the like I have never before seen or after! 
When he spoke his voice was as the sound  of many waters, such as a gently rushing water 
fall. He said, “Behold I am the first, and the last, I was alive and was dead, and now I am alive 
for evermore. It is finished!”…The two angels, I saw no more.

“Thy name is called Ishmael, born after the flesh, I have heard thy afflictions. This day it 
behooves thee to be a signet necessity of my Father’s will, representing all of mankind,
 for their righteousness of concepts be as fifty rags. Give unto me thy clothes and I will 
cleans them for thy are metaphoric of the fleshly unrighteousness of all humankind.”

I gave him my clothes and I understood not, but I felt amazingly clean. He clothed
himself with my clothes and said, “Remember this day, for flesh will prophesy this truth in the 
last days. In an inspirational writing that I will give thee utterance to write. You will entitle 
it, ‘The Unknown Gardener’ then you will understand the signet!”

With this, He vanished from my presence. This same day has became know as Easter morning, the day of resurrection. 
And the fleshly concepts of sin as the casting off of filthy rags! My natural senses returned and I arose from the vision. 
I was astonished for seven days. At the end of which I wrote the understanding of the vision. This is what Easter means to me!
                               Selah!!

For and in Honor of Gwendolen Rix
And Contest: What Easter Means to me!



Details | Free verse | |

The Egg Eaters Hallow

HE WEARS A COAT OF ASH
ALWAYS TALKING 
TALKING FAST 
LIKE A SNAKE THROUGH THE GRASS
HE SLITHERS AND CRAWLS 
HE SLITEHRS AND CRAWLS
BUROWS THROUGH THE WALLS
WHATS YOUR NAME  
LETS PLAY A GAME 
I’M INSIDE I’M INSIDE
TRY TO HIDE
I WILL SEEK 
GO AND CRY 
GO AND SHRIEK 
I’M INSIDE 
TRY TO HIDE 
NO SECRETS YOU CAN KEEP 
WHERE DO I FIND THE ONE THAT SLEEPS
HE WANDERS THROUGH THE SHELL 
TO FIND IT AND TAKE IT 
TO SOME FAR OFF HELL 
HIS TONGUE IS QUICK 
HIS MIND FULL OF WIT
HIS CLAWS ARE MEAN 
HIS CLAWS ARE MEAN 
AND HIS MIND IS KEEN 
SEARCHING FOR WEAKNESS 
SEARHING FOR SECRETS 
HOW MANY OF YOU ARE THERE 
HOW MANY OF YOU COMPARE 
WHATS YOUR NAME 
IT’S A SHAME 
IT’S A SHAME 
I WILL BREAK YOU 
I WILL TAKE YOU 
FINDING FLAWS
OLD WOUNDS RAW 
DIGGING DEEP 
DIGGING DEEP 
HE FINDS IT IN THE KEEP  
HELLO LITTLE ONE 
HAVING FUN 
I HAVE NO NAME 
I PLAY NO GAMES 
ALL I HAVE ARE FANGS
AND YOU ARE HERE 
TO HATCH DISPARE 
I’V COME TO MAKE YOU DISAPEAR 
SEE YOUR WALLS 
SEE YOUR WALLS 
THEY’RE CLOSING IN 
THEY’RE CLOSING IN  
WE WILL BE COMPRESSED 
FORMING MESH 
MERGING INTO ONE 
LIKE ALL THE OTHERS 
YOU ARE DONE 
NEVER SPAWNED 
TO FIGHT THE DAWN 
I VE COME TO MERGE WITH  YOUR SOUL 
TAKE CONTROL 
YOU WILL BE 
JUST ANOTHER TWISTED PART OF ME 
ALL YOUR NEGATIVITY 
WILL SUBMERESE
WILL DISPERSE
JUST ANOTHER TWISTED PART OF ME
ALL YOU EGGS 
KEEP ME FED
KEEP ME GROWING 
SECRETS SHOWING 
KILLING DEMONS 
BEFORE THEY’RE BRED 
KILLING DEMONS 
TO KEEP ME FED 
A FORMLESS SOUL 
MADE OF MESH 
A FORMLESS SOUL 
MADE OF UNBORN FLESH 
WINING THE WAR 
ONE EGG AT A TIME 
ONE EGG AT A TIME 


Details | Epic | |

Incineration of Love God Madan Cupid 15


Incineration of Love God Madan (Cupid) 15
Originally written in Hindi by my late father Dr. Amar Nath Kapoor
1899 to 1994. The work was written in Hindi somewhere around 1965-70.

Editing and English version by Ravindra K Kapoor.

Hindi Title  ‘Madan Dahan’  15

Proud entered in Cupid's mind


Cupid would remain unsatisfied,
With world’s sensuous pleasures,
Passion had brought him here,
On the evil path of destruction.

Deprived Cupid* could not bear,
This lonely meditation,
Far from the common reach,
Amid the high snow peaks.

Thoughts emerging in Shanker's mind       

How his weak human beings,
Would be able to save the society,
And respect and honor in life,
From the degraded sin provokers.

Ravindra
Kanpur India 6th May 2012.

To continue…..
Protected under the copy write provisions of Poetry Soup as per US laws.
Clarifications:
Cupid* Madan- The Indian name of Cupid.
Shanker*- Other name of Lord Shiva.


Details | Dramatic monologue | |

The Duchess Of Paradise

She's highly sophisticated and full of undefiled wisdom
Yet a crowned Duchess in a paradise kingdom
Quite a beautiful angel flying with black wings
Covered in gold jewelry and precious things
She dresses like the women of ancient Egyptian class
Her wealth is generous and her money grows like grass
She loves orange scented candles with dark room flame  
She rules thirty legions of soldiers and Bune is her name
Her comely warrior voice can wake and relocate the dead
Her armies of soldiers gather around the cemetery
She is brave and deserves a princessly crown on her head
Her facility of speech and flair for words is legendary
A beautiful queen to be treated with respect and honor
Instead of blasphemy,wanton abuse and fictional horror


Details | Free verse | |

over and over agin

sometimes i talk to myself, 
my mind is racing,
i dont know what to do...
so hard to explain.
depression isn't a stage
or a faze some kids go through
it shatters you...
i saw it all. 
she cried silent in her bed,
blood stains covered her favorite jeans,
her every shirt,
long sleeve ofcourse...
she suffered through it all with few people to call friend
and more to call enemy
even more to say where quite dissappointed....
FAT
her first name in school,
not started by a bully
or a mean rival,
but by her sister, 
and it echoed through her soul,
repeating in her mind... over and over again,
like the ripples of still water
when a pebble is dropped
flash frozen in time
repeating,
over and over again...
It was the first name they gave her,
millions where created over the years,
some unique
some repeating again, just as the first had..
gothic they called her,
emo, fat, ugly....worse things.
but in her mind, things where worse.
everything was repeating,
over and over again,
finally she believed it. 
she asked for help, from everyone
tried to explain to parents she wasnt well,
got called a psycho for asking to see a theripist,
not from a teacher,
not from a class mate,
but from her own father, who wouldn't, couldn't,
believe there could possibly be a thing wrong....
finally, crying, she confessed her bloody secret to a teacher.
rather then giving her time,
she is sent back to class crying her eyes out, as if she wherent going through enough...
she is sent to the principals office a few minutes later, after breaking down in class...
the princlipal says she needs help,
sends her and her dad for a risk evaluation,
her dads crying as she shows him her cuts...
they walk into a hospital room, 
it smells of chemicals and hand sanitizer,
the lady at the desk gives her a smile.
then she goes into a room with a lady,
her cheeks are sunken in and shes wearing way too much makeup,
the girl is gaging on her perfume,
and she looks really intimidating....
her dark brown hair looks dead and flat
even though its a bit wavy, 
and she wears somewhat of a mocking frown.
asks her all these questions,
is mommy beating her?
no
is daddy raping her?
no
is she doing drugs?
not alot
is anyone beating her?
pass...
did anyone molest her? 
pass....
oxcarbezapine, trazadone, citalipran, clinazapam, colonipan,
valium, lithium, more.......
and thats what they gave her,
more... 
some numbed the pain
some brought it out
tearing through her organs,
she became an addict by the time she was fourteen....
over dose after over dose
some for pleasure
some for pain,
gashes on her legs getting deeper,
this time she didnt tell a soul,
not even those she had come to call friends....
wakeup she screamed in her head over and over again
as she dropped weight like it was nothing....
you cant controll it she argued as things became worse. 
at age fourteen she attempted suicide,
she didnt quite succeed.
the medication took away her aappitite....
she liked it
she hated her body
hated herself
felt out of controll
found a new way to cope
as she shoved tooth brush after toothbrush down her throat
to keep her body from nuitrients...
as she whent weeks and weeks spitting food into napkins and making excuses 
I ate at my friends house....
spoken as a whisper
heard like a sentance
echoing in her mind over and over again,
along with that word, all the words,
FAT!!!!!!
ugy, anoying, stupid, fake, worthless, nothing...
one bite she would say
rocking back and forth
craving nothing but food
her body racked with hunger pain
one bite and there she was again
FAT!
over and over and over again
back to a toothbrush
this time she sees blood
she saw her ribs
she saw her bones,
it wasnt good enough,
she almost died, again....
choking on this deep dissappointment in herself,
gaging on everything they where pushing down her throat, 
their words, and their insults, their criticism.... their drugs
all shoved down her throat like candy
and just as she was was trained to do she swallowed despite the bad taste
or the hurt
or the fact that at the rate she was going she would be dead soon...
and you know why? 
because daddy yelled 
and couldnt accept what was happening
not because he wanted to hurt her
but because it hurt him,
and she let him believe,
because she could take the hurt if it meant he didnt have too.
because mommy didnt want to sit in her room all day
smoking weed
doing nothing,
practically having us raise ourselves,
she didnt mean to take anger, or frustration or hurt out on her daughter
she suffered everyday in her solitary confinement,
and from a young age she accepted her bedroom was the cage
 her mother had created for herself.
because sister didnt want to effect her the way she did
she was just frustrated
fed up with the way things where
scared, she needed someone to take her cruelty
and to help heal her pain...
because people in school
who where so cruel
had to have learned from somewhere
and she wasnt going to play into their games,
and they knew she was an easy target
because she would never attack someone so weak
and she accepted her suffering was a sacrafice
to help all these people....
to help her dad,
her mom,
her sister,
every person who was beaten abused or hurt
 and felt so weak at home they wanted to feel strong in the one safe place they had.
because depite the fact she had died inside,
and almost passed away on the out,
it was a saccrafice she was willing to make
so that no one else would have to feel that kind of pain,
and they all inflicted it and broke her down'untill there was nothing left but a shell
of somthing that could have been
and never had the chance
and why? 
because she would take it and wouldnt strike back,
because sometimes "just taking it"
isnt so much about the weakness not to do anything
but about the strangth not to hurt others the way they hurt you...


Details | Elegy | |

God Received An Angel

In the summer of 2007, God received an angel.
The Angels name was Katie. 
Katie was sweet & Katie was good
But I guess God wanted sweet old Katie
Out of the hood.
She did all she could, she gave all she had
But never in her life treated anyone bad.
Jesus, I know that she’s good
I know that she is great
But sometimes I just hate, 
Hate that she is gone
Hate that she is away
I think about her everyday.
Everyone & Everything is changing
Family is falling apart, 
Oh why it’s breaking my heart.
Tearing the house down acting like pure clowns
God you got a gift 
But sometimes I wish,
Wish you hadn’t took my Angel
Wish you would have let her stay a little longer.
God received an Angel.
The Angels name was Katie
 I hope Katie is with me daily
Until I die & visit her in the sky
House is up wholesale, everyone thinking
“WHAT THE HELL”
Angels, Angels, Angels
Angels flying here, Angels flying there
Angels are flying around just about any & everywhere
You took a couple of my families angels in strange ways 
I get up in the morning wondering when is my day
& who will be next to depart us.
My heart was broken when you took my Angel
Oh, why did you have to take her,
Her out of all people
She followed the rules and the laws 
But I am wondering is that all.


Details | Verse | |

michelle



                    Michelle ~
                        my sister we have been through life suffered loss
                 you making conscience effort to make amends for past

                         Je Taime Cheri  ~
                Michelle~                
                    my sister finding her own path without orders 
                 never have I left your side knowing in time you will see

                   
                             so proud to be called yours 
                    Michelle ~my sister
               Loving you always unconditionally 

              we all stubble and fall on this ridged road 
                      Michelle I love you 
                                    not enough told ~


Details | Ballad | |

Black isn't our name its Beautiful

Being black is not just a figure of speech

Its a noun, adj., & knowing when & when not to turn the other cheek

Many pioneers has lived with the mis representation

While some died fighting to end the civil frustrations

Being black isn't as bad as it may look

Our physical properties don't represent the makings of a crook

Our natural elements are sustainability & resilience

Our original nature made us uniquely

Brilliant enough to handle our own responsibilities

Our culture is design to shine bright so that everyone can see

The Afro American culture sets the tone for a concrete society

And need no help to raise our family

just equality

Even with methods that was used to torment us

"We shall overcome" was a phrase that helped boost us

"By any means necessary" we struggled through the turmoil

Once we began to re "know thyself" the bigots of the world started to boil

Then had to recognize our true uniting potentials

They psychologically uses entertainment to convince us

And install hate inside our mental

Through dis associating our past & segregating our class

Degenerating our creative intentions

Re imagining our mind with criminal inscriptions

So Trust

All we got is us

Our ingredients posses spiritual reasons to teach

They figure since we was enslaved & freed

Afro Americans wouldn't know how to reach

We paved the way to preach

So to prove their unintelligent

They dictated our intellectual & spiritual nature by the color of our butts

Pardon my speech


Details | Rhyme | |

Romancing Distant Moments

Romancing Distant Moments



I am romancing with distant moments
Distance, I keep trying to connect by dreaming
In a time difference, so hard to get a full time so meant
For my child and wife, I longed for reaching

God is so kind bestowing us a child
As we never thought we could have at least one
The passing of time charmed and leave us beguiled
But in prayers, answered us by granting us a son

We gave him a Christian name Pio Noel
Derived from the name of Saint Padre Pio of Pietrelcina
And Noel from my name, a kind idea of my wife Cecille
A name he will carry as his insignia

I listened to their voice over the cell phone
Or watched their videos, I took during my last vacation
Still longing for more moments of them to be shown
To alter depression with deep sign of elation

Through messages, I cherish the distant moments
As my wife will relay to me my child’s notable deeds
As I record every details on my diary as my attunement
Of his daily childish act finely registered on my head

For a picture of table, Pio tells ‘it is table’
For a picture of chair, Pio tells ‘it is sit’
My wife will not dare to show him that it is laughable
But gave him a nice lecture to improve his wit

Whenever he sees his grandfather with fellow friends
He will run to them and kiss their hands as a sign of respect
An instance, my wife eagerly drew a rabbit using a crayon pen
And hardly could be identified as rabbit, but Pio proudly said ‘rabbit’ in all aspect
(My wife kissed him and said ‘Pio you are very clever because even though my drawing is 
hardly could be noticed as rabbit but still you interpreted it very well’)
 
At the age of 1 year and 6 months, Pio knows how to save money
Upon seeing coins inside my wife’s bag, he got this in his hand
And pointed into small piggy bank and dropped in the coins so eagerly
Dirty clothes out of the basket, he willingly put this back without a command

Every time my wife’s cell phone will beep or ring
Pio immediately bring this to my wife and tell her that father text
Pio is fond of watching television and get a chance to lip-sync
He enjoyed for someone blowing on his tummy and find his mother to play suplex

Upon entering our room, Pio will point to our family picture
And loudly will recite ‘this is Pio, mother and father’
Every distant moments of them, I need to capture
While away, I am romancing distant moments sweeter but farther



Previously posted in voicesnet.com poetry site
Written last October 28, 2009
By: Noel N. Villarosa


Details | Acrostic | |

No Name Medicine - CMX001




C MV is not resistant to this drug
M ali's chance to fight this attack
X -ray's of effect may not be known
O n God's grace I do depend
O nly prayers allow God to guide
1  miracle for Mali is God's plan






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