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Inspirational Write Poems | Inspirational Poems About Write

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

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Details | Free verse | |

Of Ink

   Partial Paper
 -A poet in heat-

Ink carries its own tale,
When moonshine intoxicates your pen
Bottles of ink fill your mind
Composing symphonies on every line
Drops of passion all over the mask you wear
Nothing compares to black stains and broken nails

This part of you 
"A CAN'T BE REMOVED" tattoo
The tough skin you'll ever live in
Fountain pens of split identities
Who Are You?
Sinking  words like no other
Poisoned ink piercing every rhyme
Inferior poet, making the heart pure
Anger plus anger "GIVE ME MORE!"

You have a desire to paint all day,
Breathing and beating in every way
Toxic lines, from which ink flows
Inhaling images from the world
Deep and cold sorrowed emotions 
True love is always easy to poetize
Dear Poet:  "Ink Never Lies."

Pretty pink acrostic ink when she's nearby
Sugar and salt, Epic taste of reality
Ballads sung under the full moon
Sunny Sonnets, on any rainy day
Ode's of rivers from your past
A dark smile jotting down memory lane
Monologue tears brought under pressure
Loading cartridges of fresh Senryu and Haiku"
Dramatic red runs through your veins when all is done
Unfolding old and new propagandas
POET: You are my favorite verse in every stanza
((Only this, and nothing more))
Writing is like giving birth

by;)


Details | Free verse | |

Tension Waiting

The swordsman who draws his blade
Heart racing at the keening of steel on scabbard 
Tension coiled, poised for the unleashing
Held back by muscles tight with glee.

I am as the soldier, held in stance,
The lioness crouched beneath the concealing grass
As it sways back and forth, as insects sing along the day
Her every breath is halted, her veins do not pulse,
And just as the swordsman stands
They are statues in this moment,
Statues of derision,
Mocking, with their stillness, the very charged tension within.

And I am as the lioness frozen before her pounce
Coiled with motivation and purpose,
And I am as the tongue held with words clinging off its’ edge
Ready to lash out and strike with direction
But I am as the frozen purpose, held tight
Waiting, for a warrior to stand before me
For a reason to uncoil, to lash out with words and pounce.

But I am now as the pen halting before the purest of paper
White and supple, in askance for the lightest touch
A slash of the tip, drawing lines in ink
Lines like a hunter’s bowstring, taut with intent,

As the pen lies frozen above its prey, the falcon petrified aloft still winds
I am the need coiled tight like a wound jack in the box
But alas, there is no victim to frighten,
No pray to pounce upon, no sword or bared neck to slash against
And I am here, with pen frozen, ink ready to be drawn taut
And I have nothing to draw in the ink, no prey or purpose to evoke
I am coiled tight with energy, but it is release that so eludes me,
I am coiled tight with purpose, but it is direction that so denies me.

And here I am, pouncing at ground before me, 
Slicing away at the air around me
Scratching away with a dry pen, on paper still white in askance
I write about…
I write about the coil within, and the lack without
And alone I wonder,
Is it enough, is it enough to go on, a wound up box
Waiting for the slightest touch, the weakest parry, to live.


Details | Rhyme | |

Thankful for the Poet

Your captivating sonnet, a single verse then 
two, the words I write seem not quite right
compared to the ones from you
I've often used too many, and consume your
point of view, your ability to say so much 
by using just a few

Thank you Mr. Shakespeare for a friend I met 
today, because of you she's come from many 
miles away. I frolic in your descriptions 
of each and every noun, as each verse bursts  
and like a poor beggar, quenches my thirst

I thank Mr. Poe for his stories of woe that
deeply stirs my raven soul, coercing the
sadness out of the quills, convincing me that
time kills, love heals, color spills…

I begin to write my single verse, that 
might turn into two, I savor a rarest gift,
the one that came from you. I take a turn, 
my desire’s to please, but discover as I 
write the poem, the poetry writes me




Karen Anglesey 2002


Details | Free verse | |

Rebirth

Ignite,
The missing light,
Forget,
What's behind.
Just believe,
That love comes again...

'Cause,
The skies,
Are like a hard glide,
In a shining rainbow's light...

All dreams and fantasies,
Can be reality,
'Cause fantasy,
Is based on reality...
But all histories aren't the same...

'Cause,
Sometimes, we dive,
In our lives...

So,
Don't judge,
For what you see,
Judge,
For what it is...,
'Cause time passes,
But, memories remain...

And,
Listen,
To your heart,
'Cause,
The body, does,
The mind, thinks,
And, the heart, feels...,
While, the soul, lives...

So,
Always remember,
To remember the past,
To live the present,
And to wait and pursue the future...

Listen to your heart,
Before you are telling goodbye,
'Cause destiny,
Might lead to demise...,
But, remember that destiny can be changed...

Life is unpredictable,
But space and time,
Could be controlled...
And even if some die,
We may survive...

Remember,
That life,
Might have an endless beginning...

All that remains,
Is to be reborn...


Details | Free verse | |

Reality's Angel

I am Reality’s angel resting on the broad shoulders of discovery the truth feeds darkness and engulfs its target ideas and concepts in turn become meaningless to you there is a creator of all things He is just and patient many still have fallen into the masses of shadow wrapped in their own filthy idols of philosophy I have seen grown men fall like rose petals and weaklings rise into unjust leaders forever the follower of furtive evil dominating only to remain inferior the most important answers lie in the unseen regions where no sense can fully give assurance the mind that so many unreasonably twist and turn grows weary because of the distance it must take and truth be told the distance is not what frustrates it is knowing we are seeking something far that could very possibly not exist, that our minds can twist into theoretical, idealistic nonsense it is knowing all we really think we know is meaningless and yes—even a lie all that has been written thus far rests under my wings under the warmth in which you refuse to feel can you believe in me— though I am completely unseen? how much more difficult would it be to see Him?


Details | Rhyme | |

Heaven For A Poet

My own piece of heaven, a quiet little nook,
With only the finest parchment in a leather book,
A feather quill pen and an ocean of ink,
My thoughts would never stop to think,
Every single line I write would rhyme,
My poetry would be beautiful and sublime,
I'd be entertained daily, by Dr. Seuss,
And, put to sleep nightly, by Mother Goose,
Lessons from Byron, Shelley, Coleridge and Poe,
Teaching me every single thing that they know.

My own piece of heaven, will have to wait,
Until one day, when I must meet my fate,
So, for now I will have to be content,
With my own words that may be heaven sent,
Inspiration from my idols is all I need,
Writing poetry in a notebook from Mead,
With this cheap, plastic Bic pen,
And a dream to be, just like them.


Details | Quatrain | |

Too Much Nasty Poetry

I don't like nasty limericks.
I don't like vulgar words.
I'd rather write of better things, 
like maybe watching birds.

So many poets feel the need
to write such graphic things.
The art of poetry to me
is making words that sing.

It's easy to be nasty.
It takes no brain at all.
But I can't keep from wondering
where you get the gall.

My poems may not be 'genius'.
I'm sure they don't compare
to many other writer's work
but mine, I like to share.

No matter if you're ninety
or if you're only nine
you needn't feel ashamed to click
on poetry that's mine.


Details | I do not know? | |

i began to write love on my arms<3

[beforehand i just want to let you know that i wrote this in honor of November 17th. which is 
To Write Love On Her Arms Day. im hoping to come up with a better one before than. but i 
still hope you enjoy this quickly-wrote one(: ]

this is about me.
this is my story.
it is about my struggle,
my fall downs, 
&& all the breakdowns.
this is about every wound i placed upon my body.
over 60 self inflicted wounds,
that as my story went on they began to heal.
i stoped writing "give up" 
i began to write love on my arms<3
this is about me.
this is my story.
it is about my past.
how it haunted me for years,
&& how im still running from some of it.
this is how i went from a hood rat,
to me actually caring about myself.
i began to write love on my arms<3
this is about me.
this is my story.
it is about how i learned to keep the bottle off of my nightstand.
i dont need liquor running through my veins 24/7.
i started to look at life through sober eyes.
i began to write love on my arms<3
&& as i wrote this day after day, i saw that i was loved. 
i found comfort in better things then pills, liquor, && razorblades.
&& even though i am still in healing,
my story is not over.
&& it will never be.
i still write love on my arms<3


Details | Carpe Diem | |

When No One Reads

July 16, 2014- Inspiration for
 "When No One Reads"

When no one reads, keep writing
right now just might not be the right time.

Poets are currently considered
lowest of low, scum of slums
but that doesn't mean things will always be this way.

Be patient growing your poet trees
persistent, 
doing it for the right reasons
dredge that sludge of truth stuck deep within your gut.

Get it out, get words down
just don't try so hard
and please pay no attention to those lacking appreciation for your goddamned art.

When no one reads
please...keep writing.


Details | Verse | |

Should It Be Done

Day after day I read words,
                              wisdom seen but never heard
As poets fill their pens
                              with ink of thought that never ends
We try to tell the world
                              of the madness to unfurl
Though thoughts can never be a gleam,
                              in anyones ones eyes if never seen
Perhaps we should take to the streets
                              where graffity scrawls dirty walls
To post words that will be seen
                              so open eyes can then get a gleam
Of the beauty and wisdom we hide inside,
                              that can effect and change peoples minds
Simple words that can be read,
                              by the pathways people tread
Words left on a canvas,
                              for no one to ever see
Might as well be left in a dark ally
                              where drunk people pee
Their eyes to blurry to see, 
                              this message they need to read
For simple words won't change many hearts
                              if just written but never seen



2-7-13
Just me...


Details | Couplet | |

A blessing in my life

I usually write in couplet rhyme
Its simply what I do it's not by design
It's just the way the words seem to flow
Into my head up out of my soul
I love the ones that are full of light
See they are what brought me up out of the night
People prove they care by the things that they do
So I write this light for all of you
I write it because I wish you to know
True beauty is born with-in the soul
The soul is a thing that cherishes the light
Do you not embrace the stars through the dark of night
Well as you do know my words are true
They may twinkle bright but not as bright as you
You are angels who covered me in your prayers
Let me know I'm someone worthy of care
I hold you all in my heart just like my wife
Like her you are "a blessing in my life"


Details | Rhyme | |

Approvals I Should Praise

Approvals I Should Praise

The rhythm of my pen knows no bounds
Its ticks, treks, and steps knows no count.
The songs on my lip just loose the count.
No where, I suppose to untie the bond.

Strong bones are so much in here
They touch and squeeze out letters bountifully.
In these bones, many light I have received gracefully.
Linda is one, Andrea is two among all of you there.

You are all amazing guests in this field
Cup of water..., cup of tea come to toast.
Many hugs, many thanks to you, writ and host.
... Eden that crowns my garden and its yields.

Special parcel to my coy mistress, Linda.
All sea, roses...and sweet showers to you.
And my lady Andrea; always brand new!
I love you all... your words in my wall are tender.

Dedicated to:
 Poetrysoup, 
Poet Destroyer A, 
Andrea Dietrich 
and to the rest of Poetrysoupers.

I     am     Grateful     for     your    warm      welcome.


Details | Senryu | |

The Mirage YOU see is POETRY

My Inspiration,                         My Only Beloved,                     My Most Dearest WIFE  
Fellow POETS' Masterpiece         Laureates of Poetry                  LENORE ELLEN : Laureate
Each Stanza THEY WRITE          Poetic Knowledge                     With  POETIC LOVE

Bringing Memories                  Yesteryear POETS                      Living in Our HEARTS
From the Future, to the Past   They INSPIRE all of Our POEMS    Fellow POETS' words of Life
EMOTIONS of LOVE                FEELINGS ; I DON'T KNOW           Penned For History

UNCONDITIONAL                   ANSWERS : Created                  With Feathered QUILLED Pen
Education and Learning           FOR ALL the Future POETS        Write SALUTATIONS TO THEM
POETRY IS Life                       Rhyme : withstands all TIME     Write with HEART AND SOUL

Inspired By and Dedicated To Laura Mckenzie      Author Notes ; Read Top to Botom Left to
Right. Read each Horizonal line Left to Right  Example line one all three Senryu 
My Inspiration, My Only Beloved, My Most Dearest WIFE Also Read Capital Words in the 3 
Horizontal Senryu Example : WIFE POETS' LENORE ELLEN ; THEY WRITE POETIC LOVE


Details | Couplet | |

SOUPS ON

         Writing is my challenge each day
     But it's not the words or what to say.

     It is the connection with other writers here
     Because I feel I'm not worthy or equal I fear.

     The talent expressed by so many others
     Often makes me want to hide under the covers.

     The gems that are written and ones that I read
     Are so inspired, personal, and give me a need.

     That's why I come here every time
     To see what others have put in their rhyme.

      Carolyn always has a message for me to ponder
      And others write things that make me wonder.

      I often race to the "New Poems"  just to see
      If by some chance there's one by which P.D has destroyed me.

      And Carol, Bob, Nick, Emily, Wilma, and "the Sweetheart"
      Write things that sometimes I just can't pull apart.

      The Doc has written so many things
      I am amazed sometimes at the thoughts he brings.

      Others are here who write so well
      Their words do me so oft compel.

      For like unto them I want to be
      Writing words that have meaning for others to see.

      Will they be worthy I say when I'm done
      Or will they be read by others, as I've intentioned.

      You know I feel so many emotions just now
      Because of all these writers, I just don't know how.

      For they are a driving force for me
      And part of my challenge each day is to make them see.

      That because of them I have to write
      Sometimes into the wee hours of the night.

      To pick a favorite writer is...well a difficult choice
      So I pick them all, because they shout with one voice.

      "Write, you fool, then write some more"
      Words I hear and cannot ignore.

      So I choose them all...all here in this group
      The ones who have made me hungry for Soup.

      There, I've said it...and you know that's not in haste
      The Soupers that are here are the best of all to taste.


      



Details | Rhyme | |

A New Morning

A new morning once again,
promising difference from others before.
Beautiful this morning as I write with pen
and I feel my spirit soar.

I cannot help but stand in awe
of all that I see before me.
Once again, I hear the call
to write of what my eyes see.

Quiet subdues the great expanse
of the forest to the mountains beyond.
A hawk overhead in the great distance
circles steadily and then is gone.

The sky takes on a hazy look
with the sun not quite coming through.
It is to me as if nothing took
away from this beautiful view.

This day for me holds promises anew
as I see it's quiet start.
Opportunities in this day will come to
strengthen and encourage my heart.


Douglas L. Ace


Details | Free verse | |

Dealing the cards

Come on artists
lets play a game
its all different to me and i want you to see how i am different
and let me shine as you sign up another way 
as i prove to you my leadership of this new age wave

cards cards
give them new meanings
like you never knew you could 
and lets make the psychics pine through our words to figure out
what they are reading and believing

I wanna see your hearts and spades
dressed in tall grass or lemonaide
i wanna see your cups and wands
inbetween whispering winds and songs lead me there
i know you can come on 
come on 
come on be strong 
like a suit of clubs or diamonds
show me something
and then sprinkle your writings
and we'll make collectors out of all those we invite here
as they read and ponder the meanings of our literature

whats in your hand?
a royal flush a pair?
and as we deal the cards they stumble upon at this endless game 
of cribbage or poker
or tarock
or war who is winning and getting points?
what card means what to who and why

tell me artist as you write with your style on low and high
what makes what suit smile and fade shine and slide?
inside outside sphere of influence
be their collective the object of the psychics to crave?

blind leading the blind
and something they are after for days and days

a few cards your favorite cards play smart or dumb
shuffle the cards pick a game deal a hand
reveal what your playing and one day i'll tell you what we're playing what your 
cards mean
if nothing
to someone one day when the stumble your way
the mystery of nothing speaks something
and we rebuild the puzzle of cartomancy better and better this way

just inspire
once you know you can't
blind leadin gthe blind
so after you read this you can't
play along your uninvited
strike it off your list of things to do
round one is over now go find all who wrote
all who write all who have wriitten the masterpieces
of cards and see what they mean today and collect them for that is something no 
one else can do
until round two....


Details | Lyric | |

Let's Write A Poem

Here’s my plea: Let’s write a poem for the world to read;
And in it is a message that all can relate or heed;

Encourage others to pick a pen instead of a gun;
With this poem let people be taught to bond 

all spirits, whether in distress or in joy with a smile;
This poem we write be a reminder that life is fragile;

That peace is at hand, only if we want to achieve;
People will learn to greet enemies and they shall be received;

All of us can write, whether you’re white, black, or brown;
Just believe in what you can do; and not to aspire the crown

Of hate, if you dare tomorrow comes without tears,
Nor will there be worries of living in fears;

With this poem, people will burst not
In paroxysm of rage, but, be inspired to share a lot

Such as love, hope, or maybe, just give a friendly kiss;
You know, it’s easy to write a poem, than writing peace.


Details | Free verse | |

To Write Your Best

To write the finest poem that your heart and mind permit
You must let go of yourself and earthly bonds, dream vocally
Speak aloud in your mind of feelings, both good and bad
Let the words overcome you, present themselves to you
Take them, rearrange them and stir in deep meaning
Thereby touching on the heart of something that matters so
In other words, to write that one, that special one, let yourself go


Details | Rhyme | |

DIVINE INTERVENTION

I never write a poem
That doesn’t write itself.
I catch a buzz and come alive
Like a puppet off it’s shelf.

Hearing many voices,
Whose words are never mine.
My pen becomes a painter’s brush
Forming visions on a line.

I seem to be a better person,
When it’s time to sit down and write.
A higher power guides my hand,
Sharing wisdom by day and night.

People born to create,
Have no choice but to perform.
It’s the rush of sharing their gift,
That elevates them from the norm.

What would our world become,
Without intervention from above?
Angry beings in a revolving cage,
With no sense of passion or love.


Details | Free verse | |

Pienso, quiero y desearia

A veces, quisiera gritar,

Quisiera correr,

Quisiera reir,

Quisiera llorar,

Quisiera morir,

Quisiera iluminación,

Quisiera vivir,

Quisiera escapar,

Quisiera revivir...


A veces, pienso en ustedes,

Pienso en espacio,

Pienso nublado,

Pienso oscurecido,

Pienso esclarecido,

Pienso en transparencia,

Pienso en huesos,

Pienso en naturaleza,

Pienso en actuar,

Pienso en todo...


Desearía volver a amar como antes,

Desearía saber más allá,

Desearía expresar más de lo normal,

Desearía unas manos agarrar,

Desearía en hombros impregnar,

Desearía contigo llorar,

Desearía contigo caminar,

Desearía tus abrazos recibir,

Desearía mi corazón de plata y titanio arreglar,

Desearía mi mente repasar...


Desearía que no me traicionaran,

Desearía con besos y amistad despertar,

Desearía en un paraíso soñar,

Desearía a todos concientizar,

Desearía a todos impresionar,

Desearía construir nuevos horizontes,

Desearía adversidades borrar,

Desearía romper leyes,

Desearía ser libre,

Desearía a todos ayudar,

Aunque me cueste la vida...


Pienso en querer el deseo infinito,

Quiero un amor eterno,

Deseo uno amistad inquebrantable,

Para no morir más...


Details | Verse | |

My Words

Sometimes my poetry is just a case of words, 
and not necessarily my reality;                                     
and that’s what is so beautiful about writing

You can be who you want to be on any level 
and tell secrets about fantasies that may never be;  
or take trips to other dimensions on mental journeys,                                                                        or places that some don’t even think exist

They mimic thoughts that manifest themselves as poetry 
and rest on pages patiently waiting to adhere
My words are a reflection of my heart 
and they reveal the truth behind my mask of fear
they deliver reality doses  whether they are just cases, 
or me in the absolute right here

My words exude positive intentions; 
my imperfections apparent but I accepted rejections 
and reversed dejection  
and decided to bare all my fantasies, my flaws my very soul 
and temptations

Uncertain how voiced verses appeal to outside sources but internally they set me free
They provide a medium of light and creativity
A chance to apply knowledge and a time for reflecting on and making changes in my frequency
My words are attached to my soul and its overwhelming ability to just be
They reflect what I was before         
the choices I’ve made and the reasons that this life is perfect 
according to divine order

They represent the voices of my ancestors from the beginning of time 
because up until now, 
the ending wasn’t within reach so I make sure that I
carefully choose the format and the right place and time 
to deliver the message that may be blatant or hidden inside – 
of the abstract placements of verbs
giving praise to the source of power that calmly submits to the voice 
connected to my words
I am the originator of my own words
I hope that you are inspired, or simply entertained
by the process by which I've placed my words


Details | Haiku | |

The Internet: Return

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


Details | Rhyme | |

Aka My Maze

Streaks of Ink, Across a blank page
Sounds of expression, to be released on stage
Words flow midair, only a chosen few understand
Emotions from each side, both beautiful & bland
Not your typical poet, nothing at all like the displays
So rare and unique, strong and bright like the morning rays
Words from experience, from dreams and my reality of life
Words form memories 
Memories of struggle, love and strife
No copy and paste, No stolen words here
These are cries from my heart 
Emotions created throughout the years 
Poetic Justice
A title I endure so deep
A gift from my God, I've chosen to keep
No particular topic, Just pure extacy from word play
Spilling these words brings me a high, I must say
A poet, A writer and a singer some days
I welcome you to the pieces of me 
My words shall guide you through my mind aka my maze.

Kioshi Love <3


Details | Personification | |

Puzzle Piece

A puzzle piece you are to me 
Like a vine without any leaves. 
Your heart is pure your soul is 
Gold, the sweetest thing I'll 
ever hold! A miracle in my eyes 
it seemed, knowing they said 
no babies for me! Always a 
surprise you seem to be just 
like a puzzle piece! At 9 months 
you walked but not until 4 did 
you first talk! Always a terror 
making a beautiful mess always 
a surprise that has yet to be 
met! The twists and turns I 
know we will see will seem 
somewhat like a roller coaster 
to me! The milestones and 
special gifts you bring will make 
my life seem Like a dream, my 
special boy I have always said 
How special I knew not till 
Aspergers they said! The 
journey will be trying the 
journey will seem long! But 
with our family together we will 
chug along! My special boy I 
love you so and cannot wait to 
see you mature and grow! Now 
we have a goal we have our 
dream you see to make you the 
perfect fitting puzzle piece!! 


Written by: Christina Kirks 
McCullouch 04/05/2012 For 
Jonathan S McCullouch Jr 
Mommy loves you to eternity 
and beyond! Forever and 
always!



Details | Free verse | |

Just Be

Sometimes I admire the littlest things
A simple rock. A blade of grass. 
They need no future goals, no tax exemptions
They don’t need to go anywhere or be anything
They just are. 

Sometimes, especially when I’m reading life insurance policies,
I envy the rocks and the grass
And try to be like them for a moment. 
I sit perfectly still and give myself to the wind-
And it whispers in my ear:
Just be.
And for that moment I don’t need to go anywhere or be anything.
And at the snap of my fingers, 
All the complex widgets and gizmos that make up my life
Fold into paper airplanes and fly off in the wind.

Jacob Reinhardt
10/07/13


Details | Narrative | |

Jack and Jill

Jack and Jill went up the hill to fetch some pails of water
Jack climbed some trees while Jill was picking some pretty flowers

After some hours Jack realized that he was wasting time
So he called Jill to hurry up before ‘tis half past nine

So off they went to continue their very long journey
‘Till they passed by an old beggar and gave him some money

When they both reached the well Jack and Jill filled up their buckets
Near the well were some berries which they put in their pockets

When they reached home their momma and papa were so happy
For dinner they had meatballs and soup and chicken curry

 And five bags of bananas which a rich neighbor gave them
The good that you do to others will always be returned 


Details | Rhyme | |

Happiness in a Wrong way

Happiness in a Wrong way – Zamreen Zarook

In the notion of seeking happiness,
I thought of stepping in to nonsense,
I dream I could find success,
But I had only little access.

Every attempt that I lend,
It was an utter failure at the end,
My life was full of difficult bend,
But God is always there as a good friend.

My deeds travel in various ways,
Some times in subways,
Or in times it goes in highways,
But I had the belief, God is there always.

North and south families surrounded,
East and west friends are rounded,
Every time fear on death soughed,
I am trapped, and my merits are loaded.


Details | Shape | |

war over now

                     
                   ~ War Over  Now ~

                      w riting words frustrated
                        a writing unworthy
                          r emains in passing thoughts

                               o vercoming fear of judgment
                                 v alidating a soul broken 
                                   e nters a spirit of one passed
                                     r eassuring inspiration driving to continue

                                        n ew forms written
                                          o vercoming dark with light
                                            w anting to change by inspiring love forever ~ 


                            
                                       
  

















                           


Details | Narrative | |

My Motivations in Poetry

My love of poetry started when I was still a five- year old child When my parents asked me to memorize verses and rhymes With all my feelings and actions, I recited my poems in front of a crowd Innocently receiving adulations but not a handful of dime The first piece I memorized was entitled, “Cradle Hymn” I was a small girl sent in a poem competition, so naïve When I’ve grown up , I realized it’s a song lyric with Christmas theme So, I sang it and started to develop my good voice quite a bit When I was a teenager, I memorized speech and declamation pieces My teacher sent me in a poem contest for a campaign against drug addiction I tried to deliver my piece like a candidate for a star award actress Acting like a drug addict teenage girl longing for parents’ love and attention As years went by, I turned out to be quite a flirty lady With puppy love and sweet crushes to some guys around me When one of them got me, so happy until I forgot all about reciting poetry Relationship went long but when we broke up, it created another life’s story All my heart brokenness has turned me out to be a poem writer I also wrote few poems for my family, dreams and for close friends’ requests My passion of poetry blazed and turned out to be greater When I found a writing spot, motivated and inspired by my friends-the great poets
Feb. 6, 2013 First Place Contest: Who What Where Judged: 4/23/2013 Sponsor: Poet Carol Sunshine Brown


Details | Light Poetry | |

Soul Sisters

Such an Amazing girl god put into my life.

He knew i needed you at that exact time

Funny when we met I thought you were to good for me

But when you approached me the sweetest girl I did meet.

From that day on we have never truly been apart cause I

carry you around everywhere in my heart. You have been the

rock when I needed a friend around, you have been the light

when the darkness consumed me and took away my sunshine

Even when were miles apart the phone connects us and keeps

our strongest bond. 17 years feels like such a short time but

I feel I have always had you in my life. Soul Sisters we were

meant to be.. You my beloved friend are such a fresh breeze

Even after a year apart it was like yesterday that we did part

so through the many miles and through the long hard road

I know this friendship will always survive. Your a burst of joy

to me each day I thank the Lord for the sweet blessing he gave!

BY:Christina McCullouch

7/28/2012


Details | Free verse | |

Child poet

The raw delight and 
wonder of an eager 
child-poet lay scattered 
across the floor.  

A baby's coo squeals from 
the aging pages babbling
forth childish nonsense while
tired cliches wind lazily through
trite rhymes lacking lyrical luster.

Still, each precious verse endears 
me to the memory of a precocious
youth when poetry was simple 
and an unspoiled world
lay bare age old secrets
calling out to be discovered.


Author's commentary:  

I don't remember what inspired me to write my first poems, but there was always something about
language.  Something profound, something powerful, something pure.  

I had no natural talent, and thankfully I didn't know it for I might have given up.

But eventually, and by sheer accident, I pieced together something that worked proving
poetry is not reserved solely for those with the predisposition but is also born of
passion, study, and discipline.

It was 15 years of frustration and tears as poem after bad poem was ripped to shreds by
seasoned writers with invaluable, albeit sometimes harsh, advice before I created anything
worthy of being read.  But I am in love with poetic art so have persevered with humility
and gratitude in the face of rejection until finding a rhythm of my own.  And though a bit
of time may sometimes pass before I am moved to write again, the words eventually spill
forth, and with a bit of luck and ingenuity, I will write a profound piece of insightful
prose stirring pride in the hearts of my mentors whose opinions I hold so dear.

For me, it has never come easy but with a deep-rooted love for the art and an obsession
for one day authoring a single, perfect verse, I hope to be unified in spirit with the
ghosts of poets past inspiring and encouraging others to keep the craft alive.


Details | Rubaiyat | |

Why Poets Write

Why Poets Write


Why do poets write?,
Why does the moon shine at night?.
Why does water fall with such grace?,
Why is a rainbow such a beautiful sight?

So, why do poets write?
Do they write because the moon shines so bright?
Do they write because water falls with such grace?
Or is it because of the majesty of a hawk, in flight?

Poets write because that’s what we do,
Whether it be a Sonnet, Etheree or Haiku,
We see things through our own prism,
And write about it in our creative point of view.

This is why I write,
I write because I see beauty in the moonlight,
I appreciate the splendor of a waterfall,
And the majesty of a hawk, in flight.

I write because it feeds my soul,
Writing the perfect poem is my ultimate goal,
I write, I do my best,
The rest is out of my control.

The perfect words, in the perfect order,
Follow the rules, no pressure,
Slowly see your creation come alive,
When it works, there’s nothing better.

Poets, generally, don’t write for the glory,
We heal people by proxy,
We are emotion peddlers,
And we do it all for free.

I can’t speak for everyone, nor would I try,
My urge to write is something I’d best not deny,
Or things go drastically wrong,
Like ice, in the middle of July.

So, regardless of why you write,
Keep your vision in sight,
Take criticism with a grain of salt,
Never get discouraged, never get uptight.


© 2011


Details | Free verse | |

Mother and son

I cherish you,
If you cherish me.

You brought me to life,
We began to meet through time,
Even though,
Sometimes you don't comprehend me,
Sometimes you don't understand me,
That sometimes time isn't enough,
That sometimes instincts get uncontrolled...,
But still,
You were designated for my life,
And you profile my living...
We share lives...

Although,
Time brings maturity,
And time doesn't last forever,
As well as we don't last forever...

There is no such thing,
As total perfection,
Even though,
Thank you...


Details | Free verse | |

For All Of You

For you, I will see,
For you, I would guarantee,
For you, I could be an emcee,
For you, I will pass oversea,
For all of you, I could be esprited...

For you, I will walk,
For you, I won't baulk,
For all of you, we will flock,
For all of you, I won't pock,
For all of you, this won't be a crock...

For you, I will think,
For you, I will blink,
For you, I would interlink,
For all of you, I would sync,
For you, I can break brinks,
For all of you, I might bequeath...

For all of you, I might concede,
For you, I might precede,
For all of you, I might exceed,
For you, I mit accede,
With all of you, I might proceed,
With all of you, I might succeed,
For you, I might bleed,
For all of you, I could be a steed...

From all of you, I might receive,
To all of you, I might give,
For you, I might cry,
For you, I might lead,
For you, I can try,
More I could say,
But for you, I might live,
For all of you, I might die,
I could give my soul, for all of you...


Details | Free verse | |

Thinking Of You

I remember happiness,
No more,
No less,
Only true love.

I imagined,
You beside me...

I remember your eyes,
I remember your lips,
I feel your love,
I know your life...


Details | Rhyme | |

The Real Me

I want to show you the real me,
Not just what you think you see,
I like to dress in black, not pink,
My dark poems will make you think,
I can't always be happy like you,
For I am sad, and often blue,
My soul was dying to break free,
To be the person I wanted to be,
I have hid my true self for many years,
While deep inside, crying many tears,
But, now I am showing the real me,
And you are just starting to see,
I'm emerging in the dark poetry I write,
The difference is like day and night.


Details | Romanticism | |

The Princess of Beauty

                         Please, write a letter to me.Describe your feelings.
                              What do you think about, a time like this?
                    Write down your heartache, and write down your songs.
                            You first travelled to Paris, and then to Nice.

              When you arrived at the Rivieran, you kissed the seashore for me.
                    I´m dreaming of dancing the flamenco with you, in Spain.
          I would like to kiss you in Barcelona, and the sculptures would watch.
               They would like to get us married, but you´ve still got your pain.

              Once in Nice, but now in Venice, and probably hidden in a gondola.
                     Is that the place, where your dreams will become true?
                      Is that the town of arts, which will change your visions?
                    Venice by the waters, but are your paintings gonna be few?

                           And finally, in Greece, you felt the warm breeze.
                          You walked in the old footsteps of ancient poets.
               You, the Queen of poetesses, who always are rhyming by Athens.
                  She, the Princess of Beauty, who has caught me into her nets.

                      
                      
                      
                       


Details | Blank verse | |

The Dust God

I am drifting into memories.
Wasting away like a million photographs fading in the sun-
Yet with ceaseless renewal,
Staining the depths of my eyes with images
In the minds shutter ever fluttering to infinity,
Stringing together this conscious stream I play in-
My stupendous God made of dust and space
Tightrope walking existence!
And to think we too are made of mostly nothing-
Chance so scarcely gracing our atoms with a single touch
In a place so lonely when counted, 
Yet so abounding when felt!
So dance with the Dust God 
Poised miles above the earth-
Prance on your stilts, 
And peek into the great valleys beneath his skin.
Because any moment we could disappear 
Into


Jacob Reinhardt	
9/19/2013


Details | Haiku | |

Haikus About God: V

Omniscient guy
Yet he lets bad things happen
How can he exist?


Details | Limerick | |

To Poets Who Say They Are Not Poets

The doorway to my mind,
once again shall be forever closed.
For words I used to fling,
like birds notes as they sing,
Have all been properly disposed.

This world that I tried to change,
has kept me hidden from its view.
So I would begin to think,
that my words just stink,
although that may not be actually true?

Thinking of myself as a poet
though maybe nothing more than a bumbling fool.
From my heart I would pour,
simple words to adore,
but perhaps I should have studied poetry in school.

Yet a sadness still grips my heart,
like a thorny rosebush as it grows.
With the beauty of its flowers,
growing skyward as it towers,
though near it no one ever goes.

Many poets say they are not poets.
I say this mere fact is simply untrue.
For the words you write,
are read with pure delight,
once written from the soul within you.



Written By:DannyBoy
Some guy who thought he was a poet
On 2-6-13


Details | Narrative | |

My Story Telling Can You Trust Me

Gun fire all around, bombs going off in the distance
It was some of the angry mobs and resistance
Father was the king of SafeHaven a small kingdom
Like all other kingdoms it fell in random
Fire started in the castle
And along with it came a battle

It was a distance memory now because the child has now grew
Many things in this child that made memories stew
My name is Mastrey, a young orphan who was there that night
Mastrey saw her in the distance and her father and mother in his sight
Everyone was loud that night and made all the children hide
But that evening Mastrey saw her mother and father die

She ran into the bushes in such a fright
And evil doers were running around with flashlights
Mastrey remember it as he distracted them 
Her eyes was so confused with problems
Mastrey new that it was because of what just occurred
His feelings of what those people did was not awkward

The distraction worked, he went back to were she was
Hiding and very scared she was, he asked her, can you trust me just because?
Her answer that night depended on her lively hood
As Mastrey was their with his hand reaching out to her as he stood
Pulling her up from the ground he looked into her eyes that were SeaBlue
Mastrey had made a life long friend and love, She knew it was true

Next: My Story Telling,  Who is this Princess


Details | Free verse | |

Friends

They help us,
When we are down.
They make us stand up,
And go on...

They make us smile,
They bring us hope,
They give us comprehension,
Worth to trust...

They give us a reason,
They make us forget our darkness,
They enlighten us in harsh moments...

They are designated for our lives,
They profile our living,
They bring us to life...


Details | Romanticism | |

Love needs Two Hearts

Love cannot bloom,
love cannot go on,
love cannot persue it dreams,
love cannot be what it is meant to be,
love cannot be where it is supposed to be,
if love doesn't have two hearts.

Love needs two hearts to be true,
Like water to a dried rose
makes it bloom in spring weather
with such glory and beauty.
Love cannot be true if one heart
doesn't love the other.
Care, trust, honesty and loyalty
in love it has no boundaries,
it has no color, it has no age,
like a fine wine or an aged whiskey
it grows better with time.
But love cannot fullfill without the other half.

If a woman loves man,
let her love him,
if you love me,
than love me, but if my heart is gone
and cannot be found in such relation with you
then I must halt, till my heart comes around.
If it never does show with the first light of morning,
then it wasn't meant to be with thee.
Come now, do not shed a tear for me,
a simple heathin, who cries havoc
when something doesn't go his way.
Do not cry, do not shed your one of a kind tears
for a souless man, for a heartless man like I,
but do not blame me,
if my heart cannot be found.

Love needs two hearts,
not one or the other can survive
without each other.
Love is patient, love is kind,
but with ever lover comes another.
And we will all fall in great and deep love,
be intoxicated with each other,
and our sweet kisses that God himself would shed a tear
for such beauty that still exisits.
Love needs two hearts,
you cannot have one, without the other.


Details | Haiku | |

Haikus About God: III

Beauty of nature
Why condense it down to God?
Isn’t life enough?


Details | Haiku | |

Haikus About God: IV

God made all people
But some better than others?
Stop being silly.


Details | Haiku | |

Haikus About God: VI

The body: sacred
We’re all made in God’s image
Hence... circumcision?


Details | Couplet | |

all about Sashi

Jan2012
By Sashi. Prabhu (ZEAUOXIAN)
I am not afraid any more, I am not afraid any more. I have cheated my fears alright, I have broken up with my doubts uptight. I am not afraid any more, I am not afraid any more. I got engaged to my faith last night, I married my dreams at the sight of first light. I am not afraid to get up today, I am not afraid to wake up to another day today, I am not afraid to open my eyes and see today, I am not afraid to climb out of bed today. I am ready to walk into the gardens in the heavy rains, I am ready to open my nose and smell of mud from wet terrain I am ready to face the world all alone, I am ready to do anything to walk up the stepping stone. I am ready to say anything to anyone, I am ready to talk to anyone under the sun. I am ready to yell from mountain tops, I am ready to dive from ravine drops. I am ready to walk for a cause, I am ready to run to protect environmental laws. I am ready to touch taboo objects & subjects I am ready to work on regressions of y on x I am ready to understand tangled issues, I am ready to wipe all tears with tissues. I am ready to taste tropical fruits, I am ready to chop, boil and eat bamboo shoots I am ready to jump out from a moving truck, I am ready to pull my allies from loads of muck. I am ready to be creative again, I am ready to write and spill out my joys and pain. I am ready to sing and hear my own songs, I am ready to correct my own wrongs. I am ready to throw a stone afar, I am ready to play my own music for all with the door ajar. I am ready to write notes about me, I am ready to put them up for all to see. I am ready to whistle whilst I walk down the alley, I am ready to bring out tunes and them create verbally I am not afraid any more, I am not afraid any more.


Details | Rhyme | |

DARE TO INSPIRE

My dreams and desires
Are to write to inspire
I have so much to give 
That is my reason to live
Peace always invades my spirit
I’m so glad my soul welcomes it
My compass to my life is lost
I cannot navigate the way home so pen pays the cost
I will always write to find my way
To my God I pray
As the realization dawned on me
When my pen flows I’m free
I can be anybody I want to be
So many of us have to settle for a life of deception 
I shall soar beyond this world's limitations
In all things, follow your heart
In life be careful how you walk and talk
Think it, believe it
Don’t hold back do it
Let your dream grow
Please let God take control











Details | Rhyme | |

YOUR LIFE DOESN'T HAVE TO BE EMPTY

As God guided my hand to write this poem with black ink.
With love and favor He gave me words to write this in a wink.
I’ve learned that an empty heart has no compassion;
But an empty heart gets no satisfaction.
Some of us see no meaning or purpose in life.
I think because we stressed with problems and strife.
Most people appear happy and confident.
But many people still try to fill up their own void with achievement.
Faith in the life of a person is that the word must become a living force within the 
soul of a man.
I put this in the poem hoping you can understand.
My mother always told me this, “that an empty heart doesn’t care,  
“And definitely that a empty heart has no love to share.”
I’m not selfish but I'm doing this for me.
So I can be free and just let be.
See a part of me knows what to do.
But another piece of me has no clue.
In my life I'm making my own path.
I've sat around for days and done the math.
Having faith and believing is the only thing that keeps me going,
So I just keep positive people and things around me that is what keep me moving.

Romans 3:19-20  Now we know that whatever the law says it speaks to those who 
are under the law, so that every mouth may be stopped, and the whole world may 
be held accountable to God. For by works of the law no human being will be justified 
in his sight, since through the law comes knowledge of sin. 


Details | Rhyme | |

A fresh start a new beginning

 by : Sashi.Prabhu (zeauoxian)

 
The day before yesterday was laced with dismay in every possible way, Yesterday was better but has into the backdrop faded away. But today is another day, New stuff to think, do and say. Today I will brave the world all alone, And enjoy my freedom full blown. I will live life with zest, Try neverto do things second best. I will live to be sensitive, Towards others be more receptive. I will live to be forgiving, Be more tolerant and caring. I will speak to all who walk my path, Make peace with all and unnecessarily not unleash quaint wrath. I will correct all my wrongs, And tell this to all by making them my songs. I will proudly write notes about the new me, And publish and upload them for all to see. I will work to be creative, And learn to open my mind’s eye and not be obstructive. I will always proudly wear my own neoteric attitude, To succeed, master the skill of gratitude. The day before yesterday was laced with dismay in every possible way, Yesterday was better but has into the backdrop faded away. And today is the right day, To commence these fresh new things that I write and say
theme: a fresh new start date:9th march 2012,


Details | Narrative | |

The Emotions of One Life

How can one easily express the emotions intact within?
Every day we are tackled by various emotions
I imagine just how strong they would be
If the entire world's emotions were all squished together into one
Surely it would be more powerful than any nuclear bomb...
Oh, when our emotions are expelled from being bottled up within for so long...
My, how strong they can be? 
I don't believe my volcano of emotions has erupted yet but, man,
Something has definitely been cooking from within... 

As for one individual, Laura Elizabeth Breidenthal, ("Breanderthong" for others...)
I have been juggled about by new emotions lately
Some really nice emotions, and others downright, miserably...
Indubitably,(had to use the word)...impeccably... horrible
But, you know, I can't possibly have the worst
I know others out there that seem to have it so bad...

I won't go into what I've been feeling lately
Because that would take longer than a sermon at church
And who really wants to hear a ranting preacher? 
—Or read work by a ranting preacher for that matter... 

But really, imagine having to calculate every emotion you have felt in your life
Imagine one person doing that
...would it leave an impact? 
Imagine everyone calculating their emotions
How similar would we be to one another?
How different?
I've wondered this often...
It just intrigues me how intricately designed...how truly...sensitive...in tuned we are...

Hm... not sure how I veered off like this, but I just want to say...
Appreciate this opportunity
Appreciate the fact that we HAVE emotion
And through art…through poetry, we can show our true sentiments
...our amazing imaginations....our true, beautiful emotions
Even the negative ones, when we express them through art,
You can see the true beauty of having the freedom—
...the GIFT,
to FEEL. 

The emotions of one life can affect the entire world...
But most importantly they can affect YOU
And they have; whether through indifference,
Or inspirational happiness,
We are a fortunate race


Details | Sonnet | |

My Shakespearean Sonnet

What Shakespeare didn’t write he left to me
In this, a brand new world and century
The English language lives and breathes, alive
A poet’s job is helping it survive

The Muses use us, soul and body, mind
To write of things that can not be defined
The subject matter always stays the same
It’s love and hate, it’s greed and fear and fame

New words evolve to name the things we see
But subject matter stays through history
Our hands the only instruments of worth
To help the Muses speak and then give birth

Their words are bridges crossing deep divides
That bring to man the peace that truth provides


Details | Free verse | |

Why

Why go to sleep?
Why we are the ones that have missing things.
Why take a breeze?
When I am the one that needs zephyr.

Why cry until you are satisfied?
When you are always dissatisfied.
Why go and feel contempt?
When we only need respect.
So, why do you expose yourself?
When you haven't cleansed yourself.

Why go and overreact?
When you sometimes don't make a great impact.
Why go and bite?
When you know you cannot eat more than you can chew.

Why give?
When you only deserve.
Why shed some tears?
When they sometimes aren't clear.
Why are you happy?
When you know you are lying.

Why are we bleeding?
When we only need healing.
So, why live?
When we go and die.
And why die?
When we want life.

We might fall down,
But it is never too late,
'Cause life,
Starts now...


Details | Free verse | |

My Notebook

Stimulating ideas pop into your head
You need a pen…you need a piece of lined paper 
It looks like you’re outtah luck…no wonder you’re drowning in dread
You need a shoulder to lie your head down for a moment’s rest… 
You need a helper…to aid you while you struggle emotionally…
I’m not trying to irritate you purposely

Try with all your might…try your best
To stay optimistic and fervent 
I believe that you’ll pass the test
Be upbeat, kindhearted and jubilant  

I appreciate the words you wrote on my notebook…
Sometimes, I feel like leftovers left on the counter…
I’m a rotten mess – you’re leaving me as if I’m an uninteresting book 
Sometimes, I feel like a coward – I don’t mean to bother…

But, you’re like no other . . .

You’re like a mat – you’re constantly stepped on…
I’m like YOUR unwanted tool – 
I stepped on you and
Pushed your buttons
I accused you of being the fool 
When, in fact, I’m the fool by your side…
You’re drifting…pushing me aside…

I’m writing words of truth though – 
Expressing how much I’m fond of you 

I esteem your presence
Glowing with glee 
At times, you do say things without thinking 
I’m the god of distress – 
You’re leaving me breathless 
Cutting me down like I’m some decaying tree
You don’t see how much you make me…
Guilty for your crimes
Taking the blame about the hundredth time 

At times, I feel that I’m awkward when I’m around you

You’re like a backpack – you carry everyone’s weight…
You’re like a sponge – soaking in our stress
I’m a distraction to you – you’re wasting valuable time…but don’t hesitate 
I’m writing words of self-centered feelings – logic doesn’t exist…
But these feelings aren’t as bad as committing a crime
These feelings come and go – I just had to confess 
I didn’t mean to screw up your progress…

Hey, if you need a few sheets of paper to right on, 
Use me like a notebook instead…and write with all your might
It seems as if you read me…like a book that drags on and on 
Use me as your tool of relaxation… and read me all night  

When you wrote those words on my notebook…
It made my day…you’re such a delight 
Like reading a fascinating, classic book


Details | Concrete | |

Observer

A serpent underneath blue sky,
in shade of man, in twinkle of an eye,
above brick wall, in the structure, at the floor,
venom of white dove; contaminated food, undrinkable water,
misguided youth, pregnant daughter, unfaithful father and hateful son,
mothers do pray while we walk through Babylon;
on teli and in the press, on top shells,
price none the less, in bedroom and at your door..
dawn of a new day seemed to be dark,
after all.


Details | Free verse | |

How Not To Write A Poem

I doubt myself, real bad sometimes
I think - why did that happen to me
How could I possibly write that nice poem?
And if I did it once, how can I do it again?
Because I don’t know or forgot how too
With pen in hand, the magic flows again
But the words come from the pen’s pointy end
Not from me, I just write what I’m told
messenger boy, only transcribing
I take  no credit except for criticizing
But not for spelling mistakes, that’s Gates’ job
Although he really doesn’t  know
The difference between to and too
Hint, it doesn’t make four
Whoa, the pen just ran out of words.


Details | Verse | |

Le Vacance Pretentieuse: Going Home

What is it to see the soil of home again?
A welcome, snow-struck and a return
To cold; sharp white contrasts sunburn.
We converse in broken tongues to men

We know, hooked on holiday language
Comprised of wandering hand signs.
Collect the car and pay parking fines,
Drive through towns and over a bridge

Until we reach the Western gateway.
Oh when will we arrive at our house?
No camels there, only field mouse
Which are eaten by our cat anyway.

The plane flies for an age, slyly yawning
Through the stretching, pealing sky,
A knife through air; what it is to fly.
Our travels over; a new day is dawning.


Details | Rhyme | |

I Want To Be

I want to write to be inspirational.
I want to write so others won’t fear to be confrontational. 
I want you to read my works and say “Damn that was motivational!”
I want to be the one you seek after for guidance and truth.
I want you to grow confidence that is through the roof.
I want my words to brighten someone’s day,
I want my thoughts to drive one in a powerful way.
Is that bad of me to say?
Is it wrong I want to change a life?
Is it a crime I want to pull one away from strife?
Why can’t I pine after such a mission?
Because you and everyone else settle hurt and change by submission?
I want to change rather than conform.
How shall I accomplish this?
What works for you may not work for me.
I’ll just speak on what the world needs to see.
Men crying,
Girls objectifying,
Teens denying the need to conform,
Women waiting for marriage til a baby is born.
Men using fists rather than guns so mothers don’t have to mourn.
Young love, not young and drugged.
Respect for ourselves as women.
Men don’t just disrespect with their hands, but as well with their eyes.
And yet you want pants tight around your thighs.
If you put as much effort into school as you do looking cute, you would thrive.
Use your mind to maximize.
You wanted to be treated as an equal but you’re too busy finding ways to complain.
If you continue to let your success be compromised,
There’s no room to optimize.
I may not know you, but I know what you can do.
I know there’s nothing you can’t construe, 
Nothing except for you. 
You can be bigger than Ghandi, Oprah, or Muhammad Ali,
But what I find touching is up to me.
So I suppose I fail to influence and move,
Then again,
Isn’t that up to you?


Details | Verse | |

The Poetic Blues

I think I self-sabotage unknowingly 
because of fear
So my message goes unheard because I’m afraid to let the people hear
And end up drowning in the poetic blues
doubting my ability to write about the truth;

I dug deeper and deeper into myself trying to write a poem good enough to be free of judgment
Then I stepped out on faith and suddenly I was triumphant 
and my writing grew 
and I was loving it
I had finally passed the fear of speaking and caring about who the fu*c! was judging it

As I wait to be inspired for the next poem, 
I sit and think alone and drown in my sorrows
Listening to jazz, blues and a.m. radio
trying to find an excuse not to perform at the SLAM 
because again I can’t think of a damn thing to write…..
Drowning in poetic blues
Will this be the one that will be thrown away and never be used 

Or will this be the one that transcends the others  
and finally prove that poetry is blues and blues is poetry and hip hop and jazz and r&b, 
Poetry is music and the words dance around in my soul 
and I am free once they become spoken 
In the meantime the paper is where the words will rest 
until the silence is broken

Drowning in the sea of proper delivery 
My voice, my stance, my intensity
How will others interpret the words that I’ve chosen so diligently?
I wrap my soul around the possibility that none of the words I choose – 
will keep me from becoming deluged and trapped by the poetic blues

Somehow my heart refuses to accept that I don’t deserve to have my words heard 
and it takes over this whole process
No more time for shrinking and feeling less
I was born to  make my words manifest light
I am a gorgeous medium to the truth yeah that's right
I was sent here to give you a piece of good news
Remember that God is with you when you get
The poetic blues


Details | Free verse | |

If I might be

If you want me to express,
Then let me progress.

If you love me,
Give me a break,
'Cause thinking of it,
I may not stay...

If you love me,
Let me lead,
If you love me,
Let me go deep,
If you love me,
I may love you,
If you love me,
Just let me be.

What if you die?
What if I'm gone?
Do you know me?
We all have secrets...

If you are hurt,
I might burn,
If you cry,
I might cry,
If you win,
I might lose,
If you bleed,
I might bleed,
If you live,
I might live.

We all have sins,
We all have burdens...

We can hear,
We can see,
We can know,
We can think,
We can feel,
We can comprehend.

Sorry.
Just let me be.
Because life and time aren't eternal,
They aren't meant to last forever...

Please,
Sorry.
Just let me be...


Details | Free verse | |

An Artist I'll Always And Forever Be

Storytelling without words
Paintbrush in hand
Strokes of colors in various hues
Painting what I see, what I know
Creating masterpieces on canvas
This is what I've always done
This is what I do best

Life, alas, is too short
At sixty five young, a new skill
Switching paintbrush to quill
Putting words to my paintings
My thoughts of what I perceive
Beauty of expressions 
Creating mental images
In rhythmical formed verses
This is what I'll attempt to do

You're never too old
Too learn new things


For Tracie's contest, "Gimmi What I Want... What I Really Really Want"


Details | Free verse | |

Last Sonnet



Hither I stand, at crossroads,
And then I gaze, at the yonder end-
The vague horizon from where I began;
And all that I may ever deem
Is that- my days
Have been a waken dream.

Hither I stand, at the edge of my dream;
Then I wonder, at the depth of my trance-
An adventurous journey through the wondrous woods;
An idyllic stroll through the vicissitudinous meadow;
And from the final station as I depart,
All that I can ever say, is that
Perpetuation has been a rouge
Of fleeting phases of my life.


Suyash Saxena 
St. Stephen’s College.


Details | Prose Poetry | |

Poetry is the answer

What impels us so late at night 
to rise up and turn on the light 
to sit down and begin to write 
a poem if the feeling is right? 

For some the answer is simple enough. 
but others must crack a nut that is tough. 
It’s more than rhyme it's that and bigger stuff. 
A finished poem, a diamond no longer rough. 

There is much to be said of many things, 
of wording it right and the joy it brings, 
a quality tone just right when it sings, 
when it ends it's as true as it begins. 

What impels us so late at night 
to rise up and turn on the light 
to sit down and begin to write 
a poem if the feeling is right? 

An un-crafted word, just like a fetter. 
Un practiced in words, we are the debtor.
And for proof, view any written letter. 
Poems fill a need to say it better. 

thanks for the recomendations Reason A. Poteet 
edited by Monty Newman on 11/25/2010


Details | Couplet | |

bucket list of wants

Tons more I wish to do, Much more I want to do, Before I am laid on the pyre facing the sky deep blue, Much more I wish to do………. I want to scale scary heights, I want to bungee jump without any fright. I want to travel rough terrains on bikes, I want to make it through forests and go on long hikes. I want to wander singing songs, I want to sing about how I mended my wrongs. I want to be creative again , I want to write about my joys thrills and pain. I want to pour my heart and passion in my works, I want to write verses & haikus without reactions knee jerks. I want to take many a calculated risks, I want to learn from the entire process without shortcuts or fancy tricks. I want to contribute for a good cause, I want to give without siphoning material or emotional dross. I want to untangle messed up issues, I want to wipe off tears with empathy laced tissues. I want to work on taboo subjects, I want to solve regression of y on x. I want to listen to my music loud, I want to pen my work in a place far from the madding crowd. I want to sow seeds and many a plant, I want to bask in sun rays that into my room slant. I want to drench in the rains, I want to make paper boats and sail them in the drains. I want to pick up from the ground and smell fresh wet earth, And then joyously have my speech filled with mirth. I want to boldly write about myself only for me, I want the world to know me & my mind as they will always see. I want to meet often the persons, who mean a lot to me, I want to be able to emote my passions and feelings of love and glee. I want to be happy about just any small thing, And all this I want to do before the last breath to my nostrils I bring. Facing the blue skies on my funeral pyre, I want to be on the best craft my soul can hire…. All this I want to do very soon, Before sets into me dreaded gloom. But the life I live is taking its toll, I am yet to get out of this oblivious hole. Time is just right to set aside, And take a ride Fulfill my wants and dreams that I nurtured in me to grow, And I had put away sheathed in a cocoon of time many years ago. Now I don’t want a moment long, And I will do what I want and sing my own song, And do what in me I let grow, Many, many years ago.
by: Sashi.Prabhu


Details | Free verse | |

We all fear

Why do we feel hatred?
We fear discontrol.

Why don't they get it?
Why don't they comprehend?
Why do we wait?
Why do we protect?
Why do we run?
We fear destiny.

Why does it hurt?
Why does it burn?
Why do we fight?
Why do they betray us?
We fear love,
We fear friendship.

Why do we keep?
Why is it deep?
We fear the abyss.

Why hell?
Why heaven?
Why purgatory?
We fear darkness,
We fear light.

Why do we live?
Why do we die?
Why do we suffer?
We fear death,
We fear life.

We all live,
We all die,
We all keep,
We all fight,
We all suffer,
We all cry,
We all love,
We all wait,
We all give,
We all receive,
We all trust,
We all wish,
We all dream,
We all remember,
We all feel...

We all vanish,
We all rise,
We can ignite.

We fear destruction.
We all expect,
We all regret,
We all lie.

Why hate?
Why do we create?
Why do you stare?
Why do they glare?
Why explore?
Why hope?
Why goodbye?
Why shine?

We all think,
We all see,
We all go,
We all deserve,
We all pass,
We all fear...


Details | Dramatic monologue | |

Broken Pen

Broken pen


I wanted to write the truth that came from my heart but in the end I wrote the problems that been eating me from the start. Can you image the pen writing solely for this purpose just to be knocked down by my own thoughtless words? Those unwritten words, those shreds from my heart, the pointless promises, and the overbearing confident, how did I manage to corrupt them all?
Hiding from my own pain while I hurt other, is this not the demon I create?
No more a hypocrite then you is lost filled. Stampede, riot, tear down, these are how I describe my own action. My own words burned me, my own words destroyed me, my own words bound me, and my own words create a world filled with my own lies. Funny isn't it? Destroyed by the very thing I created. Be I Frankenstein and my word Frankenstein such a reference defies me to the point of fear. Forgive and forget, walk into the sun and burn, become my bride and let’s walk toward a moon rising wonder. I struggle to find out who I am and who we are but won’t this lead me to my grave? Is it a mission I wish to take and for who sake? Dreaming for an innocent heart but done so imperfectly it too late.  Let my unwritten words love me and lose me, damaging me with blue fires, be forgotten from my memories and sleepless night trying to recover. Such a helpless thing as I watch a demon take me away and bring me back from time to time again. Bloody mask full of lies, full of fear, and tears. Where does the words fly to once I forget them, I wrote my own truth and the heart filled problems that had eaten me. What a way to use my broken pen .


Details | Free verse | |

My Love Intended

My love intended for the girl of my dreams,
she walks from side to side,
not knowing that I walk alone.

She is beautiful than any other thing in this simple world,
everything around her shakes and trembles
as she walks on by without a spare of a passing glance.

The wine is drunk
the last cigarette smoked,
the pain of heartache gone away.

It feels good to see her go my way,
to take the pain with her away from me,
as I sit in the wayward cafe on the river of ashes.

A beautiful girl she is mine,
but that course of life shall no surpass mine,
and my heart beats and takes me away
in hope of falling in love.

Irony of love and hate,
it is similar in many ways,
as I sit and think of her.

She angers me,
but when the vail of anger falls over my eyes,
the passion of love enters my mind.

Come now, take me away,
hold me in your beauty,
and love me with your gentle body.

Go into the gardens,
where the nightingales sing,
and sit at the patio's crossway.

Watch the artists paint pictures of the garden,
watch the writers write about the garden,
and watch us go and pick flowers in the garden.

The air smooth and wind breeze calms the nerves,
the pain of my sorrowed heart is soothed,
by her sweet intellegence and beauty.

Her eyes, orbs of blazing sunlight,
blind me with the beauty of her beauteous face,
her lips and skin smooth and pure.

She is glorious,
My love she is the dream girl,
who comes and takes my nightmares away from me.

As I sit on the park benches,
I light my last cigarette,
and reminicse on the days with my love.

I close my tired eyes only for a moment,
and the moment is gone,
my beauty is gone.

The tears are all gone,
the pain has gone,
the feelings of everlasting love are all gone.

Where did it all go?
Where did my beauty go?
Where did my love go?

All gone now, all gone now,
as I grow old,
the feeling of death takes me by surprise.

The park bench is cold,
the cigarette is burnt out,
I am longing for a drink.

I lay in a wayward cafe
drink a coffee and talk to myself
discussing a book of poetry.

Looking over to the right
I am blinded by beauty once again
this time this is no dream.

Alas, my dream girl came
that appeared in my sunny pleasure dome,
who has walked barefoot in the gardens of my mind.

She sat with me,
I looked at her
and we smiled together.

We held hands together,
and dreamed together,
forever and ever.

Love everlasting,
everything everlasting,
cigarettes smoked together.

A cloud over our heads
in the shape of a heart
my love.


Details | Verse | |

I Write

I write about the things I know
Sometimes it’s places that I’ve been
Or, maybe places I would go 
If I’d find time to now and then.

But mostly I write what I see.
A description lives inside of me
That forms a picture, but in words,
To reproduce in simple verse.

It might rhyme, if I’ve the time.
But, mostly I’m an artist poor,
With words for color, nothing more.

Poems that must have rhyme and reason,
Sometimes, just don’t fit the season.

Poets must be given freedom
To express feelings without borders.
We’re not soldiers given marching orders.

So I write of nature and man,
And try to rhyme it when I can.

But sometimes trees and birds and clouds
Will send me to a place I go,
Deep within my mind.
And there, with pen and paper, 
I’ll see what I can find.

Like ships and trains and oil rigs,
I scribe around the clock,,, tic toc….
Like books and babes and butterflies,
Just because,,,that’s why,,that’s what…


Details | Rhyme | |

Will You Travel With Me To Heaven PART ONE

Poem: Will You Travel With Me To Heaven?

When you wake up in the morning
From a dream you think is okay
You see your spouse and family
Get ready for another day


The dream you saw, the things you see
The bed on which you soundly sleep
Your kids all grown up, your husband
And old memories that you keep


Who do you think created them?
Were they created from nothing?
If there is no god who made these
All, then what's the point of living?


D'you think we were made from nothing
Then from nothing we live for fun
To eat and drink, to love and hate
Then when we die, what comes is none?

The eyes with which your body sees
Those sockets that keep your eyeballs
The mouth you use for food and speech
The way you answer random calls


The languages you use to speak
And another –your mother tongue-
The way you carry yourself, and
How you breathe through your heart and lungs


The muscles that stretch when you smile
Your friends who often make you laugh
The words you try to understand
And how you sign your name so fast


Your kids who once stayed in your womb
The months you carried them in you
Your feelings when you saw their first
Walk and when they smile back at you


The food you eat and cook each day
The rainfalls that fall from above
The earth you walk on each night and
Day, and the things you've learned to love


The blood that flows 'neath your skin each
Hour, the foods you eat, sweet and sour
The clouds you see above your head
The scent of various plants and flowers


The many colors of people
You see, and many sounds you hear
All things in this universe make
You think that a God must be near


A God who is not in this world
But because of Lordship –Above-
Above the skies and on His Throne
Above anything you can think of

A God who is the Most Powerful
A God who does not eat or sleep
A God who is Above all things
A God who does not sweep the streets


A God who sees us all the time
A God who knows our hidden thoughts
A God who hears us all the time
A God who gives us lots and lots

A God who made this universe
A God who is the King of all
A God who knows the good and bad
A God who causes rain to fall


A God who made all kinds of colors
A God who rotates day and night
A God who knows all languages
A God who gave the moon its light

A God who knows the past and present
A God who sees the future of all
A God who gave all kinds of sounds
A God who gave all forms –short and tall

--->PART TWO


Details | Blank verse | |

I Choose To Write

I
Write
I Write
I Choose to Write
Because in writing I can share feelings never felt
In writing I can live dreams dreamt 
In writing I express emotions felt and feared 
I can feel high, no need for weed
Just sincere expressions only expressed through my thought to my fingertips
For every pain U caused me, I just choose to write
Because in writing, I release my uncontrollable anger
And offend no one, just a pad, a keypad, my keyboard and my touch screen

I 
Wrote
I wrote of my victories and failures
Wrote about those sweet times
The bitter sweet
The ugly
Ups and Down
Rejections
Appreciations
Heartbreaks 
Breakthroughs 
I wrote in an attempt to fix the wrong 
Even though I have never been right 
So for all these moments I kept writing 
And I wrote 
And narrowed my pain to none
Just a Pad, a keypad, my keyboard and my touch screen

I have Written
And for all those moments I wrote
I built a virtual relationship with myself
In writing , I shared my pain 
Celebrated my gains
The Rise and fall
And how I kept rising after every fall
All this I shared
With none but myself
I have written 
Because I wrote
And I would write
Because,
I just choose to Write.....


Details | Rhyme | |

MUSE

Amy,
It's time to get back on that horse
And stop living in a covered shell
Your comfortable cocoon of protection
Has in reality been a literal hell
It may have been hard to notice
In the beginning stages anyway
Your life's positive energy was fading
A slow down spiral day after day

So, It's time to take chances again
Replace your defeats with happy grins
Today, let go of any guilt and hurt
Decide right now to be born again

Just take it one day at a time
Share what you know is still inside
There's a wise fountain deep within
A life giving force you need not hide
Ok, It's time to make a risky move
Lay your cards out for all to see
Let this thought be your daily muse
Be the Amy you were meant to be!

3-2-14

Sponsor: Amy Green
Contest: Be My Reason  (Winner: 1st Place!)

PS. I'm new to the Soup so not an old friend who knows you so well.  But you called me friend in your contest notes so I took a chance myself.  Hope my risk was on target. Best Wishes Amy!
 


Details | Free verse | |

You Are Rich

Festered lament maddens me
Why must the despair of my heart’s desire
Truly enlighten me? 
I rested among the sick and lame
And found myself no different from the rest
For a troubled mind holds endless poverty
Penniless regret marks as a sickness no doctor can prescribe
For the bottles of balm are empty
And medicinal hope grows angry
I derived my madness from creativity
Revealing the remains of my humanity
‘Cool off, child’, I heard a soft voice whisper
But can’t you see I live off the flame?
It asks for no nickel or dime!
But it seeks to destroy all the same
The small voice returns at times
And often my heart listens
But we all listen
And only believe in the inevitability of pain 
I speak of the majority
Not of you
For you are blessed and beyond disgrace
You have a life—a beautiful face

And most of all, you are rich
With attributes I can only dream of 

You are rich with life and purpose
Holding inscrutabilities I can only wish to understand
You lift me without touch or care
Disposing me from your treasures
Because though you meant no harm, 
You are rich with blessing
And must remove all possible threats
So my festered lament
Remains an enlightenment

I can say I am rich in poverty
But you are forever rich
In Mystery

What hurts the most is knowing
I may be wrong about you
For you are so obscure in this mind
And as empty as I am I wish to be filled
In your richness
But we all are filled to the brim in the end
And sometimes I cannot distinguish the good from the bad
There is nothing I wish to discard
So I hoard in constant deficiency and despair  
And I hoard the idea that you are beyond compare

That you are rich
And always will be richer
Than me—or he


Details | Rhyme | |

Taste It

I thought my creativity was dead, 
and I would never be able to write again,
I’ve experienced writer’s block 
my brain was hard as a rock.

Tossing to and fro,
I wonder which way to go.
Rhyme,
verse,
narrative,
nothing was positive.

I tried to write a verse,
but my imagination got worse,
so I went into the kitchen 
to find a way to  begin.

Chopped onion, 
salt and pepper,
rhythm or rhyme?
all forms declined.

Melted butter sauté with thyme
alliteration or blank verse?
I had nothing to converse.

I hang over the kitchen sink              
and think,
but I couldn’t find the missing link . 
                                                 
Chopped broccoli and chicken broth,
limerick, haiku and didactic thought,
a touch of shredded cheese and pepper,
 
 quatrain   
  prose 
  ballad
 whipped cream 
 with tomato salad.
 
I blend and stir,
and bring to boil,
      and
 poetrysoup added the essential oil

©2013 Christine Phillips

 




Details | Couplet | |

Poetry sets me loose

Poetry sets me loose
No, I haven't had the booze!

It just gives me a chance
To jump into a written trance!

I play with all heartfelt thinking
And dig out every feel of sinking!

I pen it down into lines
Hoping each word shines!

I feel the words across my face, breeze
Giving me a momentary freeze!

Now that its in the open and out
I feel like yelling a joyful shout!

Yes, oh yes, Poetry sets me loose
No, I haven't had the booze!


Details | Haiku | |

Graffity

Immortality,
youth`s luminous graffiti,
drawn on winter`s wall.


Details | Couplet | |

If I Knew

If I knew how to write a song
I’d write one everyday
It would say that I’m in love with you
And why I feel this way

It would have to say you’re pretty
And as rare as a desert rose
It would say you’re a looker
From your head down to your toes

You are funny, dainty, fragile
And as feminine as can be
You’re smart charming lovely
And everything to me

You’re my comfort when I’m lonely
You’re my peace when I need rest
Of all the women I’ve known
I must rate you the best.

You’re the orchard in the jungle,
you’re the better half of me
You’re all of this and so much more,
you mean the world to me

Still so much is left unsaid, 
It would take me far to long
I know how much I love you, 
If only I could write a song


Details | Couplet | |

new begining

 
Jan2012
By Sashi. Prabhu (ZEAUOXIAN)
I am not afraid any more, I am not afraid any more. I have cheated my fears alright, I have broken up with my doubts uptight. I am not afraid any more, I am not afraid any more. I got engaged to my faith last night, I married my dreams at the sight of first light. I am not afraid to get up today, I am not afraid to wake up to another day today, I am not afraid to open my eyes and see today, I am not afraid to climb out of bed today. I am ready to walk into the gardens in the heavy rains, I am ready to open my nose and smell of mud from wet terrain I am ready to face the world all alone, I am ready to do anything to walk up the stepping stone. I am ready to say anything to anyone, I am ready to talk to anyone under the sun. I am ready to yell from mountain tops, I am ready to dive from ravine drops. I am ready to walk for a cause, I am ready to run to protect environmental laws. I am ready to touch taboo objects & subjects I am ready to work on regressions of y on x I am ready to understand tangled issues, I am ready to wipe all tears with tissues. I am ready to taste tropical fruits, I am ready to chop, boil and eat bamboo shoots I am ready to jump out from a moving truck, I am ready to pull my allies from loads of muck. I am ready to be creative again, I am ready to write and spill out my joys and pain. I am ready to sing and hear my own songs, I am ready to correct my own wrongs. I am ready to throw a stone afar, I am ready to play my own music for all with the door ajar. I am ready to write notes about me, I am ready to put them up for all to see. I am ready to whistle whilst I walk down the alley, I am ready to bring out tunes and them create verbally I am not afraid any more, I am not afraid any more.


Details | I do not know? | |

One Pen

All i need is one pen, one piece of paper just one.

To write the pain a deff 
man can't hear speak what a blind can't see. Uncover the truth and hide the lies we tells as a society. 

All i need is one pen, one piece of paper just one. 

Get the word out to the 
ghetto that there is a 
better place. We don't 
have to reach heaven 
to see it. We killing our
brothers and sisters over 
colors don't make sense. 

All i need is one pen, one piece of paper just one. 

To tell my brothers behind bars a strong body has no comparsion to a weak mind. Do time don't let time do you.

All i need is one pen, one piece of a paper just one.

Send all the women with children a happy day mothers day letter, even if it aint may. 

All i need is one pen, one piece of paper just one.

One shot of that liquor thats infecting my liver but only way ill spill out all these words. Sober thoughts i could only speak intoxicated. One doctor for a liver-transplate if this one shall fail on me. 

All i need is one pen, one piece of paper just one. 

One chance to reach for the stars and pull one down. Show the world no task is impossible to accomplish. Stay motivated stay determined no telling what you can achieve. 

All i need is one pen, one piece of paper just one.

One voice one prayer to ask God to forgive you and i for our sins. See none of us is perfect and this world aint either. 

All i need is one pen, one piece of paper just one. 

One pen to bleed on that one piece of paper just one so one soul can finally be let free. show others many ways you paint without a brush. 

All i need is one pen, one piece of paper just one.

To read my motivational speech to the men and women serving our country. May i give them strenght to come back home to their love ones.

all I need is one pen, one piece of paper just one.

One man hating, one woman loving me. One whip no chains im so free. 

All i need is one pen, one piece of paper just one. 

Success wouldn't mean much if i couldn't write about it.

Nothing in this world is more important than one pen one piece of paper. thats all i need just one.


Details | Free verse | |

Therapeutic

It is therapy for me
to make the pen dance melodies
across an otherwise bleek
piece of paper.
To create words that don't exist
because I WANT TO is simply bliss or
to write about that crush that I want to kiss
in the third person as if it is a wish
of a young girl around 16-ish
can only be done in poetic form.

I can curse out my best friend or
ask God to let me into Heaven or
bunji jump off of clouds at night and
wake up flying a kite around the sunshine,
because I am the author of the masterpiece and
to me it is the best pain killer for reality.
It is MY therapy!

I can honor those who I loved so much
or degrade them to an anesthetic touch
just because 
they pissed me OFF!
I can lay down and write haikus all day
about the rain personified or
the clarity of the water in the bay.
I can use words that those around me do not understand or
think with my pen in my mouth and
his heart in my hand or
vice versa or 
write about sitting all day
while I stand.
I create a magical landscape
with a concrete jungle back drop or
sing a capella songs in hip hop.
It is my THERAPY!
And I can re-create my life
by myself
unjudged,
unrevised,
and fully certified.
Thank GOD for it.


Details | Lyric | |

Good Change Coming

Written October 7, 2012


My soul burns inside
And it comes comes out to hide
When its so shocked to hear
That the darkness is here

Would you believe in the words that I say
Even if they aren't diamonds and pearls
With a paper in front and a pen in my hand
I just want to change the world

Is it too much to ask
Too abstract to grasp
This idea that's been running
I promise there's good change coming

With a bullet and a gun
You'll get any man to run
But it takes diplomacy
To get a real man to see

Would you believe in the words that I say
Even if they aren't diamonds and pearls
With a paper in front and a pen in my hand
I could really change the world

Is it too hard to be
The man I want to see
When I look in the mirror
Lord I pray it was clearer

With a permanent marker
I color in darker
The world that I see
Ain't what it should be

Would you believe in the words that I say
Even if they aren't diamonds and pearls
With a paper in front and a pen in my hand
I am going to change the world


Details | Rhyme | |

Free The Spirit

( This poem resulted as I was pondering over the question as to how should my poems be. I 
was trying to pull the vague feelings and hunches on to the surface and to my surprise it 
emerged in the form of a poem...)



I read a lot of  books, wrote intelligently too,
I imagined that I was good and loved by all of you.
A hope was born in my heart, it flowered...
My inspiration was the world, its mysteries uncovered.

     I loved to watch and understand the ways of the world,
     A student of life, its miracles I behold...
     Picking up the pen, I thought and  wrote..
     Words flowed creating visions,myriad possibilities  came forth.
    
I wove the magic with my pen as I sat unravelling insights,
But then the science of it clouded my sight.
My mind analysed, it calculated and cringed,
The spark of magic, my creativity was singed.

     The search for mechanical perfection spoiled my delight,
     Forgot the lesson of love, passion was reduced to a skill overnight.
     A wall emerged, fortified by my beliefs of what a poem should be,
     Reduced to an equation, my perfection killed me.

I went outside for a walk to meet the trees, hills,clouds and the birds,
Seeing, breathing it in, opened myself to the world...
Travelling beyond, felt the moment stretch into an eternity,
And realised- the minor imperfections, the aberrations are the beauty.

     Every line should be new,capturing passion,
     Struggle against the flow, create a commotion...
     Breathe fire into the being, ignite the minds
     Let every soul feel the strength inside.

Fight to create, to taste freedom within...
Its better to die than to write what I do not believe in,
To write as I see it, feel it and love it,
I write to stir,wake and free the spirit.


Details | Rhyme | |

Try to be You

Look outside.
Can't you see?
Not one thing has the same side,
so why are you trying to lose your identity?

I know it's hard,
it always is.
Just look for your card,
it's better than this.

Stop being her.
You will never be identical.
Just be who you were,
before you lose it all.

Now, you may not like yourself,
but we change that.
You just have to look at yourself,
and admit to yourself, you're not that.


Details | Free verse | |

Inspire

Inspire
Those around me Inspire me
My peers support me
Inspire me
To write this poetry
Love, Drugs, Funny
Or just random
It all comes from my heart
But without encouragement
From those around me
My poetry would be worthless
Every time i write a poem
I could write a million dollar masterpiece
But without inspiration
Encouragement, Support
From those around me
I'll be writing nothing
But wasteful work
Worth only enough
To buy me a skittle
That's why I rely on Whats around me
To get the wheel to turn


Details | Rhyme | |

The Gifted Talent


“THE GIFT” controls my mind
which controls my ways of thinking
“outside of the box”…
Literally speaking my conscious lends my body
“a helping hand”
Success It demands so introducing talent
Showing you my writer’s hand
I “wrote off” the word recession
from political depression…
You had me for a second….L…O…L!
I’m not fallin’ off that bridge
That’s for second hand believers
“ACHIEVEMENT!”
CALLING ALL ACHIEVERS!!!
Achievement lives through-out
My spirits of my mind, body, and soul…
Inspiring the inspiring
“THE GIFT” continues to control.

By: Aleasha Martin


Details | Sonnet | |

Sonnet Slow Net Connection

I’d rather read something for minutes eight
Than wait eight minutes for this site to load
For this slow net service I cannot wai
tI’d rather nap or simply stay at home

What makes this service too slow I wonder
Too many users online at this time?
Too many files on this old computer?
Way too many downloads? From many sites?

‘Tis time to stop wasting hours on the Net
‘Tis time to memorize from the Qur’an
Time to study for school, to be the best,
Seek knowledge offline as much as I can.

Farewell, Internet, I’ll come back later
When the net connection’s a lot faster :)


Details | Lay | |

A Lesson Learned

We tend to write when things are on our mind.
We hope and pray that in time we'll find,
Our hope of dreams and dream of hopes.
Without the Lord in our lives, it's continually a joke.
I find myself confused at times,
Maybe that's why I write these rhymes!
The things I know, and the things I've felt,
Let me know that I can't do this all by myself!!
The pot tends to call the kettle black.
When you're human like me, how can you do that?
They say that everything happens for a reason.
It really doesn't matter the time, date, month, or season.
I love my man and I know that he loves me.
Throughout time we will see how things truly be!
I've made my mistakes and will try not to make them again.
Only with the Lord in my life I know that I will definitely win.
We tend to do things that we don't have to.
Why is that? I don't have a clue.
I love you in more ways than you will ever know.
I pray that in time our love will continue to grow.
You are an Angel in my eyes.
Don't hurt me in a way that you know I will despise.
Some people say that love is love, and hate is hate.
Nothing can surpass love for it is too great.
People live and people die,
When they are born you're suppose to cry.
We rejoice when there is no more pain,
Then the Lord showers us with the sweetness of rain!!!


Details | Dramatic Verse (Verse Drama) | |

Emotional Hole

I did not find myself to be so important
So I ask my friends do I seem distant?
When I ask the question I had received an answer, Yes
So I think that made it clear that I had been not the best
I am a friend of a friend that talks so many things
That friend talks to much it is insane and insanity it brings
I do care, about my friends they are all good people
They tend to stand on their high steeple 
Today I find myself not so aware
Disbanding my fear of regret and care
Walking many different paths I see that I have found holes
It is the path that people choose to use to fuel their rage with coals
Coals are partially burnt wood or fossils a piece of fuel
It is the source of burden and fire a rage of emotions that stands cruel
It can be warm and caring, but it also can be baring
I just start to feel so low, below the ground I keep on staring
I reach for my friends so many times I feel so ignorant at times
Just once I feel I should not rely on them when feeling I can not find 
I dig my hole deeper and I can not climb out
For some reason I am just full of doubt
I care about so many things and what I have is confusion
One person should be all I should think about to get out of that illusion
My battle in my heart and mind is not at all so pleasant
I feel so alone in an island that is shaped like a crescent
My emotions is like coinciding with a diameter of the semicircle
Not a full emotion that is complete like a circle
My feelings is circular full of incomplete thoughts, so much deeper
I feel it will wake up my evil half a evil soul that is a sleeper
What question should I ask myself? to believe that I am not so alone
As I feel like a person who is deteriorating to the bone
I ask my friends the same question once again
I figure I should do it, to know what kind of feelings I should end
So many thoughts that come out of my feeling
I feel like my friends take, an emotional trauma of stealing
They ask me questions and I answer theirs
But when I need mine answered I feel burning inside like a flare
Are they even friends when they do not take me serious in anyway
Just put me in my hole cause I feel nothing in their will be getting in my way
It's just so simple to answer someones problem
I answer friends with beauty of a rose, but when they answer mine I get the stem
I know the stem is very important in life, with out it how can a rose be a rose
With a hole to put the root and stem in how can it grow
The words we speak I guess is like all natural things we reap and sow


Details | Free verse | |

Letter From God

If I had been upon the Titanic, with only moments left to live.
And if there was nothing left, for me to help with or to give.
Then I would find a paper, a pencil, a bottle, and some wax.
Then I would write a message, to cast adrift with everything else.
And in those moments I would write something short and simple.
I’d write…
People life is short, you never know when it will end.
And when my life is cut short, there’ll still be time for you to live.
Live it with your heart and soul forever in the front.
Reach out with them, give, and live your life as it was meant.
Then I would sign it … a lost soul…Titanic April 14, 1912.
Then I would seal the bottle and hold it in my hand.
Then I’d wait amidst the noise, tears, and pain. 
Until the water would eventually wash the bottle away.

Contest: Impress Me, Motif: Spiritual, By Carol Eastman


Details | Rhyme | |

Driving Through the Writer's Block

My mind has gone blank, now what do I do?
Had an idea to share, but lost the thought that I knew.

I could write about animals, flowers, or trees.
But what I wanted has left me, help me please.

Searching my mind for what I had thought,
I can't seem to grasp it, I fear it's been lost.

Nothing comes to mind at this specific time,
So I choose to write whatever comes to my mind.

Focus my mind I find what's good and what's not.
I will write something about this writer's block.

So you see, what I've come up with for you to read.
We all have this problem sometimes indeed.

You must push through the emptiness and you must write.
What you know, what you feel, or what it is that's right.


Details | Narrative | |

My Dear Poets, My Dear Friends

A Poet may think, he or she is good
A Poet may write of daffodils of white,
or a roaring stream, capped, enraged
running for a quiet place, a solemn place

A Poet may dream of higher aspirations
of floating on clouds of powder cotton candy 
while riding a Bull, in it's stride to rid the rider
then turn suddenly, to a field of umber wheat

A Poet may wish for greater things to come
when in reality, wealth will only come when
The Poet is dead and gone, more remembered
in death, than in life so aimlessly lost

 A Poet may think they are at their best
in younger years, when thoughts are fresh
new, and easily come by, yet form experience
I find that not to be true, This is what I have found,

A True Poet is wise, whether from age or the 
experiences they have lived, and died for,
A true Poet, Has a heart, Lives their heart
and can tell their Heart from all others,

I am a Published Poet, yet I am a Poet
I am a Poet Laurette, yet I am a Poet,
I am an International Poet Laurette,
To me,I am just a Poet, with a Heart

With all my Kudos and all my friends, 
the Kudos I have thrown in a trunk,
My Poet Friends I hold dear, I say this
Do not write for acclamation, Indeed no!

That will truly, only come upon death,
Write from the Personal, your Love,
Your Heart, Your Heart break, Lust
Desires, Lorne, Beauty, Ugliness 

These things a Poet makes, Not Glory
Not Fame, Not institution, Heart....
Write of yourself, Your weaknesses, 
Your Strengths, Your Desires..... You!

You will come to know who you are
others will come to know you,
Your Fame will come to be in that which
you tell, And you will have PEACE!

I have Learned.... God Bless all my Poet Friends...... Live .... God Bless you all!!!!

The original.........TAZ
  




Details | Tanka | |

Namaste namasti

Teaching what I learnt
From heroes and 
heroines-
The known and 
unknown
I owe each each of you 
hugs
Which I know are not 
worthless.

-Haiku-
Namaste my gems-
Smashing spread and 
light my pen.
Shalom to you all.


Details | Couplet | |

My poetry form

                  
Out of all those poetry forms couplet's my fave.
     Cause that form lets me rant and rave.
         It lets me put my poems to rhyme.
If there was no couplet poetry would be a crime
       When I have a thought I write it down.
Couplet's my favorite there not all about syllables
                         and nouns.
       So writing poems is what I love to do.
Couplet's allow me to write about what,when or who.
                       Teresa Skyles


Details | Couplet | |

Want to do

Written on: 7th September 2012.
Written by: Sashi.Prabhu (Zeauoxian)

Tons more I wish to do, Much more I want to do, Before I am laid on the pyre facing the sky deep blue, Much more I wish to do………. I want to scale scary heights, I want to bungee jump without any fright. I want to travel rough terrains on bikes, I want to make it through forests and go on long hikes. I want to wander singing songs, I want to sing about how I mended my wrongs. I want to be creative again , I want to write about my joys thrills and pain. I want to pour my heart and passion in my works, I want to write verses & haikus without reactions knee jerks. I want to take many a calculated risks, I want to learn from the entire process without shortcuts or fancy tricks. I want to contribute for a good cause, I want to give without siphoning material or emotional dross. I want to untangle messed up issues, I want to wipe off tears with empathy laced tissues. I want to work on taboo subjects, I want to solve regression of y on x. I want to listen to my music loud, I want to pen my work in a place far from the madding crowd. I want to sow seeds and many a plant, I want to bask in sun rays that into my room slant. I want to drench in the rains, I want to make paper boats and sail them in the drains. I want to pick up from the ground and smell fresh wet earth, And then joyously have my speech filled with mirth. I want to boldly write about myself only for me, I want the world to know me & my mind as they will always see. I want to meet often the persons, who mean a lot to me, I want to be able to emote my passions and feelings of love and glee. I want to be happy about just any small thing, And all this I want to do before the last breath to my nostrils I bring. Facing the blue skies on my funeral pyre, I want to be on the best craft my soul can hire…. All this I want to do very soon, Before sets into me dreaded gloom. But the life I live is taking its toll, I am yet to get out of this oblivious hole. Time is just right to set aside, And take a ride Fulfill my wants and dreams that I nurtured in me to grow, And I had put away sheathed in a cocoon of time many years ago. Now I don’t want a moment long, And I will do what I want and sing my own song, And do what in me I let grow, Many, many years ago.


Details | Rhyme | |

Emily

This is dedicated to the sweetest little 10 year old girl I met once who died of Brain Cancer...

"Memories escape from you,
Ones we do not want to lose"
She whispered to me softly
When I felt all confused,
As our moment slipped away,
She made me want to say,
"Angels walk beside us all
Each slowly passing day"

As she walked away from me,
Unafraid to let me see,
A shaven head, she covered up,
Where her hair used to be,
So much courage for her age
Not empty and full of rage,
A miracle, in modern times,
She chose to turn the page

She has chosen not to grieve,
Instead she just believes,
A higher power watches her
and keeps her mind at ease,
Unburdened by her fate
She accepts it unafraid,
Barbie dolls and fancy clothes
Will rest where they are laid

There are times I can recall
When the pebbles made me fall
With boulders on her shoulders 
No complaining comes at all
With a smile upon her face
She achieved a state of grace
The only thought inside her head
"God please protect this place"

She will see no wedding rings
Or the change her presence brings
She will close her eyes, a final time,
and receive her angel wings
No emotions toss and turn
A peaceful place she has earned
Contributing an unseen verse
To songs she will not learn

When her body is no more,
And her spirit starts to soar,
Memories will live through,
Stuffed bears upon her floor,
She will let her mother know
Goodbye is not letting go,
Saying " I will run back to you
With every found hair bow

Every time you stop and see
A daughter who wants to be,
 Everything her mother is,
The emotion felt is me,
When the wind begins to blow
That is me trying to show,
The picture of your baby girl
Running carefree in your clothes"

When her final breathe is gone
Her last prayer lives on and on
"God watch over mommy now
If I leave her all alone"
All her family will cry
I will hold my head and sigh
At the death of a miracle
With no answers as to why

Though this piece will not be heard
I write every single word
In hopes of saying thank you
For the honor of meeting her
She will never get to see
All the words she put in me
As I write for you, rest in peace,
Beloved Emily

By: Audonus Taylor


Details | ABC | |

Inquisition poetry 101


I stopped to stool siphon sip on a cool blue 
circumstance in the means between the in 
times loath listening to complacent
poetic prostitutional practices of stir my friends 
ego echoes doing the same f. u. c. k. e. d.
favor dance for me when I ego envy enter 
exist your contra content littered with
manic moronic mentaloronic maladies
of entrance entrocities. Lining words
pentamhextamater, rich rhyme, cleaveage crotch
clearance, colic c.u.n. t. coffiure
frantic fascist frames, abounding with 
wok out at me sillo sounds
composite of cruel crisp compound
cumulo capsules of I, me, mine
mousy miniscules in drop dreamy
lovelorn lostlust learned
limitations lauded longevity living
linguistic liquidlovelorn light
leaking lanterns, which bequeath 
*****in broth biscuited breveties
lucid laminated with word wornwaste 
catagorical crass. Leave wailwall  
enough alone when yr tackless 
trash talent is way less than spittle,
your poor prowess less than dodah duh, Po e tree?
So, my wordful children of BS, when writing yr so called pitypoetry,
devoid of dream dance diminutives coinciding correctly with wrenching wraps
of prostitutional ponder relentelessingly revealing a rapture 
of vast vile emoelements of comprosotory 
composites of fecalfroughtfrightfolly of fantasies in 
poet emeritus of urineyourns  a 3 way stretch non nobel poetlorietsupreme
goodfistingluckwiththatcrap;therefore u either play the game or 
risk reside in the zombie aperature camera obsecura word death orbit; therefore 

Assimilitate before u ass umulate, 
Build before u bridge buldge
Concentrate before u cumulo capsulate
Decide before u dildo dick tate
Engulf before u evo enevelop
Fragment before u fracture fantasize
Grasp before u geno germinate
Hallucinate before u hasty hippocrate
Initialize before u initiate
Jackulate before u Jillulasm
Literate before u laud luminate
Mentor before u mirror menstruate
Nurtuate before u neuro negate
Obliviate before u oogle obligate
Postulate before u priest present
Question before u quotionent quest
Recreate before u radical resonnate
Saturate before u semen sacrlidge
Tintalate before u trick translate
Utilize before u usurp ugly 
Victory before u vile vanquish
Want before u willful waste
X-turn right @ W follow the X signs
Yuletides before u yell yeildtides
Zeusotide before u zonk zerozilchotones. 
 
 


Details | Free verse | |

The Black Abyss

Sinking in deeper,
No way to escape,
The dark and scary Reaper,
Fore told in the Book of Life.

Is this my end?
Will I ever see the light of day again?
No. My wounds, I must mend.
I must find my strength.

Stand my ground,
Face my fears.
Only then will my voice be found
I must survive.

Break the suffocating chains,
Run from the darkness.
Power will fill my veins.
I will Fight!

Fight the painful names,
The horrid memories,
The demented games 
And escape My Black Abyss.


Details | Verse | |

My happy mood

I have no cause for alarm
'cause I have nobody to harm
Nor have I harmed anyone and would revenge.
I'm happy 'cause I have no lurk to avenge.

I feels so amazed...
For my dad and mum have said
'Yes' to my Maze and wisdom.
I'm happy they're ready to pole my kingdom.

I am happy 'cause my fists are warm,
My mind is pure and my arm 
Is willing to hug my ally
And feelings to make my foes smile.

By: Abdulhafeez Oyewole

30th March, 2013. 

For:
Donald Williams' 
"What is your primary 
emotion today" Contest.


Details | Free verse | |

Everywhere and Everything

Everywhere i go i see people dancing
sitting eating playing with there dads
then i wonder where mine went where did he go
did he move on and its then that i realize i have you and its then that i write

seeing kids everywhere with there friends and people having fun
inspires me to write and play the piano sometimes i wonder if i write 
because it makes me feel better to get it all out so maybe there not great 
or inspirational but it lets me realize whats right and wrong

i never thought i would make great friends by poems or by anything until i 
enterend my name on this site it feels right you guys are like my new family that cares
and is inspiring to me to do the right stuff

everything i do i owe to you. Thank You!


Details | Prose Poetry | |

The Poet

I have gazed long at the turbulent
  while piled high cloud masses
I have watched the millions of stars at night
  the damp fog has come and surrounded me
and the land is silent
  the fresh rain has laved my face
while the wind blew warmly.

I receive no message from these for humankind
  but hear only their message to me;
for they awaken the wonder that is in me
  in addition, the yeaning that is the depth of my soul.

They do not tell me to scatter my words
  through the world like seeds
rather, they say, Behold! be of us 
  and wing out beyond the world forever
and in my soul the deep yearning pleads for the
  fulfillment of its' aching desire
to go with the sun, moon and the stars
  and seek with them the answer to eternity.

But still the clouds, ebon faced, mass against
  the fiery red rays of the setting sun
the stars, far distant, in space, still glitter
  brightly in the patterns
the fog, white by day, grey by night
  moves yet noiselessly on, giving intimacy
to near things, and strangeness to
  those looming on the edge of vision
the rain falls yet too, cleansing and releasing
  the perfume of the wet earth.

So I write
  letting the words of my unrest
go freely where they would
  for each word is deflection
from the longing within me
  of all the voices I must heed and may not.

However, I cannot write in the dark
  I cannot write as I stand on the hill gazing
yet the yearning is there most of all
  therefore! I say aloud, convincingly
"It is only lovely"
  to wander on through the night and day
and the years. 


Details | Rhyme | |

What Poetry Is To Me

When you read what I write,
What you see is an internal fight.
The words that you read are more,
They are thoughts that begin to pour.
I write these words to blow off steam,
If I didn't I'd tear at the seams.
When I write I don't need to think,
All my thoughts fall off the brink.
When I write I don't notice time,
It flies by with every rhyme.
For my mind, my body is nothing but a tool,
When all my thoughts reel from the spool.
Poems are more than just pretty words,
They are the most beautiful things I've ever heard.
They are ornate doors to another's mind,
You never know what you may find.
Poetry is more than just a way to kill strife,
To me it's much more, it's a way of life.


Details | I do not know? | |

Your Whisper

You whispered in my ear,
a breathy secret, hushed.

“I love you”, you murmured.

I said nothing,
lost, in your arms,
I found a home. At last.

“I love you”, you said,
I said nothing,
lost in my thoughts,
I found peace. At last.

“I love you”, you said,
words failed me then.

They still do.


Details | Haiku | |

Stuttering to Poetry

a sidewalk poet
stuttering child’s dream
poetry the cure


Details | Free verse | |

Essenes Of A Poet's Soul

Words are a poet's greatest tool
Having the power to turn what we perceive 
Into a masterpiece for viewers to read
Poetic storytelling with quills
Harnessing romance, sorrow and the drama
Whimsical, magical and the surreal
Evoking a response of emotions is what we do best
From surprises to laughter or even tears
Warm and loving feelings or feelings of dread
Writing is the essence of a poet's soul


Details | Rhyme royal | |

Only Everything - Part Two

I got an ultimatum, I can shoot through them or create a diversion,
but  either way it's the same, just an unreleased version.
It's never different, one just brings a smile, 
I accept the little things, one step is the beginning of a mile.

Never denial, there's no regrets and no looking back,
what happened then is gone, a figment of your imagination, it's the past.
You brought that out, you let me release my inner thoughts,
you brought my chin up, and when I fell you instantly caught.

When it was hot, you were a fan, a resource for fresh air,
when nothing was right, you were the only place where things were fair.
My fairytale, my mansion where there were to many rooms,
where I could take of my shoes, and finally tell the truth.

You're my destination, it doesn't matter how far,
my fabrication, where I can build anything that I want.
I can't replace you, there's nothing more that I need.
You are my garden, and my pen is the seed, you're Only Everything.


Details | Dramatic monologue | |

Monday Morning Affect


Monday Morning Affect: ESSAY; Reality is nothing but a "Dream"

Their was a question posed to me by Word Xpress, a web sight that which
I now revere. The question was a Trivial Question which was richly profound, but
Not so trivial!.... It read " Quote"-unquote...

Word Xpress

Repost:
Word-Xpress Question of the Week's Trivial Question  member, Tam McDowell:

"You are recruited to write a collaboration with 3 contemporary icons of your
choosing to submit to your favorite historical figure for the ppurpose of diffusing a third world war. Who would be the 3 Icons, the historical figure, and what would be the
title of your poetic speech in five words or Less?"

Ooooo, challenging!! Please post!!!

My response to Word Xpress:

From Gary Fields: If I were recruited to write a collaboration with 3 contempory Icon's
To submit to my favorite historical figure for the purpose of diffusing a "Third World War".
Who would be the 3 Icon's, the historical figure, and what would be the title or your
poetic speech in five words or less? My choice would be: Muhammad Ali, George Clinton,
And The Rev. Dr. Luther King Jr.......As presented to The President Barack OBAMA to read
"We Can Change The World".

****Note:******
Mahammad Ali denote' the human frailty of the condition which is man...
George Clinton (Past President) denotes' courage and change.....
Rev. Dr. Martain Luther King Jr. represent's the ultimate in Religion and Human Rights'...
      ------
I represent that, that question was trival, but not to trival and represent as a
Reality which is not a dream...But, a hope and dream in contemplation. Nor do I think 
That World Peace, the Green House Effect and World Hunger are Trivial. They are facts' 
Of reality which are relevant and part of a "DREAM'. The reality though, is that the
triviality of it all is so relevant and solely to the determent of the people! Only this is not
trivial....Only, this is not trivial to the Lord, it is a quest for man to over-come his own
triviality. And to hope that we do not cause self to become trivial in the eye's of the Lord,
fore He is our refuse.

This in my premonition and I do stand by it fully...Thank you to Word Xpress for having
the malice of fore thought, to bring this sublimation to the light...I thank you, your friend in the pen/G.FIELDS  luv, Kiss>kiss


Details | Free verse | |

the Triumph of the Pen

Oh winging Heart on a mission
to the edge of forever,
speed to the beloved with a message of Love.

We look in a different way,
with the Heart do we see,
and in that wondrous seeing,
is the feeling of awes majesty!

Yeah, that's the way to overcome
the 'thought police' inside the head;
doubt is the Heart killer
and so with this pen,
we’ll write our Hearts out again and again,
and if they judge the words we say,
to dash our Dreams in any way,
then we'll write even more to soothe the Soul
for the writing life is our Loving goal!

This triumph of Love carried to our pen
where in our written words Love lives again ...

A writer writes and never stops writing
and rewrites and writes again and again ...
and he never stops writing except to Dream,
perhaps to reach for that Star in that Star crowded Sky
and bring that Star to the end of his Pen
and write like plasma all over again ...


Details | I do not know? | |

words i couldnt say

I never thought i would write poetry,
I still dont understand if what im writing is poetry,
all i was doing was simply penning down my feeling and thoughts
on a piece of paper on a daily basis, but not a diary.
because these are some of the words 
that i will never say, but i can write them down.

these all changed when someone saw something in wrote.
they took intrest in what i was writing,
and asked me when i started writting poetry, 
but i replied that i do not write poetry,
but what they saw, to them was poetry.
and so in started regarding my writting as poetry sometimes.

it really feels good to share your feelings and thoughts
with other people.
thoughts that comes from within as is poetry.
letting your feelings to the world makes you hopeful,
it brings another reason to believe again, 
it gives a sense of selfworth


Details | Couplet | |

We are Pregnant Pencils

We are nothing but pencils without eraser,
 And life a big book, not made up of papers.
 Our footprint on life is our sorry or success story,
 How we walk determines our gloom or glory.
 
We are pencils meant to draw lines and links
 With either an invisible or indellible ink.
 Our blueprints are in three stages and structures:
 Our past pages, present prints and future features.
 
Our past pages cannot be completely erased,
 Trying to re-write on them makes them defaced.
 My friend, close that chapter and write a new one;
 Each new day presents a new page to write on.
 
Our present prints are presented in timely chances…
 How we chose to embrace cheers and challenges,
 Taming tears, tending our tender treasures;
 Each day is a brick or broom to our future.
 
The future’s features are loads of incredible art,
 You can only view them when we open our heart:
 Your dreams present platform to play your part.
 Dream big with the little you have and dare to start.
 
We are priceless pencils and life is our paper;
 What we write makes our lives bitter or better.
 Refusal to write does not make the world stagnant;
 It only makes a man’s page dormant though pregnant.
 
We are nothing but pregnant pencils without erasers,
 Impregnated by places, people and… higher powers,
 Yet what we write carries our copyright,
 We cannot erase, so write to your delight.
 
Copyright (c) 2012 by Adeleke Adeite.


Details | I do not know? | |

Heart And Soul

I see in your heart I see Inside your Soul

I feel the feelings only you can see or know

I feel your pain from deep down inside

And know the hurt and feelings combined

Your an Amazing,Sweetheart this you should know

Don't let anyone take that from deep inside your Soul

The hurt you feel the anguish deep down inside

will only go away if you learn to let go and cry

The release is so great and healing. Refreshing I would say

That your heart will grow warmer and warmer each day

The Love you have inside shows in your outer glow

So let that glow reach deep down to where it needs to go

You are Beautiful on the inside and out dont let anyone

ever make you dought. Take control and let your inner

 light glow.. Come on girl let's give them a beautiful show

Don't lighten your glow for anyone you know let it shine

 and always abound..

Just know this to me you are one of the most Beautiful Souls

One of the most precious I have ever encountered on this earth

Although our friendship is beginning to bloom in leaps and bounds

I feel in my heart there is plenty of room for it still to grow

You are the most open, welcoming, sweetheart of a girl that I know

It feels like our friendship has been around forever your already in my soul

I Love you more than words could ever express I'll always be here

to help with any and all Stress or obstacles you go through

So know in me a True friend you have found one that promises to

NEVER let you down!!!!

Written By: Christina Kirks McCullouch

03/17/2013


Details | Free verse | |

True Finds

In love am I with a great deal of things
Of wonders on earth, of darker shadowy background
Of artists, of ghouls, of nature’s fools
Of genius soaked in all matter of internal sound
Who knows what cradles these concepts, what lies beneath the admiration
—the reality
The minute…disappointment—it is naught
There it is not until the light hits the bay
Every single detail displayed
And oh, how my judgment is frayed!
By your unfathomable beauteous words, by images I receive so absurd
I imagine lives untold—I fantasize a fib
And make out with it—TRUTH, with darkened veneration
Baffling me, filtering me with joy and mysterious longing
As if by heaven the song sung is from below
Rested on the meadows of our minds
And in our hearts
True…treasurable….finds…


Details | Couplet | |

Quelled Woes and Afflictions

I have lived in a contest with life until now, Not to be afraid in anticipation I now solemly vow.................. I have cheated my fears alright, I have broken up with my doubts uptight. I got engaged to my faith last night, I married my dreams at the sight of first light. I am not afraid to get up today, I am not afraid to wake up to another day today, I am not afraid to open my eyes today, I am not afraid to climb out of bed today. I see beyond and am not afraid any more, I see beyond and am not afraid any more. I am ready to face the world all alone, I am ready to do anything to walk up the stepping stone. I am ready to say anything to anyone, I am ready to talk to anyone under the sun. I am ready to yell from mountain tops, I am ready to dive from ravine drops. I am ready to walk for a cause, I am ready to run to protect environmental laws. I am ready to understand tangled issues, I am ready to wipe all tears with tissues. I am ready to jump out from a moving truck, I am ready to pull my allies from loads of muck. I am ready to be creative again, I am ready to write and spill out my joys and pain. I am ready to sing my own songs, I am ready to correct my own wrongs. I am ready to throw a stone afar, I am ready to play my own music for all with the door ajar. I am ready to write notes about me, I am ready to put them up for all to see. I am ready to whistle whilst I walk down the alley, I am ready to pluck the fruits from the orchards of Sally. I see beyond and am not afraid any more, I see beyond and am not afraid any more.


Details | Light Poetry | |

Who Is A Poet

A Poet is one that can make words rhyme.
A poet is one that can make words come 
alive. A poet is one that can touch your 
heart.

A poet is one that writes from the heart.
One that can make you laugh and one
that can make you cry.

Many poets will come and many poets will
go, but some will leave their prints on your 
soul.

A poet can write beautiful words. A poet's
words can transport you to another world.
A poet can paint pictures for you to see.

A poet can be anyone that can write words
of inspiration for you to follow. A poet will
write words that can touch your heart and
soul. That is a Poet...


Details | Prose Poetry | |

We Expand

When I was a kid, i believed that I would never stop growing. I measured myself, and knew that everything taller was a glimpse of the future. 
We would all be giants eventually. The tallest man that ever lived was named Robert Wadlow. He couldn't stop growing. On his first day of school, 
he was taller than his father. They say, that when he tripped on the playground his knees made twin craters from falling so far. By the time he was 10, the dirt in his home town was pot-marked like a second moon. 
Size always seems to matter most when we are falling. An ant dropped from an airplane will survive with no injuries, if an elephant slips 3 feet, 
it's legs will snap beneath it, and or us, it is those dreams that we remember most. The ones where the harness breaks. 
Where you step from the roof of a building without knowing why. When a plane rushes back toward the earth like a lost lover. We always wait just before impact, unsure of shattering or survival, 
and unable to accept our own size. 
Maybe this is why we hunt the large animals to extinction; To make ourselves seem greater. In the end, the victory of the atom bomb was not in the arms raised, but it's ability to topple all of the smallest creatures. We dream of surviving as mountains; of never having to look up again. 
We long for longer conquests. 
The ship vaster than the ocean. 
The fire dwarfing the fuel. We expand. We expand,. 
Weapons add more than just inches to your arm span. When you fire a gun, you can touch someone a thousand of feet away just think of all the giants our wars have already created. Cemeteries are like an infinity of white cross hairs. Mass graves that are just twisting of what we have always wanted; A mountain built from our bodies. We expand, we expand,. 
Our empires, stretching like red lips opening into the widest sssmile, and then swallowing the face whole. We build our largest statues for our war heroes, greater your conquest, the taller we will make you. We are taller than our fathers now. We cannot stop growing. Robert Wadlow did not want to be a legend. He wanted to train as a lawyer, but his hands were to large to 
write and type with. He died at age 22, half an inch short of 9 feet from an infection he never felt, because his nerves could not transmit signals that far. So stop trying to be statues. 
Walk. 
Feel the signals your feet send back to you and say "It is good to feel this close". It is good to live in our own bodies. Our bodies are whispers. Are bodies are matchsticks in the dark that light the small parts of us; The parts of us that can accomplish impossible things.


Details | Free verse | |

The Journey

From time immemorial your story began
A hundred, a thousand, a million years and more
Your story past written a character just one
The tale of you bleeds into all

Each story unique while pieces the same
Today, tomorrow, millennia expended and gone
Your story continues passed first to no last
The tale of you bleeds into all

Through love and hate, laughter and death
Minutes and seconds grew to decades and days
The story being written you wrote each day
The tale of you bleeds into all

Memories endure through dream and remembrance
Yesterday is gone but tomorrow you live on
Your story yet written a character more than one
The tale of you bleeds into all

Your stories the fires shall never consume
A past, a future, a present goes on
The story you wrote lives forever in your love
The tale of you bleeds into all


Details | Rhyme | |

How do you wanna be remembered

Has that question ever sneaked its way into the conscious of your third eye? 
Have you ever took pause from your self and viewed yourself as a he was or she was?
Release that parachute from flight and ground your soul with the memories of others thoughts.
The limits down here are not as high as the sky. 
We get one chance to imprint the fixture, the movement... The tone of a legacy left by indifferences that makes you you!
The day my handkerchief floats no longer and drifts to the ground, I envision the power outage of the world. 
Darcel stood a monument that people just had to get a glance at. 
Darcel spoke with his heart while even in defeat. A lyric can’t harmonize the music that D. Sharp stands for. 
A silence of over joy for him applauded over the art of tap. 
Heads rolling back accepting the embodiment of fruits picked from me. 
Screams of loss jamming frequencies of those trying to pick and hold on to one of the many memories of me.
GOOD OR BAD
I call on the locksmith that is you and you and you to unchain what is me, myself, and I with a twist of your key. 
God allowed me to plant it, to water it, and nurture it within a bunkered facility. 
Some might say he aint this and he wasn't that but remember.
I say remember because at one point in your life I was perfect for you. 
I aided you to or from a circumstance that gave u clean air to breathe. 
Now aint that some shit!
That’s how I will be remembered!


Details | Prose Poetry | |

116onesix

 116onesix 
116onesix 
 
 
CharlaXFabels 
 
TESTED 
 
 There is a personal testimony and everyone's focus is on the group and on the 
self and not on JESUS where it was supposed to be the reason eye won't go to 
fellowship with rich working Christians meeting at a SUNDAY SUPPER to drive to 
a pizza place where everyone pays something for the food even if they share it the 
cost is still beyond the pocketbook of yew. The added price of fellowship with 
world is loss of spirit functions eye am not suggesting we have meetings in the 
desert with the hedgehogs but there could be a meeting place for all the 
Christians like the fish doors of the early days of meetings they were in and out 
so furtive searching alleyways for soldiers avoiding arrests and fighting and 
bringing lots of food in the bags of fishes and the loaves of breads in pockets of 
the tunaes fishes smile eye could just not resist this in almost every Church 
there is a Kitchen and in some of them is love the people make the soup for the 
homeless and the court appointed prisoners and even important people come. 
Hang a fish upon the door of every kitchen in the nation make a place with tables 
where the poor can come in love do not forget the love the soup is  nice but even 
slabs of raw meat are not enough with hate. 
Eye could not write a word on yesterday the things that eye had wanted to write 
left on the flight of lost ideas and night came again without a thought and then the 
day came back this fable was born and eye decided to try religion again. The 
focus of a lot of people is the congregation the error being life is not a middle 
class house with people making money in a paper plate of life some people 
need a cup of soup just to survive please open up your love first open up your 
hearts then open all them kitchen cupboards up. There is another thing that eye 
must say to all the bible thumpers not yet in the grave what does it matter what 
the date and day of this my own salvation come the day of JESUS was 33 AD the 
date that GOD was saving me. 


Details | Rhyme | |

I am not afraid any more

Jan2012
By Sashi. Prabhu (ZEAUOXIAN)
I am not afraid any more, I am not afraid any more. I have cheated my fears alright, I have broken up with my doubts uptight. I am not afraid any more, I am not afraid any more. I got engaged to my faith last night, I married my dreams at the sight of first light. I am not afraid to get up today, I am not afraid to wake up to another day today, I am not afraid to open my eyes and see today, I am not afraid to climb out of bed today. I am ready to walk into the gardens in the heavy rains, I am ready to open my nose and smell of mud from wet terrain I am ready to face the world all alone, I am ready to do anything to walk up the stepping stone. I am ready to say anything to anyone, I am ready to talk to anyone under the sun. I am ready to yell from mountain tops, I am ready to dive from ravine drops. I am ready to walk for a cause, I am ready to run to protect environmental laws. I am ready to touch taboo objects & subjects I am ready to work on regressions of y on x I am ready to understand tangled issues, I am ready to wipe all tears with tissues. I am ready to taste tropical fruits, I am ready to chop, boil and eat bamboo shoots I am ready to jump out from a moving truck, I am ready to pull my allies from loads of muck. I am ready to be creative again, I am ready to write and spill out my joys and pain. I am ready to sing and hear my own songs, I am ready to correct my own wrongs. I am ready to throw a stone afar, I am ready to play my own music for all with the door ajar. I am ready to write notes about me, I am ready to put them up for all to see. I am ready to whistle whilst I walk down the alley, I am ready to bring out tunes and them create verbally I am not afraid any more, I am not afraid any more.


Details | ABC | |

If I were a poet

If I were a poet, I'd write about 
life's simplest pleasures. 
I'd write about daydreaming 
under a beautiful tree, 
surrounded by a quiet crisp 
breeze.
If I were a poet I'd be able to 
exhilarate my readers with such 
words that awaken their souls 
and show them that life is truly 
a blessing. 
I'd let everyone know what's in 
my heart and teach them there 
is a light, a silver lining! That 
there is always hope. 
I'd Take them on a journey 
through my dreams, and share 
my thoughts of brotherhood 
and admiration for the earth 
and it's gifts. 
If I were a poet.. I'd create a 
magical inspirational place for 
all hearts of darkness to enter 
in need of a kind word. 
If i were a poet, my pen and 
paper like weapons on the 
negative forces of the mind. 
The nagging fear. The 
perpetual hostility in an 
awkward world. 
But I am not a poet. I'm simply 
a good person gifted in finding 
appreciation in my simple life. 


Details | Rhyme | |

Spotlight on 2013

Spotlight on 2013

You run through my mind
like my rhymes from 2012
I’m thinkin’…I’m takin’ em’ with me…
“bring nothin’ but yourselves 
Inclined lyrically”
“LET’S GO 2013!”
Long-term goals love
when dreams become reality…
Increasing my oxygen
through life’s catastrophes…
Leads me into 2013
with the same oceans of oceans…
but a whole different view
Artistically designed…
We’ll design your inner thoughts
to bring the best of you out…
Are you ready for 2013??
If not… let’s get stability
to evolve into excellence exceptionally…
Are you ready yet?
THEN LET’S GO 2013!!!

By: Aleasha Martin


Details | Free verse | |

Lewis Leary's shawl

Lewis crept into Harper's Ferry
at cool dawn's light in '59
with angry John Brown,
pursed keen and unkempt
to bleed over his shawl,
then died for his wife

Mary, grew old and gray
and left that stained shawl
for grandson Langston Hughes,
to inspire him someday

Langston took Grandma's shawl 
and took oppression to his heart
to rise up in other words,
"where people suffered 
in beautiful language"*

© Goode Guy 2013-02-03

* Langston Hughes
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Langston_Hughes
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Lewis_Sheridan_Leary
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/John_Brown_(abolitionist)


Details | I do not know? | |

Come Walk with me---Shine Your Light

As I walk alone tonight
Within these walls
Looking at hearts writes

Vision of what tis be
Would you come
and Walk with me 

As I see
the writings 
on these
walls

Many voices
Words of writes
Cry out.. tonight...

Wonders of Hearts 
Words of Love
Giving Peace 
Inspiring hope

Helping others
To maintain and cope
But then there is some
who are so Filled 
with saddness.. in the air

Come walk with me
Come share your heart
Why did you leave
Why did you depart?

Do you know 
How important YoU are
You Shine like a diamond
Among the Stars...

Look around
What do you see
``````````````````````
These are the many tears
as My heart tis bleeds..

For You to shine
Display your Heart
Words of Wisdom
Love Tender by far

Come in Walk with me
Come display your heart
Come write a write
Please don't depart....

For many come and go
But they don't realize or know
Just how Important they are
To me... and many
YOU have a gift..
God has given unto you
Gift of Write...
Come write your heart a new..

For I miss you so...
As many do...
For You are Unique...
As God made YOU so...

Whomsoever reads this write
Come walk with me tonight
See all the hearts on display
Please Share yours with me today...

"Come Spread Your Wings"
Fly through these walls
Place your heart Write
as a Gift of Love  
For me tonight...

Come Walk with me
Shine your light
So I can see...
For tis I walk alone
Within these walls
Times.. I call home..


            I miss YOU
as Time is
        as writes are 
                    given 
                     is a Gift of Love


Details | Narrative | |

familiarity

i'm beginning to know them
a bit smudged at first
like spots on my readers, but 
gradually, after a few gentle rubs
of my fingers between something soft 
like a spritz of sonnet,
they slowly come into focus and
recognition comes to me

i know that one - and that one 
and oh, how i loved the something or other
that that one wrote awhile back 
i don't remember what it was about exactly,
but feel clearly, know, that it touched me
it's hard to know just how that happens,
yet, dear countenance, you are a friend now

i sit by the fire, welling up at your words,
i stand waiting for an elevator to
take me up, and i rise to your eloquence,
how good of you, to take me along
i lie in bed at night, occasional insomniac
and dream of your touch, your clever wisdom
your warm smile crafted across centuries and 
continents to me, a once total stranger, 
but now, devoted friend

© Goode Guy 2013-05-23


Details | Monorhyme | |

Multiple Choices

What is your answer when you doubt?
     A. Perhaps the occult or mystics
     B. What about escape artists' tricks
     C. Wisdom found in Proverbs 3:6

What’s your plan when you’ve lost your route?
     A. I’d try out a GPS pen
     B. My cousin’s a counselor in Zen
     C. The tower -- Proverbs 18:10

What is your source for lack of clout?
     A. TV shows on how to survive
     B. Google search on staying alive
     C. The shield of Psalms 3:3 thru 5

What’s the key when you’re pushed to shout?
     A. Use headphones and go for a run
     B. Do a mime impersonation
     C. Gentle words – Proverbs 15:1

What’s your hope when you’re tossed about?
     A. My dad,  a college PHD
     B. Las Vegas or the lottery
     C. Benefits in Psalms 1-0-3

3


Details | Free verse | |

I want to write a great poem

i want to write a great poem

i want to illustrate despair

i want to illustrate terror

i want to illustrate regret

i want to illustrate remorse

i want to illustrate rage

i wan to illustrate ecstasy

i want to write like william carlos williams

and brilliantly describe the eloquent simplicity of a wagon

i want to use brilliant imagery

i want to document the historical greatness of this era

but the immense burden of this time has made my body weary

so i write this poem

not a great poem

not a bad poem

but a good poem

and once again tell the world

that I hope that what i write

can help to some day bring about

vindication

so decent people

won’t have to go through what i did

and feel what i’ve felt

and fully use their talents

for the betterment of humanity

i don’t know

i want to turn frowns into smiles

i want a world where one day

people won’t be scared

children will be fed

love will be the law

peace among all nations and peoples will prevail

and everyone is an artist

so i don’t know

maybe my future socialist twin will be able to write that great poem for me

so here’s to you, my brother

may you ride, ride strong and high

and may victorious humanity be your horse.


Details | Couplet | |

God's Goodness 2

I knew not Lord, the day I came,
you'd change my heart, then my name.
You'd write it in your book of life,
through you I'd conquer daily strife.

That day I surrendered my all to you,
I knew not what you'd have me do.
I started to sing and write and pray,
I've learned to lean on you each day..

I understood it not that day,
when like a child I knelt to pray.
I didn't know the why or how,
I only saw your blood stained brow.

I saw your hands, your bleeding side,
I wondered why for me you died?
I had not known such great a love,
as came that day from up above.

I knew that day you'd made a winner
from one lost soul and wretched sinner.
That is why I'll never tire you see,
of telling others what you've done for me.


Details | Didactic | |

More Than a Prose

illusions are fooling him on his deeds
 And so he thought he's sounded, so well equipped
 So silly, an insolent his brain has beeped.

 On this singular thought, if real; he isn't meant to lead.

 Behold escalating wisdom in this rhythmic voice
 Perhaps he will find in it, a recipe for life.

 Although, he is among man known by all the world-noise
 -A locust of diamond, bronze, silver and gold.

 This moment must welcome the truth to be told.

 Has he ever believes in his words
 Or ever confides in his pen?
 Not at all, he believes in his sword
 Or more than this; the belief is in his den.

 So said chorus is more than the familiar tone
 It is similar in kind but not in depth
 From the cap to the shoe will give testimony.

 But a must parable for a brilliant mind
 And not for a bimbo at loose ends.

 This moment needs rest from the day's grind.

 He is ready to dance to the subtle silence
 And figure out the prowess in the solitary hunt
 His soul is safe and sound to the diligence
 And his heart is kindly calm to the front.

 While in bed, he erect to his vision.

 An account he’d thought was so sound
 Now reveals to him a graveyard consternations
 And he rise against those mysteries abound.


Details | Rhyme | |

Why I write

I write poems for myself and I write for the readers
I write for the masses and I write for the leaders
I write to imprint my thoughts in people’s mind
I write to make the bad guys helpful and kind
I write to light up our path to Great God
I write for everyone home and abroad
I write to preserve values new and old
I write to make my ink precious like gold
I write for peace and I write for progress
I write to make the world a better place
All major issues I want to address
I write to see smile on God’s face


Details | Couplet | |

We are Pregnant Pencils

We are nothing but pencils without eraser,
 And life a big book, not made up of papers.
 Our footprint on life is our sorry or success story,
 How we walk determines our gloom or glory.
 
We are pencils meant to draw lines and links
 With either an invisible or indellible ink.
 Our blueprints are in three stages and structures:
 Our past pages, present prints and future features.
 
Our past pages cannot be completely erased,
 Trying to re-write on them makes them defaced.
 My friend, close that chapter and write a new one;
 Each new day presents a new page to write on.
 
Our present prints are presented in timely chances…
 How we chose to embrace cheers and challenges,
 Taming tears, tending our tender treasures;
 Each day is a brick or broom to our future.
 
The future’s features are loads of incredible art,
 You can only view them when we open our heart:
 Your dreams present platform to play your part.
 Dream big with the little you have and dare to start.
 
We are priceless pencils and life is our paper;
 What we write makes our lives bitter or better.
 Refusal to write does not make the world stagnant;
 It only makes a man’s page dormant though pregnant.
 
We are nothing but pregnant pencils without erasers,
 Impregnated by places, people and… higher powers,
 Yet what we write carries our copyright,
 We cannot erase, so write to your delight.
 
Copyright (c) 2012 by Adeleke Adeite.


Details | Free verse | |

Freedom writes

Freedom sings in the nature of things.

Warm gusting winds. 

Bash against the leaves  of a tree.

It makes a sound purposely calming to the ear.

Beneath the trees roots do grow.

Freely and free.

Free burning flames of the sun blind the eye.

As free roaming clouds set free the sky.

Plants of the earth dances.

Its partner the free blown breeze.

Hump back whales jump above the sea.

Are you as free as nature and its unpredictable course of dances.

Can you stare into the free burning flames of the sun?

A stare of freedom,the sun has won.

Will your eyes stay open,like wildly free tides that hit the sands.

Stroll with me in freedoms steps

A freedom nature kept.

Pick up a pen and set its ink free.

Or use your blood on paper and set your self free.

Many say they love to write free poem verses,but they erase and cross out their free poetic verses.Oh come write with me on natures freedom leaves.Let free blown breeze run up your sleeves. 

Erasing and crumbling paper, a freedom tease

Borrow  my free pen and freedoms keys

                        Oh freedom.
                        Oh freedom.
                        Oh freedom 
                           please.

A free flowing freedom cant freeze,nor cease

Take my pen and write with ease.

No crumbling,no erasing. 

                            Just freedom please


Details | Couplet | |

UNLOCK WRITERS BLOCK

dear poet watching empty paper
while your time ticks slowly away

longing for the perfect scraper
during your uninspiring day

hidden words in misty vapor
fresh breezes can conquer your bay

you are  your very own shaper 
near thoughts tiptoe as words your way


Details | I do not know? | |

The Root of Inspiration

I set out on a quest today,
Compelled to write a poetic story,
I thought perhaps I’d write about,
The mind in its’ infinite glory,
While philosophizing life
I wondered, what is inspiration?
So I continued on my noble journey,
Through the minds vast imagination,
I was full of motivation,
As I made my faithful way,
And neurological obstacles,
Kept getting in my way,
Soaring through the universe,
I came unto a vibrant light,
As i set my hand upon it,
I was filled with divine insight,
The gleaming light then vanished,
And an angel had appeared,
Dressed in a robe of white,
Dawned with a halo in her hair,
A silky voice then asked me,
Is it knowledge you require?
She said again as if she’d known,
Then ask what you desire,
I was wondering where it was,
That inspiration is derived,
Then as I came unto the light,
I’d understood as I arrived.

Copyright © 2009 Zachary Jackson


Details | Quatrain | |

free cee AND SHE DOES IT WITHOUT A NET

     AND SHE DOES IT WITHOUT A NET

She's an acrobat with anachronisms 
and an anarchist with adjectives
she dances with words cheek to cheek
and the letters follow all her directives

she shames me with her shameless talent
while displaying what she feels deep inside
I try to learn from her but am defied every time
and her ability to thrill me will not be denied

she can be comical or sacred and serious
she can write about reality's voice or fantasy's face
I read her words and wish to write like her
as she takes each syllable into her embrace

this wondrous woman is a poet supreme
a lady who writes what people need to hear
each word is placed in just the right place
and can make you smile or urge an urgent tear
  (c) 2012....copyright PHREEPOETREE ~free cee!~


Details | Free verse | |

Because I'm Happy

I write because I'm happy
I write because I'm free
I'm write because I'm black
I write because I'm me

I write because of dad
And his 3 poems that I read
I write because a rhyme
Sounds so good in my head

I write because of racism
And how one can't understand
I write because of war
I write because of Uncle Sam

I write because of love
Even write harder because of hate
I write because I cry
When I breathe when I awake

I Write Because I'm Happy

I write because of Poe
And when he spoke of that crow
I write because of of Charlie Brown
And his Haiku on HBO

I write because of you
And those Sonnets so sweet
I write because I'm inspired
By those poems I always read

I Write Because I'm Happy


Details | Rhyme | |

Permission From A Poet

Can I have permission from a poet to write?
I want to inspire a child's pen
and make them see
that the world's okay to live in.

Can I have permission from a poet to write?
I want to script the sweetest
love poem and modivate a man
to treat his woman like the queen she is.

Can I have permission from a poet to write?
I want to be very creative with words
until words are creative with me,
so the poem and the reader get what they deserve.

Can I have permission from a poet to write?
I'll write cause I wasn't allowed
to write in the past, I'll use this gift
God gave me and make every poet proud.

Can I...................


Details | Rhyme | |

Insignificant Matters

To write a poem of which make a person change
is not so insignificant and strange
Without those people things will always be the same
then their would be the blaming game
I write this poem to the Insignificant out their
because they do not deserve the bad stare

To write a poem of which make a person change
is not so insignificant and strange
Without those people we would not be guessing
people would just plane stressing
I do understand how feeling are
because I do stare into the star

To write a poem of which make a person change
is not so insignificant and strange
Without those people we could not be our selves
people would just give up and leave things on shelves
I do think people that is insignificant are life batter
because everyone in life is not insignificant they all matter


Details | Rhyme | |

The Heavenly Muse


I wonder if angels write poems
Can they be our silent muse
Do they softly whisper the words we write
And tell us what words to use

Do they whisper their stories of Heaven
As we write with all our might
Describing the things that we haven't seen
While bringing us into the light

Do they warn us of all the evil things 
That we on earth must face
Do we hear their voice inside our hearts
That travels through time and space

I wonder if they hold our hand
As they tell us what to say
And when our poems are finished
Do the suddenly fly away

I wonder if angels write poems
And whisper the words we use
For this world would be a better place
If we had a Heavenly muse


Details | Rhyme | |

Is This Not What We Believe ?

Jesus Alone, the One True Hope
for the hearts and lives of men.
How grand and monumental the scope
of lives being born again.

This Kingdom life is what I write of
in that God shows us the way.
To enter this life is to know Christ’s Love;
that my words lift Him, I pray.

This seems to be a repeated theme; 
once more I write of His Love.
History’s true hope for lives redeemed,
this One from Heaven above.

Yes, there have been good men who have lived
from past times up to this day.
But not one of them has life to give 
except for life’s One True Way.

Jesus, the Way the Truth and the Life,
is this not what we believe ?
In Him is found the end of all strife
and the promise of all we’ll receive.


Details | Rhyme | |

Poetical children of the world

Poetical children of the world

We are the children…
Globally known
From seeds of wisdom
But never cloned
Originiquely designed individually
Expressing beautiful gifts of poetry
Kind-hearted thoughts
Linger from our minds
To our pens 
Filling paper with knowledge…
We are the children…
Giving to you all of us
From deep within our skin
Every single rhyme
That’s saving our lives – “LITERALLY”
It’s our choice 
To make the world a better “society”
We stand proud to “ONLY”
Give you the “best of the best poetry”

By: Aleasha Martin


Details | Free verse | |

I've Dreamt

I’ve dreamt of a time,
When I could drink clean water,
I’ve dreamt of a time,
When I could eat clean food,
I’ve dreamt of a time,
When people would be able to see,
That all should be treated equally,
I’ve dreamt of a time,
Without sorrow,
Always telling myself “It will come tomorrow.”
I’ve dreamt of a time,
Without war,
For it fills the shore with bodies of those I adore,
I’ve dreamt of a time,
When I wasn’t looked at,
As just being some black,
I’ve dreamt of a time,
When I wasn’t looked upon by the ignorant,
As being some illegal immigrant,
I've Dreamt

-Jerome L. Kidd Jr.




Details | Rhyme | |

BLOSSOMING GIFTS

  Oh, but for the gift of the written word
  When it comes that time of day for solace.
  They become the friends whom I seek
  As much as if they were Kings in a palace.


  Would I but get to know them better
  As each and every one reads past.
  Time will not allow me to meet them all
  But the ones I do, seem to fill the chasm so vast.


  My mind thinks on them every now and then
  Only to be tempted to sit and touch them more.
  Not only with the thoughts I had and have
  But with the emotions deep in my core.


  When I find that my words do not come 
  I cry for the ones I cannot know.
  Then I read the words of others who share
  Their words, like blossoms, within me grow.


  It is their kindness to me for which I am thankful
  As their words wash o'er me in time.
  To each of them I am the quiet reader
  For the words they write stick in my mind.


  These gifts to me are not to be overlooked
  As each one is a treasure wrapped in its own rhyme.
  May the Lord continue to bless all those who write
  With the gift of words, both simple and sublime.


  Is there anything else I need to say?
  There is but one thing I hope to do.
  Write words of emotion, comfort, elan, and voice
  That I might help to fill other chasms, too.


Details | I do not know? | |

words

Words Words can make you hurt, Words can make you cry. Words can make you laugh, 
Words can make you try. Words can change you and Words can make act wrong. Words 
can hurt others. But words that hurt are nothing new. Words with action is. Because some 
actions can hurt and make pain come. Some actions can make you feel happy and loved. 
Some actions can get you down the wrong road. But whatever happens, with words or 
actions Remember that friends and people have feelings Try listening to them Friends can 
make you laugh when your sad. They can catch you when you fall. No friend lets you die Or 
leaves you in a dark corner to cry. Friends are angels from above. They are there for you. 
So if their is one thing from this that you remember is should be this, Don't say your my 
friend one moment, Then hurt me and leave me to die the next.


Details | Free verse | |

If It's Not Poetry

If it's not poetry then it don't make sense!

My mentality is actually a masterpiece
practically painted masterfuly
to satisfy the custumer.
It's a ballad scratched on my pad
laterally after me and my pen
practice we'll start constructing a....
Rhyme similar to a rapper's free
with no actual beat blasting the masses
past disaster I will do it rapper free.

If it's not poetry then it don't make sense!

You write hiaku's touching hearts
I read sonnetts from the soul
You make cinquains from the brain
These odes make me feel like gold.

If it's not poetry then it don't make sense!

Without the rhyme I'd be dead
I take advantage of the moment
Releasing words from my head
That might get another open.
Repeat everything I said
Then go to a soul and quote it
He'll probably love what he heard
Then go and write him some words.

If it's not poetry then it don't make sense!


Details | Free verse | |

words for the wise

living for someone else and not yourself can cause trouble. They might not be there to catch you when you stumble . Live for today and not tomorrow . Forget about the pain and the sorrow . Have your own back and don't become a dummy . Never back down and don't become phony . You only get one life to live so choose wisely . Can't trust no one , shame what this world can do to so many people they fell for the tricks of the evil . Rise above them all and stay positive . You live for your actions not for the power . life is simple its just not easy so look out for the traps and take it easy .


Details | Blank verse | |

Life Is The Ink

Life is the ink
I write with.
Words are the actions
I maketh and take.
Paper is the earthly conneciton
Of where I am.
This pen is my destiny,
For only I hold the key.
These lines are boundaries
Of memories and times.
This book is my story,
Telling all there has been.
Writing is as living
As to remaining is as dying.
History is vast,
Yet each life creates its cast.
Life is the ink
We write with.
Words are the weapons
For fight and defence.
These books are our story
And forever we write freely.
Life is the ink
And is bound to run dry.
Our words remain
Even after we die.


Details | Rhyme | |

BLACK MADONNA

   Do you know of the icon of "The Black Madonna"?
   She is the Patron of Poland to this day.
   It is not the icon I write about
   But, the young Maiden, Who is 'Queen of Heaven" today.

   Her name is Mary, the Virgin Mother of Christ
   Whose intercessions for us I seek each day.
   The turmoil in our world could perhaps be averted
   If we beseech Her help on our way.

   We know that She is not only an historical figure
   As we, so often think of Jesus Her Son.
   She is a living, gentle, caring person
   Amongst those, whose hearts She has won.

   She has shrines devoted to Her in many places
   Lourdes, Fatima, Chestochowa, and Medjugorjie too.
   Places where She has appeared to others
   That we may know that Her words are true.

   Although you may not be a believer
   One day, we shall find Her pleading our case.
   Before the Son She brought into this world
   That from us, He should not turn His face.

   I know that some, whose beliefs are far from mine
   May scoff and take offense at these words that I write.
   But for me to deny my own beliefs
   Could never my heart make right.

   So, today I write about this Eternal Woman
   To Whom my prayers each day include.
   For Her comforting spirit I pray for all
   Whether Christian, Buddhist, Muslim, or Hindu.

   My faith in Her is something that I must have
   To get me through the trials of each day.
   Though undeserving of Her love that I am
   For it, I quietly pray.

   I waned to write about Her strength, humility, and obedience
   And of Her acceptance when the Angel came to call.
   I often wish that I could be more like Her
   Instead of the person that I have been to all.

   She had the humility to be obedient
   And the strength to see it through.
   I am too proud and rarely listen
   Because of my weaknesses which are obvious to you.

   So, I now ask each one of you
   Of whatever belief you may be.
   To include a prayer to the Lord above
   For Her, to help strengthen me.

   If your words are clear and pure of heart
   Please think of me and pause...
   That they will be heard in Heaven above
   To benefit my soul's undeserving cause.

   Perhaps, one day I will find "The Black Madonna"
   Not as depicted, in Her shrine to see.
   But, in Her place in Heaven on high
   Where Her gentle love may one day comfort me.


Details | I do not know? | |

Why Do You Write?

People ask me,
"Why do you write?"
"Who do you write for?"

I think,

I write for myself,
to vent my emotions
to tell a story
to spread a message
to calm myself

I write for poets,
who enjoy reading
who need inspiration
who like to encourage
who try to find similarity

I write for you,
to tell you how I feel
to send hidden messages
to make you feel good
to show what you meant to me

I say,
"I dunno, I just like to write"


Details | Free verse | |

THE REDKNUCKLE STORYTELLER

Greetings from the RedKnuckle Storyteller,you may find he;s ann odd kind of feller.
Though he'll do his best to write from the heart,and what you don't like you may always tear 
apart.You see,this storyteller has lived an awful life.A life without family,children,a beautiful 
wife.Now some may say my poetry expresses my pain,others say it's a release in anger I 
gain.Personally I write about a society in grief,so many hurting with no sign of relief.I am so 
proud of every man,woman,child from these hoods,for when it comes to unity and strive they 
truly deliver the goods.With the streets getting younger every day,what's a careing man do 
but kneel down and pray.These are our children out there,so who's in charge to step up and 
care..It pains me, that i'm but a single voice heard.who's only given inspiration is sometimes 
a single word.Now go find a drink and a comfortable chair.For we are about to embark on a 
poetry journey where others would'nt dare.

Dedicated to all the missing Women in Vancouvers lower East end.

(MAY THEY NOT BE FORGOTTEN!)  PEACE AND LOVE... T.R.K S


Details | Personification | |

Dark Visions

Have you ever  had, Dark Visions? I have,when I was seven or eight
I had a dream one night, That was a nightmare, so vivid and so frightful
fear so intense, I wet the bed. My Father wore a badge and I told him what 
happened, and with much insistence we phoned the local authorities. ( Which he knew all of
them) My Dark Vision was of an Airplane a jetliner, on fire, going down.
I saw the flames, faces, colors and style of clothes. I heard screams, pleas to God for
help and prayers. When I woke up I was praying too, in a wet  bed. Two days later the FBI
knocked at my door, with questions after questions until they were satisfied. I felt
berated and alone. Thank God for my Dad. Then it hit me their last words to my Father," If
we have any more questions about the accident we'll contact you" it..it..was real, it
really happened. My Dark Vision,,For thirty years I kept my Visions to myself, until one
day at work a friend of mine Marjie came to me and asked me if I saw things, things I
can't explain. I was floored, dumbfounded. I didn't answer. She said" I sense you had a
Vision and saw something you can't explain"  How could she know? I said " What do you
mean"? " I sense you had a dream that is troubling you, because it was more than a dream"
Gig's up, so I told her. She told me to write it down always write it down, So I did and
let her see it. 3 days later she came to me with a VCR tape, we were alone in the TV room,
so we played it. Suddenly in an instant I was flooded with the whole Vision, everything I
saw and heard. Shamefully a puddle formed on the floor at my feet, as I shook. Everything,
the Bus, the explosions, faces, the Soldier, the old man in the beret, The red headed
woman in the yellow dress and hat. It was in Israel. She had taped it from the news the
night before, the day it happened. 2 days after my Dark Vision.Now at 48 with many
conversations with my Priest and Spiritual adviser, I realize, what I thought a curse, is
actually a Gift From God. Because I am praying with them in my Dark Visions, I am helping
them. One thing I always remember from them is I tell them God is waiting for you, every
time. Then I wake up. 

 I believe my being there has brought some comfort to those souls as their end is near.
That comforts me!  God does work in mysterious ways..He has in me with...

                                           My Dark Visions!

                                                  Taz


Details | Free verse | |

Beating Your Drum

Be yourself, good and bad
Express your pain, sing your songs

Open up to the world around you
Dance in the light, lurk in the shadows

Run in the forest and swagger through the city streets

Seek eternal love, turn your back on others

Be notorious, draw attention to yourself
Be silent and watch people as they do their silly people things

Write and write and write then burn it all. After that write some more and share it with everyone

Travel to places you’ve never been
Make new friends in the places you’ve seen all your life

Question everything even when you’re told not to. What do they know anyway? No one has all the answers, not even half

Paint a picture of a mundane scene and insert your own beauty

Create past the point of boredom. Create past the point of criticism

Laugh in the face of naysayers. Show them what courage is. Cry when it feels right, trust me you’ll know

Love like there is no tomorrow because you never know when their won’t be


Details | Rhyme | |

Share my soul

I would like to propose a toast
                             To my friends on this site
For all of us share a single soul
                             One that loves to write
We write not for fame or glory
                             But agree that would be cool
We have all just come to learn
                             Poetry is our greatest tool
We write about our triumphs
                             As well as our regrets
We write about those we love
                             This includes our pets
We write about things in our past
                             Things that are yet to come
We write about our deepest joys
                             And pain that leaves us numb
We write about all types of nature
                             This includes the birds and bees
We write about our darkest sins
                             And getting on our knees
We write about the politics
                             The agonies of war
We write of how God loves us so much
                             Thats what he gave his son up for
We write about the children that are born
                             And our love ones who have died
We write about things we have let go
                             And things that we have tried
This morning I picked up my pen
                             Just to let my dear friends know
You're not only deep in my heart
                             You also share my soul


Details | Rhyme | |

Writing Casarah

To My friend 
Writing Casarah

Write about a bird, with a broken wing
Write about a Crown, without a King
Write about a guitar, with a missing string
or
Write about nothing 

Write about the sand, without the sea
Write about our future, without a history
Write about the stinger, without the bee
or
go on a writing spree

Write about Having, not much to lose
Write about a rockstar the sings the blues
Write about sadness, then Happy news
or
How you lost your Muse


You didn't lose it----it's just taking a break


Details | Light Poetry | |

It's all up to me

"It's all up to me"


There are so many things to write about,
  it boggles my mind without a doubt.

I could write about love, with caring and glee,
  with great emotion, it's all up to me.

I could write about pain, with anger and sorrow,
  with the hope that I'll have a better tomorrow.

I could write about death, with grief and despair,
  where I'll go when I die, and when I'll get there.

I could write about life, what a marvelous thing,
  about flowers and birds, that perch their and sing. 

I could write about writing,
  now that would be exciting.
  
All the things I could write about, 
  gives me an urge to stand up and shout.

Writing simply sets me free,
  and whatever I write is all up to me.

By
 Trip Johnson


Details | I do not know? | |

Introduction

Between the covers of this book...
  A diverse collection of when I felt forsook
Not all words are detailed to a fact,with
Serenity I've changed some,others I enact.
There are some words for which I must find
  A story to tell and make it rhyme,
Some fall on paper in three-quarter time,
   Others are painfully sent as a sign.
Some are worth Million$ others not one thin dime
   Chapters and characters for another to design.
            Venture on thru-A journey you will find..
"POETRY-IN-MOTION"-ten-thousand steps of life to climb
As like Mother-Goose only I write of the ruins
   Of neglect and child abuse.
I write of Jude and The Book of Revelation
The Work-of-Art by God's Creation.
  The Wrath of God and behold Salvation
And that Christ Jesus died 
            for this Worthless Generation-


Details | Rhyme | |

Bullie

American bullies whose attitude is dim
Will do all that he can to make you fail
Lives from day-to-day just wasting away
Pestering and bullying any way they can
Never giving a thought about the person self-esteem
Proud of the fact that they have you under their spell
They has no tact
Just talks with no regret
Has no respect for others
Wants to be seen and not heard
Justifies their actions
Their decisions are based on being popular
American bullies whose actions are dim
A person whom you could never befriend
All there is to life is just showing off
Does whatever they wants
Like the rules don't apply
Will bullie whom they can to fit in
Students are dieing because of your actions
What do it take to end this mess
No respect for self
Take a look at yourself
See what you have become
American bullies whose attitude is lacking
Has become justified in the fact that they're slacking
Do you really believe you can continue this way well if you do,
God will find a way!
Stop hating
No one wants to hear that
You're ugly
You're weird
You're strange
It's not true
Be true to yourself
Tell the truth
It will set you free
Words are meant to inspire, lift and praise
Words should be pleasant and clean
Words are not meant to belittle
Just think about the power one word or phase can have
Words should send a positive message!
You know that't right!
Go to school
Get out of school
So brave
So courageous
So full of guts
Not letting a word tip you off
That's right stand-up for what's right
Have pride in yourself
Love yourself
Value yourself
You know that's right
God Bless!
Be cool stay in school
Be smart with all the right moves
Go smooth through school
Don't just lose your cool
Keep up with the rules
You won't lose
Be yourself
Take control of bullying
Don't let it get you down
God is with you every step of the way
We should love one another no matter what
I had to write this inspirational poem
I definattely had to write it because
I've seen too many students
being bullied and committing suicide.
This has broken my hert deeply. 
I had to write it because this is a very
serious concern in our society
It's called bullying.








Details | Rhyme | |

Not afraid any more

Sernabtim and Jaycee nagar terrace
4th &12 th and 13th december2011
By Sashi. Prabhu (ZEAUOXIAN)

I have cheated my fears alright,
I have broken up with my doubts uptight,
I got engaged to my faith last night,
I married my dreams at the sight of first light.

I am not afraid to get up today,
I am not afraid to wake up to another day today,
I am not afraid to open my eyes today,
I am not afraid to climb out of bed today.

I am not afraid any more,
I am not afraid any more.

I am ready to face the world all alone,
I am ready to do anything to walk up the stepping stone.

I am ready to say anything to anyone,
I am ready to talk to anyone under the sun.

I am ready to yell from mountain tops,
I am ready to dive from ravine drops.

I am ready to walk for a cause,
I am ready to run to protect environmental laws.


I am ready to understand tangled issues,
I am ready to wipe all tears with tissues.


I am ready to jump out from a moving truck,
I am ready to pull my allies from loads of muck.

I am ready to be creative again,
I am ready to write and spill out my joys and pain.

I am ready to sing my own songs,
I am ready to correct my own wrongs.

I am ready to throw a stone afar,
I am ready to play my own music for all with the door ajar.


I am ready to write notes about me,
I am ready to put them up for all to see.

I am ready to whistle whilst I walk down the alley,
I am ready to pluck the fruits from the orchards of Sally.

I am not afraid any more,
I am not afraid any more.













Details | Free verse | |

From Thoughts to Paper

I like to write poetry, for my mind it soothes
If my writing is read, hopefully i have reached out and introduced me
 
My writes are in rhyme with a dabble of others
Its an apprenticeship i am in, more learn-ed i become
 
I write at my desk on my laptop and PC
Browsing for information to add credence to my work
 
My writing follows no agenda its as free as my words
My portfolio of themes comes from inspiration of many
 
I may see a picture and words grace my eyes
If i read a poets poem, their words can induce an idea
 
So when you read my work, its from the recipe above
Its more than a hobby now, its something i love
 
 
My entry into Deborah Guzzi's " How DO You do it??? contest "




http://www.thehighlanderspoems.com/poetry-soup-4.php


Details | Free verse | |

thursday night

watching bears in the woods,
on a screen
ofcourse 
eating a cracker
out of plastic.
everything must come out of plastic
everything that does

people buy
eating until full

bears in the woods,
they were interesting
at peace with their 
place

just surviving 
sometimes running a
nursery

i want passion like that
to survive 

does the mind make things so complicated
that it wont let 

or is it just my surroundings?

thank the grass for being
my surface

run to the heaven river
to appreciate the skin
of fish

im always interrupted 
in my gaze
someone riding my ass
always in a hurry to be there,
to always get that

when my hands are on the wheel i dont even drive


my mind always wanders without
being told

first time i have wrote without a plan

i like it

throwing baggage on a screen
infont

ive adapted to the screen,
almost moving away from my pad
i dont know why?

maybe, because i can type faster than write
but does it mean more to physically make 
the imprint with the so guided message

life is life
people spend lifetimes
trying to discover what it is

am i trying too?

i cannot cover my curious
tent 
questions, 
i ask so many unanswered questions


Details | Ballad | |

Low Man Is Due

A low man is due...
My eyes seek reality,
My fingers feel for faith.
Touch clean with a dirty hand,
I touch the clean to the waste.
I fall cause I let go,
The net below has rot away.
And I cry to the alleyway,
Confess all to the rain.
But I lie straight to the mirror,
The one I've broken to match my face.
The fire is so warm,
But nowhere safe from the storm.
And I can't bear to see,
What I've let me be.
So wicked and worn.
So as I write to you,
Of what is done and to do.
Maybe you'll understand,
I won't cry for this man.
Cause low man is due.
So low the sky is all I see,
All I want from you is forgive me.
My eyes seek reality,
And my fingers seek my veins.
There's a dog at your back step,
He must come in from the rain.
But you bring that poor dog in from the rain,
Though he just wants right back out again.
So my fingers feel for faith,
And my eyes seek reality.
So as I write to you,
Of what is done and to do.
Maybe you'll understand,
I won't cry for this man.
Cause low man is due.


Details | Light Poetry | |

words

Words

Don’t always use the right words
Make mistakes with my spelling
And don’t know the correct grammar
To use in my story telling

But sometimes it hard
To explain what I’m selling
Have a crazy woman in my head
And she won’t stop yelling

I drink a bottle of brandy
To get her drunk in my brain
And hoping she will sleep away
And never yell again

But I try to ignore her
And continue to tell my tale
So some of the things I sell you
I never had on sale

So I have to keep on writing
It’s the only thing I can do
Some of my poems are fictions
And some of them are true

And don’t know how I do it
I really can’t explain
If I don’t get it out my head
Think I will go insane

I lost my pen for many years
Didn’t even have a book
Now when an idea comes
For piece of paper everywhere I look

Words can describe feelings
And make a change in humanity
Words can open your eyes
To see peoples inner beauty

Words can bring peace
If use the right way by man
Then there will be no need 
To hold a gun in their hand

I write words bout nature
And bout people attitude
Although most of the time
Don’t know my own latitude

I like to write about feelings
Cause we all are compassionate
And every one is beautiful
No reason to differentiate

Time for me to go
My girl friend watching me hard
It has some sale in the mall
And she wants to go real bad

So till next time we meet
Now I have to stop writing
But just remember
Words are a powerful thing


Details | Free verse | |

Why write when you can pray ?

Writing is a form of prayer, the writer makes with  his pen.
He puts it to paper,
 and lets it all go
When writing there is no time, 
  no space,
 everything stands still,
 while the writer writes.
Why does he write ? 
 Why do you not pray? 
To have someone to hear your inner most thoughts to look for answers,
 to ask for help ,
 to let go , 
to just get it out.
Sometimes he writes out of anger,
 sometimes out of loss,
 others its out of desperation ,
 sometimes its just because .
Now the writer writes in hopes
 that the answer will be come clear .
He knows all he has to do is wait long enough,
 and it will appear. 
But what say you of those who do not write ? 
Are they lost, broken or just forgotten ? 
No, they are not lost, broken or forgotten
 instead of bringing down the pen to paper , 
They choose to speak their silent prayer 
But one thing is for sure 
Paper and pen 
Hands clasped and kneeling
Someone, somewhere,
 has heard your silent prayer 


Details | I do not know? | |

The Great Pretender

I want to write the perfect poem
 
I know it's out there somewhere
 
Searching for home
 
I want to sing the world's most beautiful song
 
I know it's out there somewhere
 
Longing to belong
 
I want to paint the most beautiful scene
 
With all of Vincent's beautiful colors
 
Red, blue, yellow, purple, lavender and green
 
I want to write the picture perfect ending
 
I want you to love me
 
But I shouldn't go on pretending


Details | Verse | |

Cemented Ink

I’m in the position of a responsible orphan
I’m left with no plan…abandoned
I turn aside from being caught up in denial, though I’m stumbling
upon affliction and bafflement, entangling me in its web
These unkempt, cemented words—they are strapping
The griminess searing through my skin and bone
I’m left in the chambers of my words

How can I talk myself out of this position?

They are cemented to my soul,
decaying in debris…chained to envy and fear
I write down my experiences with cemented ink

My fear-binding words weigh me down,
cemented with bewilderment 
My toes trickle with grime…my life is but a frown
My body becomes weak… leaving me with a print

My depression dunks my head down

I write down my feelings with layered ink 
Decaying in filth…chained to fury and terror
Chipping my soul…peeling away everything I adore

I am demolishing along with 
my last lick of luck 

How can I get out of here?
I’m left to find my own way out
The draftiness singeing through me…goose bumps 
leaving scars of tousled emotions—they are strapping 

These portraying words crawl in my cranium…
Perturbing my every thought
Abandoning all the doubtless hopes…entangled with uncertainty
My worries are shot
With ink…
blotching my heart 

I’m unprepared on my flight
I’m in the position of a bewildered orphan…
 lost in the ink-cemented night


Details | Rhyme | |

Red, White and Blue

Is the land of the free
What it used to be
In it's current state
Do we wait and see
 
Do we continue to write words
For others to read
Or do we do something about it
And follow our lead
 
For things to be done
Things have to be said
Written down
And the aggrieved fed
 
People should stand
And declare their thoughts
With the promise of truth
For in the past we've been bought
 
The world has changed
From the forefathers time
Politics are different
In this world we find
 
Races are mixed
But we all are affected
It was not by magic
That they were elected
 
If they are voted in
We can vote them out
Gather together
And let your words shout
 
For they work for us
We don't work for them
With the write of a cross
Political condemn
 
The land of the free
Is all around
It is our flag
It is our ground
 
To be elected
Remember where you came from
Be what you were
And continue to be strong
 
For the votes were cast
You have to stay true
Do what you promised
For the Red, White and Blue



http://www.thehighlanderspoems.com/america.php


Details | Pastoral | |

GOD'S POET

As a poet I use words to facilitate.
Whether it is to inspire, for grief, love or debate.
A word to me in rhyming form is God’s gift.
I do not use it for my benefit I use it to uplift.
From my thoughts and spirit these words are written.
To use this gift for hate or to despise is forbidden.
My poetry is God’s stewardship.
My God given talents is to build spiritual relationships.
I’m grateful for everything he’s done for me
To write gives me peace and sets me free.
On His voice and His commands.
My pen time after time changes hands.
Through my trials and tribulation.
My pen is on a mission;
As God’s poetic disciple.
I write the truth from the bible


Details | Free verse | |

Poetry Soup Group

Poetry Soup Group

This is quite a group, 
the people at Poetry Soup.

They make me feel 
like a part of their troop.

No matter how much bad 
poetry I enter in their contests 
they still encourage 
me to write until I poop!

The State of the 
group at Poetry Soup
Is that it’s a great 
place to regroup,
Eat soup and write 
poetry late at night,
When you can’t 
seem to sleep.

It’s a great group of people,
Good company to keep.
They make me want to
Leap for joy each time
I log on to Poetry Soup!


Details | I do not know? | |

Don't Stop The Poetry

I'm going to write this poem
and not once stop my pace
So when I die I will show Him,
God, the poetic piece I've laced.
I'm going to write about my struggles
I'm going to write about happyness
My strength will put me on a hussle
So I can make ends to share it with,
My mother, my father,
My 2 sisters and brother,
I may not say it at times
but until death I love them.
I cry out to the Most High
that honestly I only can do my best.
If I leave the Earth a failure
then I'll feel I've failed life's test.
No matter how hard things are
I promise I won't stop the poetry.
Because God knows my strength
and if nobody, He'll notice me.


Details | Didactic | |

I see beyond vol 2

I have cheated my fears alright,
I have broken up with my doubts uptight,
I got engaged to my faith last night,
I married my dreams at the sight of first light.

I am not afraid to get up today,
I am not afraid to wake up to another day today,
I am not afraid to open my eyes today,
I am not afraid to climb out of bed today.

 I see beyond and am not afraid any more,
I see beyond and am not afraid any more.

I am ready to face the world all alone,
I am ready to do anything to walk up the stepping stone.

I am ready to say anything to anyone,
I am ready to talk to anyone under the sun.

I am ready to yell from mountain tops,
I am ready to dive from ravine drops.

I am ready to walk for a cause,
I am ready to run to protect environmental laws.


I am ready to understand tangled issues,
I am ready to wipe all tears with tissues.


I am ready to jump out from a moving truck,
I am ready to pull my allies from loads of muck.

I am ready to be creative again,
I am ready to write and spill out my joys and pain.

I am ready to sing my own songs,
I am ready to correct my own wrongs.

I am ready to throw a stone afar,
I am ready to play my own music for all with the door ajar.


I am ready to write notes about me,
I am ready to put them up for all to see.

I am ready to whistle whilst I walk down the alley,
I am ready to pluck the fruits from the orchards of Sally.

I see beyond and am not afraid any more,
I see beyond and am not afraid any more.



Details | Verse | |

My Thoughts Of Life

These poems I WRITE,
are only some of my thoughts of LIFE.
Some may say they are meaningless WORDS, 
others may take them as bits of ADVICE.
Many may judge my life by the words I TYPE,
some might catch offense, and want to FIGHT.
But, I’m only exercising my constitutional RIGHTS.
I’m not trying to afflict my opinions on NONE.

I’m only living this life God chose to BEGUN.
Some people value money,
 others idealize their CARS.
Average people just live their life,
But, great people shoot for the STARS.

Some people just live a life of ANOTHER,
While others spend their whole life,
          trying to satisfy their significant OTHER.
Average people might think I’m ARROGANT!
Christians may think I’m heaven SENT.

Haters may which to call me NAMES.
others may seize the opportunity to cause me PAIN.
Some poets, can only write about their personal FEELINGS,
while other artists write about their surrounding DEALINGS.
Some people die never realizing, questioning why they LIVED?
Some people spend their whole life taking,
 never knowing how it feels to GIVE.

Others are satisfied, because God chose for them to WAKE.
Majority of the world, 
believes their whole life was a MISTAKE.
Some people work to gain, 
 Thieves live to TAKE!
 Law biding citizens live by the law,
 criminals live to BREAK!


Once again my FRIENDS,
these are only my thoughts of LIFE!
Who’s really to judge what’s wrong,
 or in that case, what is RIGHT?
This life was a gift to ME,
Some people live a great life,
 others just live from B  eginning to E nd.

Average people live to play life safe,
 	great people live life while SACRIFICING.
Great people live to WIN,
while sinners live to SIN.
Christians may say as if they go to church, 
their works will SUFFICE.
The Jews are still looking for the coming of CHRIST!
But me I live for the thoughts of LIFE!






Details | Free verse | |

When I am Old

I will drink coffee in the morning and a glass of wine in the evening.
I will laugh and tell stories of my youth like my forefathers had done.
I will write treasured memories down and look back on the journals
I have written and admire how my life was shaped by fate and luck.
I will wear my hat with pride though outdated by decades,
 I will live with no regrets.  
Life is what is. Created for me to create.
I will write with strength and wisdom of my own experiences,
And what my elders have taught me, keeping traditions heart beating.
I will share my life and those I have known, by words of rhythm and rhyme.

I will go the barn and smell clean hay,
Watch my horses play.
I will love the sunrise and admire the sunsets,
When I am old.
I will smell my horses sweet breath, feel his whiskers on my cheek,
I will listen to their soft nickers in the morning, 
Promises never understood, but known.
I will wear hay in my hair as if a halo.
A gift given by such noble friends.
I will sit and listen to the steady rhythmic grind as they quietly eat. 
Watch their breath steam lazily into the frosty morning.
As I look into their bold eyes, 
I see they are patiently waiting 
For me to know, what they know 
And waiting for the woman I am yet to become.
As for now, 
I am just learning how to walk.



Details | Rhyme | |

Thread and Poetry

Thread & Poetry
____________________

I reach deep into my soul
and words form like a spool of thread
so I lace the needle of thought
and sow you a beautiful literary creation.

Sometimes there are rivits in the pattern
imperfect chained connections
but somehow, somehow they come together
and meet at the same ends.

It doesn't have to be correct really,
just meshing like pieces of unmatched cloth
you know, like your grandmas favorite quilt
so many memories...good and after thoughts.

So when I decide my creation is finished,
I tighten the ends, pulling it snuggly together
I gently roll my threads up to put away
and save those precious strings for another day.

5/23/14- Jessica Thompson


Details | Couplet | |

Truth Beats the Lies

Today I pen this poem for all of you
Know in your hearts every word is true

There was once a time that I was insane
Everyone I loved, I caused them pain

Grandparents to my children’s hearts
I honestly tore them all totally apart

Uncles, Aunts, Sisters and Brothers
She hadn’t drown probably my mother

The best of friends and all of my mates
No one was exempt from sharing my hate

My hate was a river that forever poured
My soul was thing that I forever ignored

So why is that not the Michael Jordan of today
One day I ask of the Lord, “Please guide my way”

The road wasn’t easy true change never is
My life was no longer mine I considered it his

And what he ask, what he wanted me to do
Is use myself as an example of how to be true

Being true to myself I quickly learned was the key
I couldn’t anything for you till I was honest with me

And no matter what I do it could never be enough
When it comes to amends I have a lifetime of stuff

But none of that matters it no longer matters at all
I now bow to the Lord but to the world I stand tall

I no longer hold to excuses or offer up alibis
I have learned how to let go of all of the lies

My truth is my shield as I write for the Lord
My heart writes lyrics as my soul plays the chords

I don’t even really know what this poem is about
Sometimes I’m blown away by what comes pouring out

I guess it’s just another way to rise above the sin
For it’s the words I write that teaches me to win

What am I trying to win, I do hope it shows
A little more love in my heart and light in my soul

What this poem is about I have come to realize
No matter how much it hurts the truth beats the lies



Details | Lyric | |

Empty Thoughts

Staring at a blank paper
thinking of something to write

My mind is empty now
I'm looking deep into the night

When I shall wake
I might have a thought or two

I can't believe this happening to me
Has this ever happened to you?

Shall I write about love
Shall I write about fears

Maybe a poem about death
Wait,no more tears

I could write about my past
and tell you what I went thru

But I have already done so
by the poems I shared with you

I did write something
for you to read

My empty thoughts are gone
yes they are, yes indeed


Details | Free verse | |

A Poem for Sister

If I could write a special poem,
I would write it just for you.
To show how much I thank you,
for all you say and do!

For all the times you helped me,
for all the times you cared,
it always made me feel good,
to know someone was there.

I will never be able to show you,
just what you mean to me.
But happiness and harmony,
Are my only wish for thee.


Details | Rhyme | |

Our Writing

We write to please
As we are pleased to write
Our writing grows from our inner sight

All shapes and forms
Are written down
We grace the page, our writings gown

We write so differently
You and me
Our comments are gracious, for all to see

From all over our globe
On the Soup appear
Nationalities of many, in writing sincere




http://www.thehighlanderspoems.com/poetry-soup.php


Details | Lyric | |

The Unknown

I’m sitting and waiting, to meet with my doc, 
The time passes slowly, while watching the clock.

I have a disease, and some days aren’t the best,
I swear some ones putting, me through my life’s test.

Won’t know how I’ll feel, until I awake,
Will I act like myself or more like a flake?

My thinking and talking, sometimes they both lag,
I will go to the store, and forget a bag.

That darn short term memory, is the worst of all
I try handling the rest, even when I fall.

I have to write notes, though they seem like a book
I must write down a note, to make sure I look.

Sometimes I forget things, important ones too,
Like blowing out candles, or know what to do.

The kids say they’ve asked me, remembering… not!
But they are so happy, for what they just got.

There’s good days and bad days, I just never know
Will my eyes go wacky, or stub my big toe?

I must always laugh, or I’d sit and I’d cry
Oops, I burnt our dinner, but gave it a try.

The doorways seem smaller, like when I pass by
I hit the walls, with my knees or thigh.

I don’t want your pity, or sit all day long
I always keep active, it helps me stay strong.

I’ll trip over nothing, I laugh when I do
I hate when that happens, my foot sticks like glue.

This disease has no cure, they call it MS
Hopefully they’ll find, what causes this BS.


Details | Light Poetry | |

The Art of Poetry

Poetry allows you to write what you feel
Let the idea of thought to inspire you
Lets the words that you write take flight 

Watch as each line takes rhyme
Write it deep and defined
Or turn it into a design

Flowing from the pen, keyboard and recorder
Poetry is in every earthly corner 
Poetry creates the landscape for every perceived view

Its in music and movies
Its at the beach and parks
Its on a plane flying high

Poetry’s got the motion 
It allows you to vent your rage 
And share your joys

It doesn’t have to rhyme all the time
express who you are,  out of the dark
dance your write and celebrate.


Details | Couplet | |

Tag Sharon Weimer "You are IT"

Sometimes in life it is so clear to see
My friend is as special as she can be

Things happen and we don’t know why
But for my special friend I would die

I started the (YF4L) club just for her
Sometimes I stutter but I never slur

My wife knows that Sharon is special as can be
They’re the only two who calm the beast in me

Be the first admit, I don’t always think right
I’m a true man of God with a Soldier’s plight

The “Man of God” part is all brand new
Sharon I have penned this poem for you

But it’s not just a poem, Sharon it is a tag
Pull yourself a name from the Poetry bag

And then tell that Poet how special they are
From the bag of Poets pull yourself out a star

This is a game that all of us poets used to play
Hopefully we can relight that flame today

Anyone but me Sharon you can write about
Just answer the “Tag” and let your love out

-----------------------------------------------
You know I've been here long enough to say.
"Back in the day" we used to play tag, i miss
it a lot - Rules are very simple, I write a poem
for Sharon and tag it. Sharon now can write a
poem to any other poet but me and tag it. Then
they do the same. Lets rock and roll, heart and
soul and see where it may lead. Tag Shar, your it.
Now this is a wide open game, anyone can pick
anyone they wish at any time. The object is to
keep the ball rolling. This used to be a very special
part of our site and I do hope we can relight that
Flame, God Bless you all, MJ


Details | I do not know? | |

Illusion;s

Powerful endorphins pump erotic thoughts through my veins.
Fresh feeling of excitement, nothing can shadow one's day.
Your heart filled with wonder, and dreams with no pain.
In an instant, lonely souls of misery start fading away.
An emotion so wonderful, so strong, and so true.
Can also create an illusion of evil, treachery, and doom.
A half-century of journeys, Lord I, have had a few.
The blindful illusions of emotions, of "I Love You".
What causes the breakdown of god's greatest gift?
With hope in my heart I pray that you can decipher the myth.
The words I now write come from both illusions and love.
For I have flown on the back of both, the crow, and the dove.
In the beginning there is nothing we do or nothing we said can be wrong.
Which is the prefect recipe for destruction of this lovers psalm.
Speak out, what hurts your feelings, but do it not for control.
For this is the building fountain of your loving souls.
Be gentle and caring, not vindictive or mean.
The other side gives the illusion of greener grass it seems.
To grow anything solid, you must nurture with care.
And this on my oath, I do solemnly swear.
Now what I write please take it to heart.
Or everything that you build becomes illusion, and will fall apart.
Jealously an evil, with such a destructive force.
Born from selfish feelings, and hurting, emotions of remorse.
For everything has two choices, try to learn from your mistakes.
God's gift is not illusion that you bring to love's gate.


Details | Rhyme | |

Love For Words

Simply for my love for words
I shall write and I shall compose
Simply for leisure, simply to be heard
As a poet tonight I shall impose

A new piece, a new me
A new music, a new time
An old wish, a used to be
A class of old, left behind

How will you know?
What have I known?
Have you enough to show?
I only have me I own

For the love of what I do
For the joy of now I did
I have forgotten I am who
Were it once words I need?

Whether be I be heard
I shall write and I shall compose
Simply for my love for words
As a poet... I once again rose


Details | Free verse | |

FOR POSTERITY

I write my poems for posterity:
To be trapped and preserved
In the pages of moth-eaten books,
To be discussed at universities
Hundred years after my death,
To be selected in syllabus and taught in
Classrooms of schools in remote lands,
In schools and exams to be summarized,
Shrunk into precis or its lines
Taken out for RC, Figures of speech,
Thought expansion-
I know my countrymen will ignore me
For every poet is ignored by his times and his homeland.
Poetry, like rolling boulder, gathers
Momentum and velocity as it advances
Deep into dark valley of time
I do not write for my country for she
Considers poetry a pastime, not a profession.


Details | I do not know? | |

HiGHER POWER

                         As i sit down to write again
                        I ask a higher power to guide my hand
                        The words spill out like a song
                         And i begin to write a poem
                         I'll never be as great as edgar allan poe
                         He was the greatest poet i know
                         So i keep writing, and let God guide my hand
                         And if it's in Gods plan for me
                         I'll write a poem for the world to see.


Details | Rhyme | |

Write Pace

How to write so fast
Does it have to be so good
Off course it has to be decent
And certainly not to be rude

The use of decent letters
Makes the poem flow and flow
Then the writes are read
And watch our comments grow

Once our words are read
Our writing gets around
And because were on the Soup
Our poems will soon be found



For entry into Matt Caliri's " Write Now " contest.



Written listening to Preacher Man Blues by Gary Moore which is 5.57mins
The time had hit 3.48mins when finished, and i sat back and enjoyed the rest


http://www.thehighlanderspoems.com/life3.php


Details | Tail-rhyme | |

Inspired by life inspiration

So much time on my hands
Writing is best without any plans
I choose to be alone
I write of all I've know

My work my poems some kind of trail
My lies inspiration for words to bail
A woundmaybe that lies in the soul
Before today I never told

So much of life spent in thought
My words make poetry never bought
Reality is this work that I do
I know I have one just for you

Every mark made every word to say
Inspiration in my life remembered that day
In them go my heart and soul
My words they are writen with this goal

I word them all for your pleasure
These poems that I write are my treasure


Details | Rhyme | |

24/7

To all poets around the world
Our freedom of words as our pen unfurls
We write our dreams or fantasies so
Imaginations, allow our pens to flow
 
So many themes so many stories
A tale of woe or human glories
We can surmise what we have said
Its the eye of sight and how there read
 
Do we criticise or respect our words
I think were clever, not to be absurd
As poets writers we sail the same boat
To be respectful and not to gloat
 
We writers see through our eyes and thoughts
To table our words we have brought
Were fortunate to have, this poetry heaven
And freedom to write 24/7


Details | Light Poetry | |

' Transparency ... '

Tho’ Transparency …
I Removed Those Veils, Trying To Block Me
Took Them Away, from My Sight
Oh … I Can See Just Right …

They Were like Specters
who try to Fright and Fight
but The Highest Power
made those (Spectacles) Take Flight

Thru’ Transparency …
As An Old Song, Once Said, ‘ I Can See Clearly
Now, The Rain Has Gone…’ and I Thank God, Surely
For, What A Beautiful Thing, is Clarity

No Optical Illusions, That Second-Guess
… Don’t Need Rose-Colored-Glasses … I Am Blessed !
And Oh … My Visions are Vividly-Bright !
God Said, ‘ … Let Her Write …

and Let Her Stay in Light and Laughter With Me
Let Her Stay in  Love and Luminosity
And Let Her Write … With All Her Might, About Me …
From Now-On and Unto Eternity

With Sheer, Rainbow Imagery
or A Hurricane Intensity
or in Soft-Spoken, Sweet Sunny Dawns
with Moonbeams, Thru The Whole Nights Long …

… With Transparency …

Aahh … I Can See … I Can See …   ( Rev. 3: 18 )


Details | Free verse | |

There Was A Time

There was a time in my life when I cried and cried and cried.
Then one day I looked up and began to dry my eyes.

There was a time in my life when I complained and complained and     
complained.
Then one day I realized it only caused me to remain.

There was a time in my life when I screamed, and screamed and screamed.
Then one day I heard myself and boy did I sound mean.

One day I got a revelation, and it has helped me to this day.
I don’t have to cry, complain, or scream for you to hear what I have to say.

I just need a pen and paper, and my computer too.
Now I can write, write and write for my words have a voice too.
And as I write these poems out, they speak to all of you.


         First poem written in 2008.




Details | I do not know? | |

Just Write

Just write, don’t think about what you’re going to say.
Just write and let your mind come out and play.
Set aside emotion- it will speak through your words,
Set aside influence, despite what you’ve heard.
Forget about the editing; let the errors be your guide to finding that
single voice that dwells deep inside.
Just write about anything- say the first thing that comes to mind, and
let your ambition consume the need for time.
Plant a creative seed where ever you may go and eventually that
imagination will begin to grow.  Your voice will emerge as time goes
on, and you’ll hear it coming through steady and strong.  Let your
deepest thoughts rule your steady hand, and put your thoughts on
paper- as many as you can.  So, put away the dictionary only for
tonight-and enjoy the freedom of expression, and you’ll get it…
just write.


Details | Free verse | |

loosendedly finish my sentences so they can finish yours

previously they said that was
and what were they doing?
we got here and opened 
could we go any faster someone seemed to
and there was a reply before the question

so low and so far from
you were me and i was 
we were never really found
in place of disaster where we find our
we see right through the holes
and become something
or else we turn this into god

stuck in the middle 
the researchers say you can say anything before or after
every line to make it beautiful
when you write it down
answer the questions
what does she want for her birthday?
how was your Christmas?
where does the story go?
how many pieces to the puzzle
and where did the weekend end?

Before and after mix it up Tear it up
cut it up
predict and foreshadow
end it mend it
break it fake it be inspired to inspire me and see who i inspire
as we search the lines of the database
for our arsenal
of the words we like
to add to our own to employ our souls
and play dirty with elbows to claim what is rightfully ours
together we write this chapter for the next

loose endedly
and find each line has a different tangent to say
level one incomplete
about holidays and treasure hunts
to not go on
fake plastic faces
and celebrated saints 
of yesterday
and emotionless emotive
when we celebrate the pity party of celibacy of
secrecy of masturbation

everything in this mess will mean something to you
and the joke on you8i is the joke
the joke on me
im the clown in the middle saying predict my next line
and finish he next
answer the questions
flip it skip it finish it
slide it and slip on by add your own and mix it
and bec9ome one with the vibe playing in your stereo 
behind 
that 
cant stop the me your not
to swallow the down of the pillows we sleep on to hide
and feel it try to reveal whats inside
through the seeds we leave behind

and the one who starts the layer of the one we all predict and finish
switch and play in gibberish that makes sense is the god of such a matrix
give me a chance and open season at dileberate stabs at p[poetic sarcasm to 
conceal emotion
hey there peter pan?


Details | Free verse | |

Poems are Easy

When asked how I write my stuff
I'm not quite sure how to start
It's not explanation enough
To say "It's my kind of art"
Or even to say it comes freely
To someone who speaks in rhyme
I don't want to be "touchy-feely"
For I really haven't got the time.
It isn't much of a secret
How poetry writing is done
Just write what you feel at the moment-
How easily poetry comes!


Details | Dramatic Verse (Verse Drama) | |

Dear Oprah

Octobar 12

Dear Oprah,
I know that every day you get a million letters. From people doing good. People
doing bad and people doing better. And I know Miss Oprah, that out them million letters,
maybe you read only one. But I want to tell you about my life before it's over and done.

People say on the list of things they never want to be, being sick or dying is first. I
say, being ugly and unloved is far worse, cause that just stick to you your whole life
like a curse.
My name is Correne and I'm one of the ones doing bad. And Miss Oprah My life is so sad.
I know there is a good reason you don't write back. But life just here for a season, and
then it's gone just like one of Sonya lilacs.


Yisterday I would have did suicide, but Ettie had used the last Tylenal aspirin the day
before- for her migraine headache wouldn't hurt no more. I could have used Willies World
War II gun, but it's been seven years since he had money to buy bullets. I'm scared of
guns and I don't know if I have strength to pull it. And unfortunate we lives in one story
house so the roof aint high enough to jump off anyway. So I guess Miss Oprah, I'm going to
live to see another day. Maybe I come up with another way.

****************************************

Dear Oprah,
Some time I write you letter in my room at night. Aunt Ettie shout at me, I aint made of
money, turn off that God darn light. When she scream like that, I cry and get tears on the
letter, and I hope in my head that tomorrow will be better.

Today I sit back on Ettie Sofa and smile 'cause I'm watching your show, Big Josh say,
Oprah cant help you. Most you ever goin to be is a fat ugly Ho. Last week he get so mad he
molest me on the couch while I was watching your show. I reach to turn off the TV. he say,
leave it on! I want Oprah to see. While he mess with me, I think bout how your show tell
people to hold on. I want to fight him off me, but he so strong. He cuss me when I tell
him he doing wrong.
  
  I think it take a whole ocean to hold just half of my sorrow. I hear Ettie coming,
Oprah. I write you again tomorrow...


Details | Tail-rhyme | |

Inspiration

So much time on my hands
Writing is best without any plans
I choose to be alone
I write of all I've know

My work my poems some kind of trail
My lies inspiration for words to bail
A woundmaybe that lies in the soul
Before today I never told

So much of life spent in thought
My words make poetry never bought
Reality is this work that I do
I know I have one just for you

Every mark made every word to say
Inspiration in my life remembered that day
In them go my heart and soul
My words they are writen with this goal

I word them all for your pleasure
These poems that I write are my treasure


Details | Free verse | |

the greatest poem

I want to write the greatest poem of all time
I want to write the best poem ever
I want to write poetry that will blow people’s minds
So I always try to get better

I want to go down in history
I haven’t got any ink to waste here
Sometimes I just pick a random word from the dictionary
I want to be remembered like Shakespeare

I’m writing another 6 poems as I write this
So I keep going back and forth
No one would pass the torch
So I’ll have to end up swiping it

Weather you like it or not
I will build a legacy
I’ll fight to the top
And you will end up respecting me

I’m my biggest fan and my worst enemy
I’m so critical of everything I write
It’s always been my pad, pen and me
Poetry is my life

I’ve always been obsessed with rhyming
I won’t stop till I’ve rhymed with every word in the dictionary
Trying to get the perfect timing
I want my poetry to go down in history

Think I’ve found a good balance between my lyrical ability
And my art for telling stories
But I’ll keep improving until it ends up killing me
Making sure people are forced to acknowledge my glory

What do I consider a great poem?
Is pain, passion, realness and honesty in verses
One day I will write the greatest poem
Even though there’s no such thing as perfect


Details | Free verse | |

Amen

Blood-
Dripping from the head like tears
A crown of thorns
That crown representing;
Every mother, father, son, daughter, brother, sister, 
Yet to come;
Saving us
Through death-
Death that was never pardoned, never ceased
People with sins cast those stones
Who are we to judge?
Who were they to judge?
The fate of the man who brought the word of god to the earth,
Now many say I cannot write about religion,
I cannot write about my belief in Jesus, my belief in God,
The Holy Spirit,
It is taboo to say I am Lutheran-
Since I write about pain and trial,
About death and destruction,
I am forbidden to whisper Jesus on my lips,
For what I write is dark,
And what I write is taboo,
It is inhumane it is violent,
Kanye West was right when he spoke those words,
‘God Show Me The Way Cause The Devil’s Tryin’ To Break Me Down’
I hear you,
I hear you,
Jesus walks, he walks amongst us,
Dare I say Amen?
Dare I?
Amen.


Details | I do not know? | |

Poetry

I sit here writing poetry,
The reason’s I don’t know.
Some word’s I write amuse me,
I write them even so. 

My father wrote some poem’s once,
And maybe, I don’t know.
He’s writing poem’s once again,
Through me so I can show.

He passed away one Christmas morn’
We did not say goodbye,
Our poetry will keep us close,
There is no need to cry.


Details | Rhyme | |

Us

Us
The poets on this site
All individuals we are
Some, even neighbours, but many from afar
We look through different eyes
Our brains have different thoughts
But we all endeavour and shine
What we write are never naughts.
 
We come from all walks of life
Unknown to us all
But from what we write and read
We, all walk tall.
 
Expressing words to share, to understand we learn
To appreciate our others, absorb their internal therm
To see their reason, no need to reason ask
What spurs us all on, is to complete our written tasks


Details | Free verse | |

The perfect shuffle

The blind slide of Freudian slips
half and half cut the stack
face up so you can see the words 
you have written on the edges
of my three worded stanzas
an intricate complex this is
One by one right then left
right then left
right then left

A scrambled message
I know the answer to
a word on the left side 
one word on the top 
one word on the right side
the mensa geniuses might find me here 
stalking shadows and handing out ultimatums
but the game of the blind leading the blind
just got better
right left right left right left
until you run out of cards
that was One
now do it 
seven times
for this is the scientific perfect shuffle

write down the message of the threes
and lets see how long it takes them to figure out the message 
for the psychics
for the geniuses
for the politicians
for the gifted

One by One
right handed card on bottom
blind leading the blind
a victom of an intricate complex
something worth figuring to be a secret of art
as every day metaphors of art inspire us poets

One day we will rise
like ashes from the flame
we will be on talk shows and interviewed 
about our silly games
of how we teach and humble and set up the modern day
an intricate complex
to protect the world
and to wonder about satanic prevention
am I good or evil?
only one way to find out
go forth and get your deck
write the three words per card
beings dream are the jokers

and when you write your revelation of how it turned out for you
ponder the blind slide
point them in my direction
and they can write their chapter of if they followed me or
the martyr of you!
It's really the perfect shuffle
the keys are way out of reach
don't know how many centuries it will take to uncover the message
but i think its gonna be neat

blind leading the blind from one way to the next to mix them up and reveal and 
twist the same message
and I the keeper of the puzzle will claim my fame
in all honesty as I have called out to geniuses
to come help me escape the satellites i'm on
and fake my death


Details | Verse | |

we are pencils

We are nothing but pencils 
Made by God: immortal and sacred;
Our footprint on life: good or evil 
And what we write on others:love or hatred.

We are nothing but pencils
Sharpened by parents, places and peers
And desired by God and devils
But to whom we yield is our life given to steer. 

You may write in black and white 
Your plane poems will be gladly commended 
And you may write in the colours of the night 
The man behind your mask will be fiercely rewarded. 

We are nothing but pencils and life a paper ,
What we write are seeds of history ; 
Repentance or continuance is not an eraser, 
The more we live the more we write a golden story.


Details | Free verse | |

some thing is missing. part two

I wake to a lonely cup of coffee to sounds of silence and fillings I can not shake,
I sit at my computer wanting to write how I fill and my fingers can't find the words,
at this time of the day I wake ready for the world thankful and blessed,
today I write some thing is missing to grasp what it is I'm filling for goodness sake,
then it hits me I know what it is...her words,
I miss them and this I confess,
no phone call away,
I remember without saying a word she knew,
praises from a mother...I no longer hear.
I never hear what she use to say...
and now I know the filling of missing her grew,
filling out of place because I'm here, 
almost two years have past since I rested my knees by your side,
since I wiped away the dust from your head stone,
since I brought you flowers and asked how you been,
since I let the tears of missing you take a ride,
since I've gone home,
I really don't let others know I just let it flow from my pen,
I wonder what your doing now and do you know what I'm going through,
I wonder if your upset with me for not being there,
I wonder are you happy that I got my brothers and sister to visit,
I wonder do you miss me like I miss you?
years have past since we laid you to rest and your still my strength my reason for being
the reason I care
you still lift me up with those words you spoke so long ago and inside I fill it,
you still make me smile and I'm still trying to make you proud,
with a smile I found that some thing missing,
I know why I haven't been me,
I haven't took time I haven't looked to the clouds,
your miles and months away but home I'm coming,
and at your side is where I'll be.

     


Details | Quatrain | |

To Write That One

I wish to write a poem, great
One that serves well to inspire
With words selected, choice yet sweet
Perhaps, speak of desire

I wish to write a poem, great
That many would remember
They’d keep it in their hearts and minds
From January through December

I wish to write a poem, great
That would really make my mark
Let it burn like a fire out of control
From my mind, set ablaze with a spark

I wish to write a poem, great
Or maybe one that’s just enjoyed
You can’t become rich writing in verse
That is why I’m still employed


Details | I do not know? | |

MY HEART IS HAPPY

My heart is happy today
It's shining bright I must say
I've come along way
since Jesus came that day

my poetry is a gift from God
I write from the heart
these hidden words were
always there from the start

Thank you Jesus for your light
I will spread it with all my might 
as I write what you say
and lift up the weak this day


Details | Couplet | |

And the Sun Spoke

The clouds fell down abruptly upon me this day
As the sun pushed them down, it had wanted to play

I looked to it, with a squint in my eyes
For it seemed so bright, there in the skies

It smiled and said, Michael, please write of me
I want the world to know just what I can be

I am more than just light, to brighten the day
I am inspiration, growth and a reason to play

I flourish the fields with multitudes of flowers
I give people reasons, in those fields, to spend hours

I am artwork, unpainted, but crafted from above
I am a gift from almighty, provided with love

So, Michael, can you please write of me now
Please let them all know, what I do and just how

Please choose your words wisely, so all to see clear
Just what I can do and just why I am here

I said, do not worry, they all know it true
For the words that I write, will be those poured from you


Details | Free verse | |

Just For Me

I had a poem playing in my head 
A song written just for me 
I didn't write it but 
It was given to me 
From a place far beyond 
Anything I can see

Filled with strength and hope 
One step at a time it said 
You can do it for you 
Take comfort in your bed 
And anything else you need 
Trust your heart and just be led

I had a poem playing in my head 
That helps me to walk straight and tall 
I didn't write the poem but 
I can claim it and simply recall 
Every time I feel helpless I remember 
I am revived and refuse to fall


Details | I do not know? | |

Till My Blood Runs Cold

i will write till my blood runs cold
i will write no matter what I'm told
poetry is my heart and soul
getting published is my goal
i want to write forever more
i will write till every inch of me is sore
i am so very dedicated
read my poetry and you will see
i am educated
i am a poet
as good as they come
I'm really really good
even better than some
i will write till my heart stops beating
i write so much
i can go days without eating
i write about everything
from me to you
i write about things i wish i could do
in my poems i let it all out
i write so i don't have to scream and shout
i will write till the day i die
because that will be the day
that my blood
runs cold.