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Introspection Name Poems | Introspection Poems About Name

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

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Details | Free verse | |

These ribbons I tie as you leave

Blue – 
for your arm wrapped around
my clavicle. I thought
I would loose my breath.

Red – 
for the cusp of our hip bones
struggling to pull the drunken color
from our orange cheeks.
and our sweat, our sweat, our sweat
in the drenched summer air.
Our pants futile afterthoughts
Left crumpled on the floor
It is here I asked for your respect
And you filled me with it.

Orange – 
for the musk smell of our blanket den. I would watch the way dawn light
speckled your shoulders, pale, white-blue
I would trace the ink
of your skin, fingertip hovering a half inch
from your bone. 

Green – 
for how my name would hesitate
on your breath in brief puffs 
like dandelion seeds blown from 
My wistful lips when I was 
waiting for them to bring back my wish.

Black – 
for my sleeveless dress, as we strolled from 
your father’s funeral.  

It was the only time I watched you cry.

There were little holes in the cement sidewalk.
They filled with rain, oil
And your tears.
I watched your face change through 
their watery colored reflections.

Pink – 
for the way your skin repels from my 
Touch, quivers as though my finger- 
print were a red hot poker.
You haven’t allowed me to touch you
In a year.

Purple – 
for the color of her font, as she responds to you. It is an eager
Color. She responds with all the passion of an Eskimo kiss. 

You left her waitng..always.

I have been special to you,
she replies to your

Her letters 
Who blush
like a maid
Who’s felt the hot moist
whisper of something naughty
tickle against her ear lobe.

White – 
for the way your eyes punch accusations
sharper then your razor tongue.

They spit 
blue crackled lightening,
like an angry alley cat.

My words cannot reach you here.
You will leave.

We will divide our booty

Words that once held my name like a piece
Of carefully folded origami
now hiss cold 
devoid like the plaster of our empty room.

for the morning 
now knocking on my window.

I am livid in my withdrawal, tossing and turning
I can find no comfort
the tangle of these vacant sheets. 

Copyright © Jennifer Brooks

Details | Rhyme | |

Written In Stone Among The Flowers

I see your name there written in stone
Beside so many others to me faces unknown
Do you see me or am I alone
In this place where last respects are shown

Are you walking here among the flowers
Where we laid your earthly body to rest
Where souls are set free to join higher powers
Is this, the final journey of our life-quest?

I see the dates there written in stone
Your day of birth and of your last breath
Are we merely made of flesh and bone
Or does time continue for us after death

I see the words of endearment there written in stone
Do you Beloved Husband my voice hear
Are my words like dust in the four winds forever blown
Or can the words chiseled here comfort you my dear

When my name is there beside yours written in stone
All these answers to me will be finally known
I pray you and I walk here among the flowers
Our souls joined forever among higher powers

©Donna Jones

Copyright © Donna Jones

Details | Free verse | |

If you had a name (An ode to loss and water)

If the lovely breeze had a name
we could drift together as two dandelion wishes
floating wanton on foamy winds.
If the river were rolling, gently
we could slide in and swim
for hours, without rushing
and love is like that.
Love is like still water
standing so deep in a vessel
 yet so easily broken upon the smallest of stones;
scattered, and yet-
from this another river begins
(as you begin)
How lovely if you had a name
I would call out to you
and I would hear your reply as
the wind blowing, the water rushing
and not your echoes
 as you trickled across so many small, jagged stones

Copyright © Meggan Rogalski

Details | I do not know? | |

Your Name Is Misery

Your name is misery
here to haunt me in my dreams
In my waking hours and in my sleep
Nightmares and worst fears 
of course you can make them come true

Your Name Is Misery

You are the demon 
That called himself a dad
You are my illness, my shame, guilt and pain
I cannot shake you 
I try to run but you always catch me
I try to hide and you find me

Your Name Is Misery

You are the cause of my pain
I used to blame myself 
But lately I have found I am not the one to blame
I was a child
Innocent and helpless
when you took my dignity, my life my sanity

Your Name Is Misery

You have presented yourself in many forms
The school counselor who tried to violate me
The Father figure who molested me
The strangers who forced themselves on me
A gang paid to rape me
A Fiance who beat me 
And killed the child inside me
The voices that torment me

Your Name Is Misery

You have so many faces 
It would take my whole life to paint a picture of you
And quite frankly 
I don't want to waste my time on you
I just want to forget you

Your Name Is Misery

I wish I could get away from you
Break away from your grasp
Take away the control you have over me
I hate being under your spell
I hate the pain you constantly cause me 
I hate crying because of you
I hate the darkness you bring with you
Most of all 
I hate you

Your Name is Misery

That is no lie
There is no mistake 
You bring havoc, drama, and chaos 
All the things I despise 
I don't want you near me
I don't even want to look you in the eye

Your Name is Misery 

I am afraid of you 
I can't stand you 
most of all 
I am mad at you 
for you have made my life a living hell
But no more 
I am cutting you out 
I have never wanted you around
It is high time 
I got rid of you 
It's time to stand my ground
I am going to take you down
I don't need you
I never want to see you 
Get out of my life 
For I am not going to let you bring me down
You are not welcome here 

Your Name Is Misery

By: Jean Shular

Copyright © Jean Bonella

Details | Couplet | |



    There is a spirit that watches over you
    In the daylight hours, and nightime too.

    You may not think that they are there
     But there is a way to make you aware.

     I learned the name of my angel a long time ago
     Because I was interested and I wanted to know.

     His name is "Maximus" and is with me here
     To learn of his presence once made me fear.

     Because what you do is watched all the day
     The angel keeps tabs, God finds out that way.

     I guess you think I'm being naive
     Trust your faith, if you believe.

     If you want to know your angel's name
     There is a way to find out which is no game.

     Say a prayer for three days in a row
     And after each time ask him to reveal his name to you.

     If you believe in him he will tell you true
     If not, he may be silent to you.

     I know of others who have tried this I can say
     Some, have learned the names of their angels this way.

     When you pray for their name do not think it absurd
     Some, I know, will hear that singular word.

     It won't come as a shout from heaven on high
     But rather as a whisper, when your angel is nigh.

     These spiritual beings are here for us all
     Sometimes they wait just to here us call.

     And when you do wouldn't if be grand
     If you knew the spirit's name...who behind you stands!

     Try it and see if you think I'm fooling around
     Be honest with yourself with both feet on the ground.

     As someday that spiritual angel you will greet
     Wouldn't it be nice to be on a "first name" basis when you meet?

     And if you try but do not hear their name
     Keep on trying because your conviction was lame.

     I know many will think I'm crazy with this
     But knowing my angel's name has brought comfort and bliss.

     So try it yourself and see if in kind
     If your angel will speak to you...they really don't mind.

     Because then a dialogue with them you can share,
     Even if they never speak again,  you'll know...they're there.

Copyright © Daniel Cwiak

Details | Free verse | |

Poa-tetry Soup (The Name Inspired)

Thoughts melt and distil under a green/blue flame,
Swirling down, separated out and mixed.
If you’ve seen it, it’s broken;
If you’ve heard it, it’s shredded;
If you’ve read it, it’s rewritten.
It's really quite unlikely to be fixed.

You’re cutting up holiday snaps
and pasting them onto card.
And you’re scrambling madly
to hide the mess on the floor
As your mum yells for cleanliness
From behind your bedroom door.
3001 puzzle pieces and you’re jamming them together,
No wonder your imagination is at the end of its tether.
You’ve got two pieces that are sun-kissed clouds
“What comes… what comes next?”
You’ve got two roots in the soil
“What comes… what comes next?”
Your mother is sitting in the hall
With a scarf tied round her neck,
Her back pressed up against the wall
As she deals the jigsaw deck.
3001 pieces in her hands,
Mixed with childhood drawings
And grains of sand.
She lays out seven in a line,
Which you place between the two and two.
“Oh, but that and that won’t rhyme!”
“Don’t you think that this one will just do?”
And your father’s disapproving in the kitchen,
“You don’t need no occult nonsense,
Or a system to order out your brain”
He just stands there “focussed”
Over a pot on a blue/green flame,
Subconsciously mumbling while stooped,
“Look here Son, look, I’m making poa-tery soup.”
But you would never tell him that,
Just like you’ll never be finished, ever.
No-one ever is
Even if they know they’re doing it or not.

My grandfather died last week,
The sourest stuck-in-a-rut-of-a-man
That you’re ever going to meet.
The diagnosing doctors were in for a treat.
They said that there was something wrong there,
Something wrong with his brain,
That there was something strange there
Fundamentally, main.
They said that he died - after scans - in a cubicle stall,
When his brain haemorrhaged and cracked open,
And jigsaw pieces piled up against the wall.

Copyright © Chris McCartney

Details | Haiku | |

The Internet: Rtrn

A void of Facebook
Creativity dies here...

Copyright © Dan Keir

Details | Senryu | |

About the girl in my math class whose name I'm not brave enough to ask - Love

I see no numbers
hers is the only figure
she's my addition

Copyright © Dylan Catalano

Details | I do not know? | |


written 10th Aug 2013

I am God's child, first and forever
I am known by many different titles, a daughter
I am a wife
I am a mother
I am a grandmother
I am a poet
I am by several ways, known as a sister
I am an acquaintance
I am a loyal friend
I am a stranger
I am a cousin
I am an Auntie
I am a niece
But who is this person, they all call "Denise?"

She is a child to God
She is a niece
She is a cousin
She is a stranger
She is a loyal friend
She is an acquaintance
She is known to many, a sister
She is a poet
She is a grandmother
She is a mother
She is a wife
She is known as a daughter to many
She is everything, she'd ever dreamed her life to be....
She is happier than she ever imagined possible

Copyright © Denise Hopkins

Details | Rhyme | |

My Book of Poems

A book of poems
with my name on it
is my ambition, someday.
A book of poems
with my name on it,
with something, inside, to say.
Not a big book, not thick, not mushy --
not that kind of book for me.
My book must be lean, must be spare --
though pithy and strong --
and stand free.
A small book of poems
with my name on it:
all that I need
to leave here of me.

Copyright © Leo Larry Amadore

Details | Villanelle | |

What was His Name

Pondering past loves in the dim light of age,
the memories float upward, smiles engage sounds.
Ah, what was his name that handsome man from the stage?

Blindfolded, he lifted me and reality disengaged.
The sound of the harmonica swept all around.
Pondering past loves in the dim light of age.

A serenade planned, the empty ice-rink re-staged,
I was placed in the sweet spot, I drowned in the sound.  
Ah, what was his name that handsome man from the stage?

Once unmasked, I tumbled to his arms, my eyes glazed  
like Ophelia sinking on love's waves to drown.
Pondering past loves in the dim light of age.

Oh, the places he took me, my senses ablaze
in sunlight, in moonlight, in starlight, un-gowned. 
Pondering past loves in the dim light of age.
Ah, what was his name that handsome man from the stage?


Copyright © Debbie Guzzi

Details | Quatrain | |


Lord, I do not know what to do;
Please, lead me by Your side.
Decisions I'm facing are lost and through;
Please, lead me to do what's right.

Copyright © Kevin C. Martin

Details | Dramatic monologue | |

My Monster Has a Funny Name

My monster has a funny name, 
It is Eileen; she has no shame
She tries her best to bring me down
gifts me the thorns, instead of crown
She lies awake; won't let me sleep
and into bed with me she'll creep
this monster whispers lunacy
and says I'm ugly as can be
I feel the sting of bitter lies
and tears unbidden, flood my eyes
"Your fam all have, a Ph.D
You're yet to get that fine degree.
You're plump and frumpy, overweight
This truth, my dear, I understate!!!
You want to be the poet Queen
Far better rhymes than yours I've seen!
You're scared you'll die in dead of night
the way you are, that seems 'bout right
And let me say this little truth,
don't think me mad, or mean, uncouth...
the world will be a better place
if you don't show your ugly face!
You're aging, and it's clear to me
All pruned and wrinkly you will be.
Your "beauty" will not really last,
so keep on dreaming of the past.
Now, here's the deal; I'll set you free
These pills will end your misery."

She's given trouble from the start
and though I try, she'll not depart!
She'll keep on going, till I'm dead
This monster my head. 

Eileen Manassian Ghali
Too Late for Contest :( BOO HOO HOO

Copyright © Eileen Manassian

Details | Bio | |

I Am Poetry

I stand solo, aloof in the snow, a precipitation 
                     of words cascading from a nebulous eye 
Fathoms wide, forever dripping like wax onto 
                     a punctured paper serving a Sanskrit sky,

and spreading into sibilant sentences swiftly 
                     sliding from syllable sorcery to soulful serenades 
so silent in the shunting shout of white. Poetry 
                     fills a churning void where novels cannot wade,

Phrases solidifying into idolisation of emotion 
                     itself, isolation of the isometric individuality that so 
Crushes my keeling cavern of thought, ever 
                     careering from caustic career path to another new low,

Which so seems to crumble into crazy paving’s 
                    counterpart. In this first freeze-frame we can all grasp
A fraction of the familiar, oh so fractured by the 
                    fumbling nature of enforced form. Freed by the gasp 

Of a photo-opportunity glowing phosphorescent 
                    with firsts, I am no longer framed by the festering 
Constraints of non-fiction, and folding my fond 
                    farewells carefully, I hesitantly face a vision pestering 

Me, fearing the fiend that would open maw and 
                    gnaw beneath my feet, evoking an avalanche of the 
Vernacular, but I am further past this unfed 
                    existence now, loosened from the fickle friendship of a

Winter thaw. Focus not your gaze on the grinding 
                    gauze of the greats, for the pressing pestilence of 
Perishable poetry is elsewhere pondering its parallels 
                    in posturing and post-modern pining for forlorn love. 

Praise no other; I am poetry.

Copyright © Dan Keir

Details | Acrostic | |

A poem of myself

My instinct comes heedlessly and ever leadless
Dances over memory

Copyright © Michael Dom

Details | I do not know? | |

The Nameless - for South Africans of all colours who fought for freedom

The Nameless

Slipping through the sieve of history,

the nameless rest.

Not for the nameless are roads renamed, nor monuments built.

Not for the nameless are songs sung, nor ink spilled.

The nameless rest.

Their silent sacrifice,

quiet ordeal,

muted trauma,

remain interred,

amongst their remains.

The nameless rest.

Not for the nameless are doctorates conferred, nor eulogies recited.

Not for the nameless are honours bestowed, nor homages directed.

The nameless rest.

They rest within us,

they walk with us,

in every step that we tread.

They rest within us,

they walk with us,

for their spirit is not dead.

“Your name is unknown, your deed is immortal”
- inscription at The Tomb of the Unknown Soldier WWII in Moscow

Special thanks to my dearest elder sister Tasneem Nobandla Moolla, whose conversations with me about life as a non-white person growing up in pre and post-Apartheid South Africa prompted me to write this dedication to the countless, nameless South Africans of every colour, whose sacrifices and dedication in the struggle against Apartheid tyranny must never be forgotten.

My sister’s middle name ‘Nobandla’ which is an isiXhosa name and means “she who is of the people” was given by her godfather, Nelson Mandela, my father’s ‘best-man who could not be, as Nelson Mandela was unable to-make it to my parent’s wedding as he was in jail at the time in the old Johannesburg Fort. This was the 31st December 1961.

Copyright © Scribbler Of Verses

Details | Free verse | |

wanna come thank me for getting bin laden shot america

or do you want to tell the person whose first name is sang by sinead o connor
middle name is sang by fred durst
and last name is mentioned by fred durst

do you want to tell me, the person you just spent 13 years mad at
singing and dancing to my misfortune
and rubbing your happiness in my face as you exclude me from sex

do you want to tell that person whose name you plastered all over your war
that he had nothing to do with surviving it
do you want to tell that man
Troy Jeremy Nelson
who just lost everything 17 times
to start over
that he was not your allie
in whatever that was?

let me put your name alll over a war
and then wait for your enemy to show up
and ask you
what does that guy got that i don't?

everything now
you murdered my grandpa
you murdered my friends
you murdered my sex life

and you sang and danced to my misfortune to the tune of your lies
pretending i was your friend called an alibi
you didnt bother to even try to keep alive

do you want to come telll
Troy Jeremy Nelson
that your country just did that too
that thats not what happened?

Im not sure how long your going to live that lie
the thousands of people concerned and involved in that persons endless
and i mean endless nightmare
might just come tell you what has been making them cry.....

Happy Halloween tho

oh and p.s.
next time you put somebody else in the middle of your war
to play the victom of that person's nightmare
you caused
take notes to pass into the future
as to what is about to occur
to you
may be a life lesson
to history

Thank you for not caring (sarcasm)
thank you for not answering my letters (sarcasm)
thanks for going the wrong way, in the wrong direction, to do the wrong thing
that whole time i kept pointing out a drug ring blackmarket, you people didnt care 
about (sarcasm)

thanks for calling me a liar as to what has taken place in my life(sarcasm)

so whenever you are free to hand me a bunch of things with your smiling face, and 
names all over them
to make me feel better for the way you treated me
singing and dancing to the sound of getting away with murder
for the miracles youve stolen

my big brother doesn't like to dance around and play house, pretending to be 
someone hes not
in a singing competition, racing against his sense of fear
do you want to come tell the man just tortured by malpractice
with his name on your war in your music,
he had nothing to do with winning it?

Copyright © Troy Jeremy Nelson

Details | Dramatic Verse | |

Untitled #344 / "What is your name?"

“What is your name?”
Jesse Jones.

Copyright © Jesse Jones

Details | Verse | |

Inevitable Bear

Oh lonely Inevitable Bear,
Padding claws, death in white
Sorrow in recurring nightmare
Instinct’s test; fight or flight?

Camouflage against the fence,
A challenge; my subconscious fear
Ominous slowly moving silence,
“Let me in, there’s a bear out here!”

Copyright © Dan Keir

Details | Couplet | |

His Truth and the Light

Truth and Light can still make this country really thrive;
even if it seems like the spirit of this country died.

Don't give up fighting, prosperity is still here.
In His Name we have to stand, and in His name there's no fear!

Copyright © Brandee Augustus

Details | Sonnet | |

Generation XXX

Generation XXX
(Another Name for Gen Y(My Generation)

Beer goggles and Whiskey Rivers,
Pain numbing remedies that exude depression,
Marijuana oxygen and pain killer shivers,
Innocent faces with devilish expression,
Blood red eyes with cocaine explanations,
White lies, cooked up in haste, 
For the aforementioned, sell your feelings for a taste!

Young lady, young lady, impossible to find,
What has become of “Daddy’s Little Girl?”
Grew up as billboard, all body and no mind,
Succumbed to degradation just to fit in this world,
Princess? No More!
With bitter wounds and sans support,
Responds to “bxxch” labeled as “whore”
Sex for poison and sex for sport!

Young man, young man, could you bear to walk alone?
With choreographed legs and clay molded spine?
Quoting the majority, speaking with your friends’ tone,
Holding onto shirttails while blindly disregarding lines,
Unprotected sex just to help you feel alive,
Forced to buy diapers with the pennies you have earned,
From one into intoxicated night you did not want to be deprived,
Came a baby by a girl whose name you had to learn!

Young lady, Young man, both working like a slave,
To provide for a family that neither wished to know,
They scream as their dreams get sealed within a grave,
Essential sacrifices because the baby has to grow,
A self-destructive generation, corrupted and vexed,
Generation Y, is Generation XXX

Copyright © Audonus Taylor

Details | Free verse | |

Heathers Spans

The heathers spans the great Isles
Homeland to many souls 
Souls whose offsprings on the tides rolled

These souls who hath spareness
Spareness which sharpens haste
To harnesses path across the great waters

Seraphs thens protected their path
To a new land to live life but differently

Heathers spans
Hath sparenesses
Sharpens haste
Harnesses path
Seraphs thens 

These are anagrams for the name that I was born with 
given to me by my biological parents..When my mother died
and I was adopted at 18 months, my last name was 
changed....The name on my first birth certificate was:Sarah

Copyright © Sara Kendrick

Details | Rhyme | |

Whiskey Christmas

It was Christmas Eve; I was a prisoner of my own divide.
Lost in mind, clad in drunken sadness, caged up inside.
Alone and forlorn my thoughts laden with whiskey lies,
Memories seem so distant, only a week since goodbyes.
Christmas tree glistening, blurry in my vision of tears,
Flashing lights bright, neighbors Christmas party cheers.
No presents or joy in this household upon this night.
Sorrows, misguided gulps of liquor, cloud my sight.
Heartbroken, gloomy devouring the demon filled drink.
No more, no less, my eyes roamed over as I did think.
Hopelessly lost in a whirlwind of memories of no more,
No more, love by a lover, no daughter to teach the score.
Left me in a house, no longer our home that we shared,
Only I and this half-empty bottle, feeling impaired.
She left me, taking my child a thousand miles away.
While here in this house of torture, me and myself stay.
Every corner a recollection blinks by crystalline light.
Splintered and speckled by the twinkling star so bright.
Atop the now barren tree which had shined with joys.
Years before cluttered with wrappers, boxes and toys 
I slam a big gulp down my throat, since this was my first.
Night of my debut to the evil of whiskey blinding thirst,
Never before had drunkenness been a quest or even a try,
This night she devoured my soul, not wanting ever to cry.
Intoxication was a desire, though not ever beyond joy.
My virgin body of drink has choked me unable to deploy.
Sour mash tears wash down my face, wiping my eyes.
I hear my built up agony; pour out in inhuman cries.

User Name  Cecil Hickman

Sponsor Constance La France ~ A Rambling Poet ~ 
Contest Name Your "Saddest" Christmas Ever 

Copyright © cecil hickman

Details | Pastoral | |

Foot Soldier For The Lord

Hardened by indecision
True conviction's at odd
Recompense beyond belief
Some-time's it get's 
Pretty hard 
To play the part
From death do us part
From the truth until the
Dawn morning early light
In the heat of the night
We wrangle with the Devil
To win the fight
Treed by disease
With pain and strief
We vowel to move on
Fore we are vested
For this very life
Fore they killed our
First born
Our only Son
His name was Christ
For this ye must pay 
The price.....
We travel there where thou'
     Art not travel
Where evil may be
As wide as the mountain
But, as deep as the sea
Thee repave's of tragedy
Our Legion's are many
Heveanly hath no furry
Well, we have got plenty
We must submit to the Will
The Will to be free
That thou shall be done
On Earth for eternalty
Our legion's are one
To the commitment of
His new kingdom of one
Proclaimed to be
Under the jurisdiction
Of the Lord and His Holy Son
Till the brink of eternity
In the name of the Lord
And the Holy One
Till such that day
That the Kingdom has come
In the name of the Father
And the Holy Ghost



The Lord  beseech you you at the Rapture...let it define you...

Copyright © Gary Fields

Details | Rhyme | |

Frailty Thy Name Is

Frailty, thy name is oft mistaken 
By those who seek triumph over weak 
Burning with hatred's lone desire
To conquer the very mild and meek 

Yet Frailty knows strength resides inside 
Falling in tears from eyes filled with pain
In suffering, strength does truly lie 
From this strength, Frailty derives its name

One must carry the burdens of life 
Bearing painful scars upon one's soul
For to feel the pain of your brother 
Instills the strength of both young and old

Knowledge gained through the harshest of times 
Provides the deep well from which to draw
Lending the stiff fortitude needed 
From Frailty's hidden depths, strength will claw

Tis true that Frailty is redemption
To feel, is what heart was meant to do
Without Frailty, heaven disappears
And Hell-fires, will only burn for you 

Frailty, thy name is oft mistaken 
By men blinded by the strength inside
Claiming their superiority
Seeing not past their own weak divide

Copyright © Bernadette Langer

Details | Light Poetry | |

The evils of war

Was not every one a child?
Joy to their mother and father
And growing up as a kid
With wonder and laughter

Then they go to school 
Playing games having fun
And become a voice for others
When they don’t have one

Then some give hope to the people
Giving speeches from their tower
Then commits inhumane atrocities
When they get the taste of power

Today the worlds are full of hate
An evil that has no end
While many starves to death
For war money are spend

Men like Adolph Hitler, Robert Mugabe
George bush Jr, tony Blair, ayatollah Khomeini
Kim jong ll, idi amin, Benjamin Netanyahu
Just to name a few criminals of humanity

Pol pot murders millions in Cambodia
And the world close their eyes
The unspeakable crimes in Rwanda
Where over 500.000 people dies

I guess if the country had oil
They would have been alive today
But if you are poor nation
The United Nations looks the other way

Some kill in the name of religion
Some kills to steal your land
Some are kill by drones for just
Attending a wedding function

Hundreds of innocent are killed
By drones that they can’t see
But they are just collateral damage
But not those at Benghazi

North Korea says we have
weapons of destruction's right here
But they went to search in Iraq
Kill millions but find it nowhere

The evils of war will continue
Many more bad days still to past
More war criminals to be born
And be children playing on the grass

Many choose to cover their eyes
If it doesn't affect them, they don’t care
So while sit here writing this poem 
I can’t help it but shed a tear

Copyright © kasim ishmael

Details | Free verse | |



There is a saddened kind of shame
a name that’s cruel and thus demeans, 
elementary obscene
a child can not reach deep enough.

It started when I read above 
my third grade level reading group
and followed to my brownie troop
then fearful fighting, flight to home.

And in defense I’d use my gift
to make up names and write mean songs-
I’d teach the boys to sing along
and charge their chocolate milk money.

With my moustache a poor disguise, 
with puffy, rubbing, teary eyes
I made myself apologize
though only choking squeaks were heard. 

Nicoleslaw Dickhead was my name
a name that’s cruel and thus demeans,
slimy side-dish dung for brains-
a child can not reach deep enough.

Copyright © Nykki Houtkooper

Details | Dramatic monologue | |

WOE Is The Children


From the beginning and
For the end
In the name of the
Lord and Our Savior
Where dose it end
Their are such things'
They limit our behavior
No one is free
There is this menace
They call ' ADHD '
It could happen to you
It could happen to me
Fore it is a Menace
       - In -
The name of the Lord
And God is with Thee
But, this thing can be attributed
To you
It could be attributed to me
It is only a matter of time
Then We shall see....
But, now their is a
New Human Condition
That should matter to
You and me
They call it " ADHD "
They call it " ADHD '
That is what they say//
It affect our children
All that We can do is pray
And to Thee
I say, AMEN
Just to name a few
If you have any of these
Then you will have
What do We assume
We do so many of these
If you sleep with DOG's
Then you wil wake up'
     With fleas'
But, We don't seem
To have that disease
So, think of the Children
Give them some room
Fore they watch us every-day
Then they go out to play
Say, If they were to IMULATE
Us, Then they woud have
' ADHD ' any way.....


Copyright © Gary Fields

Details | Free verse | |

Tears of My Heart

if poop could be named anything what would you name it?  id name it bob and id make him sit on a log in a bog and say get out of here you hog that looks like fog from a bog thats near a log with bob sitting on it who attacked the wacking wackers with all his heart and shattered, he fell to the floor.  dont name your poop bob because then youll have tears in your heart.

Copyright © Matt Poopenheimer

Details | Personification | |


I am looking for dream interpreters.
My name is Goodluck
Don’t swear yet please, don’t “****”
I am no president or “less”
Neither am I clueless
Parents christened me Goodluck
So if there be name sake as me
Well, that is bad luck

Like I said,
I am looking for dream interpreters.
I had a dream last night
I saw ancestors.
Breathing fire like dynamite
Asked me if I am insensitive
Or just clueless
Out of respect for ancestors, I asked them
‘Insensitive to or in what?’
“Insensitive to or in what???”
Was their angered response
“Even in this, you are still clueless”?
Their lead speaker asked

“Okay, fine! Mr. clueless” he continued
Under your watchful eyes
The plane you are saddled with,
Cries out for a pilot
For the auto-pilot can’t land it
And you are a clueless pilot
The ship you are saddled with
Cries out for a captain
For you have broken the compass
And an inevitable sink might come to pass”.

“Mr. clueless” he continued again
The streets of Jos,
Blood has become a river.
Have you seen the butchered women…
Have you seen the opened bowels…
Slain infants.
Religious insurgencies on the instant
United Nations office and police headquarters
All crashed landed with a bang…bomb

Churches are smashed, even mosques
The blood rivers of Jos has flowed beyond us
Now, it’s a national flood above us
Yet your greed is on the oil well
You have weakness for debt accumulation

Your greatest height of insensitivity
What happened to profits of yester years?
Same old promise of good roads,
Good education, a better tomorrow
Yet, forty billion, a former house of reps
Single handedly stole it.
Are you leeches never ever tired of loots?
Or fear of insurgence of the deprived youths?

The people raped by empty promises of bandits
If you are in all these things clueless
Then our dreams for the country is hopeless
All leaders before you
Have creatively out done you
Hate has come to the surface
And you have lost your grace”.

Then from the dream, I woke up!
Somebody help!!!
I need dream interpreters.


Copyright © Isioma Esemene