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Life Philosophy Poems | Life Poems About Philosophy

These Life Philosophy poems are examples of Life poems about Philosophy. These are the best examples of Life Philosophy poems written by international PoetrySoup poets

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Details | Cowboy | |

Hard Times

When hard times come they sit a spell, Like kin folk come to stay A-packin' troubles, pets an' kids That always get ‘n your way. It's drought an' flood, an' flood an' drought, There ain't much in-between. You work like hell to make ’em good, But still they’re sorta lean. The ranch went under late last year, The drought got mighty tough. The boss held-out a long, long time, But finally said, "enough!" So here I am dispatchin’ cops An’ watchin’ felons sleep, In Junction, at the county jail, A job I’ll prob’ly keep. The wife, she works at Leisure Lodge, Where older people stay, A-makin’ beds an’ moppin’ floors To earn some ‘extra’ pay. Though “extra pay‘s” the term I used, It goes to payin’ rent, An’ after all the bills are paid, We wonder where it went. We hocked my saddle, guns an' chaps, An' then our weddin' rings; Then when we couldn't pay the loan, They sold the 'dad-blamed' things. We felt real bad a day or two But then we let it go, Cause it got Christmas for the kids When money got real slow. When hard times come they sit a spell, Don't matter who you are; They'll cost ya things you've set aside, An' clean your cookie jar. You'll loose some sleep an' worry some, Won't pay to moan an' groan; But hang on to your happiness, They'll finally leave ya 'lone.

Copyright © Jim Fish | Year Posted 2005

Details | Rhyme | |

Forgotten Heroes of the Somme

Over the top lads, for old Blighty! Hold the colours high!
Say a little prayer for me, for this summer day we die.
My brothers from the ripened field and blackened mill, shop floor, 
Your brother in a killing field to fight a rich man’s war.

In bloodied mud and shattered wood, fight legions of the brave,
Unwitting youth, you’ll do your duty until you’re in the grave.
A sergeant greets a fresh-faced boy, “welcome to the slaughter!”
Here you die from three diseases, bullet, gas or mortar.

In arms we fight together and in leaden hails we pass,
We die amongst the filth and stench that once was verdant grass.
“In the morning we will remember them” we hear the leaders call,
Those fickle words of history, will not remember us all.

Copyright © Howard Bull | Year Posted 2009

Details | Free verse | |

Recording/Re-playing/Recording/Re-playing

The farm
     and the porch light hums 
the sound of another 
orange dawn.

Burnt up – crisp
      aching new reaches 
of the imagination turn 
from corn
      to wheat
to the pungent shade
of dried blood on hands –
kissing corners of a mouth
never kissed.

Sweeping ‘cross in whispers 
two thousand years
      and more, come
words on the flat-line horizon,
dripping sideways,
like a red cat's eye marble 
on a circular seesaw
that knows no bounds;
rolling infinitely back
     and forth - 
ringing through ears that were once
in that ago (can you hear it?)
hearing the coming of a storm 
     being heard 
by another set of ears,
in some other when –

     some other marble.

When, speaks the unspoken.
When, treads where none may tread.
When, grips the barren outcroppings of space –
playing the unending moments –
where no other question hence forth

can grip.

Night sounds come in floods
of mauve,
      and quiet apricot;
slicing through oceans,
unsung,
      where no ears hear.

The farm: echoing, lowing and fawning –
Trying to stay true 
      to form,
bleeds into the fibers of a dream
once lived –
recognizing its existence
through the act of a moment, 
      lived.

The girl turns to face 
the enormity
of all she has yet to hear upon 
      the brazen, blazing horizon;
she strips down to goose bumps 
on the skin
that God gave her; 
opening her mouth to hear all
that she is –
 
      breathing in the dawn 
as it breaks.

The farm notes this coming.

The sky knows;

The wind knows.

The earth knows - relaxing
at her feet
      exhaling
through her soles,
resounding through the mouth
of the un-kissed,

breathing through this land; 
humming through porch lights,
spinning through atoms,
sifting though heavens,
recorded through lifetimes,
      and through into another’s
open mouth.




© Kristin Reynolds 1/9/09

Copyright © Kristin Reynolds | Year Posted 2009

Details | Verse | |

Who Am I

I am the ring around Saturn
spinning words as particles of ice and dust
with the power to transcend

I am the original chosen to be right here right now
transmitting verbal frequencies 
through speaking my thoughts into existence

I am the heir of omnipotence,
born with a direct connection to profound abundance 
The one whose words will age, yet still have substance;
since there are no boundaries attached to my pen

I am constant energy
Translating personal experience into imagery 
Vulnerable to tyranny,
yet i continue attempting to share some truth
through this abstract language of poetry

I am the core
I am that I am more
I am the Divine Presence that is the Source of my rewards

I am the green you get when you mix too much yellow with the blue
That shade of gold you get when the sun resides into darkness
and when it ascends in the dawn burning dew
I am the transition between the third and fourth dimension of time;
the love you feel when you realize how it feels

I am the poem that is abstractly direct
because I write beyond limits
absorbing frequencies from 3 to 8 hertz
through meditation for several minutes
I am the one bridging the gap between
the analog ascension and the direct connection to spirit
The one who is love
because I am a descendent  of it

I am the rhythm that the wind blows
I am the beginning and the ending of stories told
about the universe and how miracles unfold
I hold the power to accept judgement from those who will do just that
Not knowing that I am them in the absolute reality of me
Judge that

I am knowledge beyond measure because that is my right
So I continue meeting the different parts of me
when I meditate and write
Who am I?
I AM, THAT, I AM


Copyright © humble b | Year Posted 2012

Details | Carpe Diem | |

Each Day Takes its Turn

Standing firm 
we live 
we give 
we take 
we learn 
we strive to make sure 
each day enlightens us 
and brightens us
even as light fades to gray 
may we keep fighting 
with two swollen feet
beneath the body and soul 
experiencing trials 
and intense life lessons 
meshed with stresses 
may we persevere 
turn off  fear's song 
may we stand firm 
as we glide along 
through shifty winds of change 
that may cause things to sway
rearrange
but we hold true
inside the values and morality
we stand for 
we
fall for nothing 
we
may stumble along the trip 
we 
may swerve at the wheel yet 
we 
do not lose our grip
because no one 
can eclipse the sun 
yet
everyone heals 
before they're done

Just when situations arise 
flooding us with pain we despise
and just when it seems like
our tear ducts are dry 
from ongoing cries
we may think 
things are on the brink of ending
then God shows us the ways of faith
by way of love that he's sending

Standing firm 
we live 
we give 
we take 
we learn 
we make sure 
every day enlightens us 
and brightens us 
as each day takes its turn. 

~JSLambert


Copyright © JSLambert Mister ROBOTO | Year Posted 2012

Details | Free verse | |

Oneness

Oneness
                   Authored by Chuck Keys

It had no color,
Lacking shape, size and dimension.
It wasn't moving or breathing.

There was neither aroma nor taste, not here or there.
Touching was useless because it wasn't physical.
It was indistinct and limitless.

Thinking multi-physically
Multi-sensually and multi-psychologically 
It wasn't here or there and it was.

With no distinction, 
It looked like everything else,
Or it could not have looked like everything else.

It never made me feel good nor bad,
Nor happy nor sad
Nor quite nor trite.

In our world of joy and destroy, we sort and distort,
Looking more on the surface and less on the inside,
Ready to judge and be judged from outside in.

The "oneness" of mankind stretches beyond definitions and limits,
From outside to inside and from inside to outside.
We are one distinct and alike world of "oneness."

Differences exist for differences, 
Therefore, differences don't exist.
Only "oneness" exists.

DEDICATION:
This poem is dedicated to Dr. Clayborne Carson and The Gandhi-King Community,
For Global Peace with Social Justice in a Sustainable Environment.  
www.gandhiking.ning.com

Copyright © Chuck Keys | Year Posted 2010

Details | Quatrain | |

No Greater Love

For God so loved this sinful world, He gave us all His son; That we might live with Him one day, when life on Earth is done. No greater love was ever known, no greater gift bestowed, And for the love He sacrificed, no greater debt’s been owed. The time was short for Jesus Christ, but what He gave mankind To lift our hearts and save our souls has yet to be refined. The grace and style in which He moved through politics and fools, Has paved the way for paths we trod through worldly ways and rules. His teachings spread throughout the land, His miracles renowned, He only had to touch a life to show His love was sound. Two thousand years have come and gone since Christ communed with man; And with his dying saved us all, to serve God's ancient plan. He rose from death, as He had said, and proved His word was true, That life eternal waited those who choose to suffer through. Salvation came that fateful day, the Bible tells us so; And time has shown that through God’s love the weakest spirits grow. Now, modern times are hard on us and cause us all to doubt, For change is there at every turn, and Satan’s always out. It’s now we need the love of God, for always, as before; Just lift your heart and ask for it, and see what lays in store. It’s through God’s love we handle change and how it makes us strong In ways we deal with worldly things and sort the right from wrong. For change is just another way the Lord sees fit to use To make our days seem fresh and new with paths to take and choose. It’s by our faith we live our lives and seek a brighter day, And how we find the confidence when doubts get in the way. But most of all it’s happiness that faith’s been known to give When our misfortunes come to cloud these modern times we live. We need not fear what God has wrought. We need not know His plan. We only need to know He’s there, and love’s in store for man. Just think the words you’d ask in prayer, and ere a sound be heard, His perfect love will fill your heart before you’ve breathed a word. No greater love was ever known, no greater gift bestowed, And for the love He sacrificed, no greater debt’s been owed. But God forgave our debt to Him, we live in grace today; The greatest love you’ve ever known is just a breath away.

Copyright © Jim Fish | Year Posted 2009

Details | Prose Poetry | |

LIFE

I asked to my father
Baba, What is life ?
He politely said to me, " Life is Duty . "

I asked to my mother
Maa, What is life ?
She said to me with smile, " Life is Responsibility . "

I asked to my teacher
Sir, What is life ?
He said to me with love, " Life is Education . "

I asked to my spiritual master
Gurujee, What is life ?
He said to me with confidence, " Life is Devotion . "

Today my son who reads in class nine
Asked me
Babai, What is life ?
I have said to him, " Dear, You are my life . "

SANDIP GOSWAMI, INDIA


( Father means BABA, BABAI and Mother means MAA in Bengali language .  Gurujjee means spiritual master in Indian society ) 

Copyright © Sandip Goswami | Year Posted 2014

Details | Quatrain | |

My Torment

A fleeting still small voice tries to warn me
A sudden overwhelming desire to run
The tell tale taste of metallic flakes
Means my nightmare has begun

Everything around takes on a ghostly pallor
A landscape of anguish and corrosion
A moment of silence before the violence
The flash of light, the brilliant explosion

The sound of the Sun fills my ears
Fear, my throat, though none escapes me
And paralyzed I clench my eyes
As my tormentor prepares to rape me

And it's endeavor is absolute
Consumption is its ultimate goal
It exists to chase me so it can erase me
Whilst feasting on my soul

And then that familiar salty smell 
The sudden rush of warmth so stings
Engaging me relentlessly
In vile unspeakable things

Over and over and over again
My limbs stretched and wrought
As it's teeth tear my bones bare
It's mind defiles my thoughts

And still wounds beget wounds beget wounds
As in the mouth of madness I suffer
And with every injury he just seems to be
Rougher and rougher and rougher

Then just as suddenly as it began it ceases
And for a moment I am clearer
And then the true horror of it all
Is revealed in a darkly lit mirror

There in front of me stands my destroyer
Face flush with it's fill of my pain
And I find that it's eyes and mine
My God, they’re one in the same

Copyright © James Burns | Year Posted 2011

Details | Couplet | |

A Bag of Popcorn

They ask me why I’m so happy
Asking me, if I just won a prize
I replied, well I reckon I did
Today is a wonderful surprise

When you have a past like mine
My today is always bright
There is no better feeling on earth
Than the joy of doing right

I may be an old man on a cane
My heart is skipping along
I learned to embrace the meaning
Life is a beautiful song

True life has its ups and downs
There’ll be forks in the road
With a smile I’ll stop for a while
Help you with your load

I had me a bag of popcorn today
It tasted exceptionally good
In fact, I will go as far as to say
Better then it probably should

For years, I had a guard in the pen
Popped him a bag each night
Then he would simply throw it away
His twisted little delight

He knew, it was those little things
Ate at our heart and soul
Movie with the wife Friday night
Popcorn in the bowl

I had a bag of popcorn today
Wife sitting at my side
I had a smile, which lasted awhile
One I could not hide

They ask me why I’m so happy
Asking me, if I won a prize
I replied, I reckon I did
Today is a wonderful surprise


For some reason today I was thinking about C.O. Talbert and
how he would pop a bag of popcorn even though he didn't eat
popcorn. He did it just because he knew it would make everyone
want some. I always felt sorry for him. His life must have been
very disappointing. The moral here: when you learn to appreciate
the little things in life your popcorn will taste a whole lot better. 


Copyright © Michael Jordan | Year Posted 2011

Details | Acrostic | |

Open Sores

I am a coward with open sores. 
I write and wonder who it bores. 
I hear my heart and mind argue repeatedly. 
I see others carrying out my dreams; 
that’s what’s defeated me.
 
I am a coward with open sores. 
I pretend open doors are closed, and walk the other way. 
I touch base with the fear in my heart, tearing me apart,
leaving nothing to say... 
I worry the world will leave me. 
I cry because no one believes in me. 

I am a coward with open sores. 
I understand nothing comes easy. 
I say I’m happy, but even I don’t believe me. 
I dream I am healed and brave. 
I try to overcome my weaknesses before I’m in my grave. 
I hope you hear me.
I’m on all fours. 
I am a coward with open sores. 




©  2011  ~JSLaM    

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------

* 1st PLACE in Contest "MARCH MADNESS" Sponsored by C. Devonshire 2011

* 1st PLACE in Contest "ONE OFF" Sponsored by Brian Strand 5/11/2011 

* 1st PLACE in Contest "BEST EVER" Sponsored by P.D. 2011
                 
   

Copyright © JSLambert Mister ROBOTO | Year Posted 2011

Details | Haiku | |

Probabilities

Probabilities

fallen fruit exists
earthen harvest and ground meet
jars in the pantry

Robert J. Lindley ,07-24-2014

Copyright © Robert Lindley | Year Posted 2014

Details | Rhyme | |

AN EXISTENTIALIST ASKS---WHAT IS LIFE

What is life?

Euphonies, cacophonies and chromosomal anomalies
intertangled destinies and illusive methodologies 

Occurring in obscure dimensionless time
Millenniums fertilized to create the sublime

Perceived by ideations so pure it would seem
To exist beyond mind and to all in between. 

Lingering as lore to an all distant past
There is no redo, there is no redraft.

The questions, the answers so rightly proclaimed
are composed and transported by thoughts still unnamed.

In limited struggle, the moments unspent 
Become the result of a living lament.

In what and wherefore and why and with whom
we unwrap our existence in this paradoxical womb

Can we find meaning, a clear sign that we see
inclusive to all, this existential decree.

From naught made of all and conceived in a star,
we landed on earth, neither near nor afar

For reasons unknown and telegnosis unclear,
These salient projections are all jockeyed by fear

We stand in the way of unknowing surmise
And find the world is still much a surprise.

A quest overwhelming in distressed sanity
For answers not known play havoc to vanity.

To end these remarks with a questionable phrase
all becomes known in 'one of these days.'


SYNOPSIS
From the moment of birth to when we die, life presents us with dilemmas and questions that amuse, titillate and confuse us.  As we get older, we realize that what we thought we knew was all pure conjecture.  This poem is meant to reflect  the myriad of disjointed thoughts that  have run through my mind throughout the years.  The "why me?" and "what is my purpose in life?" questions usually are met with ambiguity and incoherence.
Many of us are beleaguered with these conceits and although some find solace in religion, for people like me it becomes an existential never ending struggle.  

CAK 8-18-2013

Copyright © Allan Koven | Year Posted 2013

Details | Bio | |

The Meaning Of Life

Through life...I've learned the meaning of love. Through love...I've felt the feeling of heartbreak. Through heartbreak...I've felt the feeling of pain. Through pain...I've learned the meaning of acceptance. Through acceptance...I've learned the meaning of forgiveness. Through forgiveness...I've learned the meaning of faith. Through faith...I've learned the meaning of life. We are all important in life... We all have a purpose in life... Now all we have to do is... Make every purpose count... ~Life~ Is a learning experience ~Life~ Is a state of existence that belongs to the soul ~Life~ Is the true meaning of meaning ~Life~ Is the state of something significant,and of great importance ~Life~ Is what is intended to be or is ~Life~ Has a beginning,a purpose, and an end...
Danny Boy:4-1-13 :o)

Copyright © Dan Kearley | Year Posted 2013

Details | Monorhyme | |

Make It Count

line count and word number are equal in this selection....

"Make It Count"
by:  Eric L. Boddie

A
Man may
Come to play
But if you say
Oh no baby, not today
Do you think he would stay
Or would he go so far away
In search of another lover he could lay
Doing everything associated with rolling in that infamous hay
And if push came to shove, maybe he would pay
To relieve all the stress stemming from your hips' distant sway
Because something must give, there are more than fifty shades of gray
That's common knowledge to the freaks and all those upon which they prey
And once you learn them all, I promise your lover will never ever stray
But if you miss just a single one, then you may experience that dreadful day
Where you lose it all so try to find True Love and remember to always Pray

Copyright © eric boddie | Year Posted 2015

Details | Free verse | |

Beauty in my Palm

You are the wild flower in my palm
With no stem to keep you anchored to this covetous earth
You are the fragile thing I dare not cup,
As your petals whittle away under the wind
And flit unfettered in the air;
Exaggerated fear leaves my fingers numb
Hungry need leaves my fingers twitching
And my hand is paralyzed by turmoil
As every breath of wind takes another petal from me
And brings to my lungs, my chest and my heart
An overwhelming scent of need-

You are the wild beauty in my palm
And I dare not hold you to my chest
For I fear to crush you
To know first hand
That caged beauty, is beauty no more.

Copyright © Samir Georges | Year Posted 2011

Details | Tanka | |

ripples

a grin ripples
from my grandfather's face—
seeing my future
etched deeply in those lines, 
I grin back at him





March 1st, 2012

Copyright © Chris D. Aechtner | Year Posted 2012

Details | Monoku | |

Scherben des Lebens/ The shards of life/ Los fragmentos de la vida

Die Scherben des Lebens lassen sich nicht kitten.  (German)

The shards of the life cannot be cemented.  (English)

Los fragmentos de la vida no se puede enmasillar.  (Spanish)

Les éclats de vie ne peu pas être à nouveau ensemble.  (French)

I frammenti di vita non può essere di nuovo insieme .  (Italian)

Die skerwe van die lewe kan nie weer saam wees. (Afrikaans)

Ang mga tipak ng buhay ay hindi maaaring simentuhin. (Tagalog)

Cioburile vietii nu pot fi cimentat. (Romanian)

Copyright © Gert W. Knop | Year Posted 2010

Details | Rhyme | |

Frail Paper Etched With Words

Whether poets, showmen or philosophers,
Or mere cowboys who follow herds—
They all want to leave behind a lasting mark—
More than frail paper etched with words.

But the cold, hard truth still lies in the doing
And all but a blessed few will fail—
But on we go like bison over the cliff—
Hoping our wings sprout and we sail.

And like restless sleepwalkers we do wander
From one thing and then to the next—
Till we find what it is that will then save us
To put life in proper context.

So on we scribble and strive for the right phrase—
Catch meaning and life in birds—
Put emotions and feelings we briefly hold
On this frail paper etched with words. 

Copyright © Glen Enloe | Year Posted 2008

Details | Free verse | |

Welcome to life the journey begins

A child is born crying his eyes out wanting to return to the warmth of his mother's womb Once held a sense of security is felt with his head resting upon his mother's chest Welcome to life - prepare for a bumpy ride this won't be the last time you want to cry Life is an unpredictable journey as a traveller, many passengers will pass you by Dreams will be crushed, but also achieved hearts will be broken but also healed After every storm a rainbow will appear but this too is only temporary - as is life Life is also spectacular and wonderful a platform to achieve the ultimate goal Life is a balance of being fortuitous combining the right formula to succeed No one can tell you what will happen tomorrow nor predict your final destination People say destiny is written - maybe it is my advice is to always smile in the face of adversity set a legacy to be remembered for who you are always strive to be better than yesterday and finally to enjoy the journey The Silent One 15 November 2015 Trashed 4 contest by Broken Wings

Copyright © Silent One | Year Posted 2015

Details | Sijo | |

Burning Flame Of Life

Arise and fall; the cycle of life; birth and death are human plight. A life is lit and it burns short; when matches struck bring in discord. Flames burn dim or bright; many deny, their own bright light.

Copyright © M. L. Kiser | Year Posted 2015

Details | Cowboy | |

Intelligent Design

You think you’re alone out on the range
Sittin’ silent under starry sky,
Just a marvelin’ at the universe
And wonderin’ ‘bout that ol’ question: why?

You shake your head at worlds of worry,
Knowin’ it ain’t often that you’ll find,
All the answers to your queries
Beneath the clear black sky and pine.

You wonder if we rose up from mud
And walked straight and tall upon this earth—
Or was it all created in a moment—
A conception that gave us true birth.

Are we all no more than those monkeys
Evolvin’ slowly down life’s long line?
Or is there more to earth and heaven
Touched by something truly sublime?

We keep on punchin’ clocks and cattle
And tryin’ to get through each new morn—
But is there more to life than dyin’
And will we somehow be reborn?

All the cattle know my hard proddin’
As I lead them along time’s sad way—
We live for but a flashin’ moment,
As we watch life go by in one short day. 

So make the best of trails you ride, cowboy—
Each tomorrow is both yours and mine—
And gaze long at stars in that vast sky
Placed there by intelligent design.

Copyright © Glen Enloe | Year Posted 2005

Details | Couplet | |

Our Human Nature

Our Human Nature

A real aspect always part of a person’s life;
One that can bear fangs and pangs of strife.
 
A living barometer replete with its choices;
Leaving each of us puzzled, full of voices. 

It prays on our very emotions and naiveté, 
Leaving us at times in moments of disarray.

Man by his nature is fickle and imperfect.
God by His nature is divine and perfect.

A person’s decency is so wonderful to tell;
Another’s depravity is so worthy of Hell! 

A person’s good deeds mark now his true measure,
Bringing him God’s divine love always to treasure!

Never trust what you can’t feel deep in your heart;
This makes us divine in God’s eyes—sets us apart!

Gary Bateman, Copyright © All Rights Reserved
(January 5, 2016) (Rhymed Couplet)

Copyright © Gary Bateman | Year Posted 2016

Details | Rhyme | |

Remnants

Sad Heart, now thou art wither’d from the Sun,
What man, or god, will near thee run?
Wrought in twist like branches in Tempests' gasp,
What Comfort, or Gauze, shall be near to grasp?
True ones begotten are the ones now Rotten
And the ones now Rotten will never be forgotten
They are merely sad remains of assiduous Tears
That have been meddl’d with and tatter’d Raw throughout the years

And thou, cruel Mind, that sat’st still thru toiling trail of Night;
Must dream your broken Dreams; thou’rt a sanely flight!
Can thou extinguish passions of Fire, Disease, or Rain?
—tho thy distinguish’d influence trains to abstain
Thy Remnants brought to debris in thy Empty street,
Devour’d by Vultures, their bestow’d beaks entreat
Merely are they cleaning an inexhaustible Mess
Alas! Leaving thy rudiments of Identity to redress....


Copyright © Laura Breidenthal | Year Posted 2012

Details | Couplet | |

Breathes

Some lives are like a stone quickly skipping over the ponds top, forever tossed.
My life is below the surface trying to reach upward with each breathe lost.
But there is still beauty, deep down here in the great depths below…
For the solitude holds me in its grip as I dwell with what I know.

My occasional trips to the surface leave me vastly wanting more…
Still, my life below the surface doesn’t scare me as it did, once before.
And the breaths will come when given, as my life continues to flow.
True it is dark but beauty lingers, everywhere the currents move below.

At times, the surface reflections seem surreal, as if it’s a place not to go.
Comfort comes more and more to my soul, as the deeper I glide below.
Here I dwell within myself, with words, and thoughts, that carry me along.
Perhaps I have found where I truly belong, as I sing my siren songs.

Copyright © Carol Eastman | Year Posted 2012

Details | Rhyme | |

The Root Of All Evil

To find the root of all evil,
One hasn't far to look.
It's not some shrouded mystery,
Concealed within a book.

The truth is right before your eyes,
It hasn't been concealed.
Eliminate the branches first,
And the root is revealed.

Let's look at money, first of all;
Could it be evil's source?
It makes us do the vilest things,
Without guilt or remorse.

More blood was spilled pursuing wealth,
Than any other goal.
And for the life money provides,
Some even sell their soul.

But if it were to be removed,
Along with earthly gain,
Erased from human history,
Evil would still remain.

The same is true of war and hate,
Of vanity and pride,
Of politics and religion,
And all things that divide.

Eliminate them, one by one,
And you will understand.
They're simply branches of the tree,
But they don't make it stand.

The root that gives life to them all,
Is right in front of you;
Sustained by every breath you take,
And everything you do.

It is the root of evil's tree,
The source of our Lord's tears,
Eliminate the human race,
And evil disappears.

So if you're looking for the root,
Can you accept what's true?
The answer is a damning one,
For evil's source...is you.

Copyright © Mark Spencer | Year Posted 2011

Details | Quatern | |

We are all strippers on a stage

We are all strippers on a stage
choreographed of broken dreams.
Our materialistic schemes
drown values in whiskey bottles.


We are all strippers on a stage
who put down our pillow case veils,
dawned a garter belt, sold our souls
for the price of our panty hose.

We are all strippers on a stage
who can not keep with this life style: 
with nights too long and days too short,
where a candle burns on both ends 

a center burns out; we sell out.
We are all strippers on a stage:
vibrate and shimmer for dollars,
feed this addictive scenery.

(modified quatern)

Copyright © tara jennings | Year Posted 2010

Details | Blank verse | |

Enough For Now

ENOUGH FOR NOW... And why? We often ask and wonder...why Does this small earth revolve through time and space… A microscopic speck diminished by Unfathomed vastness of the universe Unending and unknown? Why are we here? We go from birth to death upon a sphere We customized to fit our needs; caught up In galaxies of mini-worlds we made Of bustling cities, growing industries, Complexities of homes and families, Of governments, religions, schools, and those... Of our own selves. We ask what lies beyond The realm of joys and comforts or the woes These bring; beyond their cloudy atmospheres Of love and peace, of war, disease and crime? And what, we ask, what mammoth plan could this— This tiny particle of cosmic dust Encrusted with the scale of human strife Be part of? … Matter not the what or why— The unsolved heavens or eternal scheme… Enough...enough for now to deal with life And death and all those worlds that lie between— A complex, puzzling universe itself. © Sandra M. Haight 2014 All Rights Reserved ~2nd Place~ Contest: Structured Forms - Iambic Verse Sponsor: Giorgio A. V. Judged: November 6, 2014

Copyright © Sandra Haight | Year Posted 2014

Details | Bio | |

Unwritten Conversations

He told me to write a poem
About beauty, wind blowing
Hair tossing , dream making stunning
Gorgeousness of living
Beauty addicts and blind ambitions
Movie stars and historical happenings
Formal dresses, women in high heels with 
Faces meant to smile
That’s what poems should be about, he says, 
Your good at that kind of thing, just spit it out

                “Shawty, write a poem about beauty, that’s real poetry”
                                 “Everything is beautiful, baby…”
                 “But what is beautiful to you?”

Beautiful.
Births and rebirths
Phoenix Red celestial torching of the hearts
Interlocking fingers in twilight
Kisses, Death, sorrow, crocodile tears
Laughter, Ecstasy , black
White, brown, yellow, silver crimson
Skin on skin, chest to chest, on and on, soft
Hard City light heaving, breathing against the Ebony sky
Natural Twinkle of diamond shadows, 
Cosmos, Atoms, Hydrogen bonds, Electrons
Nucleus, matter, anti-matter
Smash together, slither mutually
To create harmony.
Everything. 
Everything is beautiful. 

                      “Just write about that then..”
                                 "Not everything has to be written, somtimes you just have to
                                  live it out.."
                      "What's the point then?? What's the point of writing about butterflies 
and waterfalls? I just don't see it? Why do you have to doll everything up and 
make it more then what it is? Not everything has to be picked apart and analyzed."
                                "Mmm, I suppose."
                        "What's real poetry to you?" 
                                 "Everything..."
                         "I don't understand."

I recline and rest my head on his chest
Tracing lines of thought on the ceiling
Helping him dismantle the universe and put it back together
In his own way
Enjoying lyrical symphonies of life
Breath by breath…
Together
Silent

                                     "This, baby, This is real Poetry.."









 


Copyright © Bella Cardenas | Year Posted 2007

Details | Free verse | |

The Final Say

As our world spins into this blatant madness Family units like dead leaves, fading fast! Our children lost, good values tossed Idols abound, keeps us in a choke! Excesses, extreme shape our lives The Golden Rule, now a corny joke! A simple guide to can heal our earth-disregarded Yet, in spite of all these, God will have the final say When wars and storms sweep across our earth Leaders ignore the hour at hand Perhaps, the last to stand as men To right the wrongs of history past And re enact laws to seal the cracks! Potent winds arising, already on track Remember, love for man and nature will heal this earth Yes, I believe, in spite of all these, My God will have the final say So let the politicians, argue, fight and scheme Let the liars, deceivers, play their games!” Let death merchants chant their evil anthem “It’s not a child, but a piece of flesh”! While the years like pages torn from a book All blowing away like dust in the wind Gone forever beyond eternity's veil! 'Too simplistic', some claim, that love's the remedy Yet, in spite of all these, I will fear no end, for My God will have the final say! ~*~

Copyright © Annalise a.k.a. Audrey Haick | Year Posted 2010