I do not know?
are like my thoughts
falling down into my mind
sending goose bumps down
Their cool aftermath
cleanses me of my thoughts
of fear and uncertainty
about what tomorrows
pain may bring
They make me feel,
wet with creativity
drenched in my optimistic
raindrops, my thoughts
leave paths of pleasurable
distress, and hope of success
which road, less traveled
may be the best
Forget an umbrella
when these raindrops
arrive, I walk outside
arms open wide
Ready to Receive
the mind storm may bring
because raindrops are
as my thoughts, falling
down into my mind
sending shivers down
My brain, yearns
for the rain, to wash away
the pain, tomorrows worry
One special drop
could speed up life's clock
to the time
I can handle my own
and not dwell inside my controllers
For raindrops are,
like my thoughts
falling down into my mind
sending goose bumps
down my spine
There Are A Thousand Treasures Of Kings
Worth More, Than All The Wealth, There Could Be !
Some Say, It’s In A Kingdom Of Dreams
Others Say, It’s As Real As You & Me
The Legend Says, There’s A Kingdom Of Love
In A Kingdom, Far Away & Above
Kings-Treasures, To Be Claimed By The Best
Those Worthy Of Courage, To Quest
& So, This Is Where I’ll Start, My Friend,
Tho’, This Isn’t Where The Real Tale Begins
You See, There Was A Merry Band Of Adventurers
Who Went On A Quest, As Treasure-Gatherers
There Was Moses, The Freedom-Circle-Rider
Stayed His Course, Like An Eagle-Glider
There Was Goff, The Monk Of Sky and Trees
His Visions Of Life, Were As Open As Doors With Keys
There Was Kendricks, The Keeper Of ‘Interesting’ Tracks
& Marty, Of The Hale & Hearty & Power-Pen Pack
There Was Adell of Deep Wells … & Dio, The Devoted
& Dame Brown Of Mountain-Ground, So Sweetly-Noted
There Was An Irish Lass, O’Leary Of Laughter
& The Golden Daughter Of Grace & Audrey Of Gifted-Banter
& Devonshire, The Dove & Highlander Of Heather-Cove
Of First To Join Search: For Soup & Treasure-Trove
Of Course, We Have A Prince Of Passion Land
& Ismael, A Dream-Merchant From His Own Island
The Prince, Paints Of Pleasures; The Islander Speaks of Treasures
Both Know Of Biggest Royal Cache That We Could Ever Measure !
There Came Tim, The Archer Of The Wit-Forest
& A Determined Mother with Son, The Lady Doris
Maid Adams, Who Teaches How To Keep Cold Away
& The Lightning-Voice Of Linda Marie, Keeps Wolves At-Bay
There Is Sir Lamoureu of Sir Lancelot's Order
He Wields Words In Articulate Axes & Armor
And To Those Who Dare Say Chivalry Is Dead ...
Is Because -The Sonnets of Sir Lamoureu, They Have Not Read
& The Legendary Language That Sir Lamoureu Pledge
Then There's Lady Linda, A Chatelaine & A Poet Destroyer
But She Only Versus The Verses of The Vanity Voyeurers
Her Skill With Quill Accurately Quite Accords
As Proof of Pens Being Mightier Than Swords
We Have A Pretty Elf Known As Anne Lise Andresen
Her Piquant Topics of Poetry Makes Her Our Taliesin
And We Have Our Very Own Kind Maid Merryman
She Transports Adventures Better Than A Ferryman
Part 1 of 2
Page after page
My nose in a book
I read intently
As the words
In my mind
With one look.
Imagination runs wild,
There is nothing
Like the thrill,
Like a roller coaster
Giving you chills.
It’s a rainbow
If you will.
Get on it,
And feel the inclination
You’ve had enough.
But is it ever?
Once you start
It’s too tough
To get off
To begin with.
You are filled
And with pride.
Reading takes you
to the top,
To the power
Knowledge is power,
A roller coaster
That never stops.
Extraordinary, I am
Craving for unusual thoughts
Endless exploration without boundary
Understanding the gift I shouldn't fought
Invisible drawings in my mind
Playing with the words in my head
The food of my soul
I feel so lucky
The random thoughts
A lifetime companion
A self esteem builder
A goal planner
Be my forever life saver
I write more
I talk less
I want to please
I chose to bore
What tickles me the most
Is to know what I'm for
Thinking is my love
When my mind goes empty
That's when I hate
My day dreaming lust
Organizing things in my mind
Playing roles of simulation
Where images of art is my vision
And words of attitude is my heart
‘ Raul Moreno, Poet- Sen•sei … ’ 56th Senryu
Like Marco Polo
Haiku Master, Moreno
Explores Nature’s Show
From Magnanimous Me (he! he!) (LOL)
Love Your Poetry,
Your Poet-Pal, MoonBee
In God's own ink
with bloody hands,
he writes his life away.
yet he's free
to have his final say.
Dark and dank,
his tiny cell
becomes a living tome,
to tell a tale of villainy,
and of home.
His maiden fair
returned his love
with evil and deceit.
She led him here into a trap
his enemy to meet.
she saved him
from an end
a death both quick and sure.
She left him in this dungeon dark
forever to endure
of her false heart
and one who stole it all.
He tells it all right from the start
it flows upon the wall,
and when his bright red ink runs dry
the angels come to read.
He falls upon the stones to die
with no words left to bleed.
Before spring came, in late February
to the blooming and jolly hills
I ran, breathing heavily and frantically,
touching the perfumed blossoms
of a solitary, old cherry tree;
and underneath it I sat writing poetry
that hadn't a perfect rhyme and beat!
Weren't my skills marred by imperfections?
Canaries and red-breasted robins
flew down and rested on my outstretched legs;
perusing my lines to spot their names,
and when they did, they flapped their wings in gladness!
I could have imagined their joyful words,.
if only they had acquired the gift of speech,
and deeper in their thoughts I would have reached:
to dispel the myth that they had no feelings...
After my short poem was completed,
I reached for my harmonica to play my favorite classic tune;
and being surprised by the paleness of the fading moon,
I dedicated that happy melody to her not to let her despair:
by waving my hand to make her farewell less sad, while I whispered,
" Silent moon, eternal companion of every poet,
what's beyond the realm of this universe?...
Tell us more of those invisible suns and planets! "
Before spring came to the dormant valley,
the mountains' peaks allowed the sun to melt their snows,
to create gushing torrents to feed its water to the dry and cracked soil,
which needed rain instead of harmful frost;
and I drank the freshest water and washed my sweaty face,
while fighting off the bees' stubborn rivalry!
That spring has come again to dress herself with incredible splendor,
and this discontent and wishful heart desires nothing more than being there!
My theme is: Happiness In Childhood
A prickle about to lodge
In the heart of a Mighty Light
Above the low-dipped setting sun
The Knightly Night prepares to come
To lift me like a rising fog
Up to greet the countless stars -
That twinkle at a Sun's descent.
The horizon painted with lullaby
Of colours and their somber tune
Day's bed is laid behind blue mountains
And quietly it goes to sleep.
Inside the womb of a Sleeping Day
Begins a fierce protest
of dreaming thoughts
Now stirred awake.
Then out of the thick and cluster
And whatever dangers of flight await
Newborn wings of thought emerge
And rise and rise and rise
Captured by the winds of Night -
To wander heights
To kiss the skies
To dance to the gentle humming
Of spirit drums -
A duet with the breeze.
So when day comes breaking through
Dawn is greeted by what was writ
At the festival of it's eve.
With merriment's ink:
A song etched deep:
Art carved out of sky.
Title: Night Poem
Apples.. beetles.. caterpillars..
fertile ground.. hollyhocks..
Ivy jumbled kegs..
leafy mint.. nematodes..
quiet rest sunsets.. tomatoes under vines..
wheelbarrows.. xanadu yearning zeal!
Dig Down Deep
Artifacts Will Speak
Words of Worth
With Pick and Shovel
If Block and Rubble,
Deep In Soul
Hold Hidden Scrolls
To Royal Edicts
Read and Call
On High Walls
Show Gold Emotions
In Glass Display
In Sealed Mystery
So The Poet Did …
To Preserve Words
So That You Heard
and Shared, Discovery …
‘ A Metaphysical Moment ’
A Metaphysical Moment
Electrifying To The Touch
Breathless, Thru The Clouds
Can My Heart, Take So Much
… Can My Eyes Endure
All This Vision, I See
Can Voice, Even Speak
Over Roaring of This Sea
… Can Ear Even Listen
When I Am Flying So Free
Soaring, So True With You and
Metaphysical Moment and Me …
A Metaphysical Moment
Will I Ever Understand
This Mystery of Our Universe
The Mystery of Woman and Man …
(And I End This with an Haiku for
The Haiku Master ‘Raul’ Moreno and
Metaphysical Poet Extraordinaire’ (smile))
Metaphysical Moment (The Haiku)
Metaphysical Moment …
… Nature’s Mysteries
Metaphysical (definition) as an adjective:
Metaphysical of early 17th Century Poetry
Relating to the poetic style of John Donne,
George Herbert and other early 17th Century Poets
Who used consciously intellectual language
And elaborate metaphors that compared things
It's 7Am here, and cold
Just awoke, with,
Oh, Here We Go Again!
Fever, Pain, Confusion,
And Lots of Other Groovy Things
To Keep My Mind Busy...
Many more people know of you
than a few days ago....
Did you ever hear of Rod Mckuen?
Professional poet/ musician/songwritter-
One of the reasons I love poetry...
Not only will you understand him, you should
enjoy him.....Sorry about your work load....
My French is rusty.....I'm pretty good in geometry though;
received 100% on NYS Regents Exam when young-
an unheard of thing, scores in college of 97-99% for the term's work,
and it seemed easy as pi (joke- pie, etc....oh, why am I explaining it,
sorry, I forgot who I was talking to.......) Hope you have a happy day.....write an
indepth poetic bio?? I'd love it, so would many others....
you are known in literary circles here now, I'd venture to guess....
surprising, the power of words, n'est pas? Je ne sas pa, rien du tout....pardon
my spelling and french......it's unused since early 1960's (ancient history) What
city are you in? Ever travel??? A favorite destination??? Any questions about
the enigmatic nature of "Americans?" We're really well meaning, just sometimes
seems we might misinterpret, or misunderstand things obvious to others (and
vica versa....) Do you get to see movies??? Need books to read?? I got a library
of 10,000 books, at least, being handicapped gives me too much time on my
hands, and my health leaves me precious little of a future to expect. I have lots
of funny stories. I hope you are okay....I never met anyone so brilliant in 57 years
of living. Youf friend in poetry, tom."
‘ Devonshire and Fraser … ’ 44th Senryu
Some Poems, Highland Fling
Kilt-Clad-Portrait, Scotland’s Theme
The Laird of Sweet-Dreams
Devonshire, The Dove
A Vision Of Light and Love
Highland, Speaks Well Of …
Together They Write
All Combinations Delight
Deep Thinkings, With Might
For: The Dynamic-Duo of Poetry Soup
James Fraser and Carolyn Devonshire – ( 2 Scoops)
You’re In My Must Read Group …
A poem including following words/phrases;
Smiling Moon Face
Miracle of Fatima
Broken alarm clock
Lets see what you guys come up with; by Feb. One
Bonus points if you add; Peanut Butter and Jelly with Meatballs the daily special
After reading your comment to Sharon so true
I decided oh yes, I must tag Phyllis to
”Tag game” is about people sharing their heart
It would sure be special if you shared your part
It seems sometimes we just run out of time
Remember when a phone call cost a dime
So did a bottle of soda as a matter of fact
Remember the machines when they slid on a track
Well hopefully not because these words are true
Remembering those things means you’ve seen life to
So many changes between those times and now
Now days they have lasers that operate the plow
With me it all changed way faster than most
Years in day is the story of a convict ghost
But that is the past and praise God I am free
Exercising my right to tag Phyllis you see
Every game should have a Mentor Raul is his name
He was tagging us all without knowing of the game
I’m tagging Phyllis and giving honor to Raul
For without a doubt he is a model for us all
You know a while back the "Tag" game was a part
of our site. This was a very special part of our site
and Raul with his unselfishness writing Poem's to
members on our site reminded me of this and to be
honest I tried hard to ignore the impulse. So in Honor
of "Our Mentor" lets bring that special part of our Soup
Back, spend our time writing of love instead of some knack.
Soft, a gentle retreat
Like goose down,
sweet, and mild
It wanders through
meadows and green
Makes your mind
float to faraway
Takes you on
rare quests of
The flow is
I dance here
I read here
I sing right here
Into my favorites
On dark hillside
A lone cowherd
Wrapped in his blanket,
Gazed up at the sky,
Dreamed into the night.
A wisp of crescent moon,
A sky full of stars,
In his thought
He was asking:
Does my small fire shine up to the stars?
Globally, miners jubilantly jump for joy
Smiles on the faces of every girl and boy
The grins of a newly opened Xmas toy
Trade unionists bounce along the street
Music blaring and the tapping of feet
From nurses to Bobbies still on the beat
Street parties announced in the nation
Satan who brought economic inflation
Is deceased, now’s the time for elation
Its times like this I’m sad I’m an atheist
And can only shout and wave my fist
And then go to the pub and get pissed
A void of Facebook
Creativity dies here...
A different time, a different place
A different life and different face
Different wants and different needs
Different values and different creeds
Different Pomp and Circumstance
Different songs and different dance
Different likes and different hate
Different foods on different plate
A different boat on a different sea
A different you and a different me
As the darkness yields to the dawn
to deliver the heart from any storm
Of the blackness of the night so long
Where my fears and sorrows do belong
The new morn is a sigh of a brilliant song
The child awakens with the light
Ready to believe in the day’s warming sight
To live and love with open arms
And have no fear of any harms
There is hope and charity in the new day
Dreams and innocence are here to stay
Sun sweet sun
Come on, have some fun
Chase the night away
so the child can learn to play!
He draws you in -
Compelling mental images
of atmosphere and entryways;
state rooms; glades; soft nudges.
Letting your fear flourish unaware.
Note: Author Dean Koontz
Check i out
As I draw my eyes I think about what I have seen, what I have witnessed, what I have turned my eyes away from with but a blind stare, and all those special moments I missed that done passed and gone, but above all I think about what I have yet to see when I die.
As I draw my face and hair I think about I think about how the "Great One Above" has made me what color skin that I am and how he has shaped my attitude into what my life has become and what society and environment I was placed and grew up in around which culture or cultures I have become or unknowingly integrated.
As I draw my ears I think about what I have heard, what I am still hearing and what I choose not to hear among the many noises surrounded within ones hearing, but above all I think about what death has sounded like not in just one but many different loud but yet still very silent noises around one.
As I draw my body I think about what my body has endured, what it has failed to do so many times but also what it has finally conquered and still yet to conquer in a world of complete competition with sports so violent and unforgiving for winning does not forgive losers in a world striving to be winners.
As I draw my hands I think about how they have created so much but also trying not to think about how much they too have destroyed. I think about how I can easily create bad more than the good like an addiction that cannot be stopped among an addicted world full of fiends waiting to get their fix….but above all as I draw these words of life I think about how the heck I am still here today writing about it…..how I am still here enduring it and how I am still here even to share it…Thank You “Great One Above”…..
I can see the truth clearly now, and the truth is we live in a world where almost everything is shaded to a lie. (We act as if we are someone else and just can’t be what we want to be.)
Truth remains strong that our very own fables cover our very own two eyes. (We only choose to see what we want to see.)
Only fibs and tall tales are left on the local store corner….for they the only things left on the shelf that we can buy. (Many Profound Truths remain imprisoned while too many lies are out there living free.)
I look at the ground because I can’t look at the sky; I laugh more with death rather than crying with life. (Shakespeare once said “To be or not to be” but I say F%$k trying “To be” because I’d rather “Just BE”.)
Living amongst a world of shaded illusions upon the mind eye, upon which we have many wrongs more than our rights, yeah I know we all want peace but yet we still choose to fight. (We long for death but fear it; we want to go away but don’t know what will happen when we leave our loved ones with certain grief stolen away in the night by death like a thief.)
So why is it so many of us continue to stare at our everyday truths as if we are blind, as if we cannot see our own struggle through our very own lies……..
I cant believe Im going to have my own family, something I never had;
Its time to step up and be a real dad;
Now I can remember the things that make me happy and forget the things that make me sad;
Its time that I start doing good than the bad;
I want for my child to see me as a role model;
Its time I break my own chains to that alcoholic bottle;
I want to be that someone who can be trusted to follow;
I silently cry at night because the truth is hard to swallow;
I jus hope I can make that change today not tomorrow;
I got to change before I end up in an?early hearst;
My art is my gift and alcohol is my curse, I must break my own alcoholic thirst;
I must relieve my own selfishness tendencies before they burst;
I got to stop making alcohol my only because its no longer just about me, because my very own family comes first
Life as a lonely lost poet bred from dark cracks
Lost soul living plain and simple among the people black and white
Drug along with alcoholic among us distracts
Lost values and principles around one many continue to lack
Everyday simple facts, its like breathing through plastic sacks
Slowly suffercating until the brain goes wack
Once death comes my way I must keep it part of my past
Aint no way God going to bring my little brother back
I guess its a curse upon all those of us living like outlaw of an outcast
How the **** will I ever truly outlast until I heal and break out my cast
God cant you see Im tired of wearing this permanent mask
I know my poetry has hidden answers if I look and read closer so I shouldnt have to ask
Staying lost is a choice in the open road with no gas
So as a lost poet through hardships now and in the future I will outgrow it
The devil trying to get my soul and behold it
but I know only this one man controls it
Its too priceless for even my own greed to have sold it
So as a lost poet I will climber higher than high if not then right below it
Found in a world of lies with few truths as but another lost poet
Duke Luke by his bateau
Arrived at his chateau,
Had he travelled through large eau!
His mysterious rendez-vous
with Henry Thoreau
Yielded him a scarlet portmanteau.
Entering his bureau,
he took off his manteau
and opened the portmanteau:
The Snow Man was inside
And though not well could he sing,
Sang he a song of himself:
Stopping by woods on a snowy evening
He met Annabel Lee on a large shelf,
Frightened he was by the raven
And took the road not taken:
Crossed he the mending wall
And hearing the anecdote of the jar
To noble savage Billy Budd an honest fare he paid
Large and far
From spring to fall
Self-reliance: the idea he hath
The American Scholar guided his path;
He slept a long time
In a clean well-lighted place;
One winter he woke up
In a station of the metro:
He fastened his tender buttons
and found a red wheelbarrow;
'No ideas but in things' -
A lovely image this brings!
To his disappointment and sorrow,
He never saw the snows of Kilimanjaro.
Duke Luke in disbelief
Wiped his eyes
And pinched his ears;
The Snow Man disappeared.
Took a look
At his portmanteau
In hopes of seeing something
The city has everything anyone can dream of: public transportation (city buses, trains/subways, and taxi cabs), theaters, parks, hotels, and restaurants; not to mention downtown apartments. All of the cities are the largest metropolitan areas that never sleep. Living in the city is like being a part of the essence of urban living. And when he or she's in the city for a concert or another event, they won't want to leave it behind; they just want to stay there. It looks like I'm not the only one who's a city person; it's everyone else, too. The U.S. has multiple cities, and so does the rest of the world (Beijing, Rome, Paris, Toronto, or wherever). No mater what city are these people from, they're all part of the urban society. To be honest, I've always wanted to reside in the city: New York City, Seattle, Washington, Atlanta, Georgia, Kansas City, Missouri, London, U.K., Los Angeles, California, or Toronto, Ontario, Canada. I see all cities with brand new buildings in the year 2065, and I also see aliens or any other life form interacting with the humans in the futuristic city, as well. If the city's ready for me and I plan on residing in one of them for a long time, that would be great.
I got 2 memba who I once was, who I really am, what I really am, and who Im still yet TO BECOME. I got 2 memba where Im from 2 know how I got 2 where Im at 2 know where Im still GOING TO GO/ Despite bein a felon and convict and all the odds against me, I still got all the evens deep within me. Change is like a choice of contradicted concepts of my own convictions. My felonistic, forbidden, fatherless faith is not workin for me no more, actually it never did I just thought it did. I aint got 2 give it up or must give it up, or even have 2 give it up I first got 2 want 2 give it up. But I also must got 2 have 2 want 2 give it up within my own contradicted soul so that I may travel that road less traveled by my own people, not only where Im from but for all those trapped in this American inner racial mixed struggle where race and the color of YOUR SKIN DOES MATTER