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On Writing And Words Inspirational Poems | On Writing And Words Poems About Inspirational

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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?

Details | Lyric | |

If The Spirit Moves Me

If the spirit moves me I will speak
 I will share words
 that no-one wants to hear
 I will speak them
 I will speak them loud and clear
 If the spirit moves me

If the spirit moves me I will see
 I will see Beauty
 that no-one else can see
 I will see it far and near
 around me and in all things
 If the spirit moves me

If the spirit moves me I will hear
 I will hear things
 no-one else can hear
 I will hear the universe
 speaking to me and I will hear
 If the spirit moves me

If the spirit moves me
 I will feel
 I will feel the pain of others
 I will feel their happiness too
 I will be able to empathize
 If the spirit moves me

If the spirit moves me
 I will taste joy and laughter
 I will live my life in peace
 I will find love
 I will live on in the ever-after
 If the spirit moves me

© Christine A Kysely All Rights Reserved
 (October 25, 2011 Wausau, Wisconsin USA)

Details | I do not know? | |


are like my thoughts
falling down into my mind
sending goose bumps down
my spine

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
illumination. glistening
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 spine

My brain, yearns
for the rain, to wash away
the pain, tomorrows worry
does bring
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

Details | Blank verse | |

All I See Is Beauty

All I see is beauty in the burning of her words,
The flickering of flames,
Constructs of fires licking at the night
From snow white sheets of dreaming.

The senses of her bleeding, ink and roses,
Sensual vibrancy,
Gliding rails streaming to the stars,
The links between the earth and heaven’s tide.

All I see is beauty in the visions of her art,
The tenderness of angels,
Architects of chapels wrought of lace,
An arbitrary grace of love.

The impressions of her breathing, saffron breath,
Exhaling of her soul,
Bestow of sleeping kisses to the lips,
Priestess of the mind and loin.

Details | Rhyme | |

My Chair of Support

My favourite chair
Said to me one night
Hey! Highlander
What you going to write
Is it going to be a fantasy
A Haiku or a Senyru
What ever comes from your thoughts
It's from the inner you
I have supported and rested 
While you have written your writes
From many an afternoon
Into the early morning light
You never get frustrated
You just sit and ponder
For you know there are words
They are just out yonder
This partnership we have
Will remain as close as ever
Until the end of our days
Will be the time to sever
We will continue to be
One and the same
I to support you
With poetry your aim

My entry into Matt Caliri's contest " Speak chair! Speak! "

Details | Rhyme | |

The Man in the Wilderness

Feeling like a lodger
In my own home
Thankful for my music
And my new found roam

Families and communities
They are just so hard to find
But in April 2009
I found the most precious kind

I found the name amusing
So the button i clicked on to see
The layout was very inviting
Like an open door should be

For in a matter of minutes
On first uploading a poem
This Highlander was content
He had found a welcome home

So many lovely writers
Poets who share their bless
No longer this Scotsman is
The Man in the Wilderness

Details | Couplet | |

Our single soul

As the trials of life come and go
Accept there blessings into your soul

Let them become without a doubt
A model of what you're all about

Don't let them get you all depressed
All things in life need be addressed

Let your spirit be like the wind
Your unseen dearest friend

As I see the lines in my face
Each a reminder of certain place

Do I wish they would go away?
Or that my hair wasn't turning grey

I have no desire to regain youth
For I have learned to speak my truth

When I was young I was so lost
I let my soul pay the cost

Running hard against the grain
Using drugs to kill the pain

Now I feel each and every day
Use the Lord to take the pain away

Do what I can accepting what I get
Treasure blessings that come of it

Thank the Lord through the poems I pray
Use what I need give the rest away

I seem to be driven by a single goal
Can you feel my heart and soul?

I slice them open in hopes they will bleed
Something that someone might need

The single fear I know so well
The fear that my words will fail

So once again I face my fear
As I write I shed my tears

Because these words are spoken true
My heart belongs to all of you

And through it's love I hope to show
We all share a single soul

A soul that is bound by love
Given us by the Lord above

Details | Senryu | |

' The Power of A Poet ... ' 32nd Senryu

‘The Power Of A Poet’      32nd  Senryu

        Look How Devoted
       The Power of A Poet
    See How Words Spoke It

This Poem is My Tribute to:

Carolyn Devonshire (The Dove)
and James (The Highlander) Fraser
for your Powerful collaboration on:

      Mother Nature's Revenge

        It Was Truly Awesome


Details | Quatrain | |

100 Shards of Pen

Erase a word
Mundane and wrought
Smoldering fire
Of indifferent thought

Pluck a phrase
Wild and untamed
Primordial howl
Of random flame

Sing a verse
Naked and free
Poetic gale
Of crashing seas

Tell a tale
Endearing and true
Passionate prose
Of life’s muse

Ask a heartbeat
Women and men
Who feels
100 shards of pen

Details | Free verse | |

Grand Canyon

Some people are voices
On the edge of rocks
With steep slopes and cliffs.
Some people are echoes
At the bottom of walls
Carved by rushing waters.

Details | Epic | |

Pledge of love and loyalty

This pledge that l,Ntando, make today serves
as my guideline that I shall follow
happily, ungrudgingly and tirelessly
for the sake of our love life.
Indeed l am well aware of the fact that
the beauty of this pledge does not only lie
in word alone but in action as well.

For that reason in every season
I shall show steadfast commitment
to the implementation of this pledge
with a great deal of astuteness.
I therefore commit myself to be your
devoted and delivering husband for
all the years l shall live with you
on this earth.

I shall treat you with the love and care
you deserve as my wife.
Indeed l shall treat you with
the distinction and dignity
that is befitting of the queen of my heart.
That body, that bone, that breath
shall be my mine to treasure,
for sure;
a dearness to promote and protect
for dear life…and love!
I shall stand by and with you in all the
situations of our life.
If the situation demands that we sail,
sail we shall together.
If the situation demands that we
climb we shall together.

I know very well what l am getting into:
I am getting into a marriage that is
overflowing with blessings.
This marriage- with our mutual
will stand the test of time.
I know very well what I am getting into:
I am getting into a relationship that
brims over with a transforming power
of love.

This marriage-with our
mutual commitment –
will transform naivety into maturity
troubles into challenges
pretence into practice
pride into progress
bachelorship into companionship.
I pledge to be your steward and partner
for all times.

I shall value the consultations
and decisions that we make as
husband and wife.
As head of the family I shall do nothing


to derail our love train for anything else
least of all for personal and selfish reasons.
Now and forever

I am your lawful and loving husband…
This pledge that l, Nothando, make today serves
as my guideline that I shall follow
happily, ungrudgingly and tirelessly
for the sake of our love life.
Indeed I am well aware of the fact that
the beauty of this pledge does not only
lie in pronouncements but in practice
as well.

For this reason every season
I shall demonstrate untiring love
and loyalty to you;
a love and a loyalty that is a living
embodiment of our marriage vows.
I therefore commit myself to be your
honouring, supportive and loving wife
for all the years l shall live with you.
I shall treat you with the love and care
that you deserve as my husband.
Indeed I shall treat you with
the dignity and nobility that is befitting
of the king of my heart.
On my mind it is always fresh
that I am the flesh of your flesh.
Green or grown

I am the bone of your bone.
I know very well what I am getting into:
I am getting into a relationship that
elevates me into a kingdom of wifehood.
I shall endevour to put my family first
with all the rights, obligations
and privileges that come with wifehood.
I shall endevour to wipe off and ward off
loneliness and lostness from our relationship,
seeking nothing but your companionship;
banking on your stewardship,
sinking together any hardship.
Since you are mine
I shall not do anything else to undermine
our relationship for personal
or egotistical
Now and forever
I am your lawful and loving wife…

Details | Dramatic Verse | |


I never knew I'd be in heaven
In the autumn of my years,
Or that I'd be immerged
In the brilliant art of words,
Or float above operatic notes,
Or view ballet through
My elated tears.

I never thought I'd meet
Inspiration face to face,
Or feel it rise within me
With a poet's surrendering grace.
I just know that I'm contented
As profound love keeps flowing
From my impassioned heart.
This is the gift that artists
Of this world yearn to impart.

© Connie Marcum Wong

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 | I do not know? | |

Blood upon Pages

As I place the pen
on paper
my soul beings
to bleed
upon the pages
my secret longings
hopes and dreams
of which I hope to be,
how I want to reflect me
transpire into the universe
within my poetic lyricism
the warm sweet smoke
of my vega blunt
swirls about me, flickers
in and out of motion
as the vanilla candle nearby
fights the shadows in my room
the cool summer breeze
from my window
carries dancing sinsemilla 
fog around me, allowing
my mind
to adventure elsewhere
into the nights abyss
of minutes, turned to hours
I write
pages, of words
scribbling my life, struggles
and fears
Bob Marley and Lauryn Hills
“turn your lights down low”
beat inspirational peacefulness
on my eardrums
my small hands delicately pluck
my imaginary guitar strings
as I join her in a solo, Miss Hill's
magical voice cracks
with emotion, and my soul
tingles with excitement
For creativity flows
within my veins
I breath real music, such as
she, as soon as daylight opens
thine dark brown eyes to see
The poetic flowetry, carries me
and speaks to me
the notes capture my inner 
disturbance and desires
until the soundtrack of my day
takes me into Summers night
thoughts of my dreams 
of being a published poet
clearly float
into my sight
Then, I sit
as I place my pen
upon the paper
black and white turn to one
and my soul bleeds
onto pages
into an early sun

Details | Light Poetry | |

A Merry Band Of Adventurers Part 1 of 2

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

Details | Rhyme | |

Reading/Knowledge is Power

Page after page
My nose in a book
I read intently
As the words
Form pictures 
In my mind
What power.
With one look.

Imagination runs wild,
There is nothing 
Like the thrill,
The ride,
 thoughts race
Like a roller coaster
Going through 
its paces
Giving you chills.

It’s a rainbow
Of translations,
If you will.
Get on it,
And feel the inclination
To soar 
You’ve had enough.
But is it ever?

You see, 
Once you start
It’s too tough
To get off 
That ride 
That makes 
You smart 
To begin with.
You are filled
With exhilaration
And with pride.

Reading takes you 
to the top,
To the power 
of knowledge!
Knowledge is power,
A roller coaster 
That never stops.

Details | Free verse | |

in the farmer's song

so, i got to thinking
about all those words
planted in my language
where fertility grew them
to leave and stalk and pod

the farmer's words scatter
my fields like seed on clod
watered by thundering flashes
awash, fertilized and germinating

progeny seedlings, my own growth
in some time-lapse photography
writhing their creamy roots
into earthy loam and droning
on through a summer daze

into fruits of sweaty labors 
on humid chlorophylled days
silks sultry green, stalking me
through rows and rows as far
as i can see, if i squint

the farmer, suspended in time
stands with his hands in pocket
or on some implement toed to soil
and surveys life's prospects 
for this season, before the

days bake the green back into 
the humus and the cornucopia 
spills the field and orchard
this verse of the farmer's song
picked and stowed away cool

eyes closed now, ears gently
strain to hear, worldly phrasing
come from where? my larder
or some ancestor gleaning meaning
and dropping it into her apron

to carry home to hungry minds
to feed them something of today
and sustain them through a fallow
solstice and the chilled breeze

any cultivation harvested over
picked clean and harrowed flat
nearly time to plow it under again
while the farmer gazes the horizon
and sips something in his cup

© Goode Guy 2011-08-22

Details | Rhyme | |

Inspiration gone

As i stare at this paper
without words
it waits for me to write
so my feelings can be heard
inspiration came often
when we were together
words flowed freely
my pen
light as a feather

Fate has a reputation
of never being wrong
it takes destiny by the hand
and grips it forever strong
now this paper
which once was alive
quietly stares back at me
with dull loose leaf eyes
it mocks me
even dares me
to write words i couldn't speak for years
but, without you
the forecast calls for emptiness
with a good chance of tears

Inspiration comes from within
your smile always gave me my start
but these days my pen lay heavy
and so quietly broken
like a roadmap of your heart
for soulmates are rare
to let one go........even worse
now this pen and paper
who once were my companions
are now the very things i curse

So i put my pen down
and tuck the paper away for the night
and maybe tomorrow
just maybe
words i couldn't speak
i'll be able to write......

Details | Free verse | |


"Each experience is locked within my heart and only I hold the key..."  

Please do not edit the quote , or add anything to it, use as given. 

It can be the first line of your poem if that is what you want





Details | Prose Poetry | |

The Fallen Prince has Risen - Michael

Burning so bright
With new found life
Released from his ball and chain
Out of the dark
And into the light
Flying… on wings of freedom again.

As he writes his life
His soul ignites
In flames of wisdom and sight
Brilliantly claiming 
His God given right
As his truth kills the evil ‘Black Knight’.

Details | Haiku | |

It is now

Ain't a word, you said.
but it takes a daring gust 
for things start to be.

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 | Free verse | |

My Favorite Devonshire

Winter's Rose

white frost streaks her hair
smooth ice-sculpture skin of youth
     stroked by cracks
            wrinkles that have weathered life
                 skin once firmly packed sags

in the mirror a figure she doesn’t recognize
    but she laughs
          budding spring beauty
               summer rose that danced through seemingly timeless evenings

restless rebellion came with fall
     withering, yearning

but winter, sweet winter
fills her heart with warm memories
     resignation, acceptance of a life well-lived
               a spirit that will never die

winter’s rose smiles, prepares for eternal life

*Entry for Gail's "Inspirational" poems contest
by Carolyn Devonshire

I can't believe the wonderful contest idea I have been missing out on since I took my brief break from Soup this past weekend. I came back to find many posts of Carolyn Devonshire's most amazing work. And so it was my goal tonight before logging off, to look through my list of favorites and see which one I would choose to showcase. 

Well, there were at least five of her poems that I just loved: "A Forgotten Box," the senryu set "Candlelight Passion," an adorable personification of flowers called "Flower Prom," the profound poem of imagination called "Unicorn," and last but not least, the one shown above here, "Winter's Rose." I decided on this one because earlier today in talking with Carolyn, she expressed to me that "Winter's Rose" happened to be one of her personal favorites. I was so pleased to discover that it was also one I had chosen to put into MY favorites list about a month ago! 

"Winter's Rose" is a poet's look into her own soul. And she uses metaphors of the seasons, something I personally enjoy doing in my own poetry. I love when Carolyn writes this way and I agree with her, this is one of her very best free verse poems ever! I hope Carolyn will continue with her restless spirit well into the deepest of winters. She is an awesome friend and poet! (Carolyn, may your memories be happy ones always. And know that you have many friends here rooting for you. Luv, Andrea )

Details | Verse | |

Enigma's Calling

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
My passion
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

Details | Senryu | |

' Language Lesson Learned ... ' 59th Senryu

‘ Language Lesson Learned … ’   59th  Senryu

    I Don’t ‘ Speak ’ Evil
I Don’t ‘ Understand ’ Wicked
    Translation … Ended

Details | Rhyme | |



                                       The tender touch that whispers by…
                                     The breath from the rain I hold inside…
                                          To be inspired by the air I’m in…
                                  Writing it down with the slightest of grins…
                            The stain on my canvas has spilled from my soul…
                               Leaving a piece of me that will never grow old...

Details | Free verse | |


As unfocused and natural as breathing 
As unrestricted as dreaming
Creativity derives from formless –
From liberty

Don’t think
Write now
Correct later
This is poetry in its most perfect form
Just like when you’re taking a test and your first thought is most likely correct 

It’s okay to jump from one thought to the next 

As long as you have a trail to look back on 
You can recall information

Don’t abandon your first thoughts of originality! 
Flow and flow with your original thoughts filled with your unique personality 

Be free 
Be you and you will be surprised at all who will be inspired by you 

Don’t muffle your emotion 
Don’t muffle your first original thought 
Be free 
Be you and you’ll be amazed at the hues that leak on paper from you

A collaboration between Elliott Bowe THe DrUnKeN POeT & Brittany MAD POet Caldwell

Details | I do not know? | |

Grunt's Garden

So thoughtfully busily going to the tomb
Were you enamored with words from the womb
Verbally gurgling did you succumb
Or did it come later in life
Likened to lightning spelling you under
Suddenly there before hearing the thunder
Rapidly vapidly words in your head
Were ringing and clamoring yet to be said

At work in your garden editing hedge 
Trimming  unwanted excess 
It smacks of sedition this growing ambition
To put plants in orderly rowed inhibition
Sun reaching in silent distress

The beauty of discipline held up to view
In close captivated submission
In ranks and in rows uniformly disposed 
Earthbound and holding attention
Yet openly Stubbornly free  
They continue to grow.
To Flander's field poppies
And crosses akin
They are harvests of memory to reap
Promises planted to keep

Details | Lyric | |

An Ordinary Man

I want to be inspired to write
    a song people really want to sing;
I want to be inspired to compose
    a requiem for the King;
But, I’m just an ordinary man
    doing the best I can
        at writing poems
            that have no homes.

I want to be inspired to find
    a cure for this cancer thing;
I want to be inspired to reach
    out for the golden ring;
But, I’m just an ordinary man
    doing the best I can
        at getting by
            with the good old college try.

I want to be inspired to lead
    a revolutionary coup;
I want to be inspired to be
    the best at everything I do;
But, I’m just an ordinary man
    doing the best I can
        to make ends meet
            and not live on the street.

I have the motivation;
I’ll put in the perspiration;
I can give it concentration;
But, I lack the inspiration;

Inspire me.
What will it take to inspire me?

I want to be inspired to write
    a song people really want to sing;
I want to be inspired to compose
    a requiem for the King;
But, I’m just an ordinary man
    doing the best I can
        at writing poems
            that have no homes.

Details | Free verse | |

You're The Weak One


You’re the weak one, you’re a bully.  The weak one is definitely
not me.

The bully is always the weak one, but your weakness you can’t
seem to see.

So, I’m going to try to shed a little light on your weak and inappropriate ways.

Your weakness began on your first bullying day.

Your false sense of power is not strength at all; it is a cry for help desperately trying to break through.

I actually feel a little sorry for you.

Weak kids like you always seek to find other kids they can dominate.

Bullies do this with vicious words, inappropriate actions, and misguided hate. 

Is being a weak bully the banner you want to carry for the rest of your life?

Get rid of the bully banner forever; take up a banner that shows respect, 
understanding, and tolerance for others, and always hold that one very high.

	Al Johnson

Details | Couplet | |


         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 royal | |


To the happy lady behind those black shades,
I dedicate my poem as an exchange gift
for her incredible kindness and gracious wit...
even her words amaze the youngest lads!

Since her work was featured on Poetry Soup years ago,
I've become her admirer, and avidly read every poem she writes
with the passion and aspiration of a true poetess who immensely delights;
and doesn't she always capture the reader's attention with her unselfish ego? 

Many are the dreams she we all do for another laud,
and from her insightful thoughts written with refined style;
who wouldn't be her loyal fan and often drop her a line?
Read all of her poems and feel what makes her proud!

Sweet and lovely friend, accept my dedication
and add this name to the memoirs of your ambition;
sincere and kind friend, isn't honor the greatest joy 
when someone such as me praises you as Helen of Troy?

Details | Sonnet | |


Verses herald me without permission, Beckon me to corners that few will find and unveil views, horizons that listen to Bach hearts, Vivaldi souls, Mozart minds. A poem once wrote itself with wood smoke, Three hid in the smudge on an old postcard, Many opened their eyes as my child woke, One wept by the shrine of a fallen guard, But heed this; all scribes serve a fickle muse, Friend of the arts, but a sly patroness, We sit by her knee enthralled but confused as warmth converts to such cold adverseness. Courage, Dear Poet, though the silence burns, ~ Live well, soon enough lost words will return ~

Details | Dramatic Verse | |


Words are just a decoy
An excuse to dance around the truth
Underestimated silence
Proves language is uncouth

Your gut will always tell you
What your heart tries to ignore
Most try their best to silence it
Stirring an internal war

Why deny yourself of happiness?
Why pretend logic is correct?
Why hide behind a curtain?
Why pretend our hearts select?

Ignorance is truly bliss
Too bad that's not our case
Lets take a risk and show our courage
Let our souls meet face to face.

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 | Concrete | |


      oooo O
    (  I left ) 
    ) you  (
     (  my  )
      (note)          O oooo
                            (    on   )
                             )   a    (

  oooo O
(   for   )
) you  (
 (   to  )
 (read)           O oooo
                        (   ere   )
                         )  the  (
                         (sip it.)


Details | Quatrain | |


I have entered many poetry contests
to display my amazing number of sixty or more,
only one of my poems has won first place;
poets are like enduring athletes who fight to the very core! 

One big hurray goes to myself for the first win,
congratulations to the other participants
who are on the top of that list, or have been
awarded Honorable Mentions for their efforts!  

When my poem doesn't make it to the finalists's list,
I don't feel discouraged, I brazen out the doubt and try again;
even Lance Armstrong, with his skills, can't always win his race,
and the trophy must be given to someone else!

I rejoice when some of the chosen poets appear 
on the winners' list; I am happy for their accomplishment,
and into a word-restricted message's box I gladly comment
on their poetry...with the insight of an achiever!

And for those whose names never made it as previously thought,
I honestly tell you, from experience, not to be a bit discouraged...
your time will come when your enthusiasm will require a big shout;
never put the word, " Winner " to rest, write for fun and persist instead! 

Copyright 2009 by Andrew Crisci

Details | I do not know? | |

Clad In Imagery

Suited in great attire
With superb shape and perfect form
When you see through 
Naked emotion hidden in rhythm
It stirs the beating heart.

Dressed in sophisticated words
Sharp and bright
Clad in imagery and intelligent thoughts
Rhyming with good reasoning
Fitting tone and matching style.

When you begin to play with thoughts
Embedded in expensive fashion
There is a price to pay
Outfitted with costly devotion
Bringing tears to the eyes 
And questions to the seeing mind.

As you peel away layers of metaphor
They come deep down to
A single body of thought
And a vivid image emerges
That is expressive and unique.

Details | Senryu | |

Maltese Maiden

This dark haired beauty Whose romantic words grace us Our Maltese Maiden

Details | Quatrain | |


He was the bard from Stratford, and as a teenager
he helped his father in his trade; he married and had children
and became the most popular and admired play writer
in all England...acting was also his other pleasurable passion.    

Curious Queen Elisabeth was one of the thousand spectators,
who came to see him in the Globe theater...she shed tears, 
and was stunned by the performance of his timeless plays,
and yet, some of his fellow-poets criticized him for his writings!

I wish I had lived in that Victorian era so intellectual and refined,
and had met him in person and had showed him my ample admiration;
I would have asked him the secret, which made him so legendary and loved...
and he would have whispered it to me, to make me revel in that revelation!     

I have read his inspiring works, and tragedies rampantly occur
from " Romeo and Juliet"...the Verona's immortal lovers, through" Hamlet "
whose insanity was undoubtedly caused by the specter of his father; 
and why didn't Shakespeare choose less dramatic plays not ending in death?

He wanted to teach us indelible lessons to show us how the human spirit
can be passionate, adamant, loveless, envious, cruel, unfair and treacherous...
to outline all kinds of guilt: from murder to envy so well-expressed with eloquence;
it's no mystery to anyone how he conjured up such plots with grief, madness and wit!    

Shakespeare was no ordinary kid, and he played with his siblings on Henley Street,
neighbors saw him trot to his grammar school, later he would make everyone weep; 
early in adolescence, did his prodigious mind envision one from a vague thought?
It's no wonder that he is widely read even today...hear his speak, he'll impart worth!  

Entered in Amy Green's contest, " Wow Me With Inspiration "

Details | Rhyme | |

Mrs Carol Brown

Communities have a pillar
Carol is this ones name
Our Poet Laureate
Who demands no fame

This poetess
Called Mrs Brown
Is more like a mother
In Poetry's Soups town
She cradles and welcomes
Us poets anew
To this amazing website
A community so true

She's now back in the fold
Where she loves to be
To read what she can
Of you and thee

So Mrs Carol Brown
For your kind comments and words
The Honor given to you
Undoubtedly deserved

" For Mrs Carol Brown "

Details | Lanterne | |


leaf blown
in the air-
whispered words to
in my mind
or scriptures I 

Details | Rhyme | |


Change is the only constant - we know this to be true,
Some of us wait them out - to see what will ensue.
Still others try to fight them, happy with the way things are,
A few fall into day dreams and wish upon a star.

Some changes are rather easy while others are quite hard,
Which ones must we live with - which ones can we discard?
Changes come throughout our life no matter where we go,
A few come fast and furious, yet others subtle and slow.

When changes come upon us decisions we must make,
All the while juggling priorities - them not to forsake.
The best that we can do while traveling down life's road,
Is to help our friends and family carry their precarious load.

Details | Free verse | |

Sweet Sweet Emily

I was born in Amhurst Massachuetts
on Decenber 10  1830 
and had died May 15  1886

My hair is bold like the chestnut burr
and my eyes like the sherry in the glass
that the guest leaves behind

I cannot write about the world without
first backing away from it and then
comtemplating it from a distance

A word is dead when it is said
Some say I say it just begins
To live that day 

Who Am I ?

My Poetess Sweet
Emily Dickinson

Details | Rhyme | |

" Hail to Raul Moreno "

May i thank for the Honor
To be free on this site
To be allowed to express
Our mind and its write
We do unto others
As they do unto us
They allow us to write
No deliberation for crass
A lovely poet who wrote his mind
Its his to applaud
And for us to be kind
Read and dissect
As we interpret his say
Poets like Raul
Are here every day
So what ever he writes
On any given day
His freedom to express
In his own way
His feelings and thoughts
Are entirely his say
" Hail to Raul Moreno "

Details | Free verse | |

Poetry in Motion

Poetry is the only way I know to just be me
I can write what's on my mind and no one else will see
I just take my pen and paper, writing what I feel
It always comes straight from the heart
And all of it is real 
Some people may not understand the meaning of my words
But I just free my stressing mind
And feel better, rest assured

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 | |

No Apologies

     Rumour has it
that you write

     There are many 
amateur critics ready

to put you down

    You don't have to 

     for your life style,
for your work

     for anything you do
    When the summer begins 
        to die

  Feel the winds of
 September in your bones

    Let your creativity 
grow like a late-blooming 

     Now you feel 
only the wind

     It doesn't judge 

     It frees your spirit 
from the stifiling heat
     Let the sound of 
Reach your soul

Pick up a pen

  Tell them your hopes, 
wishes, dreams

Let the critics talk

You are the 
flowing river
of magic words

Details | Free verse | |

Inkless Pen

Solid lines of no solidarity;
scribbling at paper with an inkless pen.
to a time when rhyme meant decent lines
in due time.
And now I’m stuck with this darn inkless pen;
scribbling for weeks on a blank sheet of paper.
Scribbling for weeks and the end-product is this;
at least an end-product exists!

Details | I do not know? | |

Brainwaves (2005)

Brainwaves- not just an invented excuse
These ideas are born for a use
When I sleep arbitrary thoughts sing
Like in a cartoon, I see a light bulb and hear a ‘ting’
Thoughts pour like they do now
No explanation, they just appear somehow
Your probably thinking this is taking me ages to write
As I speak my words strike
Its not even a minute and my brainwaves materialise 
The whole world is waiting to realise
Brainwaves come to those who are gifted somehow
They are happening right now

Details | Rhyme | |

In the Spire to Be Inspired

It's the taste of clouds
the purr of words
the whisk of wind
we thought we heard
It's everything
rolled up and sent
a package filled
with sugar mint
It's now and then
it's years gone by
It's every thought
which makes you cry
It's passionate
It's salt and stone
It's the moment I leave
and you're alone
It's "Call me now!"
It's "Leave me be!"
It's all of you 
and some of me
It's hands to hold
and songs to sing
It's our first kiss
It's everything

Details | Rhyme | |

Power to the Poet

    Power to the poet, power to the muse
power to those who dont refuse
to show their emotions under the sun
    say it and sing it , a victory won
 Power to truths that must be told
    handed down from bards of olde
gifts of syllables crafted right
    hanging oer your head tonight
waking you up to write them down
    filled with fury and eider down
write that its okay to cry, to grieve for 
those who had to die
    To tell them they may hold the light
for others passing in the night
    Power to the poet wracked with pain
who tells us all to try again
    Power to the child inside the man
who wrote it down and said " I CAN "
    Power to God who gives us the choice
to lift our heads and raise our voice.

Details | Verse | |

Ding Dong The Wicked Witch is Dead

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

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

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

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

Details | Free verse | |

Generic Minds

generic minds listen to generic music
have generic thoughts that are unknowingly abusive
watch generic things talk about generic things
gee this generic *****is spreading like a disease
better get your flu shot 
thats what they said to me
a suicidal vaccine 
a subliminal killing spree
its contagious and the outrageous
thing about it is that the people are blind in an eye
that they didn't even know they had
it's sickening to watch these clueless civilians 
inside the looking glass
with nightmares of being free
without a key to their mind
for it is trapped in the frequency
in the illusion of time
bathed in our universe
killing all that refuse to see
those that admit to hypocracy
or see the message in hip hop
how cant you see
the message in the lyrics that
bring adolescents to their knees
from bullet wounds conflicting their flesh
contradicting that they're the best
but the songs keep telling them that they dont need no rest
that they dont wanna go home
that they should ride alone
with the gat as their only companion
and so the only path they choose is the one that they're told
until they grow old and hope turns to a window pane
inside a window pane, until all they feel is pain
they realize that the music itself is ashamed
so whats to look up to
when you cant even speak when you cant even walk because you look so bleak
your eyes are sunken from the tv you're infested with the dee zees
now its too late to turn around and live for your conscious
so when youre screaming oh please
close your eyes and bring your mind to life
open your eyes for the first time
and never wonder why
since the answer this entire time
has been inside
and you better find it before you die
you dont want your soul to be in a pool with all the others
a buncha brothers missing their mothers
but only seeing strangers
only feeling the haters
wishing they would have used their minds when they had them
and now its too late,
now it's time for another new born fate to grab them

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 | Rhyme | |

Warm Soup

For a week or two
my soup was cold

my thoughts and rhymes
weren't in the bowl

now the soup begins to warm
and my words are free to form

Details | Haiku | |

The Internet: Return

A void of Facebook
Creativity dies here...

Details | Imagism | |

Poetry: Doggerel And Rhyme

It is our poetic verse
That releases the restraints
Opening our minds eye 
To flowing sincere thought  

It is the flowing of ink
That becomes our salve
Healing our wounds and scars
Allowing us to be unafraid again

It is the poet’s candid opus
The voice of the untainted spirit
Transferring our tedious passions
From internal, to pen, to parchment,

It is our steadfast sanctuary 
Where we hide in total exposure
Our poetry is the end of  todays voyage
For we who dare to wander

Details | Free verse | |

My Love---a very special original Japanese poem

Contractual agreements with publisher caused DELETION

Details | Rhyme | |

Hurtful Words

Hurtful words are like a brand,
They sear the heart, they leave a scar.
Words of anger, words of hate,
Like poisoned darts they hit their mark.

Instilling doubts of worth and self,
Destroying confidence and peace,
Words can cut deeper than a blade,
Causing fragile friendships surcease.

Words can hurt but also heal.
Helpful, caring words can bring to life,
Forgiveness and reconciliation.
Words of hope trump words of strife.

Let us use our words for good,
To build one up and not tear down,
To create a lovely work of art,
That brings a smile and not a frown.


Proverbs 12:18  "Reckless words pierce like a sword, but the tongue
                         of the wise brings healing."
Proverbs 16:24  "Pleasant words are a honeycomb, sweet to the soul
                        and healing to the bones."

Details | Iambic Pentameter | |

Blank Verse Rhyme

Blank Verse Rhyme

The master said “create blank verse in lines of ten”.
Form five Iambic feet without a rhyme.
“These five Iambic feet you must achieve”.
The verse will have a rhythm you can hear,
when studied closely this will be revealed.

For, lines of blank verse rhyming discontents
the master. “Do it over, take all night”!
The lines of blank verse sing a little song,
each syllable, each rhyme, you’ll hear them ring!
You’ll sing the tune of verses blank and pure.

And now I keep up with this blank verse trick,
I hear its tick ten syllables per line.
It rhymes so soft; I have it mastered now,
so naturally it falls right from my pen.
Oh, where will this blank verse rhyme find an end?

Yet, twenty lines of syllables came out
much faster still than I had thought they should.
I love each rhyme, the timing so precise,
I hope it pleased the eye and ear. I turned
it in, it came back very clearly signed


-Tiffany R-2009

Details | Villanelle | |

The Potency of Words

Potent words can move the soul to be still Writers’ pens may look frail, or so they seem The hands may never touch, but the hearts will Handle with care, words can be volatile Lambasting love and life, deflating dreams Potent words can move the soul to be still Seeds of thoughts grow into wisdom’s tendrils Reaching deep within, bursting the heart’s seams The hands may never touch, but the hearts will Sometimes the simplest words, without the frills are those that capture hearts, that make them gleam Potent words can move the soul to be still Words easily pass through mountains and hills, Friendships formed, faith restored, and love redeemed The hands may never touch, but the hearts will A wealth of words touch beyond writers’ quills Ink from within have warmed lives like sunbeams Potent words can move the soul to be still The hands may never touch, but the hearts will ** June 17, 2010-- written for Dr. Ram’s Villanelle Me contest :)

Details | Haiku | |

A True Haiku

A fine true haiku
Words set in five seven five
Poetry breathing

Details | Concrete | |

A Written Soldiers Fight

A supreme soldier walks truly alone in the depths of night
he is soft spoken from a life of being so hard that he was stoned until his eyes filled red bloodshot in his sight
he notices what he once thought to be? Was wrong and very far from right
So he asks God for forgiveness from his very own darkness that it may to like his Redemption be shone upon his lost light
He knows its no longer about the bullets in this battle for it is the words in his very own Mind that will matter most in this life among death upon a written soldier's fight.....

Details | Rhyme | |

He Makes Me Smile!

As I sat and wrote this poem, I was grateful for my cozy home. I started praying on my knees, And suddenly I could write with ease. I am sure, that if you pray, He’ll be there for you each day. He’ll show you your talents and your calling, And when you are down, He’ll catch you from falling. When I’m praying on my knees, I know it’s Him I’m going to please. By writing these poems and spreading the Word, He knows when they’re read, His voice will be heard! I hope He makes you smile today! I know it happens if you pray!
Michelle D. ©6/15/06

Details | Light Poetry | |

' My 300 Spartans ... ' ( or My Scheherazade )

To Commemorate My 300th Poem Here On The Soup

300 Solomons
300 Beacons
300 Spartans
300 Martyrs

300 Tales Done
300 Threads Spun
300 Heartsongs
300 Touchstones

300 Scheherazade
Only 700 More, GOD
and Wherever YOU Beam Me
10,000 More, Gleam Me

 - - - - - - - - - -

… I Have Lost 200 Poems
But Here Are 300
Because I Open My Arms
To Inspiration Undaunted …

“ Pancakes, Preserves, Poached-Egg & Pork
Maple-Syrup, Milk and Sun-Motes In The Morn
Calling My Name, Just Like Flapjacks To A Fork
Psyche Is Picking Up Poems, Like Babies Just Born “

- - - - - - - - - -

A Childhood Poem Remembered …

           I See The Moon
      and The Moon Sees Me
       GOD Bless The Moon
         and GOD Bless Me

… and Long Live, The Love Of Poetry …

                                 The  MoonBee

Details | Tetractys | |

Let This Soul Rejoice (tetractys)

this heart,
cleanse this mind,
fill it with joy...
Thus, my soul shall rejoice forevermore

Written for Brian Strand's Five and Twenty (Tetractys) Contest

Details | Tetractys | |



.   . ` ` ` .   .

Ink, you haunt my waking breath ~ with eyes closed in prayer, let’s meet in blanks of pages Here, I am lost in the mist of soul’s dance shaping nude words of warm heart~ digging flesh

Details | Idyll (Idyl) | |

Beethoven Opus 133---poetically

Contractual agreements with publisher caused DELETION

Details | Rhyme | |

My quiet place, not so quiet

My quiet place, not so quiet
Headphones in, let's begin
Music and dancing inspire me
Begin of words within

Emotions turning into words
Dancing the pain away
Everything and everyone that hurts
Writing what I can’t say

My quiet place, not so quiet
Headphones in, let's begin

Details | Narrative | |


Literature was pursued
by the greatest individuals who ever lived,
and they left us works of unsurpassable wisdom;
human emotions have always been the same, 
and this can't attest to the fact that they will not change anytime soon,
but the freer we are, the further we go up in our balloon.

The richest heritage of Humankind
is found in the written word, which is heard often and not really understood;
where would we be today without the plays and sonnets of Shakespeare that were quite sad,  
or Dante's famous canto, not excluding superb works by modern writers?...
During the dark ages, monks translated books from Greek and Latin into common languages;
as the barbarians destroyed everything found in their path, civilization did not end.

Tragedies of famous people attracted the lucrative minds of poets who had heard of them,
thus embellishing them with their vivid imagination and present actual facts...I follow in
their poetic footsteps, writing down stories that have recently happened, or occurred
before I was born; and with ideas as interesting as theirs, I continue in that tradition
without envying their unaging expressions and distinguished style, but by aggrandizing them.

Literature has finally found its merited place in History, unlikely a hundred years ago,
more people are voraciously reading, and keeping the writers busy by admiring
their sensational works, making comments of encouragement to boost up their optimism;
and to theaters they go and spent an entire night to listen to drama and scoff,
laugh, or cry when emotions intensify by the sconces of the electric lights; and cheering,
they applaud the richest heritage of Humankind on stage, and are captivated by its scenario.

Copyright 2009 by Andrew Crisci

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 | Free verse | |


I ponder the same thoughts as he.
But my words are rocks.
Illusive, words go beyond feeling them,
Beyond memories,
Deep into native instincts
Forgotten in generations of rebirth.

His stones are
Time before; time hereafter;
A time capsule within;
A mystery without.

Mine are rocks.

Inspired by the poem "Stone," by Charles Simic, current Poet Laureate

Details | Dramatic monologue | |

Self-Portrait of Life

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… I am still here enduring it and how I am still here even to share it…Thank You “Great One Above”…..

Details | Free verse | |


Sometimes I sit on my loneliness
In a place full of quietness
and Listen as my heartbeat
to the rythm of time
And dream that one of the days
A voice trapped in my inside
Will come out as loud as thunder
To make a sudden impact
To be admired by the whole world
And free me from this
Prison of obscurity
I sit there and wonder
If really the talent I possess
Is the right weapon
To hunt for this desired success
And start to feel my confidence
Repelled by demoralizing thoughts
And feel myself a tiny star
tiny enough not to be seen
Yet I do not stop dreaming
Of one day being freed
from this prison of obscurity

Details | Epic | |

Standing Up For Immigration Rights

In the United States of America, all immigration laws must be in effect at all times. It's
been like that since the Civil War started and the signing of the Declaration of
Independence. But everybody must accept the fact that the people from different countries,
including India, are becoming citizens of the United States. It seems that some people
don't want them in our country because all foreigners will not just take their jobs or
whatever, but commit crimes everywhere they go, including solicitation or whatever. Well,
the last time everybody had checked, the united States of America was called "the land of
opportunity." Now I, for one, am for immigration rights. Just like these people from
Mexico, Haiti, China, or wherever these people are from, they have rights, just like all
of Americans do. Some people like me should make them feel welcome in our country, but
some them are always judging these foreigners by their religions, faiths, and/or beliefs,
background, or whatever. The ones who have always been hateful towards the people who
aren't U.S. citizens since 2006. And some people are ignorant, selfish, and on top of all
that they're a bunch of hypocrites, just like the Ku Klux Klan who've always wanted all of
us African-Americans to go back to our country called Africa. How stupid is that? Okay,
sure, these people from foreign countries may need to pass background checks in order to
become citizens of the United States of America, but the fact of the matter is that day in
and day out these people, from around the world are God's children, and these people
really need to stop being ignorant and arrogant--for once. If I'm going to stand up for
immigration rights, everybody should stand up for the people from around the world,
including Egypt and Afghanistan. And no matter whether he or she is Muslim, Buddhist, or
Catholic, or whatever, we're all an equal and we are all God's children. God bless
America, and the whole wide world.

Details | Alliteration | |

The Unseen Miles

Yeah I can get so hyped up with life so high I'm so freaking verbally drunk like a psycho,
 Mind so wrong nothing in my vocabulary at that time in my mind can get right though,
 A piece of this hate cake in this corrupt dictionary I'm going to have to take a bite though,
 Whether the answer is written in hell yeah or heck no, 
Im going to shoot through your deer less body like a scoped out rifle, 
You just another liar if you say my words aint make your mind shake and awake with a stifle,
 Im shooting sideways, up, down, so much I get high low, 
I could be telling true lies when you see my fake gun ridden smiles, 
I might just shoot self in head because Im getting a little too suicidal, 
Im in need of God because I keep skipping planned revivals, 
Im reading the rhyme master Shakespeare I aint reading the Bible, 
Im playing with word bullets shiny as a burning star struggling for simple survival,
 I want people to tell the truth but cant help but keep telling themselves lies though,
 Hiidden demons in the book of lifes closet dont tell me how it is because I know,
 I too onced played with life like a toy plastic as Tyco, 
Im going to stand out in this world like the tower of Eifel, 
Im going to bring out all my freaking hidden poetic files, 
Im putting word ryhme puzzles together like floor tiles 
Im going to do it now not later gator or after while crocodile, 
I got little time in life left on the sun dial, 
I got but few years or even months left before I face my ultimate trial, 
But first Im going to have some fun into the night sun until I get riled, 
But family comes first I must start to think of my own seed, my very own child, 
I got to stop the ways of living stupid like Im out of hand so wild, 
I must drink from the fountain of life like the Egyptians do from the Nile, 
Pull my own way out this ****ing trash, this bull *****pile, 
I got to stay strong in the mean time because everything in life takes a little while,
 Sometimes I dont give a **** about nobody because it feels as if I have nothing to live for, but now I got a child I would die for
 So now I must keep living because if I die I know I would leave behind a child behind that I would cry for,
 I must walk that road less traveled like a car breaking down on the open road still trying to idle,
 Walking amongst greats is going to be my own personal hypo, 
I will walk strong in the days that I die in my last UNSEEN MILES......

Details | Ballad | |

Im Gone

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

Details | Free verse | |

Good Poetry

Good poetry
is deeply felt,
is clear and musical --
not muddy and confused,
not inept and thoughtless;
not mere dumb prattle.
A poet must
shape language
to his special needs,
understand its proper uses,
harness its power and,
above all, use it
to display, to celebrate,
to glory in his own innate
creative spark.

Details | Light Poetry | |


I once was like a catipiller young,naive,and new
Always living from my heart not knowing what
else to do.Easy to take advantage of, that is 
just the case, people would walk over me
like I was their dirty used up suitcase.
Now I feel a newness coming, like a light
shining from the sky, colors fill my world
and I know I am blooming into a butterfly.
Purple,Pink, Blue and Green I can feel them
flowing through. Colors of the rainbow raising
me into full bloom. Wise and strong I am becoming
My faith leads me where I need to go giving me
insight and wiseness for only me to know.
I have not  done this on my own you see
I have been guided by God and Angels
on this Earth. Wise words the wisdom at
it's best comes from a wise lady who
seems to know me best. Lucky, I am 
to have her in my life, she always shoots
it straight and tells me like it is, knowing
her words touch my heart and gives me tons of faith..
I feel like flying through the sky or climbing 
a tree way up high. I feel like observing the 
world just like a brand new butterfly so as I
Bloom I become Anew something unlike the past
Smart and wise beautiful on the inside and outside 
 a touch of color here a touch of color there
makes me glow and become a beautiful blooming butterfly...

Written By: Christina A McCullouch 

Details | Haiku | |

Haikus About God: III

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

Details | Narrative | |

Scarlet Portmanteau

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
Travelled he
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.

Duke Luke
Took a look 
At his portmanteau
In hopes of seeing something

He found


Details | Imagism | |

Muse Entreaty

Muse, I ask for such passion in my words you give.
I crowned you today the queen of many stars.
I sincerely wish style, rhyme, flow, images, profound.
My desire in life is that my words continue to live.
They may understand beyond earth, beyond Mars.
Throughout the universe until peace does compound.
Muse, live within my heart and soul forever more.
My gifts I give to you only material and fleeting.
They come from my spirit to please and adorn.
You are the only one that knows my divine score.
Without your charm, my words would be defeating.
Your talent has been amazing to me every morn.

Details | I do not know? | |

Bipolar High

Once in a bipolar high he gave me a pen
A key, to unlock the writer within

He said, a world of thoughts, words
Randomly intertwined into poetry

His high, his belief, his world
That lasted just time in minutes

It's his pen - a gift to me
That inks the words to this poem

A dedication to his bipolar high.

Details | Blank verse | |

Who I am Today

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

Details | Rondeau | |


Look at them, all lonely people
Soaking your words in churned ripple
For in dreams are born, a spiked fire;
Twisting on strings plucked by your pyre
And lines croon, rising breath’s whistle.

Spilled notes creep and rouse life’s riddle
Let it be, verse gropes in vigil
Guitars strumming peace on live wire,
Look at them.

To us you say, make life trickle
Your hands moan for visions fickle;
Telling the world love’s not for hire.
As fused pair, melodies conspire
To ignite true bliss’ desire,
Look at them.

*Rondeau form

*Lennon-Mc Cartney Tandem
*Thanks to my uncles for their Beatles passion


Contest by Michael Falotico:
What Songwriter or Writers Inspire You
5 July 2012

Details | Rhyme | |

Blank Page

Too long have I been staring at this cruel blank page before me, My crazed, hysteric mind screaming and imploring I know there is a message that's dying to come out— I need to fill this confounded page without the slightest doubt! It's a simple predicament to manipulate, Into a mass of thought A futile attempt to insinuate, Weak hints are left with naught I sit here in silent desperation, What can fill this page? I slap myself in indignation, My eagerness becoming rage! Like roaches sporadically running from light My thoughts are but a haze The words I write just don't seem right, On this cruel blank page!

Details | Sonnet | |

Sweet Inspiration

As if the words beg to float from my throat, But only spill with the ink of my pen; Only with nature's embrace and sweet coat Do I feel truth form in words and begin. Solitary confinement- I'll find peace; Only within, I can feel the soft hum . . With each stroke, and spill, a gentle release To nature's sweet music, pluck, and soft strum. Nature shall comfort, wherever I go; No matter the warm breeze, or the cold bite. . Caressed by nature, rocking to and fro' While I admire each beautiful sight. So now that no one's here to inspire love, I'll find it around, within, and above.

Details | Free verse | |

Dripping Pages

Contractual agreements with publisher caused DELETION

Details | Couplet | |


I wanted to enter the contest offered by P. D.
As I can do couplets like 1 - 2  - 3.

When looking at the list of Foxy things to write
The Silver Fox Fur for P. D. came home to bite.

She doesn't deserve one of reddish hue
But Silver, yes indeed with, she could do.

For the special poetry writes P. D. puts on
Many a contest with them she has won.

Words that flow like "Slam, Bang, Boom"
Could only come from P. D.'s Foxy Room.

When they are read and and read over by me
Sometimes I see how Foxy she can be.

That's the real art in the written form
Doing something outside the established norm.

Words so clever, cute, rewarding, and sly
Make P. D.'s Foxy side show so apparently.

That's why the color of fur cannot be red
It wouldn't fit the gifted nature that fox can tread.

So "A Silver Fox Fur for P. D." is one I would award
To one of the Foxiest writers I am drawn toward!

For P. D.'s Inner Animal Contest.

Details | I do not know? | |

Crucifier (poem story)

On the day He died, I felt ashamed.
Quiet and remorse, I wanted to remain..
Why did I follow the ways of the worldly men?
When they mocked, scorned and spit on him?
I was the cause for what He went through.
I tried to find comfort; but, guilt was all I knew.
I couldn't eat or sleep, knowing He was dead.
Wishing now, I could take back everything I did or said.
When I had no one, He took care of me.
Set in my ways, his caring; I couldn’t see..
When I was ridiculed He didn’t take part.
Every kind thing He did, came from the heart.
He showed love to the rich and the poor.
To the lonely and the broken hearted, He restored.
How could I have been so prideful and blind?
How could I have been so cruel and unkind?
Sadness and guilt would not give up.
I wanted desperately to have taken the cup.
Why did I point at him and yell “Crucify!"
Part of the crowd, I sentenced him to die!
Oh, my Judas heart what have I done!
Oh, heavenly Father, I have betrayed your Son!
Crying and weeping, my heart slowly withers away~
So ashamed of what I took part in and witnessed that day.
As the days and nights slowly wore on.
I knew in my Judas heart what must be done.
In my heart I no longer wanted to live.
My own life, I wanted to give.
I bowed my head, feeling laden with sorrow.
What is the future of man's tomorrow?
I lifted up my face with tear stained delight.
There beyond me a beautiful luminous sight.
Was that Jesus standing there? Or was it a dream?
I wanted to run and tell him those things I said, I didn't mean.
I walked up to him crying and at his feet I knelt.
He looked at me, knowing my heart; what I felt.
He showed me his nail pierced hands~
Why He still loved me, I didn’t understand..
What I did I could no longer face.
But, in loving arms, I realized I was saved by his grace.
He said, He loved me and all men still.
That He died because it was His Father’s will~
That, through him, all men might be saved.
I knew then, in place of ours, his life He gave.
That all men may repent and be forgiven.
To be in heaven eternally~
Not In Hell, forever condemned. 
To reign with the heavenly Father~
For all eternity, where unconditional love abides~
To be with Christ forever~ by His side.

Details | Rhyme | |


Inscribe it all down 
Just read it do not make a sound
Leave nothing behind 
Poetry is the world of creative minds 
Some words quite short-lived
Support and respect is what you need to give
Poets are possessed of senses 
That allowed them to perceive
Read it with a thoughtful mind and you will receive
For tomorrow is never yesterday
Far beyond what words can say 
Or any eyes could see 
Keep reading just do not believe me
We have perception and knowledge 
That is what makes us skilled and polished
Like water the words flow 
Very gifted as a prophet as well;
Friend to Gods and heroes, 
With so many tales to tell? 
I do not depend on man’s well-being or material prosperity
It is like trying to cure the outward symptoms and neglect the main cause of the malady
Poetry is generally viewed as the look of human joys and sorrows
I will always put pen to paper whether it is today or tomorrow
Poetry has reached a higher level of consciousness and inspiration
There is no other explanation 
It renovates a satisfying experience and delights
That is why I love to write

Details | Alliteration | |

We Beat Until We Battered

We sometimes drink and smoke so much We get beat until we are battered 
Our dreams were like one giant wall of glass where upon they were destined to be shattered
 Broken in a heap of glass we now stay occupied where lost souls continue to gather
 Dark yet so desolate living amongst those were nothing in life but a quick death seems to matter
 It seems as if the harder we try the more below we get needing somekind of ladder
 All I hear are silent screams among gossiping chit chatter 
Our truth is getting skinnier while our lies are well fed by the way the are getting fatter
 Crying souls overcome those that are filled with laughter 
The clock for many of us gets slow but our life train to death only gets faster 
Many of us which remain lost in addiction looking for a positive leader, a mentor, some kind of master
But when shyt hits the fan we must remain strong even if we just lost someone close and are feeling sadder
 If life is to throw us those curveballs in a the ring then its time stop mr nice guy and get badder
 You must endure the shyt that you got to endure even if it gets your hands and feet a little tathered
 Life can and will get you drunk so handle your drink or let it bring you down until you can no longer stagger
 You must tell yourself **** them and everybody else because you still got skill even if you aint got swagger
 Just tell yourself "**** they judgements" because you know in your own eyes you still look sharper than a dagger

Details | Free verse | |

The Bookworm

Words Bound Together Thoughts Formed Between Lines Knowledge To Absorb Learns The Bookworm Wishes Expressed By Letters Ideas For All To Share Building Blocks For Peace Believes The Bookworm Fact or Fiction Penned Expressions of Desire Mystery Exposed, Secrets Veiled Hunted By The Bookworm

Details | Carpe Diem | |


knowledge afloat
remains powerless 
to be 
plugged in 
bugged out
the radio alarm clock

use colors
push buttons 
twist knobs

pull into parking space
sunburn in the spot
gathering rays to erase the poison

polluted cells
a trade secret to 
tastily treat one's self

take the high road
the shady street
the path less traveled 
which one matters little
especially when
in comparison terms with 
the reward, the apple, the brain food, the 
                                   can-eat buffet...
there at the fingertips 
of y.o.u.

Details | Couplet | |



Forever is the word I quoth here
For how long I want to be here

Creativity powered  with watts of battery
On this lovely haven of flowing poetry

Oh , a flashback of this tale I would like to share
ever when I held up a poem  with talents spare,

cold douche froze my buds of passions raw
up on the mind where frustrations  sat and thawed

I wandered long ,before I stumbled upon here
words I scribbled on almost everywhere,

seasoned with emotions from mundane to rare
and tossed and turned till it dulled and grayed.

Some poked  with a 'now what' ,and a few sighed,  
a few ignored , many dug  with words which pacified.

Just a couple or two came thumbs up
pulling out the deep thorns of years ' rump.

Past is past , and I don't care , now on the Soup I dwell
With the soup I rise and I fall, on the Soup are my tidings as well

Lost in lyrical  rainbows ,dinner and shower a pineal clock reminder
With amazing  poet pals , treasures from distant worlds meander...

Forever is the word I quoth here
For how long I want to be here

Creativity powered  with watts of battery
On this lovely haven of flowing poetry....

Details | Free verse | |



Your sunset-sanctioned skin ignite melody to boredom world
Your gently pearling smile charm the attention of morning sun.
Your charmed souls burn in nuclear passion
To absorb the bombardment of your ink
You are the unsolved mystery of existence 
                By pd
The sunrises 10 feet off the ground
This place carried the eternal light I need for my soul to soar.
Like the clouds every poet brush away my blues with one simple smile
Writing ignited my heartbeat to flicker like a candlewick non-stop.
I hold that piece of puzzle that makes my existence complete
Elegantly you walk, Venus-like
Printing glory-of-gods on excited earth
Holding hostage your admirers' eyes
With your Gabriel-censored attire
You are truly the mystery of existence  
               By pd
My eyes I keep holding on tight.
Gathering dangerous looks, from every poets eyes.
Striking like a speed of thunder bolt, 
I fell weak like an addict to my admires streak of rays'
I'm the piece of puzzle that makes my own existence complete

Oh beautiful empress of poetry soup.
Wake thy muse and shake off the dust of block
Your fans are in inferno hunger of your welded words
Feed us again, your poetic meal that somersault the arrows of critic
For you are the unsolved mystery of existence    
                 By pd
A great source to gather the best light here on the soup.
I found my heart beating like a rush~ spontaneous 
Imaging every poem that helps me get lost in the moment
I wrote against and among the best to be like the rest
For I'm that unsolved piece of puzzle that makes my existence complete

You are kinder than nature, more hospitable than mother earth
Man and woman scramble for shelter in your cheerful hearts
For your contest, all thoughts erect pines of words
With rush of the sea storm
P.D. ((  Linda ))  is the unsolved mystery of existence  

                   By pd
Losing myself to reality, this is not like me to fall into deep.
Times maybe hard, not even a simple song to poet my mind.
The truth is, the sun has blinded me with love, and I have no SUN-BLOCK
Until my instincts tells me otherwise, I will find my way back to all my fans * true or not
I (IRMA~LINDA) am responsible for the happiness of my mysterious existence.

For Pd's  collab with me contest

Details | Ballad | |

Keep Trying

 Im Building my own teepee made from straw Logz 
I try n keep up with my cats but how can I when I cant even trust my own dogz 
I know I have a hard tyme trying to get a simple regular low paying job 
but I shall overcome, I shall rise against all my past tattz and all my ****ing oddz
 I used to be down with the evil d, now Im down with the holy G yeah dats God 
I used to give you nothing Lord now its tyme I start to giving you nodz 
I used to be all about talk, but now cuz of you Lord Im all about walk 
I spit words while I walk through gates locked either bottom or top I still rize till I drop
 I dont stop I shoot guns at fake cops tryna steal my patnaz freedom socks 
but this my life now homie I cant end up lying in chalk 
I walk my talk while I talk my walk through unknown clocks ticking away like my times tock...
I running past bumps while Im jumping over dead pits 
I struggle like many, a life of addiction I know its hard to quit 
I just had my first still hard tryna rize above the past shyt i did....
 I done placed my rez life betz...I done already placed my lifetyme bid 
I cant lie I still smoke n drink but the alcohol from my life rite now like many I struggle to rid
 I try n cover up shyt but how can I cover up tattoos Lord they come without a lid
 everymorn it feels as if I awake to a life full of crap leaving me lil tyme to give a shyt
 but thats life Lord I know now thats how we deal n what we MAKE OF IT 

Details | Rhyme | |

Dancing Sheep

When the pen has lost its way
When ideas and ink run dry
Leave the desk and turn away
Take what wings you have and fly
Leave facts and figures on the page
Free your dreams from fettered sleep
And let them take you from the stage
To floating fields and dancing sheep.

For all we are is never told
Nor ever measured by the eye
Mostly unseen we just grow old
And no one sees us passing by
We are the tethered fantasy
Most of the time we do not care
For most of what the others see
Is only what we choose to wear

But in the mind's eye's overview
We see the parts, the acts we play
We know the scripts we follow through
Just waiting for the perfect day
And maybe, one untroubled night,
We'll quietly wish upon a star
And in that moment's grip, we might,
Have just a glimpse of who we are.

Details | Quatrain | |

Hats Off To You {Vignette}

heart flutters bearing the news
appointed poet laureate
bows comrades honoring name
gift gabble raising thy brows
expectations of nil
inspirations for others

Tribute To Poetry

And To All The Wonderful Poets
Here In The Soup Bowl
I Bow To Each

Also Entry For
Brian Strand's 
Poet Laureate Contest
GL All

Details | Prose Poetry | |


Diction ENglish grammer proper nouns predicates verbs learn the way the language 
works then grow up to be a poet and throw it all away today to make new words to 
make poems bleed to make the rhymes the prose doth need. Shakespeare is an 
affluance. He rubbed off some on my purple prose. O God! how wonderful are Thy 
works! Thou makest the rotting log to nourish banks of violets, and from the 
stagnant pool at Thy word springs forth the lotus that covers all with fragrance and 
beauty! Sonnet #3,000,745,001 OH LORDy 
OH LORDy, howe wondrous is thy working beauty. Thou doth makest the rott sprout 
violets from olden logg on water bank nearest stagnant pool whilst at Thy WORD the 
lotus springeth forthwith to cover over all the smelling salts nearest hand to hold in 
cuppboard bare the bone for elbert Hubbard gone. Hark the light from yonder glaring 
glen forsook the frames the lenses now opaqued. Blind to world of beauty winter 
paints a white mistaken ache in me. Amid the bones of whited elephaunt skunks 
rome near me to harken when the crow calls daybeak come. Caw the raven quoth. 
God forbode a man, that an Englaisman should tell or act a lie, neithor the Son of 
GOD my Jesus, that He should feel repentance or compunction [for what his Father 
has promised].  Has He sayeth, and shall He not say on?  Or has He spoken and shall 
He not make it gooder. Oh LORDy. For the reasoneth He stays upon His bethroned 
placement is quite evident for iff GOD were to walk the Earth as a mere man in sight 
of all this assembled Heathorns even for just one day twold make us all so jealous of 
the miricles in the clay. For Jesus could open up his hand wiht a plott of dirty clay 
and make a violet blooming say. Oh Lordy. 

Details | Light Poetry | |

A Shoulder Above Its Neck And Fame Above Its Name

whence place thy sight up above thine shoulders, as it tarries to see no one but thee alone, even when thy path seemeth crooked, and goest astray like a lost wondering sheep, ye durst wax in the Barn of thine selfishness. Thy ego seem so high to accept rebuke and chastisement, at war with thy virtues. Been sober, thy countenance speaketh not, submitting only to thy will and thy will alone. Always wanting to so'er up high, but impatient to beget wings. Ye only bequeath Love for thy honour and thy appreciation, dost for thy increase. Art thou worthy of thine brag? Nay! But thy acclaim, betwixt fame and glory. Loudest in the proclamation of thy victories, like a conqueror from whence sing of his battles and a Merchant, fullsome and majestic. Thy Robe, when touched or felt by she below, light up fire from the fuel of thy Anger. Henceforth, beseech not thy friends, for their company art thou ruthlessly bargained with the proceedings of thy wanton folly. Verily, verily this cancer-worm soweth deeply, like the root of a deciduous Tree and just before its leaves wither away, the path to destruction befalls thee and behold! the time to take heed hath by-passed thee. Thy redemption, more difficult than building Rome because the cup of thy transgression hath gone full.

Details | Concrete | |

A Somebody Something

I was once trapped in the many past wrongs now days I'm doing what it takes for a better life in the very few rights.
 Im writing through these violent dark hard days while thinking life thoughts in the easy peaceful bright nights.
 I search for hope of something living in this despair of nothingness looking for a past future unknown in the mind's sight.
 I see what I see in my purpose of my own destiny. 
I'm walking incarcerated while my mind is running free. 
So I am told I will be a nobody like many who never amount to nothing 
I am told I got no where to hide after all that wasted running 
But as inmate I know when I get out I will be A SOMEBODY SOMETHING.

Details | I do not know? | |

My Wishes are Simple

My Wishes are Simple

My wishes are simple,
my desires few,

to gaze upon an ocean,
and marvel at a solitary drop of dew.

My wishes are simple,
my dreams not too grand,

to feel the waves teasing my tired feet,
with no footprints left in the cool, wet sand.

My wishes are simple,
my thoughts serenely gentle, calm,

my heart resting beneath a swaying palm,

healing my being, caressed by nature's soothing balm.

Details | Rhyme | |


Poetry is pure emotion
It speaks with pure devotion

It tells a story of feeling
one that can be quite revealing

Words that simply come together
Phrases forming without tether

A picture painted from the heart
To have all visualize in part

A depiction of our soul
A poem that makes us whole

Details | Didactic | |

That Word


That word
What does it mean?
Is it to glean?
Cause a ravine or seam
To tritely inflict 
The mean-
Of a theme

It seems 
That such a thing
Is small
Has little
To bring
Yes, much less

Nothing to suggest
To cause 
Keep abreast
In it's
What words 
Can’t bring
To mind’s crest
And thus
Vagueness of wit

…at best.

Details | Rhyme | |

Too late for the 7-7-4 thing, but thought I'd throw it out there anyway

Rhyming is not hard for me.
Neither is light poetry. 
Lucky that way.
OK, the stanza count's three.
Rhyme scheme is A A then B.
Lots more to say.
Where is this going? We'll see.
Dr. Suess seems to guide me
along the way.

Once upon a time's cliché,
memories of yesterday.
Then it got hard.
Do I want a fish filet?
Why can't I just run away
from my backyard?
Society has its sway
like seven syllables, eh?
Sometimes it's hard.

Yeah, so back to my backyard:
vinyards, retards, and en-guards
go with the flow.
Charcoal leaves nasty black chards
even grandma sometimes farts
those in the know
get it that … yep, can be hard.
Or soft, whatever. My cards
go for gusto.

Details | Couplet | |

A Smile That Is Mine

                                     A blank wall tells a story with many themes..
                         As a transparent look speaks without words though it seems..

                            With a blink of an eye I can write of life and how it flows..
                     And with a turn of my head I can follow highs and sprinkled lows..

                   When we walk with our heads down we stumble, but not at our feet..
                     We just miss what the horizon has given, and a new day to meet..

                          The blank wall now has splashes of this Poets painted lines..
                              And a voice seen and heard from a smile that is mine..

Details | Bio | |

Living for Something and Dying for Nothing

In the beginning I started off as just another nobody from another nowhere trying make it to somewhere as a somebody as everyone else. In the beginning I was BORN TO LIVE TO DIE, but in the process I was BRED TO LEARN TO SURVIVE. I became a CONVICT OF CHRIST through PAINFUL PLEASURES of my many struggles and strife's. I was a SINFUL SAINT but more of a sinner, mainly a loser and never a winner. I was once considered one of the best, now days I'm just trying to be lower than the rest, unseen in plain sight , NOTHING MORE NOTHING LESS. I became lost in time through my many self-taught TRUE LIES of yet another LOST FIND growing up where few DREAMS LIVE , but many more DREAMS DIE. I soon got LOCKED UP but it was very educational because I LIVED IT and LEARNED FROM IT. I was given a choice to LIVE FREE OR DIE INCARCERATED, so I made that choice to be more loved than hated, so I became UNDER LOVE and OVER HATE, I learned to stop wanting and actually appreciate. Its been hard to change so I became a POET OF PAIN. That's when I learned the truth about those who think their dying for something but they might as well be living for nothing, because I learned that real truth comes from LIVING FOR SOMETHING because I ain't DYING FOR NOTHING. So now I am forever a W.O.L.F. once a warrior of lost freedom now trying to stay a warrior of lasting freedom you know what I mean.

Details | Senryu | |

A Morning Write

by Michael J Falotico

                                                     The morning light shines..
                                                 The glow reaches my still pen..
                                                      Now dreams are written..
                                                              Inspiring bliss..
                                                  Now the sounds of day whisper..
                                                           Music to my words..

                                                          As the morning slips..
                                                      A buffet of poems are born..
                                                        With a sun drenched feel..

"Morning ,Noon and Night"
Senryu contest by Francine Roberts

Details | Haiku | |

Le Vacance Pretentieuse: Storm Part I

Gathering grey clouds
Whip crack of frothing thunder
Is this Africa?

Details | Couplet | |

The Pleasure Has Been All Mine

<               I have dipped my pen in the sublime, it's my gift to you
                 Now use it wisely and write about some captioned caught views

                 thus that of an snow-capped mountain with an eagle that soars
                 or white sandy beaches where ribbed tides rolls back to it's shores

                 maybe stars and moon dance reflecting off stilled bay's port
                 in ones head you must determine choice of words to now sort

                 from beautiful to just pleasure does not hit it's mark
                 beneath recant memory that caused the ignited spark

                observer of denial you can not destroy ones voice
                within pens stroke there comes a poet with another choice

                seize the day and come bow to the chosen word of the day
                dont let an overpowering object just get away

Written By Katherine Stella  6/26/11

Entry For A Rambling Poet's

Writing In The Sublime

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 | 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 | Didactic | |

Realm of Reality

Introduction: Life is a mystery with many ups and downs throughout the journey. The
journey filled with thoughts of tranquility and turmoil. But the perfect sensation is the
time when you get to feel closer to your Almighty, the one who understands you the best,
your closest friend, your hope and light, your solution to every problem, The mystery you
came to life to solve and to believe in.
Even in the happiest and the saddest moments, He is always there when you need Him.

Right now I am, thinking what to write
Holding my pen, it’s almost midnight,
I’m truly out of words, to express my whole life,
It’s so absurd, cut all pain through a knife
And I wish I could feel, Your presence in my soul
I know that You know, what I am going through
And I’m not sure I believe, unless I really feel
But I know when You’re not there, so I pray to feel You near

Now I can see, what this life is about
Now I do know, I’m too lost without,
Diamond in the rough, that’s what I was
But now I’m reborn by the shower of Your bliss
I’d die to satisfy, I’d do everything I can,
No matter how tough, after all I’m a man
I won’t fall apart, You’re always in my heart
I’d swim oceans and more, only to be Your friend

This undying grace of Your creation,
Time and space, more than perfection
You’ve opened my eyes and showed me the truth
You’ve blessed peace to my soul; I know what’s my role
I see two key coins, one black and one white
And all I have to join, the one with your light
Life is as it is, we make it our own
Hard or easy, full or alone

Everything grows, as they all involve
With the rose you put down, to show us what’s love
I wake up early, to see Your beauty,
Throughout the morning sun, I feel complete and done,
I drive all the way and see my problems solved,
By Your love from above, I stand still so firm
Everything I do, everywhere I go,
Every moment I breathe, I remind myself of You…my Almighty.

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 | Haiku | |

Le Vacance Pretentieuse: Storm Part VI

Water licks your feet
Far cry from the beating sun
Desert sand to sea

Details | Couplet | |

A Poet Was Born

                                                    I once lived inside a box…
                                      It had just four walls and a hanging clock…

                                  I stood in the middle and reached for a sound…
                                       Until a glimmer of light splattered around…

                                         My mind and soul pushed with emotion…
                                       In time it tipped by a heart with motion…

                                       A scroll of paper from today till tomorrow…
                                 With an ink dipped pen filled with joy not sorrow…

                                      I scribbled words till my fingers were worn…
                                  While in the shadows of a box a Poet was born…

Details | Acrostic | |

Unexpected Peers (An acrostic ode to Poetry Soup and it's members)

Unexpected Peers (An acrostic ode to Poetry Soup and it's members)	






            I haven't been on this site long, but many of you have already made me feel
welcome, and, moreover, like I belong.  I'm finding myself as inspired as I have ever been
to keep writing, and to keep growing as a writer, thanks to your support, your contests,
and your own original posts.  This is, truly, a special community.  
            Thanks for allowing me to become a part of it.

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 | Senryu | |

' King David's 23rd Psalm ... ' (Classical - Tribute) 61st Senryu

‘ King David’s 23rd Psalm … ’ (Classical-Tribute)  61st  Senryu

The Brave Should Know Song:
King David’s ‘ 23rd Psalms ’
Makes Warriors Stay Strong

Details | Clerihew | |

We can swim beyond the storms

Unknown friend immerses 
In my fullerene verses,   
And finds four allotropes forms… 
We can swim beyond the storms.

Details | Free verse | |

Don't Wanna Claim It

Dang heart flutters, clutching at me...
little hard to catch my breath, these days
been running hard, feeling like I done gone
and run the marathon without training
They trying to tell me ... That I'm
Under the weather again... humpf.
They are telling me 
of all people -- to take it easy...
they don't know me to well, do they ~
Never been much on complaining...
that takes too much energy...
Although it seems that
My body is a wee bit tired lately,
needing a little rest that's all...  
too tell the truth
I ain't 'bout ta claim nobody's illness
Not today nor any t'other
I'm standing here for the third time
they say three's a charm... hey--hey Now!
Fat lady sing if you must,  but just you know
I ain't going no where, shoot, if the tune be right...
I might just sang along with you... 
play me that song sweet music man ~
Tell 'em all I'm still striving to do the best I can...
See I got a whole lot more living to do
and I ain't gonna claim that ticket, 
 No, I don't wanna cash it all in -- just yet...

Details | Rhyme | |

The Beach At Eby Rd - - - My Quiet Place

The Ocean breeze soothes me. The sound of waves relaxes me. Soft sand between my toes, collecting unique driftwood to make crafts, beachcombing is my "quiet place". You can't live on an island and not love the water. I can sit and watch boats sailing by or watch eagles soaring in the sky. The beach is where I go to sooth my soul and find my inspiration. ~~~~ The Beach at Eby Rd.~~~~ (my quiet place) At the end of the road, I park, leaving my shoes behind. I walk along the sandy beach. All troubles leave my mind. I breathe in the sweet ocean air, raise my face to the sun. Inspiration flows through my veins. Another poem's begun.
for Sara Kendrick's contest "My Quiet Place"

Details | Rhyme | |

Oh life I am here

Oh life! I’m here.
Do you see me?
Oh life! I’m here
Do you hear my voice?
Oh life, I will never hate you
Even if I don’t reach what I aspire
Oh life, count my breath, One, two
I still exist, live and respire.
Oh life! I’ll always do my best
And all the problems and complications I `all resist
Oh life! I am ready for any challenge 
That comes and will come in my way
Oh life! I still exist.
And I am still alive
Take care of me 
Never say,” you are weak”
Because I can show you how strong I am
In facing any problem coming in my way
I promise that this will happen one day.
Oh life! I’m here.
Do you see me?
Oh life! I’m here
Do you hear my voice?

Details | Free verse | |

Reflections: Intellectualism

To Dine, To Die;
Conversations spiral
While thunderous eyes
Grasp concepts to recycle.

Constant debt crisis
A political paradox
Grating social devices
Over the sorting of socks.

An endless groan
Argumental paralysis
The debate grants no throne.

Over a roast
Potatoes won't listen
To who talks the most.

"That point is so interesting"
The floor is open for chat
"What is real?" not a thing
"Meow" adds the cat.

Details | Rhyme | |

The Writer

Writing is a way to speak
when minds are strong
but bodies weak
to battle very long

When no one seems to want to hear
thoughts overpowering your heart
writing can express what's dear
with honour, truth and art

It lifts your soul when feeling sad
and satisfies a hungry crave
It brings awareness never had
and makes a coward brave

It can relieve encumbrances
have freedom from all ties
Writing brings remembrances
lost and forgotten cries

It's a place where one can vent
hidden and unspoken moods
a sanctuary where the time is spent
within life's interlude

Writings brings forth revelations
and you wonder at the creator of your mind
You look upon each new creation
fulfilled in what you find

It seems that there is nothing greater
when all thoughts need setting free
than when you put the pen to paper
and can breathe .. and love .. and be ..

Details | Didactic | |

Speak Life: the power of the spoken word

the rudder is the apparatus which steers the ship on its way
and some have liken it to the tongue of man and the words that we say
I often heard it say that the words that one speaks 
will determine the outcome of that which one seeks
to speak negative is to promote bad things and things going wrong
but to speak life to speak positive is to promote things going well and being strong

the creative word is the language that is used by man
a way for us to communicate so that with each other we can understand
when God said, "Let there be light" light came to be
for the spoken word of God is the ultimate authority

so why did God use mere words to create everything that we now see?
could it be that the power in the spoken word is one that is totally?
for the words out of our mouths can hurt or heal
for the power of the spoken word in our minds is so real
we know that physical pain will ultimately fade away
but the words spoken to people in their hearts will forever stay

so don't speak negative, don't use words that can hurt, harm or kill
speak life, speak positive use the creative word as God will

Details | Couplet | |

Life is an Aventurous Squirrel Run

I have my Hubby’s steadfast belief in me.
He loves how my poems are light and airy.
He’ll give me an idea once in a while…
Then he escapes to come back, later to read my new child.

He calls these run-throughs a squirrel run.
For they can take off in directions, yes, any one.
Crazy thoughts become crazier still…
And story time leads to god knows, where they will.

My thinking is kind of like chasing around a tree.
You never know where the end will be.
But somewhere I eventually become truly still.
And that is where my Hubby adds into the trill.

Then the squirrel run begins again…
Light and fluffy and full to the brim.
Each day a new adventure... waits around the bend.
Live it. Love it. Write it... You'll be happier in the end.

Contest: Emotion: Squirrelly and fun   CSEastman

Details | Free verse | |

The Pristine Society

Contractual agreements with publisher caused DELETION

© 2011 JSL

Details | Heroic Couplets | |


TO DANTE ALIGHIERI                                                      

As a student I found passion
Not in jocks, which was the fashion—

but in Dante and his time
his haunting tale in perfect rhyme
what a mind--- what a brain

modern guys just complain

Dante my first major crush
You set the bar to make me trust
That truth and beauty do exist
Bequeathed my heart's poor pen persist

Betrothed as a child Florentian's law
You loved a woman that you saw
By chance in public on the street
You were lightning on your feet

Wonder of a man you were--
All your life with thoughts of her
mad love for Bea-- romance afar
This love bizarre survived a war 

Your published work sings just of her
Your wedded life seems like a blur--
Maintained your children's adoration
through long years of separation

Oh, most daunting was your child
Adoring you through days most wild
And when you lost your wealth and fame
She took nun vow's and donned Bea's name

And through amazing life and verse
You’ve taught me nothing can be worse
Than losing dignity and heart---

All valiant souls survive fresh starts.

Details | Free verse | |

Poetry: For The Words, Are All Around Me

The secret syllables
and words
surround me
in a morning fog
I absorb them through
the places I wonder
ideas I ponder
they flow into my blood
as they spill from my rose
like shameless water
they sweep into me
like the wind behind my bare knees
they whisper into my ears
within the summers breeze
they creep u on me
like a bottle feeling
emerged from being
cloaked deep within
the search for a pen
and paper, feverishly
into the depths of my soul
the intensity
is hard to control
like a wave, the words
tumble over me
grainy sands distort
my messages vision
as I struggle to write
how I remembered the piece
would begin
it feels like a rush
of electric
lightning bolts of
jolt through my body
shooting from me
stories of grief, and struggles
things I share to help
not to repeat
of loss and love
like a bottled sermon
thrown from above
the words hit me

Details | Ballad | |

Back On That Road Again

Yeah I'm back on that same road once more, 
Struggling like litterally I see our very children eating off the dirt floor' 
Who can really give a **** about dollars because where Im from over ninety percent living dirt poor,
 Even down here the struggle remains the same, 
Alcohol remains top dog around here it wont change, 
We want something different yet we keep seeking just a little more money, just a little fame,
 We aint happy with what we got now so we let the bull *****get to the brain.......
 Its sad how our people let even ourselves be lowered to ask for pocket change, 
We dying fast, no not our people but our culture cant you see the blood stains? 
Cant you see the youth playing games, six feet deep is where many of our very own youth sleep, forever trapped in their death beds still laying,
 I just hope I am remebered strong when Im gone confused why sometimes I wont stop praying...........but its alright though because Im back on that road again lost without family or friends......I dont know where to stop but I know where it begins........there's a meaning to everything in the start on this road so lets make this a memorable End......

Details | Rhyme | |


something we said so many times before
a crack in the door
a bit of a poet in all of us
red dust
sunset can’t catch
little bits o’memories
tickles under the tongue
a go-out and get you-one. . . of those
strip the rags off the rappers and sell them off for clothes
make math, in the mathematicians’ presuppose
fire sell it off to celeritas
one more big blink in the big goggles
golden fish missing in the adjustment of pince-nez
had to turn out that way
when all we did was

Details | Quatrain | |

My Rock n Roll Party - In Memory of Mr Tom Bell - Poet

"Roll on tonight my mates are coming round For a few cold beers and some rocking sounds Time is drawing near, as I hear a knock at the door Blimey! at this time of the night, a vacuum salesmen stands before" "Hey pal make it quick, I have a party to host Tell me your pitch, now disappear your a ghost The best place for them is in the lunar craters Sucking on Listerine soaked tissues, singing, "see you later alligator" "Another knock on the door, and I'm pleasantly surprised All my intended buddies on my doorstep, the parties arrived For a night of drifting, ending with earache and pain Entering wormholes of insomnia, no pain no gain" "Our party is going to be like a cool Rock 'n' Roll gig Beers flowing a plenty, this ain't no highland jig We start with Frank Zappa and The Mothers of Invention Best friends and myself, our schooldays convention" "This is no wine and dine as Dire Straits play The "Sultans of Swing" sounds excellent any day Next we play Deep Purple, listening to Jon Lord's Hammond sounds Music is our medicine in six speaker surround" "In between sounds to the kitchen we head Tid-bits and more beers to keep our gig well fed We sample some Grunge Metal listening to Nuclear Waste But once again Classic Rocks rules, as Grunge is not our taste" "For the next couple of ours it's like The Monsters of Rock AC/DC and UFO, the Rock never stops We air guitar to "Whole Lotta Rosie" Wearing spandex boxer shorts, one of us drumming like Cozy" "We all awake in the morning, some with sore heads But it was never a night that we were ever going to dread It was a bunch of guys who met whilst at school Who released their friendly energy, like fools but really cool" "Tom, I never knew you, but I thank Catie for this Writing this poem, just fills me with bliss I know you will be busy, but if you happen to look down Give our convention a shout, join our Rock n Roll clowns" My tribute to Mr Tom Bell, so many people spoke about him. Reading what they said, I only wish I knew him.

Details | Verse | |


I believe,
A light will fall on me,
This will make me shine like the sun.

I believe,
All dreams of mine will meet their ends,
I will get one what I have dreamt of.

I believe,
Now I am very close to success,
As dream is needed first before we act for those.

I have dreamt it, that what I want.
Action is the next step that I have to take.
My patients will support me through all pains,
My dreams will give me courage to struggle all fails.

I believe,
I should keep on trying the same,
Unless I get the one that I need to fame.

This or that, but it was only the way I thought about,
The success and way of living.

But believe me, now;
As my mom explained me the real success,
And she gave mystery of getting it.

I believe,
I should not kill the peace in me for my own sake,
Otherwise; humanity will die which rest in me.

I believe,
In being man of value rather than of success,
And, my success resides in keeping myself kind and considerate to others.

(Written this poem when inspired by my mother, love you mamma for making me a valuable person.)

Details | Haiku | |

I noticed that everyone likes my random poems more then my serious ones so here's another one!

poka-dots and stripes
black blue red purple and green
these are my favorites

Details | Rhyme | |

Set To Sea

"Set To Sea"                  

No more rain that taste like tears...
Took my sorrows that I buried in years...
Placed them in a bottle and sent them to sea...
Hoping the tide will carry them far away from me...
Maybe to an island where other bottles hold the same..
A place where pain and sorrow is never a game...
Now the rain is just a cool reminder of a different time...
A refreshing drop of water that tastes only of happy signs.  
So let it rain, I will lay under it and let it awake and inspire me...
So I can write and play and never dread the rain and thank the sea...
A little more insight to how I love and how I blow off steam....
I play with words and love others to read and follow my dreams...

by Michael J Falotico

Details | Lyric | |

Beautiful Inspiration

Beautiful and inspiring is he,
Who sees the world through rose colored glasses.
If only he could see what I see.
His sight is clouded with unfortunate sadness and melancholy
He views the world from a birds eye perspective,
He sees the beauty of the world around him...
Yet true love and honest beauty,
Grounded in reality
He has neglected.
He soars on eagles wings,
Beautiful inspiration is what he brings.
Strong and confident is he,
Yet blinded by loves unsure indemnity.
A broken heart, the gift of his passion
Has left him standing alone...
My beautiful inspiration.

Details | Free verse | |


I awaken to something awry, I float as a 
Wanderer between the plains of day and night
Amidst the clouds and winding streets. 
An outward compass points opposite the right
Yet, an inner voice shall be my guide

The moon shines in the sky so bright
And the sun awaits it chance to break day
What feet shall travel this road tonight?
Where there is no room for the hearts of the faint
Hurry calls the callous compass, do not stray…

However, the inner voice tells me, Not today
For the route the compass must take 
Seems easy enough, for the fool to follow`
But the long winding road journeys 
Towards brighter tomorrows

No longer adrift — it is the Way of Truth
That this once wandering soul now follows…

Details | Lyric | |

Sin And Poetry

As the night sets in, it's as black as it's ever been.
My soul is in ruin, and my heart is like a back pack carrying a load of sin.

In the closet my skeletons scream, and constantly torment me.
The rage in my blood stream causes me to blaspheme religiously!
I am doomed because I'm so consumed by that very rage;
Engulfs me like burning fire, wraps me like barbed wire that causes a rampage!

The malice in my heart craves the blood from a helpless foe.
I feel I'm being ripped apart like some dark work of Edgar Allen Poe!

So many sins to atone for, and I get on my knees to repent.
Again with my face on the floor, I pray I receive a love that's heaven sent.
The evil is eating me alive from the inside out.
I can't survive when I feel like I'm fighting a 12 round bout!

My greed has come between me and my family.
I just wanted to succeed, but I admit I did it selfishly!

I seduced Lisa knowing she was married to another man, I just didn't care.
As Lisa fell in love, I became her number one fan, and then I ended our love affair!
My conscience wouldn't let me continue on the path of destruction.
I think of the consequence of losing you and laugh because now I'm unable to function.

I now see literally that it is better to lose an eye than your soul.
As I write my sin and poetry, I cry knowing my heart is as black as coal!   

My new form written strictly for Constance's contest "Create your own form maybe" ? is called Stanlets because it consists of couplets and stanzas that rhyme and is a dark subject.
Jimmy Anderson

Details | Free verse | |

Master of Words

Oh thy, great Master of Words
Please bestow upon me great words.
These words I so desire.
Words of fancy, so I may marvel.

Master of Words,
grant me the sensuality of words.
Let them be extravagant.
I yearn for them to gush forth from my soul.

Master of Words,
I ache for perfectly placed words.
Intensely riveting verses.

Master of Words,
Bequest me my wish.

Details | Free verse | |

Shameless Self-Promotion

Here they go again.
anything to win,
in shameless 
layin’ it on thick, 
	makin’ sure it sticks,
		slappin’ it on like lotion.

“click my stuff,
and I’ll click yours too.
wanna feel like the best 
even though 
it ain’t true?”

back n’ forth complements
are so self defeating.
inflating other’s heads for praise 
is a blatant way
of cheating.

“do unto others”
but don’t lie, 
to boost their ego.
misleading them 
to raise their hopes 
should clearly be illegal.

no need to read 
a word
of their work
while scratching their backs 
all’s fair
in tactical 

poets thought to be adored 
while chewin’ truth’s gristle.
before you swallow,
broke a tooth that hurt
like a damn 

feeding on lines 
with hidden agendas 
is worse
than bein’ ignored.
cuz’ when you find 
copy n’ pasted comments, 
your hopes 
are sadly floored.

how about 
reading and endorsing work
you actually enjoy,
instead of 
feedin’ folks a line of crap 
laced with praise 
and “atta-boys!”

Details | Free verse | |

Inspiration: our Daily Bread of Life

Inspiration is all around me.  It swirles in the midst of darkness and deceit.  
Blinded by dry tears...the deliverers of this blessed word find me when I know not what to look for or where...
I and my kind walk in circles looking for and end to pain, deceit, betrayal, unlove, uncareing.  We are looking...but not invane.  

When the circles we walk in seem endless take heart and know that it is not a downward spiral...  Keep looking and you will see...  
     (C)....Catherine Buchner    2012

Details | Alliteration | |

The Prime Directive Quiz ( P D Q ) or Prolix Drama Queen Part Three of Three

‘Cause, Priests and Prophets Must Pray for The Reign…
and for Pre and Post-Op-Apocalyptic–Novocain ! …

Yet… It Doesn’t Matter, What Distress to You
 On the Planet, however Polluted or Profane
It Doesn’t Matter, What Distress to You
 Wherever the Delusional -Dimensional Plane
It Doesn’t Matter, What Distress to You
Or Danger-Plot, Prison-Door or Deepest Pain
Or Present-Defeat, or Darkest-Hours-View
even Thru Dying-Breath, Devout Prayers Proclaim
to Be Delivered- New, True, and Pulled-Thru
to Claim The Prize of Life-Perpetually-Sustained

… For Particularly, By God’s Unpronounceable Power
Thru His Son’s Unparallel- Principal-Purchase… Dower
God’s Dependents and Dreamers Will Prosper-Gain
The Prophecy,  The Promise,  The Paradise-Preordained 
The Perfect-Future  and  The Victory-Parade

… The Distant, Destiny of Eden – Never Been Doused Nor Degrade 

Then… It Won’t Matter…So, Please Dismiss The Paltry-Strain
The Days of The Deformity and Damage-Train
Will Be In The Past … Departed-Detained
Disaster and Disloyal Will Lay In A Destroyed-Plain
Damned For All Of Time –Proliferate-Blamed
A Suppository-Prophylactic-Puddle-Shame
 Patience-Persevering…Demands Punishment - Prediction-Sang… 
… Final-Draft …Stop-The-Presses!... Poll-Loudly-Refrains

When You Really Discern and Pragmatically-Attain
The Divine God and His Son’s King- Domain
Publicize Their Progenitor and Predominant Names
and Preach and Deify Like-Doting-Platoon-Swains,
 with Pedestal-Passion and ‘Plum-Plumb’, Persistence-Ingrained 

For On Position-Comparison, We   ‘All’   Pale-to- A-Feigned …
…Puppets and Peons and Dim-Witted-Parasitic-Great Danes
and Dopamine Defective, Demerol Addicted – Darwin-Poisoned-Sprains
Disoriented-Drivel, Droll-Drooling-Inane
or Just-Plain ol’ Dire-Derelicts-Insane
(and now… I have a P D Q,… for Me and You… Migraine)
Oh… May They Accept This Poor-Placard-Crane

                    Amen… Again… Amen

Details | Free verse | |

Written Thanks

I thank you
with every word I write
every confession I pen

I thank you
with tears of joy
shed in tears of jet black ink
to the sound of rapping on gentle plastic
with every tap tap of the keys
I thank you more,

for holding me 
when I run for your embrace unbidden
I thank you so much
when I run from home
escape that place
that begs escape
and rush first and only, to you
so thank you
for reading my words
and embracing me
when the embrace I feel at home
is a pressure that I cannot take

I know to you I can run
and with all the thanks in my heart
embrace you once more.

Details | Free verse | |

I Chose

I chose  
I could’ve been
A homebound hermit,
Hypnotized by the hum
And hue,
Of a high-tech 
HD computer screen.
A slave 
To the
Rhythmic rap
Clicking keys;
Depriving me 
Of much 
Needed rest.
I’d Search 
For Love 
And friendship 
In a network 
Of strangers,
Oblivious to 
The world 

I would’ve
Made a great 
Defense lawyer.
With my 
Appetite to argue.
I’d rescue 
Common crooks, 
Convicted of crimes;
From the 
Of a cell.
I’d lobby 
For leniency 
With lavish 
Litigation laws. 
Dedicating myself 
To Dissembling 
The Death penalty
I should’ve
The army,
A proud patriot,
My peers 
Through promotion;
From a potato peeling private, 
To a more 
Prominent position.
Pushing my 
Paratroopers out
Of a plane.
Parading my men
On the field 
Of battle.
I’d receive
A war
Winning wound,
Perhaps a
Purple Heart.

I could’ve
Been a detective.
Cleverly cracking
Cold cases-
CSI style,
Coercing confessions 
From criminals
And Con-men.
Collecting  a 
Cheap watch,
As compensation
For my commitment
To the precinct. 
I should’ve 
Been a doctor.
Devoting my life
To curing
The incurable,
Letting long hours
Deprive me
From family.
At the 
Beckon call,  
Of work 
Provided beeper.
Carrying out 
Curative procedures, 
On clients
That are
Scarcely clinging
To life.

I would’ve
Made a 
Terrific teacher.
Choosing to 
Live my life
Through the 
Youthfulness of
My students.
Teaching them 
To take on 
The world
With caution 
And Confidence.
Lecturing them
With lessons 
Of longevity.
My desire-
Jealous of
Their youth.

My choice,
Was not to
Focus on 
One aspect 
Of life,
But to 
Them all. 
With the stroke
Of a pen,
I walk 
All paths.
I chose
All destinies. 

I could’ve 
Been this,
Or been that…

I should’ve 
Done this, 
Or done that…

I would’ve
Made this
Or made that…

I chose to write.

Details | Free verse | |


I love the juice in each line, the grape of the wine Truth lies behind what you could not disguise if you tried
NOTE: Strong writers evoke emotion, thought, and change from humanity. Russel is a powerful poet who wears a big heart on his sleeve. I do not know him personally, yet am moved by his pen. *High regards, and recommendations on his work.This small ode to his words was originally placed into a comment I had made to him. I felt it was best for others to see how his work moves me. There are a few writers on here who possess the gift. I thank each and every one of you for sharing your soul! ~DOMO ARIGATO ~JSLambert

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 | Ode | |

Ode to A Healthy Prisoner

Just breathe in the clarity
Clarity of the whole
Whole or negativity
Negativity eating your soul

Head for tomorrow
Tomorrow always waits
Waits for enlightenment
Enlightenment heals mistakes

You are where you’ve put yourself
Your “SELF” now reminds you of shame
Shame brought on by acting out thoughts
Thoughts a conscious shouldn't retain

Give yourself an apology
An Apology you deserve to have
Have some faith in your timing
Timing bleeds wisdom in man 

Bless your self and live righteous
Righteous spirits rise above 
Above all if you are kind
Kind souls conquer hate with love

Poetry brings torment to a halt
Halt all your never-ending thoughts
Thoughts are forbidden evil hiding
Hiding light inside divine spots

So please write down your own deep thoughts
Thoughts penned will conquer your inside trap
Trap your life up in your cell  all alone
Alone you shall stay smelling your crap~

please don't be offended by the last line~ 
I felt it was necessary to get my point across~

Details | Free verse | |

The Drought of Word

I am empty; nothing have I now to say. 
The stream of my soul from where sentiment once flowed; now runs dry.
An unexplained drought of words I know not why.
I am in desperate need of showers of inspiration and illumination.
A thousand words I would pray; for this drought to end and once 
again take up my pen.
 Alas, my pen no longer speaks, but in silence now offends. 
 Writer's ink disappears upon a white bleached page;
the quill has nothing to lend.
 It is as though a fire shut up in my bones; a burning heat within.
My heart aches for a single drop of brilliance
as I seek for something to say, and earnestly pray for inspirational rain.
For streams of refreshing I long, OH, that the heavens would open and return 
my poetic song.

Details | Rhyme | |

I Write With My Heart

Beautiful flowers greeted the sun 
as I watched the little children run
Inspired by the warmth of the day
I wrote the first lines along the way

Failing my test in Trigonometry 
I wept under the shade of a tree
Realizing what made it wrong
I finished the first stanza and sang a song

Sailing paper boats along the river
People waited as the cold air made them quiver
I felt their hopes, dreams, and sorrows
I wrote the last lines full of morose

I saw an ambulance in front of our door
I felt my heart trembled in sore
They carried a stretcher...a body covered with white
I stared at those starry stars, and I, continued to write

Details | Couplet | |

Hieroglyphs unknown by Champollion

Kids are playing with strange blue graffiti
So, they wrote several times: ”Neffertiti” …

And drew the most beautiful queen`s head.
The whole history of Egypt written in red, 

With sacred hieroglyphs unknown by Champollion:
The Pharaons` destiny dandles a dewy dandelion…

Details | Lyric | |


i don't wanna sit here 
in the garden, without you 
i don't want to be here 
falling apart, waiting for you 
cause i'm sick and tired 
of existing here, without you dear 
hanging onto nothing, hoping for something 

we're not adam and eve 
oh why can't you see 
how much i need you 
so hard to believe 
yet cannot conceive 
how much i love you 
i won't say sorry 
doesn't mean a damn thing 
cause you don't love me 
we can never be 

i'm not gonna stand here 
all evening, without a clue 
i'm not gonna be here 
sweetheart, bleeding just for you 
cause i'm sick and tired 
of burning here, without you dear 
hanging onto nothing, hoping for something 

we're not adam and eve 
oh why can't you see 
how much i need you 
so hard to believe 
yet cannot conceive 
how much i love you 
i won't say sorry 
doesn't mean a damn thing 
cause you don't love me 
we can never be 

you're not adam, 
more like the snake 
you're the phantom, 
that haunts me 
you can't be adam 
more like the snake 
you're the phantom, 
ripping my heart away 

we're not adam and eve 
oh why can't you see 
how much i need you 
so hard to believe 
yet cannot conceive 
how much i love you 
i won't say sorry 
doesn't mean a damn thing 
cause you don't love me 
we can never be

Details | I do not know? | |

Unashamed Self-Promotion


Greetings, good and kind fellow Soup-ers!

'Tis wonderful, I say,
to be a Soup-er, so if I may,

I humbly request you to lay down your pen dipped in fine ink,
and visit my blog which can be found at the following link: 

Now if this blatant self-promoting of mine seems rude,
I ask for your generous forgiveness, dear fellow Soup-er,

And wish you a day, that is peaceful, kind, and just plain super!

So cheers from the scribbler for now,
and as I take leave, my fellow Soup-ers,
I, in courtesy, to you all, do bow!


Details | I do not know? | |

Light child

A child is born
all loving, forgiving, honest,
a special child of the light,
eyes wide open, awake,
the wolves are happy,
to feast at the table of its suffering.
Feed it just enough love to survive,
milk it of its light, little by little
suckling its love, its forgiveness,
a sweet delicacy for a vampiric world.

The child becomes a young adult...
control, conformity, submission,
overwhelming expectations,
no freedom, no love, no peace,
a barrage of others suffering,
cant get it off me, out of my head!
out of my heart, it hurts!
Its all too much! 
Why do they all hurt me?
Why are they not honest like me?
How can they be so mean to me?
What is wrong with me?
I just want a taste of love, 
to remind me why I am alive!!

Details | Sonnet | |

The Poetry of Yeats

His words calm me when I'm restless
bringing beauty to my world.
I get shivers, I must confess 
when his passionate verse is unfurled.

I once threw a penny of brown
to see if love, I might find.
Like a princess with jewelled crown,
my dreams of starry nights shined.

Soft words of romance, he brings to life
with every stroke from his gifted pen.
Of sunlight, moon shadows, peace and strife,
I read his poems time and again.

His words bring smiles and move me to tears.
He inspires me to write of feelings, sincere.

By Rhonda Johnson-Saunders,  June 20, 2012
Tribute to WB Yeats

Details | Couplet | |

It's Time I was Moving On

Sad news today, February 6th in our year 2011
To "The Great Gig in the Sky" sell out in Heaven

My favourite blues rock guitarist, Mr Irish Gary Moore
Joins the "Midnight Blues, "Too Tired" no more will he tour

At fourteen years of age he received his first guitar
Like many budding rockers aspirations to be a rock star

The Beatles, Elvis Presley and the amazing Albert King
Heavily influenced this left hander, who made his right hand sing

As he grew past his teens, the genre he'd enter would mean
The likes of John Mayall's Bluesbreakers and Hendrix, now he's seen

Blues Rock it was to be, when Peter Green caught his ear
If you grew up with this maestro, you'll know his career

It started way back, way back in 1969
Skid Row, from Dublin he joined, as the music industry would find

This is where his association began, with Lynott, bassist extraordinaire
Many nights sharing the blues, this two Irishmen would share

His solo career just grew and grew, then into Thin Lizzy he would blend
Sharing the Black Rose stage with Phil his Irish friend

The blues became his life, with two Albert's who'd share his stage
Guesting with his 'Midnight Blues Band' many a jam they would engage

I now close my humble tribute, for he'll always be in my heart
On this day in Estepona, Spain, my hero in final depart

Details | Light Poetry | |

What's Wrong With Words

The process must work naturally,
Can't expect niceties when collared
brought kicking and screaming 
to the printed page.
Even the lowest parts of speech
Deserve and expect respect
Some words fit together, snuggle
Seem quite comfortable with the arrangement.
When contented become a happy brood,
A Brady bunch expressing their satisfaction
Reading smoothly, cleanly and rhythmically.
Twins or maybe kissing cousins,
Words that hold hands, play, share.
Words that have a peculiar panache.
Aligned alliterations properly placed,
Artfully spoken by a Prince of Denmark.
Poor boy, death marked, mother poisoned,
Father murdered, done in by words.
Verbalizations live, giving breath
To dark secrets struggles of creation,
Expressing triumphs and tragedies.
For words are the crux and cry of life.

Details | I do not know? | |

Politically Correct

Politically correct I’m not; if you seek precision you ought,
find the time, to define the rhyme of perfection
in words you’ve sought.

A simplicity of words I am; I do not write for status or glam,
I pen my mind, whether thoughts callous or kind,
truthfulness you’ll find.

Paper is more powerful for me, not keystrokes of a PC you see,
a pen in hand, is more commanding and grand,
when writing on demand.

Following the norm is queer; I allow the pen and paper to steer,
a symphony of life, thru every memory and strife,
of a mother, daughter and wife.

Technological progress I dread, only because the pen is now dead,
so take heed in my words, though seemingly absurd,
but a poetic pen should always be heard.

Details | Monoku | |

Bone Dry Without Him


Went to the creek for inspiration, bone dry
                                                          where is the spring?

One Amazing Line
Contest entry for Constance La France's latest contest
Written by:
Sara Kendrick
December 6, 2010

Details | Cinquain | |



Metaphoric Vocabulary
Prose Pulsing Rhythms
Analogies Exposed Through Creativity

Details | Free verse | |

The Writer

The Writer

Inspired by darkness he writes only at night;
Studying stanzas—seducing spellchecks
With the stroke of a pen he is anyone or anything
His great works are subjected to sabotage—prone to plagiarism
His ideas far exceed his lifespan
He will take them with him so that they remain unforgotten
There are times when he is repulsed by his own thoughts
Ashamed that his open-mindedness is so brave— so brazen
He must be careful with his words
Disguising them to avoid unwanted attention
He masters this skill by the memorizing
His important blueprints: a dictionary and thesaurus
The only two books worthy to his cause
He is a word hunter; silently stalking his prey
Snatching them from songs
Taking them from television 
Scavenging from scripts
He fishes them out in an ocean of conversations—inspecting his catch cautiously
Releasing the insignificant
Filleting the essential
He doesn’t waste words by packing them into passages
He displays them attractively on a canvas of possibilities
He raises them from lonely letters to surprising syllables
He rescues them from reckless writers—saving them from abuse
His message is vivid and clear, he refuses to practice the art of confusion
Without writing he is nothing; another drone in a misguided world
With it, he is unstoppable
Creating creative carnage
Amongst freethinkers and immortalizing injustices…in print
He sees he world in rich detail; analyzing the outline of all creation
Nothing is missed— from the tiniest atom to the utmost wonder
His memory is impeccable—photographic and precise
Every element, since childhood, is engraved in his mind
He has a fetish for fountain pens—collecting them like trophies
Never using them, only worshiping their power, it is mightier than any sword
Writing is his purpose 
Even though he will never be satisfied
Every draft s a rough one— susceptible to alterations
It is his weakness 
He is forever troubled by the idea of revision

Details | Rhyme | |

Poetic Toxins

I write what I know, and know what I write.
I travel through time, every rhyme with might.
Ruminating the past; its wrongs and its rights.
Any time of the day, and any darkness of night.

I pen history and its future, as small as it seems,
Inking a mission, my pen shadows my dreams.
I engrave bits of pain, through every extreme.
Inscribing a passion, my script and its regime.

My pen is much mightier, than an army indeed,
it slashes its victims with a whimsical need.
It destroys its targets, planting a poetic seed.
It preys on cruelty, and the abusive it feeds.

Feeding a toxic dose, of words and rhymes,
serving a deadly concoction of ink in time.
For the tongue is more lethal in words of rhyme,
the triumphant work of a poet; yours and mine.

Details | I do not know? | |

The Way That I Flow

Inanimate emotion, of insufficient funds,
A stanza full of metaphors, and metaphorical puns
Living life holding a pen, an eraser is the only one to forgive,
A combination of lyrical rhymes, but where does it end?

Or does it end? Maybe the end is where it begins,
a vicious cycle, it's uncontrollable, like death dephying winds, 
Where death and lying wins, and life on this planet doesn't exist,
So our imaginations are forced to pretend, that the elements around us are our friends

But I see things differently, I'm just a pathetic, 
Prophetic kid, living in a notebook, trying to comprehend,
How to stay poetic, but it isn't what it seems
It's strange how closely my nightmares relate to my dreams

I've never done anything right, my whole life I've been living wrong,
Writing has always been my solution, it's a never ending hall
I'm externally torn, internally my soul has been reborn
My waredrobe is new, I got rid of the clothes that I wore

I'm untouchable, I'm nothing though, and I'll tell my story through
The Way That I Flow

Details | Narrative | |

Will to Live

I look ahead to the ends promised in my mind
But always reality clouds my eyes with the peppers of life
Sometimes I make hasty progress
Only a few steps ahead to be forced more steps to regress

Sometimes my hope gets a boost from a fine line I read off a book
But as soon as I lay down the book 
The reality of a stool beneath my foot
Makes me anticipate the pain of the noose

Still I have a will and I know that soon I will
On the back of the winged unicorn of my dreams 
...I will soar free
This reality is for the benefit of my dreams
On its harsh grindstones I will sharpen my will to live

Details | Verse | |


~ just by gazing at new moon's roses alphabets of stars spill words, and a poet begins to name all of God's flowers ~ (c) nette onclaud~ Brian Strand's Short and Sweet

Details | Free verse | |

The Now Of I Love You

by R. Ellis

Blue falls on the river
tonight falling and recoiling
in a splashing wave of stars
like frozen rain.

I miss the most of you that
I know which is a little piece
of something small but powerful
No burning flames no one the
sames just the now of I love you.


Details | I do not know? | |

Who is the poet

Who is the poet?
the one who writes?
the clever use of words or rythm?
I say it is none of these
It is a deeper perception of life
An expression of emotions
reaching deeper than most 
make the reader feel something
make me cry, make me happy
hurt me, make me ponder
share it with me, let me burden it
maybe i feel it too 
show me how i feel
share it together
we are all alone
until we feel it together
in that moment art is born
a unity of hearts
reaching out and feeling it 
we are one for a moment
the pain, the love, the lonliness
we all just want others to feel us
we are not alone when we feel it together

Details | Quatrain | |


The work I do is not the most prestigious one,
from four to twelve thirty I drive...until my shift is done;
a forklift driver rarely takes a coffee-break, 
and being courteous and helpful to customers means a lot.

My long-life dream was to be a songwriter like Andrew Lloyd Webber, but my songs
didn't click...they never made the Top Ten on the Billboard Charts;
and although they didn't sell well to make it my profession, I still hold my thumb up...
that if a famous recording artist performed them, I'd have a huge hit!

My free time is devoted to creating lyrics that I will set to music in late hours;
and I would never be a Mozart, Verdi, or Beethoven if didn't knock on doors
and expose my works to those who would be willing to listen without reluctance...
could one be old and succeed as the young ones with fresher, brighter ideas?

For now, I remain the same blue collar guy coloring more illusive dreams;
many approach me and say," Don't give have plenty of chances!".
I do want to believe that and wear the deserved crown and be lauded as others...  
'till my lucky day comes, I must make a living and have the faith of the achievers.

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 | Free verse | |

Words No One Hears

Contractual agreements with publisher caused DELETION


Details | Acrostic | |

A Soul Called Soul

I’m trapped in the American struggle/ 
Surrounded in the alcoholic drug addicted jungle/ 
In my soul called soul I seem to unknowingly look for trouble/ 
Yeah am I the only one to truly see our invisible chaotic bubble? / 
Am I the only one to truly live in while I realize the hidden pains in our own ghetto living rubble? /
 I see in what I still saw of the pains at the same time I hear the alcoholic mumbles/
 Like a burnt cracker over a uncooked cookie I still see the culture crumble/ 
I see the staggering, I see the swerving and I see thy own stumbles/ 
Still yet I am crawling out the dirt like an ant spreading my wings in the sky like the bees bumble/
 It’s when I knew I was a soul called soul/ 
In my soul called soul I am in the super bowl/ 
Seven hundred seventy-seven now I can’t let thy football fumble/ 
I am not going to let thy ring leader lead me in the circus no more, I am no longer an elephant Dumbo/ I’m here to stay not to go/ I been down that same road too many times before/
 I know what it’s like at the bottom, I hit it straight rock ,yeah I been that low/
 now pains of my life I outgrow/it’s when I knew I was a soul called soul 
In my soul called soul/ I hang on not to my enemies nor my friends but my own inner foes/
 I got no true friends, I got no true bros/ I got no true women, I got no hoes/ 
I don’t even know if I will even make it to be thirty-four/ 
I worry about alcoholic danger in the hood every time I walk out my front door/ 
I thank God I’m not rich and thank him for the experience of being dirt poor/ 
I thank him for the fact that I no longer have to steal from the local store/ 
I thank him for the simple fact that I can do simple everyday chores/ 
I remember a time when I was in a prison cell where even death itself felt like a bore/
 until one day something great pick me up off the prison floor……..that was a time when I know I was a soul called SOUL/
 I know my truck of life was ready to take it’s damage when it can still pull its own toll/
 I knew my boat of life was ready to go against high winds with a broken bow/ 
I knew I was ready when I can go against waves 100 feet high go under and still row/
 if not then I make the surf board roll/ The storms comes like shadow hidden in the skies undergrowth/ I’m not only floating I’m also flying through them both/
 I am no longer empty with darkness I am filled with light shone/ 
I am no longer alone, I am force of many through word flow/ 
I am a prophet among my own/ words put together like no other only I condone/ 
I say it in a unique tone/ 
I’m going to make it past the internet and cell phones/ 
I am the one, I am by a higher power chose/ 
These problems in life I will outgrow/ 
I will overcome being just another SOUL CALLED SOUL….

Details | I do not know? | |

The story of a Muse

The story of a Muse

A beautiful woman that loved him,
she listened to him, in awe of his genius,
she inspired him, encouraged him, 
to do his best work, she validated for him,
that his thoughts and ideas were otherworldly,
She knew his mind and heart must be heard,
His art could change the world, 
and took on the job of pulling this gift out of him,
she lassoed the tornado that was his soul, 
and directed it, into the brush or pen, 
A symbiotic relationship, of male and female,
at their best, a guided purpose.

It seems as if she always left him in the end, 
A mystical woman with more artists to inspire,
left him crying and wounded, 
to do his crazy works after his genius expired,
no direction, haphazard, psychotic, suicidal
used up, emotions undirected, lost, death. 
but a life of value, influential, inspirational, an immortal,

I do not know where i got this impression,
this story of the muse.

Its not fair, 
all my muse's, 
dont care about my work, 
they only care about how i can help them, 
They listen long enough to find what i am looking for,
Put on the mask, the liar face, manipulative,
just long enough to get what they want, 
or realize that i wont give it to them. 
Try to buy my soul with their sex or money.

My naivety, my love, my hope, my trust, 
used against me, for their selfish motives.
Purity pretended, love mimicked, smile a lie. 

Is the muse a lie, is this why the artists go crazy?
Is the suffering evoked by an evil women inspirational?

I have seen men like me, with experiences like me.
Too wounded to love, to trust, to try again. 
Settle for a weak woman, one that wont hurt them. 

Men, i have always considered cowards
They cant look me in the eyes.

As i am beat down by love, i see their temptation.
Chasing the muse, waiting for her, mistaken mimics,

Dont tell me the muse doesnt exist........... 

Details | ABC | |

MidNight Wishes

Even though i did not hear your voice tonight i'm still ahit,
I will go on like this for ever, i wont go out without a fight. 
I'll fight till the end of this life to win your heart,
All you have to do is tell me when to start.

The music blarrin in my head phones at 1:52 AM and i'm lovin it, 
cause it helps me remember your gorgeous smile like it was meant to fit. 
Wanting to feel your touch and kisses all over me ignites the fire in me,
Wanting to take you by your hand and run wild in a big sea. 

There aint much i can say to express myself but this will have to do for tonight,
I think its just that i haven't reached height.
You no I love you and that's all that matters or will ever matter to me,
I will love you till i die, like I told you before, cant you see? 

Details | Tanka | |


Today I dropped words

between cracks in the pavement:

half-written screenplays.

My muse, a cappuccino,

conjures romance while I sip.

Details | Free verse | |


It’s the flight of pregnant birds that I am reminded of
Bloated and cramping
Legs tucked close in, wings beating away with paternal efficacy 
Never towards a nest
Always in flight
As if the very notion of rest a circling falcon
A tireless hunter, promising a swift demise, bodies left to decay…

This, this is a pregnant flock of desires and ideas
Notions and purpose
Encumbered and floating, rolling clouds heavy with rain 
And this flock rolls on
Until with a spasm of wings and anticipated rhythm 
A gush of rains and new life is announced
And from each bird, pregnant from birth
Comes a new flock, each end every belly swollen with life
And new ideas surge forth
And newly feathered wings beat with renewed zeal
And a multitude of pregnant flocks take to the skies,
And it’s these birds I’m reminded off
When I pick up the pen to write
Because in each and every bird I observe
I see that pregnant mother of possibility
Beating her wings, soaring above the ground
To give birth in the skies,
Where my ideas soar, soar and give birth
And I am reminded of them
Every time I come to write
And fear I will write nothing at all.   

Details | Acrostic | |

You Snooze You Loose

<                                        Artist searching for a muse
                                          Creativity is the key
                                          Recant those memories 
                                          Open your heart and soul
                                          Start spreading the news
                                          There's poetry to be found
                                          Inside each and everyone of us
                                          Can't you hear the music

                                          To the beaten drum
                                          Whistle while you work
                                          Or you'll snooze and lose

Entry For
Jared Pickett's Contest
Acrostic 2
G.L. All

Details | I do not know? | |

Poetry Soup

poetry soup nourishes the soul delivering smooth and creamy fodder in a community bowl for all to share i am a crouton

Details | Ballad | |

Better Than Grace

how can we pretend that everything is okay
when the world is soon to turn to grey
I've took this life and its treasures in vane
when you'd easily trade with me any day

you're amazing better than grace
so amazing just can't turn the page
amazing can't find the strength
to gaze at your face and not look away
look what we've done, coming undone
slowly fading away, so amazing
better than grace

you say they gave you less than six months
never thought it could hurt this much
I'd give anything just to save you
oh what can i do, just say because

you're amazing better than grace
so amazing just can't turn the page
amazing can't find the strength
to gaze at your face and not look away
look what we've done, coming undone
slowly fading away, so amazing
better than grace

with every breath we take, just another test today
don't walk away before it's too late
we should all be ashamed of ourselves because

he's amazing better than grace
so amazing just can't turn the page
amazing can't find the strength
to gaze at your face and not look away
look what we've done, coming undone
slowly fading away, so amazing
better than grace

Details | Haiku | |

Le Vacance Pretentieuse: Storm Part II

The Med between us
The gusts make me think of you
Storms... it’s just like home.

Details | Alliteration | |

No Title

My bed is anxious,waiting for my snores Today's going to bed, tomorrow's a few steps ahead I wonder why I took "the" pen I feel like putting them down What? My thoughts What am I inking? Nothing! Exactly! Just wanna scratch my itchy paper with my juicy ink Singers? Go sing... Comedians? Go do comedy... Others? What's your "itchy paper?" Have you applied your "ink?" Be good at what you do Love what you do Practice... Go scratch it!

Details | Rhyme | |

Beyond Words

Flowing words that show a story well
Rhyme a delight to see upon a veil.
Poetry soothes the soul, tells of feelings.
Lines in metaphors, inspirational dealings,
Verse that is free, describes virtual history.
Acrostics can deliver any kind of mystery.
Poetry more graceful than a flowing brush,
Creates pictures and forms in breaking hush,
Haiku surrenders nature’s beauty so short.
Senryu captures humanities truth and tort.
Paint captures sight; poetry feels the scene.
Writers develop spirits, feelings felt and seen.
Sculptors captivate realism, fantasy supreme.
Poets bring joy, sadness, life, love, in a dream.
Whether rhyming or not, a good poet shows.
Few or many lines they create properly flows.
Poetry rings out in emotions of various forms.
Lines of any verse go way beyond the norms.

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 | Bio | |


Aging poet,
let your last words
avenge your frustrations,
the unfairness of society;
still feel happy to create verses
that soothe the wounds
that want to heal despite hopelessness.
Do not mention your unbearable trials,
they are buried in the mysterious labyrinth,
where your lonely and weary soul
was trapped and yearned to escape...
step into the sunlight love awaits!

Details | Cowboy | |

April too lenient

comatose commas thought April too lenient; 
birth was postponed until June, 
provided preference for instant coffee 
or selfless gratification, 
minus the flack fouled narcolepsy, 
however insistent … 

cruelty followed, 
as cardboard mansions collapsed under oath, 
if under cardiac-arrest, 
below if not adjacent to, the end, 
regardless of means… 

Details | Epic | |

Mind Thought Determination

What is mind thought determination? 
It is the sophisticated thoughts of a individual wit self-taught mental sophistications.
 It is the chemical mind thought process brain inspirational enhanced created word creations.
 It is the one thought that keeps your hopes from being eliminated by your own weak minded self-doubt double eliminations.
 It is the the thought that can turn your own pains into pleasure of our own sensified sensations. 
It is the thought that can turn you into a leader of tis lost generation to inspire my reservation and maybe even in others parts of this nation to get your own redemptive vindication of those who took away your aspirations.
Mind thought determination is for your embracing not to be forsaken, 
you are your own movie in the making, let not your hope in the mind be shaken.
 MIND THOUGHT POWER over all tis senseless hating, we got to stop all our senseless
 chasing, you are forever a leader in this free world racing. 
If you locked up it don't matter how much time that you facing. 
 It is the thought to use what is against you and turn your hateration into inspiration.
My mind has but one destination of all mankinds fascinations .....and that is to finally use my MIND THOUGHT DETERMINATION.........

Details | Prose Poetry | |

Education is Power

Who is in charge of our children's education?
What happens when parents don't do their job?
When children have no sense of reading, writing,
till they hit that school room head on?

Who is responsible to initiate, ingratiate, the word,
so language is understood from infancy and
not suddenly at five years old when
communication receives the attention it deserves?

Parents stand up and take notice
schools do not provide the only source
You are your child's first teacher
You are the one who gives him voice.

From you he will learn expression
From you he will learn who he is
From you he will learn his roots
Give him your love and attention.

Provide an environment filled with books
A place where reading takes precedence
Instill in him a joy for learning
With gentle hand and loving looks.

Model the love of learning
read on your own or with
till without even knowing
he'll develop a yearning
to know, to explore, to evaluate
all there is and more.

Details | I do not know? | |


The other day, 
while driving down the road,
I saw a group of heroes,
in their usual working mode.

It could be a fire,
to which they were heading to respond,
or maybe a medical emergency,
whichever, they go above and beyond.

They don't think of themselves as heroes,
as they go along their way,
they are just doing their job,
answering calls as they may.

But to the diabetic in crisis,
and the heart patient too,
and to the people whose homes are on fire,
they are heroes through and through.

So next time you see these heroes,
salute them with pride,
for putting their life on line,
that you and I might survive.

Details | Free verse | |

Just writing without stopping

Random Free Write: 

Just flowing - writing
and not stopping to think
or even to lift my pen
I kept going and the words seemed to have no end
Understanding that the process is a simple one
Love everyone and 
stear free of the wicked one

I'm not sure if it was winter or spring
But, I gave way to all the flaws and  imperfections
and realized that this is me
The change came when I saw fit
and not when someone else decides

It's not hard to forgive
And even easier to forget
Does that not reflect love and also what it begets?
Except too many hold grudges and even
pretend to be angry beyond whats necessary
Caught up in someone elses problem
and not dealing with their own is a hard burden to carry
Let it go
stop negativity where it begins

Cut people short if you have to
because this is your life you have to live
Be on the lookout for those looking to devour you
Pray for those who do ill sh@! to you
Respond in a way that makes them realize they love you
and hope it inspires change

Still maintain dignity and move on to something new
Growing, building up treasures for a place greater than
you can even dream to go
It's the simple things that help make life flow
I could go on and on with this practice flow
Writing and stoping to think or lift my pen
This is one of those poems that didn't make it to the waste bin.

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 | Free verse | |


I make promise to me that,
Today is going to be a good day.
I feel the reason in my heart,
That I’ll start shining all the way,
The shine which will glitter me,
Encourage me, light up me;
To achieve my dreams.
I have nothing;
But only a hope,
Hope of making those dreams into reality, 
And; I think hope  give inspiration.
So dream your dreams, hope your dreams,
Live your dreams and keep faith in yourself.

Details | Narrative | |

My Favorite Devonshire

Footprints to Follow Father's bare feet left footprints in the sand Young son followed, each step carefully planned Tim wanted so much to be like his Dad Always emulating, quite a sweet lad So as you leave impressions on life's shore Remember your path will not be ignored Tread gently, leave prints that make your kids proud Step far away from the perilous crowd Stop at times, build sandcastles, pick up shells Memories can't be erased by sea swells Imprints on children's hearts last forever Keep this in mind through every endeavor A child may be following your footsteps Always make your marks with loving precepts Carolyn Devonshire When I read this poem, Carolyn, I picture my husband and son in those moments when they don't realize they're being watched. How my son looks at his dad is priceless. He hangs on his every word and wants to emulate his every action. My son is only four and I know one day in the near future, this will change (especially in those teenage years!), but I hope he follows in his dad's footsteps. My husband is a kind, loving and hardworking family man. Thank you for writing this beautiful poem. I have printed a copy of it for my husband to keep as a reminder of the tiny feet carefully stepping close behind his. As a parent, nothing is more important than our "impressions on life's shore". God bless you, Carolyn. Your golden heart shines through your words. Love and Blessings, Rhonda

Details | Rhyme | |

Gratitude For Inspiration

-------------------------------------------(note:Re-titled *surprisingly due to lack of reads:(

I officially subscribe to your ingenious wordplay melee today. 
Enhancing waves in brains tomorrow, eliminating sorrow this way. 

The hot fire you've prescribed heals my painful condition.
Inspiring me with firing  your scrabbling ammunition!

Now and then we all have come across a piece of poetic perfection.
Your poem "INSPIRATION" gives due  cause for your work's  further inspection!

***a small dedication to a poet on Poetry Soup who wrote a poem which has me currently on a "Writing  Roll". I thank you for sharing your poem Margaret Linton Lassie! 
(NOW, someone please inspire me to type out this massive load of new poems!!! note: I write all my poems out on paper and post very few :( ~JoeY

Details | Verse | |

Le Vacance Pretentieuse: Baggage Claim

Drained to my very heart by our slow-paced arrival, 
          I wander through tasteless decor to the metal arches 
                                                Beyond which a future is unfurled.
My bag’s innards are spilled like blood in the Bible
          Before the cold gaze of the armed man who marches;
                                                He holds the key to this new world.

The mechanistic arch stands and takes quasi-sentience 
          Beside passport control, piercing my finely popped 
                                                Eardrums with sonic solemnity.
I am refused by technology but stagger forward hence 
          Into baggage claim where a suitcase pile is propped 
                                                Up like a holiday Tetris calamity.

My suitcase is soul black and with difficulty is found,
          In its lucid eagerness to fasten itself a faux family;
			   Airports are filled with pretences.
Now we are away again, small trolley safe and sound,
          On the road from snow, heat is where I plan to be.
                                                Our intrepid journey commences...

Details | Free verse | |

Random Inspiration

Walking along 41st East Ave,
meandering my way towards downtown.

Have a sudden surge of
random, joyous inspiration.

Look around.
Undo my belt,
dropping down my britches,
hoping to see people in stitches.


Not a single, abnormal look at all?
Old Chinese lady on her porch,
even smiles and waves.

Have a sudden surge of
random, joyous inspiration.

Down come the pants,
down come the skivvies.
Take off my shirt,
take off my socks and shoes-
stuff everything into my knapsack,
and, towards downtown I go.


Not a single abnormal look at all?
65,000 people milling about,
and not even a single shout?

People are smiling at me politely.
One dude even asks for the time.
No one steps out of my way-
little old gentleman says, "Good Day."

Hey! I know what you are thinking, all-
and fortunately, I am not THAT small!!

Need attention. Look at me!
Look at me, coddle me;
look at big ol' special me!
Me me me me me me!
Can you not even see?

So, I take my ding-a-ling,
give it a mighty swing.
Slap it to the left,
slap it to the right.
Give it a funny twist,
and shake it all about.

Still nothing.
Now I am beginning to pout.
This crowd isn't very energetic or easy to please,
not interested in a man swinging his dong in the breeze.

Heading towards the Uptown, Skytrain station,
to further explore, my sudden, random inspiration.

Details | Rispetto | |

Confession of a Poet

In the latest hours, the moon shines very bright Igniting the lower fields with its mercy A poem comes to fruition in this light All can read, as it’s shared with love completely I confess, this poem was from my calm heart To shine as the cool moon, listen to each part Field is open to my mind of mystery My ideas shine onto all that are mighty
Entrant into Anne Currin's "Confessions of a Poetry Souper" contest 2/2/2013

Details | Free verse | |

A Hushed Prayer

I beg for your forbearance
For I have disregarded my faith towards You
I beg for your healing in advance
For I have disclaimed Your protection and now I’m blue

Do you notice that I’m blanketed in deep distress?
My pillow is soaked externally with unsettling tears
My good memories that bestowed hopefulness
Has been meddled with for years
Has been mistreated and replaced by insecure dreadfulness
I need shelter from the tide of despairs and fears

I’m shattered and I’m seeking Your helping hand
Receive my hushed prayer…from your throne in heaven
I’m begging for Your contentment that’s beyond grand
Receive my muffled prayer… or I’ll be stuck in this tarnished den

Do you notice that I’m spinning mad in the rivers of mystifying visions?
My unwavering boat sinks drastically with damaged gears
My bad memories that departed from my missions
Has been discarding the carefree years
Has been neglected and torn apart by dishonorable decisions
I need Your love to embrace me with jubilation and cheers
I beseech for Your mercy
For I have abused my steadfast hope towards You
I look forward to Your infinite Kingdom favorably
For I have admired Your blessings and now my dreams come true!
In Jesus’s name,


Details | Free verse | |


The essence of a true Empress unveil
The words that cometh out her mouth
Words of wisdom's sacred grail
Words that free the struggle
Breaking mental chains
Flows through her veins

Her words are so powerful
It encamp or rather en-gulf
Our burning desire
For knowledge and spiritual fire
Her mind is her womb
Nurturing, stimulating strumming her tune
People be-mooned
Stand up and listen
Feed from her spoon
Depth and mindless shallow
The power of her message speedily follow
The peaceful revolution stand
That which is of a poetic woman

©Copyright January 22, 2012 by Brian Pierre-Alexander
© All Rights Reserved


Details | Haiku | |

End of Writer's Block

Paper once snow white Now full of written feelings Done, time for a nap

Details | Rhyme | |

The World Needs Stupid Poems About Sheep

There's many speeches made upon the battlefield of life
And much advice both wise and otherwise
There's words to spur us on to overcome all sorts of strife
Some honest truths and some just hopeful lies.

The pep talk to build up the team so they go out and win;
The mantras found in simple battle cries;
The politics of power delivered with an extra spin;
The prophets' words reduced to sermon size;

The burning words of hatred that can send a man to kill
To light the fire that must be quenched with blood;
The prophecies long written that the blind seek to fulfil;
The word that lifts the fallen from the mud.

The lovers speak in whispers in the darkness of the night
And plight to each their troth in sickly verse
And the righteous lift up their voice to praise God, good and right
And hide the fact that they do something worse.

But if there is humanity and sanity to keep
The world needs stupid poems about sheep.

Details | Free verse | |

Swan Song

The shaman in Siberian snows,
Singing and dying
And flying;
The Gnostic in life creating lines
Of song, of death,
Learning to heart his poetry,
To sing
With his last breath;
Pythagorus’s sacred password verse
Easing his transition
To heaven
From earth;
All know the deep wisdom
Of the mystic swan
Who sings as her soul takes flight
Towards the Love,
Towards the Light.

By the power of song,
By lines of love,
By pure poetry and profound enchantment,
We embrace the joyful journey
To the world
Of Spirit

Details | Epic | |

I Have Autism 3: Still Human

Having autism has been the greatest thing that has ever happened to every boy, girl, man, and woman, especially that of a three-year-old. It has made a positive impact on people who'd been born with or had been diagnosed with autism since day one. Being autistic means accepting for who he and/or she really is, especially when he or she's around a bunch of open-minded people. What everyone, including me, also learned about having autism is when we're living in our own worlds and the real world at the same time. Children, teens, and adults with autism can function in the real world, even in public places, especially when they're going to school or work. What I also learned is that people can go after their dreams like being a politician, a lawyer, or whatever, even if he and/or she has autism. God has made us the way we are, and I think that having autism has been the greatest thing that has ever happened to all of us, even when I was three years old. It doesn't matter if he and or she has either autism, autism spectrum disorder, or Asperger's Syndrome, we're all still human. The whole world should know that being an autistic human being is great and no one should judge us just because we, as humans, have autism, autism spectrum disorder, or Asperger's Syndrome. The fact that day in and day out, for the past few years, people with autism, including me, have proven the board of education and those nay-Sayers wrong, even in the classrooms in all of the schools nationwide. Nothing could bring us down. Even though we have autism, we're still His children. The parents should be proud of the fact that they've raised us well, even if we have autism or any other disability. There's also a good chance of people getting into serious relationships and getting married, regardless of one person having autism. And if all of the friends and families have accepted them for who they really are, other people should be more accepting, too. I have autism, mild MR (mental retardation), and OCD (obsessive compulsive disorder) and I'm also proud of the fact that I'm still human.

Details | Free verse | |

Thoughts of A Song Writer

From my thoughts on the paper in which it lies, 
My everlasting passion is inked as it dries.
The way I feel inside, you might want to spy,
But if you pry, how will my lyrics surprise?
A song for thought will only leave a thought.
May sound difficult, but that’s just how I talk.
I was lost, but I found me.
Dreaming and believing that writing was my key.
The way it flows and the way that it goes pumps me to speak
the very thoughts that many minds chose to keep.
Many rocks I’ve kicked and many decisions I’ve made.
Any wrongs I take the blame.
Tic-tac-toe is only a game.
I plagiarize your eyes with the notes that I’ve taken,
A high note here and a low note there-
You’d swear I’m in your head when my song hits your ear.
Pain recognizes pain
And I’ve have my share of bandages.
 My vibes from life heals the permanent damages.
Thoughts of a Songwriter,
Reaches farther beyond the beat,
Over the lyrics on the sheet,
Not only is it about the speech,
 But more of what the message seeks.
True enough a theme is touched and a heart is rushed.
With the mind-throbbing picture disappearing 
Through the ink of my pen and revealed through your lens,
You can’t hear me, but do you feel me?
I cherish my talent and where it could possibly sweep me.
My doubts and my worries are beneath me.
I love for brighter days and pray for more things to pave.
Call my life my number because its infinite.
Thoughts of a Songwriter,
My mentality drips it.

Details | Free verse | |



To get someone to read my poems… Contests there must be.
They must be bleeping nuts thinking I can follow all those cockeyed rules.
Out of a zillion types of poems they always pick the weirdest ones.
Allowed only 16 lines… I found I stopped at ninety-one.
And for a topic they want a bird throwing glitter from a tree.
How about I spank them as I put them across my knee!!!
And why must I name it… as they told me? Where’s that for creativity?
Then they want a special comment added in the poem…
I would rather not add plagiarism… I’d rather call it my own.
But, you know, I am so very needy that I’ll do whatever they want.
Well… I’ll do, maybe one or two… of the things they want.
I know this makes it harder to judge the poems that are found therein.
But to me a poem… is a funny bent on my crazy whim.
Then suddenly, Lord Have Mercy… my poem didn’t win.
But I’m happy as punch for even with their strained smile…
I’m sure they read one of my poems yet again. :)

(Meant only for fun) I'm not really complaining. Just having fun.

Details | Rhyme | |


No funnier laughter
sounds like this laughter...
when its pitch vibrates as sound;
I may giggle at times, but I'm always kind!

Who will tackle me and make me laugh louder than clowns 
by telling me those jokes you heard somewhere?
Were they told by travelers roaming cities and towns,
or were they written down on some rough paper?

Oh, humor you make life sumptuously grand...
when all one needs is the company of some friend!
Sit down and let's tell each other stories that satisfy our literary itch;
let's unearth stories of the famous and the infamous, of the humble and the rich! 

No funnier laughter
is heard around the entire globe;
you may hurt your ear's lobe...
when I laugh harder than Cher!

Details | I do not know? | |

'the twitch'

This is the story of ‘the twitch’.  
We have all had it:  
   That bit of movement before we sleep.  
We have been awakened by it when we were younger. . . it threw our arm out to catch us 
before we fell out of bed.
   It was even younger than that for us.  
   It was sometimes confused with a kick --  from our mothers’ tummies  to the swaddle of 
   As we grew, the arm no longer flew. . . and thus. . . ‘the twitch’.
   It is thought that we started with 
a parting of the energy that mathematicians make Einsteins 
of, or, 
sounds of the aria that Mozart’d 
into our echoes of the day --  a marriage of concept and conceptual.  
   It took us through the outreach of awkward doubt. . . brought us ‘round the curve 
of nerve 
for monkey bars toward the first dance; drew blood in our mouths before we got the first 
punch – given/taken.
The part of ‘the twitch’ 
that is worthy of noting now is that 
   it has never wanted to be caught:  
   It wanted more than nothing to be left alone – perhaps; conceived that 
   it would be an occasion for cause. . . effect – the drive our parents tried to delay 
with Dr. Seuss and Disney books.  A teenage indifference took us away from 
We all fall asleep. . . as we’ve always done.  
The story of ‘the twitch’ begins at the thumb; carries on. . . for the course of fingers
   it touched.
Brings  us a little closer to the edge of our beds.

Details | Couplet | |

Tale of Fright

Frigid hands of a raven sky
Capture murmurs of a feral lullaby

Terror now awakens to cleave sensation
Dismay now devours thoughts of elation

Lucid black, the void prevails
Grasping the mind into its prolonging trails

Body asunder, shattering with dread
Passionate with fear from toe to head

It is from the night... dark, viscous, and saccharine
Dissolving in sky like honey in wine

That mesmerizes thought, body, and sight
Plundering all into a tale of fright...

Inspired by Dean Koontz's books of terror and beauty

Details | Bio | |

They Called Him Tiny Tim

Yeah they called him Tiny dam tiny he fitted through the basketball rim
 everytime they were out yeah he was hiding in 
yeah, while they were out he was holding back from enjoyin the young life of sin 
 but he cared little none for the drugz, the liquor or the shiny gin 
all he wanted was someone to care, someone to show him atleast a grin 
He was soo dam small people started calling him Nemo without the broken smaller fin
 while his peers were out making dough off dope he was out collecting cans of tin
 Light shone upon others dreams while upon his hopes the light remained dim 
He was hated on because the size and weight of his body, not the color of his skin
 half breed yeah he was as he played ball they laughed at how he came to their chin
 he was just a young boy living in a world of hateful men 
But he cared not cuz he would get the **** back up and try again 
they told him he would never BE 
that he would never succeed 
he would never be apart of something or anything 
but with a stroke of luck he doing something 
no more hiding and no more ****ing running 
People see his attitude and life now aint it stunning 
His life shooting off cant you see Tiny Tim with a Bazooka Gunning 
But now He living for something and dying for nothing 
he made it through high school while most his haters were frontin 
staying in school payed off now his life career is out on sidewalks jumping 
while he sees his past peers life out in the ghetto life with drugs and alcohol dumping
 He was gone for a minute lockdown but make way TINY TIM IS COMING

Details | Rhyme | |


It comes almost as quickly as it goes.
But I know that if you feed it, it grows.
It is a brilliant spark.
A flash of light in the dark.
Nothing that I can see, touch, or hear.
Perhaps it has always been there.
Waiting to be brought into the light.
Waiting for wings to take flight...
Ready and ripe, to be cultivated.
Just willing to be motivated.
There waiting for me to breathe the life into it.
Prepared and ready inside of my own intuit.
Calling it to life, setting it into motion.
Created from a spark of my emotion.
Molded by my own creation.
Brought to life out of my imagination.
Blossoming is the seed I have sown,
Now it takes on a life of its own,
And it burns with light from my fire,
To go forth into the wide world and inspire.

Sarah Comstock

Details | Free verse | |

I am Africa, I am man

I am Africa, I am man
Hear my drums, know my heart beat
My sorrow is not metered in iambic lines
Life does not speak that way
So artificial this enumeration of joy
So false this constant rise and fall of tone
I fish the tides
Sometimes the water rises above the rock
And stay a long, long time
Like a dream that won't give up
Sometimes the water recedes far out
Lingering at the bar
Waiting for the moon to show her breast
Watching silently like a star
For one ear Nana Oba to divorce me
From this culture that is my hell.
I am Africa, I am man
My fingers running fast on antelope skin
Cross the bata light and sweet like a caress
Like rainfall on the Serengeti
Like bird call for Nana Oshun's memory

So when I put my hands around your waist
Sliding my finger over the contours of our embrace
Searching for lake Nakuru under your dress
Down from the Kilmanjaro of your breast
And whisper my feelings in your ears
In cross-rhythms, kora and mbira playing
Hot like khamsin, passionate like the yamo
Sucking on your tongue for life
Seeking the umbilical water for my pain
What care for anapestic sentiments
Trochaic promises, dactylic stories
I need you in all the wonder of your loveliness
In all the moods that living tell
In our orbiting exodus of earth and hell
No time now for phony precisions
I speak as I am, as I feel emotions
Dancing on my finger tips 
Dancing on the velvet smooth of drums
Ladling at your Nakura, lapping at your lips
All tribal, my body hums
For the stolen glory of my history
For the cinder of theories
That make me victim twice in my misery
I am Africa, I am man
Hear my prophecy, I will succeed!

Details | I do not know? | |

Respect your Freedom


I glance through my verandah window,
Birds flying over my head freely.
I imagined myself floating like them,
In pain complicated, reminiscence shown deeply.

The afternoon breeze breeds an aroma,
Like fresh cologne of summer ivies.
Unlike bad odors always ventilating thru my nostrils.
All I see is beauty of nature’s creation down peak Lang Street.

I cease to be virtuous persuasive!
Bearing in my mind the righteousness of every individual,
But the world is never consistent to inhabitants,
And all that nature has conceived seem to be miscarried.

Felicity we used to have is now buried by the avalanche.
No matter the yokes our fore fathers burdened,
The chains they footed, we still not free, not in this degree.
Natively as indigenous but still feel like apaches.
Our roots are rooted out like weed indeed unfreed!

Visions screened in our minds succeed in destroying
Beauty of our lives in noble disguise.
We imbibe intoxicants excessively in excuse for our guilty conscience!
Will in moments of grace my pure words ever attain quality of deeds?

Freedom blinds us to the unknown!
The powers we possess lead us to temptations!
We enslave and indulge ourselves in injustices!
Yet we jeopardize our freedom through contempt and hostility!

Crime and violence generates prolonged vendetta
To our fellow white counterparts through racism and brutality.
Respect your wealth and take no part in exploitation of immature women!
Respect God’s Temple and never take part in the prostitution society!
Respect your freedom.

								By Willem Pietersen

Details | Rhyme | |


It's the desire to do better with a fresh lead
and with success on mind, not thinking of failure:
I find that doorway to escape and dream,
but remaining anonymous is no adventure.

Without impromptu or consciousness,
I wake up to a sunrise which coruscates...
becoming brighter by blinding my sight,
then I become beauty-incarnate and sigh. 

Laying down with the head up on the fresh grass,
I accept another challenge to pursue life and fate...
not seeking a gloomy, clandestine place to face
ignoble fear in a cosmos which was created to elate.

Follow me and experience what makes me wake up and be as happy as a cuckoo,
touch the fragile corolla of daisies and inhale their aroma as dreamers tend to do,
and looking straight up, observe the awesome Universe so vast, beautiful and blue...
won't you take another challenge to pursue life and fate without clashing with a clue?

Details | Free verse | |


Who can break up this circle of wonderful friends...
called amateur and professional poets?
We encourage each other,
suggesting modifications where needed,
and we shouldn't be upset, 
but appreciate that they've noticed our mistakes:
such as wrong forms and typos... 
because we don't see what they see!

I have taken their invaluable advice,
and seen my poetry in a new light...
even small changes can improve my lines.
Now, words flow and mistakes are few...
I am glad to receive their sweet comments
and be honored as winner in their contests!
Joy and pride are inseparable emotions:
as pen and thought, or mind and heart!

We should thank God for having found
these brilliant poets who inspire and guide us,
what they have achieved, we can also achieve...
persistence and passion are the golden keys to success.
Everyone is unique in their own way,
some write in a contemporary style which flows with simplicity,
and that we all understand, but others
choose a classical style as the Great of literature
to dazzle us...while their words make us pause and reflect.

Whichever subject or form you choose, create your best poetry
by taking in consideration the effect it will have on all.
Famous poets wrote the masterpieces that survived the ages,
ours will not be read until someone discovers them
as these poets us encouragement and praise,
then who can break up this circle of wonderful friends?.    

Written By Andrew Crisci for Carol Brown's contest,
" What I Love Most About Poetry Soup "
January 15, 2012

Details | I do not know? | |

The Meeting Place of Poets

Your opinions make me feel welcome
Your inspiration keeps me going
Going like the Energizer bunny
Going like a train on a high speed chase
Chase with a passion
Chase for the sake of it
It is with love and kindness you share
It is the simple knowledge that you care
Care for what I say
Care with a dripping honesty
Honesty that speaks volumes
Honesty that helps me improve
Improve steadily
Improve gracefully
Gracefully I take it all in
Gracefully tasting
Tasting the sweetest triumph
Tasting the most bitter pill
Pill that fills me
Pill that becomes obsession
Obsession that swallows whole
Obsession over little things
Things are but possessions
Thing can't compare to the human thought
Thought that turns into action
Thought counts, but useless without motivation
Motivation is hard to find, but
Motivation is your specialty
Specialty, sweeter that grandma's cookies
Specialty to die for!
For morning when my day begins
For late at night to calm the stress
Stress of the constant tug-a-war
Stress that you my friends can relieve
Relieve like ice on a hot summers day
Relieve like spray to keep mosquitoes away
Away on opalescent wings
Away my worries fly
Fly to the top I will!
Fly beside me, for you seek the same place
Place where jigsaw puzzles reset themselves
Place where poet exchange greeting cards
Cards in flowery pink and violet
Cards in onix and dreary gray
Gray seems bland I know, but
Gray is black and white, the marriage of war and peace
Peace isn't easy to find,
Peace resides here I believe

NOTE: This poetry form actually does have a name. It's called a Blitz. However it wasn't in the list of writing forms on the Soup.

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 | Narrative | |


The murky rolling waves subject
to the whims of the February's wind, 
far above the secluded lighthouse;
the roaming aircrafts vanish through thick clouds,
leaving behind a trail of hazardous vapors...
but the geese and seagulls can't continue their existence!  

And still the sea offers them its promise,
a distant shore untouched by man...
by his greedy ways and incompassion,
causing the extinction of many species;
my reflection is based on fact :
we can't survive without them!

The stylish wild birds engage,
as if striken by a sudden rage,
in their frantic, daily dance over the marina,
as I listen the melancholic lyrics of  " Nessun Dorma "...  
the exquisite area of Puccini,
which comes alive through the extraordinary voice of Bocelli!
 At four the fog thickens and shrouds the shoreline,
the brass lampposts light up with reluctance...
to shy away the presence of any ghost; 
I, in transitive joy, hide my treasure beneath the tides,
hoping someone will find it  and remember my work... 
long after my thoughts will be no longer alive! 

Details | Epic | |

A New Collection to the Eye Forest

Crackling blood lies in these forest grounds
Grass growing by its lively effect…
Growing a grimace to the environment    
As the predators hung her on the branches,
carving her left eye on the oak tree
and carving her right eye on the olive tree

They grow livelier…
sucking up the carrions from off the ground
Drowning the vines that try to 
suffocate and remove them for life
left to be in history…unceasingly forgotten 

Now the forest has industrialized into an Eye Forest
Eyes protruding…extorting on the tree trunks
Liquefied by anguish…they had wished to escape
Their pupils punctured by arrows of death 
They grow more affectionate towards the lively soul… 
watching people suffer in indignity and disproof
Here’s that living evidence! Hidden proof!
Hunted by the worst predator out there
in the deepest of the forest

The eyes seem to stare into your own
Locked with your frightening vibes 
Feeling your dangling fears and pain 
Weeping them insane…
there is no one out there to be blamed,
even in the deepest of the forest

Oh you carrion heart, soul and body
you are accepted to the collection
and grow insanely and look into a world of reflection

You are one of those who lie in the midst of obscurity 
JUST wait till the day of Resurrection... 

Oh you carrion soul and body 
Surviving through the shadows of the forest, 
roaming along the compacted forest, 
moping about in displeasure 
because without a doubt 
you are a magnificent collection 
to the eye generation 
to look upon a cheerless, remorseful life,
Given away by the predator

They soon diminish the evidence…
Here’s that living evidence! Hidden proof!
You’re left for dead after all

Allow them to spread one of your eyes
on this tantalizing tree
Let them do their job as a hunter
Your awareness is diminished

Allow yourself to not be startled 
Lose yourself,
and later on, you’ll break free of pain and fear

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 | Verse | |

My Style

So many people ask my why
my lines are so hypnotic
and why my eyes cry for the world

I learned a lesson as a little girl
Music took the pain away
in a way that I never really understood
But somewhere I found my rhythm
and it felt good

I learned to enjoy the breeze
I learned to smile when mama would sing
I copied her vibe
but when my vibe came to me
The words would resignate as a song
but when I opened my mouth 
it became poetry
I claim full responsibility of this gift

When the sun rises and the moon resides
I thank the Creator for this shift
Melodies became attached to my DNA
in such a way that the process
where jazz, blue and hip hop relate;
poetic tendencies were relative to my mind state
Music is my soul
But poetry is the gate

Details | Free verse | |


knobby-knee’d, toes that stop 
bend and pick up 
penny, marble, rock 
outside chalk 
on concrete, begging, for me to turn around 
for one more try 

Details | Rhyme | |

Poetrys golden day

I don’t want to be busy as a bee
I want to enjoy and take it easy

I won’t work hard to get rich
I fly in dream like a witch

And go to places where no one can go
And see many things that no one can show

My mind is rich in everyway
If I remain poor it’s okay

I play with the words like Pele
To bring poetry’s golden day

Details | Free verse | |


An instrument of beauty,
poetry is art at its best
with its verses of passion
penned with love
in assorted and variegated
metrical composition
with sublime and
aesthetically satisfying flow.

It is a creative exposition 
that unfolds and enlightens
with enchanting constructs 
the demonstrative and
effusive characterization 
of language by utilizing, 
promoting and bestowing 
the nature and power of words.

Proclaiming ideas and ideals
of principled excellence
with creations anew
and history of old,
poetry exhibits an appetite
for knowledge and wisdom
and a profound propensity 
for purposeful revelation
with an insatiable desire
for intimation and meaning
displayed with heartfelt emotion.

With its aspiration to show case
in magnificent scribal splendor,
poetry entices and compels
the artist and consumer
to explore and transcend
imagination and intrigue,
and solicit introspection
with unfathomable penetrating thought 
that is calmed by grace and elegance.

Philosophical and spiritual,
entertaining and healing,
poetry commands laughter and tears
or sorrow and joy,
Its clamorous and powerful
phonologically expressive morphemes
can awaken and stir passion and romance
or summon logic and reason.

resplendent in wisdom, 
captures love,
inspires hope,
provoke curiosity,
resonates drama,
evokes mystery,
uplifts spirits
and expresses grief.
So magnificent,
so powerful,
so wondrous
is the nature and
the majesty of poetry.

Details | Epic | |

Friendship 101

Friendship is the state of both people being the best of friends. Friendship also means      that one person is to protect the another person (man and/or woman) from all kinds of danger, even being taken advantage of. There's always a difference between two people being just friends and both best friends (a boy and a girl) falling in love with each other, especially when they've known each other since they were babies or elementary school. Building friendships mean that he and/or she has built the bridges that will never break  or burn unless they'd betrayed each other by having affairs with their boyfriends/girlfriends, selling them out to the the wrong crowd (including the devil), and that kind of stuff. It seems that without each other, they're nothing. Both people, including those from either elementary school, middle school, high school, or college really need each other, especially when they will have found out that their spouses or lovers have been cheating on them with somebody else. The greatest thing everybody should learn about friendships is that all friends are there for each other every single day. And the other greatest thing about friendships is that they've got each others' backs, especially when they're falling on hard times like facing reality, dealing with being decades old, that kind of stuff. Let's hope that all friendships don't end in pain, sadness, and suffering. And if these people continue to stay the best of friends for years and years, even through out all of the school reunions, things will always be the same. I hope all friendships stay stronger than ever forever.

Details | Free verse | |

Words Soon To Come

Words come and go Soaking through tear-blemished pages of old Coffee stains and glass cup rings A desk filled a world of philosophies The absence of words Is merely a concept of words soon to come And so much more is coming So much more shall come -December 15, 2012-

Details | Dramatic monologue | |

I mourn for the beginner 2

Who loves a beginner?
What counts except experience?
In every aspect and field:
Of romance, writing and working
But where do you gain experience
Without a first chance?

Young novel writers
Can only reap in old age
If only they are lucky
To live long like crows

What was that?
Common comments
Of publishers, critics and guides
Indeed, a wise query
To awaken and fortify the beginners!

Critics have muddied my land of birth
With contemptuous phrases
Is it really a literary desert?

What with this poor reading culture, 

But where are the books
From novel upcoming writers?

Publishers exude words of hope
To beginners
In interviews and forums


What happened to yester day’s promises?

Who adores beginners?
Will they survive to be breadwinners?

Details | Senryu | |

' Write: Because You Love To Write ... ' 58th Senryu

‘ Write:  Because You Love To Write … ’   58th  Senryu

    Read:  For More Insight
Write:  Because You Love To Write
     Speak:  Invite … Unite

Details | Free verse | |

Suddenly Fragile

Suddely when it gets tough to breathe and so it seems
that no one hears your call,
"Whisper" and fate will lift you up from your downward fall. 
Even though you don't know who I am,
there is a piece of solid ground where we both undoubtedly stand.
Then suddenly and fragile in a carefully constructed plan,
in a world where life evolves,
fate will often guide your hand.
Real or imaginary and the most important of all,
destiny has a chance to make the last call.
Truth tells us a story of a fragile life that fades away.
Maybe tomorrow or maybe even today.
But you will change the color of the big wide open sky,
and put all of your fears far, far behind.
Holding your head up high,
you take the ride of your life,
in a rough sea of waves.
You grip the very guiding words of the very truly wise.
There is suddenly a fragile moment in all the world of time,
where we all lose grip of a strong hold rope,
but fate will very well be there to often give us hope.
Every now and then, the solid ground we walk everyday,
becomes as fragile as the sand along the shoreway.
Fate will lead a path and light a spot for us to stand.
When your hands can no longer hold a pen,
to write what your heart speaks within,
shout forever unto the wind,
and your words will be carried miles and miles by your friends.
Then suddenly and fragile as dreams may be,
painting pictures in your mind,
there is forever fate that will grant your wish one last time.

Details | Personification | |


Felt as if I were a stranger amongst family.
A mere shadow puppet on the wall.
The whispers that enraged me deeply.
From all the distasteful, shameful,
ungrateful words that had been spoken
Utter silence drifting away,
the darkness starts to reign.
Sincerity's all so superficial beauty,
shines so brightly.
Blinding us from the true light burning within
Rebelliously our selfish motives,
and lustful attitudes,
Ruthlessly are felt thru out the land.
Emotionless thoughts,a lack of wisdom
Aimlessly wandering about;
Consuming everything in it's path.
Leaving "heart aches" as distraactions,
Felt dining from the war within,
the chains of bondage.
Keeping us slaves of death.
Our "seeds of faith" never failing to.
Surrendering to our human nature.
Repenting with our bankrupted souls
His grace,given with forgiveness
and love.

Details | Heroic Couplets | |

Cynecdoche The figures of speech

Cynecdoche The figures of speech
The Village rose at midnight
And each house wore delight
The festive mood squated on roofs
In hectic rhythm moved the hoofs
Horse race was followed by buffalo contest
Then human legs were put to test
The fairsex put on maiden attire
And the ageing lot sat near fire
The green calves cracked fireworks
while blind birds sat on treeperks
The daybreak was still very far
when in distant sky I saw a pulsar



Details | Lyric | |

the sign painter's song

for Woody Guthrie - born:1912-07-14

brushing up on strokin' guitar strings
twangin' words 'bout work and the land
lyrically political of dust 'n' things
not feared to sing 'n' take a stand

so long, it's been good to know yuh
so long, it's been good to know yuh
so long, it's been good to know yuh
an' he was a driftin' along

totin' six-string Fascist killin' machine
travelin' to the west coast shores of sand
singin' loud across fields gold 'n' green
as families struggle to feed mouth from hand

so long, it's been good to know yuh
so long, it's been good to know yuh
so long, it's been good to know yuh
Woody sings us America's song

wheat fields waving at ribboned highways
all the way across this beloved homeland
Woody sang songs of promises made sideways
to up 'n' blow away by uncaring command 

so long, it's been good to know yuh
so long, been good to know yuh
so long, it's been good to know yuh
been so good to know yuh, so long

you've been around for all of our lives
we know your songs and are ardent your fans
with Arlo and others your legacy survives 
to carry on singin' your musical stand

Woody weaves a hobo's lullaby so grand
so long, it's been good to know yuh
glory bound, been good to know yuh
so long, it's been good to know yuh
man it's been good to know yuh so long

© Goode Guy 2012-07-14

Details | Clerihew | |

SCTV Comedian

John Candy
Is quite beefy and dandy.
He is a comedian on SCTV
He's funny--everyone must agree!

Details | Quintain (English) | |


During the years that I had lived
many friends I have had;
some nice, some good, some bad...
ah! being friendless is very sad!

Beside family...who else
will remember what I've achieved,
perhaps a stranger reading
my works too lucid and intense?

I have honored many unnotorious folks like humble mother,
and the ones who have touched me in ways nobody has...
having been an innovator, not much of a shaker,
readers will uncover the true meaning of my writings.

Besides family...who will take time to read them twice?
Have I moved, inspired and changed them in several minutes?
That could be so true by the interest they have shown in the poems
I've written and my wish is that they have found that voice!

I seek no praises or laurels for my creations with words so intuitive,
and if an ode were dedicated to very honored I wouldl be!
It's not being naive...not to have realized it and be crowned with victory;
and in any respectable way they wish to remember me, it's their prerogative.

Details | Rhyme | |


Carolyn is that unique friend
who imparts encouragement
by restoring a thrill that was dead;
her uplifting comments have made realize
the worthiness of my talent...
it's a friendship that motivates and surprises!

She could be a thousands miles away,
and still finds time to respond and even pray
when somebody's heart needs solace...
there she smiles with the kindest eyes!

Carolyn has a passion which amazes us all;
her poetry and stories are full of human comprehension
never hesitant to reach out and intensely love...
who wouldn't want to be her friend and get her attention?

She's not afraid of admitting her physical pain and loneliness,
searching for miraculous ways to cope with her boldness, 
but she'd find much comfort, if we consoled her with our understanding...
lessened the burden of her worries by reaching out with a happy feeling!  

Details | Haiku | |

Happy New Year - Poetry Contest Ends 12.31.08!!

first day of the year
a snowflake falls
onto my shawl


Details | Free verse | |


A desire of a mind noetic Into ample authors What hence may be poetic If soon imagination will enter in Thus, inspiring set hands off Into accelerated motions Conscious and naissance As these, now expressions Are more to personal words Then, creating newer realms of reality Or even more, embellishing What were once, merely less distinctive worlds

Details | I do not know? | |

No Grey

Hearsay on what love is today
Lives stretched thin for parchment paper bridges
Twice over crossed
Trampled, trodden, lost hearts in clouds
While rain was wringing out my hair
Let down my gaurd
Tasting peppermint Chard ment to
Cling to a tree until my help arrived 
At mydestiney without you
Speak to me over shallow tones of flesh
Glistening nipples to nurse a drink as I sit
On this step and contest how much you don't know me
And him on a pendulum 
Swaying choir sings at your wedding
To the kind of bleeding it out
With the Rugrats on a network of Carnies
Laughing at the man in the Emporers clothes
Worn tight hanging on to mornings light
Turned on then blown out
For renowned satisfaction
Due to your lack of actions
Speak louder than words
On a new world order 
Signed on as the Natural Selection

Copywrite©Ameaca 2012

Details | ABC | |

Verbally Twisted

My vocabulary might be a little bent and dented but its mostly twisted, 
a self-made dictionary with a little dark thought and white light in life and craziness itself mixed in it,
 I get up in the morn ready to take the day on after just one egg on a pancake biscuit,
 I got the recipe for verbal insanity just give me the egg beater and with this vocabulary I'll mix in it,
 break the word batter down like a plumber leaking water until I re fix it, 
I got one of kind writing style its too unique for any typical fool to ****en miss it,
 I got the entertainment on writing just ask me for one and I wont sell it I'll just give you a free Se7en King ticket,
 I get your mind thought high so high in the sky lifted, 
I can give a two flying ****s if my haters say I aint got talent because these words they self so freaking gifted,
 I make poems shake like earthquakes fools cant you see how my words already got your mind shifted,
 This poem is my girl I kiss it, 
This poem is just like my weed i roll up and ****ing hit it, 
This word written *****is so addictive, 
Drugs and alcohol so self-conflictive, 
now how can this king ever, ever quit it, 
These words are dying I better get some gas for this verbal car like weed everyday I better get it,
 I live the life of a young Shakespeare I write like I cant ever regret it, 
I put this poetry *****on the line with my own life dont think I wont bet it? 
So **** you, they, them, her and even me, yeah there I done said it, 
letting go of poetic gun shells firing poetic unleaded, 
shooting cowardice poets like paper shredded, 
where many young lost crooked souls go unfed den, 
watch where your two feet may be treading, 
you got to watch your surrounding so much they circle around the same setting, 
**** Life until death say's otherwise, 
I'm just kind of crazy like that I'm just a little TWISTZTED.... TWISTIFIED...

Details | Couplet | |

The Blessing for My Book

As my job and health failed me... I dreamed to someday put together a 
book of poetry and this will be the blessing it will begin with...

As I sit here weaving my poetry
Into the semblance of a book…
I find that I must ask Gods’ blessing…
For the journey, that together we have took.

I find I must bow my head in thought…
Over this book that together we have wrought
As my hands clasp oh so reverently and earnestly over my heart…
As I believe his help brought the words together that I sought.

And God set the journey that shaped what now before you begins…
He helped me find the words that reached through my heart to my pen.
I pray the poems will be worthy of what he showed me as my life’s art.
And upon this book I honestly pray that his blessing he will impart. 

Details | Rhyme | |

Morning Motivation

Here and there life is everywhere 

Listen the noise what the birds are making there

Just open your visions and set the missions

Feel near as happiness here

Details | Rhyme | |

To Francine Roberts From Deb Wilson

Of nature's beauty,the lady writes.
Spring's renewal or winter squall.
Her eyes drink in the many sights.
From summer bouquets to trees in fall.

The words come sweet and gently flow.
About her animal friends she writes.
Birds in flight,creatures below.
Those sunny days and moonlit nights.

Along the paper her pen cascades.
Bringing color to the world out there.
She enjoys life's little escapades.
We're happy she will continue to share.

Merry Christmas Francine!

for p.d.'s poetry gift exchange contest

Details | Free verse | |

Within the Inky Pages

The binding groans open
And lets me in
Plunging into the depths
Of a cream colored world
Scents of ancient tomes fills my soul
And I’m addicted
I need a fix
				I really need a fix
And I inhale like I’ve never breathed before
My eyes glaze over, and               I’m   g  o  n  e
Universes I never knew appear
Black holes suck me in, Supernovas explode
Stars dazzle my eyes
As the words sprint across the page
It stole my heart, it did
I’ve never been in love like this before

Running fingers over the inky pages
Texture filling in the ridges of my fingerprints
Flooding my identity

Knowledge makes me
Builds me up to take me down
Into myself
Over and over
Inspiring new thoughts
That I thought were new
But really were hidden under
The dusty covers

If we save literature
If we save books from censorship
If we promote literacy
We can save mankind
And it’s history
The bad and good
Lessons learned and yet to be understood
All the falls and tumbles
Rises and stands

All within the inky pages
Held in my hand

Details | Rhyme | |

The Wonderful World of Words

Within this realm I can converse
Palaver, prattle or parley
So many words from which to choose
A choice to winnow, will and weigh

With words I can tell a story
Anecdote, fable or novel
Or just convey some useless facts
Unmistakable, data,  gospel

They can tell you what I’m feeling
Sensations, semblance, perception
Even describe the way I look
Visualize, perceive, envision

Words can induce feelings of love
Affection, fervor, ardency
And all to often inflict pain
Suffering, anguish, misery

Sometimes words are thought provoking
Impelling, cogent, alluring
While others can keep you guessing
Uncertain, assume, surmising

With words there are no boundaries
Barriers, brims, extremities
So free your imagination
Invention, idea, artistry

Details | Classicism | |


I feel so lost so gone, but yet so found/ My mind so weak, so fragile, but yet so determined so bound/ Mind so high so fly but still on the ****in ground/ Voice so silent so quiet, but yet so loud/ Feel so skinny so thin but still gaining them poundz/ Thought I wouldn't make it through the first but still standing in the seventh round/ My words so limp so skimp, but yet still making them gangstified soundz/ I feel so energized so choatic but still wanna lounge/ Ya'll better be ready when 7 comes through your town!!!! I can't lyrically quit for shyt/ Living around rez life lyrical bull isshh/ fake ass hating trickz/ wanna be bloodz and fake ass cripz/ I jus need to kick back and take another green hit/ ****a alcoholic fit/my own lizzife iz like a three dimensional skit/ I got to wake up and let myself go..can't hang on no more......gots to find my lost heart and soul...God please let a young native like me grow to know the real shyt in life!!

Details | Blank verse | |

Breaking Down Our Culture

Slowly one’s life like my rich ancient culture slowly breaks down/ 
All parts of my traditional sculpture peace taken down/
 I’m a twenty-first century reservation war camp inmate I don’t know why I keep getting the shake down/
 I was once filled with change until I experienced the greed and money of the American influenced reservation hate now/
 Life young was once but no longer great now/ 
I wanted to at least finish school or college or get a real job but it seems like it’s almost too late now/
 With certainty I’m going to leave my hood but now people are telling me to stay now/ Jail keeps getting me but prison is not too far away to stay out/
 Life’s road is to uncertainty is paved out/
 Before me a path righteousness of opportunity laid out/
 Like fast food , I’m surely on my way out/ Life’s ready for me now I better take out/ 
Fresh ready for a dip in the ocean’s lake out/ 
I’m mustn’t give in no more because where I’m from has taught me to make it a must that I take now/
 Dreams are made every day but more often than not dreams continue to break now/
 Life is a piece of steak it’s no longer a cake now/
 Leaves scattered throughout my life I better grab the rake now/
 I better hold my own because I know my soul called friends but especially family can still betray now/ 
This is my life, this is my destiny, this is my fate now/ 
I got to be more real with my life I got to stop trying to be fake now/
 Because In the end where I’m from it all slowly like my culture, like my life around here ……its breaking down.

Details | Personification | |

A Writer

"Dreams,noteworthy and passionate,
amount to nothing but meaningless memories"
Father invaded and bruised the soul,
Grabbed it of all the ambiguity and hope...
Still,the power of words remained,
Ink etched on white crisp paper,
bringing the ever-vicious inspiration
to the fore-front in myriad ways.
An amateur teen,bruised, yet
Hope and sense of belief kept me up!!
I dreamt and envisioned,
All i wanted and would accomplish,
not to avenge but triumph...
I wrote succintly and with tears,
for those who needed LOVE,
Love was the healer and Comforter,
Love which i missed and dreaded completely...
As i stood in the husky sunlight,
Girl with an ecstatic smile says,
"Book that was all powerful yet
a guiding force and the only one i have"
and i stood there in silence
completely stirred and emotionally healed..

Details | I do not know? | |






Details | Rhyme | |


Writing words from day to day 

Learning what others have to say

Reading each other’s poems undercover

Commenting our thoughts to one another~

copyright 2008
~inspired by my friends at the soupie~

Details | Lyric | |

Between and About

Twixt And between
Never quite there
But never will I stop.
I work and ponder
Forever moving 
Searching around and about.

There are times I wonder, where I really am?
Will I ever achieve my goals?
And what are the goals I’m searching for?
Are they really what I want?
Do I know which way to go?
Or should I start all over and begin again?

We’re all here at times in our lives…
Till every thing will finally become clear.
Then, some how I’ll be there again:
Twixt and between
Never quite there…
Here I go again.

Fluff Contest: This poem is definately full of fluff.

Details | Rhyme | |

Complete Man

Prolog:   This poem is about how much you need to struggle to ‘survive’ as an accountable and matured man. Child demands what he desires and the man sacrifices his desire, to fulfill the child’s.  It’s funny how you would be made a king for a day, and then a ‘somebody’, or even a ‘nobody’? Moreover, as you grow up, linearly, the problems breed exponentially like bacteria. Yes, it is true that the assimilative power to bear the offsets increase as you grow up too and how we breathe with the mere hope that one’s integrity pays back at some point in life. These verses symbolize the seldom hidden pain as adolescents in antithesis to the trouble-free life of a kid. Being a four year old playing with crayons, it’s all about you and your own little world!  
The journey is tough, the journey is loathed,
The journey is necessary, the journey is promising
From learning to put on the bow-tie,
To responsibly having the handkerchief in your pocket,
From experiencing the toughest times
And still standing upright like a ship in a storm
Like never before,
Manhood, here comes, like a raging warrior,
Resilient in form, stronger than its former,
And kills your innocence; darkens your heart.
The journey is tough, the journey is loathed,
The journey is necessary, the journey is promising
Life slips by ‘unlived’ and under cut-throat competition
Little merry-time, patchy hangovers and a far-fetched ambition
In trying to enrich and reclassify his social status
Life is yet adventurous, travelling rough miles
Reshaping himself, constantly adopting new lifestyles,
Every so often, he needs a little time, damn-it
In the end, faith grows numb in breaking the habit
It’s flabbergasting dad, how you stood up on your feet
Such burden of liability on the shoulders, how can one keep?
Politics was detested, conspiracy unheard of.
But now only has become an essential strategy for survival
Pain only makes him stronger,
Thanks Kelly Clarkson; that makes our belief finer
And brings a hope of fresh revival
How true Darwin sayeth!
Fittest subsists, and the rest are extinct species.
However, gratitude to such reformation
The inception of adulthood, cognizance!
Teaches him to be & believe himself; thus push his limits farther
Only critical moments, binds his relationships sturdier
The journey is tough, the journey is loathed,
The journey is necessary, the journey is promising.
Inspired by : friends, fam, eminem, linkin park, my fellow poets, my world

Details | Senryu | |

Power Pen

Ink from my pen-
a venomous sting...
murderer of thoughts on paper.

Details | Tail-rhyme | |









Details | ABC | |

Street Soldier

My baseball cap is my helmet and my Nike's are my boots, 
My country is my hood and my colors on my flag are niether red white or blue, 
My weapon of choice is my two hands, 
sometimes it can be whatever when I am threatened with a great fall from my stand,
 I have no general or soldiers but I have family and above all I got heart. 
My battlegrounds remain in my own home and sometimes even in the local Wal-Mart.
 Every inch of my hood is up for friendly fire, 
Violence remains apart of life around here searching for peace is far from desire,
 Everyday remains but another day someone will die, 
but more importantly is that another mother, brother, sister or father will cry.
 But I am a street soldier so I am prepared for anothers or worse yet my own demise,
 And as a street soldier I must keep the battle in check, no not with what I see with my two eyes, but what war is really going on inside the mind,
 My battles dont come from without but from within......I am a street soldier fighting through time.....

Details | Ballad | |


Books are a way of learning a trade
Books tell us stories, poetry, and plays

Books entertain our vast minds to the fullest
Books are in my opinion the coolest!

Books describe people of the past
Books are abundant at home and in class

Books bring home dragons and ghouls
Books aren’t apart of uneducated fools

Books represent a means to an end
Books are there when you haven’t a friend 

Books are hard and soft sometimes
Books are in brail to educate the blind

Books will be here and with me forever
Books without you doesn’t bring us together

Details | Rhyme | |


The first written poem by Mankind
dates back several thousands years...
even the Bible writers used it to inspire
as King David did in his spiritual Psalms.

Then, the intellectual Greek and Roman poets
performed it daily in the amphitheaters of their great cities
as the most popular art form so meditated for anologies... 
and it never gets old, it still inspires us with its verse.  

Read all genres: from ages past to our present time,
to discover that human feelings are equally sublime:
joy, pain, hope, love, triumph, defeat, envy, betrayel, hate and happiness...
among those you have read so far: which ones have made you speechless?

Be overjoyed that our poetry will live on after we'll be gone,
our names proudly set in stone: it's the greatest honor bestowed upon us;
and the ones who admire our work will definitely carry on,
hoping that they too will partake in that ureal glory...even surpassing ours.

Details | Epic | |


An epiphany is actually a Christian holiday that takes place on the 6th of January every year. An epiphany is also a sudden realization of greater truth. It seems that after he or she had said some hateful remarks about each other or whatever, he or she finally has an epiphany; people should accept some changes in their lives. Epiphany is used different ways, especially when it comes to being a Christian holiday, even after Christmas. The only way for people to each have an epiphany is to end their selfish and hateful ways. And the fact that day in and day out, even if these people are moving on with their lives, they should do the same. Some people, like Albert Einstein, were using the word "epiphany" as a scientific term, but it's used to end all types of selfishness and a lot of arrogance. No wonder why epiphany has affected the lives of every human being on planet earth. and just like I said, the only way to end this selfishness is to have an epiphany. The only reason why he/she shouldn't care about him/herself anymore is because other people are as important as he or she is. Without multiple people in their lives, he or she is nothing. He or she must put all negative thoughts aside in order to save themselves from reliving a lot of painful memories. Everybody knows that God wanted the entire human race to get along well. Right now, I wish every human being on the planet each have an epiphany and were to stop being self-centered and start thinking about others besides themselves. Unless he or she each has an epiphany and until he or she ends his or her selfish ways, he or she will likely spend the remainder of his or her days alone.

Details | Rhyme | |

What is Good Poetry

What is significant to your life?
What words stick with you? 

What Memories pour forth in your shackled brain?
What things make you go absolutely insane?
What darkness sops your soul?
What light keeps you controlled?

What is bad poetry?
—can’t think of any

The possibilities are endless
Wasting your time searching is worthless
Life is wonderful, full of insight
And all you have to do is

So I ask you again, man and woman
Can you truly, sincerely See
What is good poetry?

Details | Free verse | |

and there will be days

and there will be days
that not many will count along with me
and all the clouds that follow
will neither blow, nor not borrow
near what i did not wish to furrow
for longer than that shadow
might wish to shine 'long near me
it is more than an early, easy
sun to set
and dawn on
my simple mindset
oh. . . there will be days
that we've yet. . . to met
and only traces left behind
for what we already know
we never forget

Details | Rhyme | |

Why I Enjoy Writing Poems

Why I Enjoy Writing Poems... I often have a thought or two on my mind. And have written them in the expression of a rhyme. I’ve tried to write as I feel God has led. And try to do it in love, in what's written & said. At times, I “have stepped on people's toes.” This is not my intention— God really knows. If you've read a poem that I wrote. I hope you were encouraged with hope There’s a message that I pray comes across... "With Christ... all is not lost!" I’ve tried to write poems from my spirit. As an expression of how I live it. The words written are from my heart to you May they be a blessing in whatever you do! By Jim Pemberton

Details | Quatrain | |

We All Become Each Other

We all become each other
When we read each others writes
Its because we all learn from each other
That in our mind they turn out right

We all become each other
Its the nature of the feast
The poetry forms the words we use
On paper they are released

We all become each other 
On this community on the net
Names with images, some bio's follow
With time we all inter met

Details | Rhyme | |

Poets in Sync " Two Peas in a Pod "

April this year
Writing and posting
Wow, it's all going fine

Miss Gorelick, Miss Devonshire
Welcomed me aboard
Two lovely ladies
Wow, this Highlander's scored

But honestly
The feeling i received
Was very much more
Than i had dream-ed

The weeks progressed
As i wrote my poems
The comments by Carolyn
Had kept me going

As i wrote away
Topics and themes
Historical and nature
Subjects to me, supreme

As i read Carolyn's
And she read mine
Two peas in a pod
It springs to mind

Similar writings
And some even the same
Signals in harmony
Sailing the same plain

And look at us now
A collaboration couple
Our future in write
A poet double

Our poems together
Two heads as one
Look out for our postings
There's much more to come

My entry into Nathan Leccese's contest " Two Peas in a Pod "

Details | Free verse | |


I want to make sure I’m not falling on my face...
And I`m willing to go the distance
And I want to bring back good memories...
I want to make sure
You`re safe and you`re in a safe place

But GIVE ME some space
Sometimes, I wake up...feeling so distressed
But GIVE ME your sweet grace
And we'll beat the race...and this pain we share will not be addressed

I don't want to be unsure - am I the one losing the race?
And I'm chilling in this heavenly place
And I need to trade you my apologies…
I don’t want to waste your time
You’re absolutely safe…as long as you keep pace 

Details | Epic | |

Different Point of Views

Every day, people each have their own different point of views. These points are either
good, bad, or in-between. And for when he or she gets him/herself in a compromising
situation, that's so bad. It seems that when most people cannot agree on almost
everything, they can talk about it. When it comes to males and females really need to see
their point of views in life, they should just stick with them. There's a lot of things
these people really want to talk about: religions (Muslim, Christian, Catholic, etc.),
politics, favorite types of music, nationality, almost everything. And if these people
want to talk about supporting gay rights and immigration rights, then that's on them.
Everybody knows that their opinions should count, even if they're just different from
other opinions. It looks like that the entire nation is trying to express their real point
of views. If these people each have different point of views and values and that kind of
stuff, then I guess I have my point of views, too. There's just different ways for all of
us, as equals, to express ourselves, especially when we're trying to say what's really on
our minds. We have different point of views, we're entitled to our opinions, and that's
just the way the whole system goes. everybody will have also thought about what these
so-called "Nay-Sayers" were going to do like shutting the mouths of  the whole entire
nation up, covering up their lies, and trying to take control of almost everything, but
it's completely typical of these lying has-beens. If everybody's entitled to their
opinions and want to give out their extreme point of views, let them do so. And if these
so-called "Nay-Sayers" each have a problem with the way we talk, the way we act, the way
we dress, or whatever, that's their problem; not ours. I wish that everybody had their own
point of views and were entitled to their opinions.

Details | Rhyme | |


I remember the day, when I wrote my first verse!
Writing a poem was not at all a matter of business for me,
And it wasn’t a colossal chore when my master asked me to write one;
But, in veracity I have ever written none.

Pondering on great poetic legends and their near and dears…
Their prodigious thoughts crammed my wits-
Then my proceedings seemed as if they are gliding higher than the clouds-
I’m all set and clear nearly for hours.

Then my sister scoffed at me, brother mocked with her,
Granny chuckled, grandpa giggled and of course there was a silencer!
Amazed, to get appraisal even before I moved further;
After all those are initiatives for an up-and-coming writer.

I astounded that I too got critics, but it made me to go on;
Puzzled to find out what they actually mean;
But it made me to climb that unclimbed mountain;
And fasten my mission.

Then with loads of coolness, I took my wand
To wave her magical spell for my deed;
Everything went impeccably organized
Until I got a doubt how to get it started… …

Details | Senryu | |

' Generous Words ... ' 18th Senryu

‘ Generous Words … ’   18th Senryu

      Love … is A Give-Word
   God … is A Generous Word
       Forgive … Says It All

Details | Quatrain | |


Alluring are all these things in life in 
which one may become fond in 
Calling upon all to climb up on their 
own stage; free will regardless of 
the age
When it comes to receiving nothing 
in life grants you knowledge more 
than does reading
Engage in life to gain experience this 
sets up a phase, be your own sage

Those of you who can come to 
understand now is the time climb 
up out of the sand
Tuning into one’s own inner yang, 
requires one to hear the bells when 
the ring
Believing that you sit in his right 
hand one comes to realize that life 
is grand
It all depends on the choice of 
words which you cling they display 
the song you sing

The Creator always comes to your 
aide, no matter your individual 
A clue to each and every perversion 
exist inside all culprits arson
The sound of the first grenade is the 
signal to the enemy; begin the raid
The soul is the intent to blacken in 
the words discharged by these evil 

In there attempt to acquire all 
things delicious they embrace the 
If one does want to recognize their 
spin, all you have to is see how they 
Why they stay so furious, their will 
belongs to all things they find 
Failing to see their despicable yin
leads all down the path of 
committing sin

There will be way far too few able to 
pay the bill on the last day it is due
After relentless tearing your soul 
will continue its everlasting searing
After you realize that there has been 
a coup you will not all be able to sue
Tortured and tormented you are 
now filet and sauteed burning 
without ending 

*****  For the "Word Game 
Contest" sponsored by Catie 

Details | Lyric | |

Fascinate View Picture

The picture standing up hanged by the wood
redo..., at blueness painted livingroom alike is a horizon
she by carry out veiling white over her torso
and, a big lasso in her large black hairs ---
up designed of greenery-print flowers by the fabric
by evinced motion splendid gleams are color
by famous been knowledge enkindling the scene  
from Victorian art odes “Flaming June” 
Dreamy gussy mulls ... alike fashion are virgins.

Standing by hanged from vividness wood blueness
at glances fascinates is drawn, once picture
where the expiration will in divine rebirths, easy
up mind of any spontaneous written ... 
by the winter, by snowing or faraway deeply time 
by the spring-fall its raining
By the fire rising of chimneys, room is around.
away in slight, –by whom seeing her
rising eyes by,  at fulling of illusion
when, glance touch the call attention is scenes
Into magical dreamy playing, at Angel are words. 

Oh! ... memory sightly—as romantic is standard
in profound dismay time, nothing better thy enduring
by multi colored scene is livingroom
evenly—in big or small dimensions ...
in red, green, yellow, blue, orange, at prismatic colors
Looking is the region alike heaven, by rainbow.

Details | Free verse | |

To the authors of Manimekalai - Part One

                                             Part One

“Apart from its popular conception of transmigration, (which is) sometimes almost humouristic, Manimekhalai offers a documentary contribution of immense value, under an easily accessible form, on the philosophical speculations of Ancient India.
The cosmology of Sankya, the scientism of Vaisheshika, the logic of Nyaya, the materialism of Lokayata, originally related to the Ajivika tradition, (all of) which re-appeared with force in the Dravidian world following the Saivite renewal a little before the beginning of the Christian era. The(se) concepts which had little by little, during the course of centuries, influenced the Vedic tradition manifested themselves with force from then on in an autonomous way and went on to give birth to the philosophy of Mediaeval India.” 
             ( From Alain Danielou’s “Preface” in his and T. V. Gopala Iyer’s Manimékhalai )

To some the interest is in the reading hearing singing
To others in the Buddhist faith that moved the begetter(s)
To most the wondrous-unwonders of the story
   born in the Cilappatikaram
To a few in the monstrous bending of the verse in nilamantilavaciriyappa
To all time to parse in tongue-grinding heady rhymes
  initial rhymes
rigourous unsyntactic ellipses
    double syllabic feet
        four to the line
            the exceptions in three
all a mnemonic scaffolding of repetitive sound

For yet others after Catanar's warehouses in Puhar were long empty
the task of interpretation arose
Some sought to impute his motives to caste-enhancing kingly favours
  Some as Aravana Atigal's hagiographer
Some as a bodhisattva-feat acquirer
  Some as the anthologiser of myth and tradition
Some as the poet-laureate of a people's ancient lore
  Some as a collective grass-roots inspirational catalyser
Some as the hindu kings' proselytiser
  Some as a patron of a ghost-writer
Some perhaps as the first ecstatic copyist
  Some who knows as an unrepenting plagiarist

Who should care after all these years
Who wrote what and why
   no image rests of him
      nor the jetties and godowns of the Cola entrepôt
          nor whether some Yavana read to him
during the long monsoonal wait back for Rome
the feisty encounters of a Ulysses
or the airy goings and comings of the Olympian pantheon
      nor whether he cared to listen
being full of a pride of his own

(Continued in Part Two)

Details | Burlesque | |

I Feel Ashamed

I am hungry, what will it be?
Ham, turkey or that nasty bologna?
I am hungry, chickpea mash?
Spam or that disgusting Hash?
I am hungry, mountain oysters anyone?
Fish eggs? Or sushi that is "not done?"
Such meager questions on what to eat.
There are people out there who are starving.
I feel ashamed and should do my part.
To give the shirt off my back would be a start.

Details | Free verse | |

Favoritism Forwarding

Photobucket - Video and Image 

Let everyone know
whose on your lists
drop them a line this time to tell them
exactly where they sit on your favorites
let them know what their poem means to you while they are still alive
this is your interactive audience
your psychic sidekick
your spiritual inner workings guide

Let them know who is on your list
and then tell them to pay it forward and in a few more months 
let it spiral out again
why sit in silence and never know
who your fans are
read up on them find their tastes
and pleasures and then help define them

Let me know please
who is reading me
tell me tell me
what poems of mine do you continually re read
the future
the future
the future we aim to touch
but if we don't work together to find out the present favorites
we might not ever know much

So teach me about my writing
who is my target audience of you
drop me aline so i can find
whose reading me and why
and what i can do
to entertain you
and the future in a better manner
so the competition will have a competitor in this corner
now please pay your favoritism forward

Details | Acrostic | |

Poetry contest

Poetry allows for the soul to fly free,
Opening one’s eyes to capture more then what they see,
EVENTUALLY saturating the core of one’s heart,
Tying together whatever has fallen apart,
Reinventing words with intense INFUSION,
Yearning desires are rekindled with a hint of ILLUSION,
Placing pieces together like a puzzle in your mind,
Accepting one for what they say as your ears become inclined,
Letting go of yesterday becomes INEVITABLE to embrace today,
Awaking emotions in such a powerful way,	
CREATIVITY becomes the potter’s clay,
Enlightenment dismembers any form of disarray.


Details | Free verse | |

Star seeding

How many nights awake as thoughts tumble so fast from the heavens that sense just needs to
be made?
Grab the pad always nearby, for when the rains come
and pour your heart out with them.
It’s understated to say inspired,
conversations with clouds,
allowed and understood.
Good. When that thunder rolls you know that flash is going to illuminate a lot.
All you’ve got
is a few minutes to get that down, a word a code a sign.
To remind your mind again.
It’s like that for all of us, but we,
we who have learned to pay attention,
not to mention
that we like it,
we listen. That’s all it is.
Nothing mystic
or fatalistic in it.
We like to dance naked in the rain.
And let that rain wash right through us.
We’re not afraid of lightning, we know it comes from the Earth.
And we’re rooted there. Deep.
So keep
your judgments to yourself about what’s right.
There ain’t no St. Peter checking for baptismal certificates at the Pearly Gate.
And Fate
can be re-written any time by intent.
Well meant
wishes sent to you do good and keep you strong.
So that rain of inspiration won’t burn you up, keep you watered long
After you’ve apologized.
So we let it through in verse, in muse, in story disguised
As truth. Star seedings through us all
Watching as seeds fall
And sprout in the rain
on Earth.

Details | Diminished Hexaverse | |

Simple Unoccupied Bench

The simple bench sits
Unoccupied now
Classic table holds
Intent to write poems

Light sweater blown
Onto yellow
Roses, walkway
Empty no one

Garden neat
Perfect plants
Fenced closed

Where is.......


("The Bench"(The Garden Of Versailles) Edouard Manet (1832-1883/French) Oil On Canvas)

Details | Free verse | |

Free Range

Often my thoughts do range far and wide.
But it’s not just my thoughts that skim the tides.
When my Hubby asks and I don’t reply…
He says I’m free ranging again with my mind.
He laughs and tells me to please wake up…
But I’ve already been there, thank you, so much.

Deep in thought and so far away,
He’s still my muse in every way.
But once I get going on that thought…
Look out boys, my mind is set and lost
But don’t you worry. No Sireeee.
When the typing slows you’ll know I’m back, you see.

Those free-range chickens have nothing on me…
I way surpass them in productivity.
And as my words free range far and wide
You’ll find… others may be joyfully joining  me for a time.

Details | Rhyme | |


We are sullenly mourning
For security from the demoralizing night
I am despairingly probing
For mercy to carry us back to our divine flight

We are all wishing for infinite freedom
We are all seeking for an abundant kingdom

If we are living in pure happiness, why are we so emotional inside and out?
Why are we painstakingly tracking down a getaway away from this mystifying dilemma? What is all this venturing about?
If we are swaying in the rhythm of faultless jolliness, why are we vexing about the departure of our best friend?
It isn’t in our control…so get a grip or we'll fall!
If we build up our friendship, we'll have wounds to mend
So stop your blaming and cursing or we'll be in appall 

If we are all leaders, why are we panicking?

We are all leaders…we aren’t senseless pleaders!
So face your phobias and get out of the deserted state!
We are all leaders…we will not give in, vile deceivers!
Saunter out of sight, so we won’t meet our unsettling fate!

You meddled with our cries
So don't point fingers, you insidious devil
And forced us to believe your jaded lies
SHUT YOUR MOUTH! I don't want to consider your excuses, for our truth stands still

If we are living in pure happiness, why are we not meant to be?
If we are living in pure happiness, why are we battered and bent?
If I am living in pure happiness, why am I not free?
Could we ever discard this horrifying dilemma that pounds on us like cement?

We must act like a leader—tough and vigilant
Striving to survive!
We must mimic like a leader—buff and independent
Struggling to stay alive!

Disregard the mourning state;
Drive out the defiant enemies and make them face their damnations
So we can joyfully integrate and negotiate
You’d do me a favor to cease your supplications!  

Details | Rhyme | |

The Sun's Rays

The sun’s devouring rays
Reveals an astounding sensation against the marvelous universe
It caresses the earth with warm hugs and gives life to the motionless gaze
Its auras are above nature’s designating exteriors
Its swaying beauty is beyond Earth’s inhabitants, deserving my praise

It treasures the sky with joyousness and forms swarms of jeering birds
The sighs of the wind attracts clamoring herds

The sun’s appalling flames
Unshackles a zealous tune that reveals the Earth’s accord
It embraces the atmosphere with remarkable claims
Unraveling my curiosity; my ears are pleading to hear more, so I go forward!

It prizes the ocean with eagerness and forms swarms of screeching seagulls 
The strength of the waves draws in scorching souls 

The sun's unattainable rays 
Motivate life to trail on till its duty is done
Its auras seep through the whirling sky and strays
Embracing ambitious love like a father and son  

Details | Free verse | |

Not Done With You Yet

Waiting for a response
Stumbling upon it for months
Fiddling with decaying words
Unlocking birdcages,
Letting go of birds
Will I ever be let go
By troublesome guilt, 
Fluttering and squealing with joy?
Waiting for an entrance
I try to break through it for years
But I'm shattered by denied words
I'm trying to find a path to go through
But...I'm trapped by the thought of you

Details | Free verse | |

A Good Rule To Follow

Just do what ever you think if you must,
Cause with you there can be no trust.
   Faith and love is what you must learn,
It is  something you must go out and earn.
   Respect and understanding is how you must start,
To keep a love from completely falling apart.
   If Joy and Happiness is what you seek ,
Then be strong and true it will be yours to keep.
   Kindness and compassion is a good rule to follow,
It will bring brighter days for al your tomorrows .
    Love as if it were the last day of your life,
Try caring with open arms and do not fight .
    This life is precious if there is someone to love ,
Try to remember that it is a gift from above.

Details | Free verse | |


What is a poet
without his pen & paper?
as his finger becomes his pen
& the Earth his paper.
...He is still a poet...

Details | Free verse | |

Simple Agenda

Itches pound against my thigh and thumb
But I put on my poet's hat
I feel a poem coming
frothing forth
my gums ache
my right bottom eyelid jumps
But I have on my poet's hat
I see a poem coming
my throat throbs
my  left ear pops
But I am wearing my poet's hat
I smell the poem coming
Nose sniffles and burns
cracked chapped lips
But I adjust my poet's hat
I know a poem is coming
But my sleepiness
drains my hands
my brain is cluttered
no thoughts reign
I know the muse was
on my shoulder
but all I do is yawn and
I'll take off my poet's hat
and get some rest and that
was my poem
going down.

Details | Free verse | |

my favourite path

i see it before me 
i have not stepped towards, nor walked along its direction 
it is clearly there for me to do so 
the decision 
can stray left or right of the way I go 
and all I know 
is that it starts 
before me

Details | Rhyme | |

A Writer's World

A Writer’s World

“My life is not an open book, but the “highlights” speak louder
than the title that’s pure creativity: a careful design…not made by the web.”

Writers make the world a better place…
truth be told, how else could we escape…
from this madness in this world
I’m just runnin’ on faith.
This paper and pen lives so deep within…
can’t see myself livin’ life without them…
they ask how do you do that
and when I put it down
I hear them beggin’ me to come back…
I could go back, but if I went back
it’d take the black of the ink of the pen
that I use to think with and then…
I’d be an endless worry to them
I’m wonderin’…hmmm….
with the red in my eye from the ink of the pen
I will edit rougher drafts through the laptop…
this is just the beginnin’ of when winnin’…
when winnin’ don’t give in to the redness in my eye,
to the pain when I blink samurai
and no lie I’m in war with the pen and the paper
that I’m usin’ to win with writin’ off these haters……
.come a dime a dozen don’t you know this…
glad I wasn’t!
Genius when winnin just can’t give in…..
sync with my lyrics so originique
holdin’ this pen so tight against this paper
no writer’s block….when winnin’…must think
so I’m gone ya’ll…..”Extinct

By: Aleasha Martin                                                                           

Details | Verse | |


Why should thoughts, ideas and dreams be
as esoteric as secrets?
Turn them into poetry,
and share them with the entire Humanity...
I have shared mine with all without ambiguity!

No fortress, stately rising into the vast skies,
can escape the battering storms so damageable, 
and not tumble lay in ruins as others have;
here's your only chance to be immortal:
be a wide river which can withstand tides!

Why should a literary work
be as esoteric as secrets, to remind the worst humiliation?
Don't pass under the yoke for a defeat,
be daring, fearless, challenging and brief;
do lucky survivors ever submit their will to desperation? 

And should you be disheartened by a wrong choice?
Don't cuss fate or damn yourself for bumpy roads;
instead of complaining, look on the brighter side:
dare to make a difference with the gift of words...
by giving your dead language a more vibrant voice!

Verse: a metrical or rhymed composition as distinct from Prose: Poetry

Copyright 2010 by Andrew Crisci

Details | Lyric | |

Scotland has to be Seen " Beatlemania "

In the countryside in bloom adorn
Beautiful scenery for all to see
The sun shines down, its full of life
Different shades of different greens

Through the glens our trips begun
So many sights that have to be seen
Feel the passion of hearts so brave
This land called Alba, peacefully serene

    The land of the Scots, is the best place in the world
    Best place in the world, best place in the world
    The land of the Scots, is the best place in the world
    Best place in the world, best place in the world

So come and see our beauty hoard
So many sights for you to explore
Different vistas, makes us say

    The land of the Scots, is the best place in the world
    Best place in the world, best place in the world
    The land of the Scots, is the best place in the world
    Best place in the world, best place in the world

To live and die in the Highlands breeze
A world apart a different breed
We are the Scots, no in between
So please visit Alba, it has to be seen

    The land of the Scots, is the best place in the world
    Best place in the world, best place in the world
    The land of the Scots, is the best place in the world
    Best place in the world, best place in the world

My entry into John Heck's " BEATLEMANIA SING-ALONG contest "
         please sing-along to the tune of Yellow Submarine

Details | Quatrain | |



When I in sweet repose lie still,
And restfulness surrounds me,
Come fluttering words, come drifting words,
Come drifting words to me.

Come fluttering down and drifting 'round,
And playfully surround me,
As I walk dark streets of town,
With midnight's cloak about me.

Come fluttering words, come drifting words,
Come drifting words to me,
As I wonder, deeply ponder,
What those words might be.

I wander through the garden,
I stop beside the door.
I wait beside the fountain,
For the words so sweet and pure.

It's here that I am happy.
My heart and soul can sing,
As the words come drifting to me,
My spirit lifts, takes wing.

                                                Judy Ball

(The lady is a poet and she waits for inspiration)

Written Saturday, July 16,2011

For What Is She Thinking Contest by Constance LaFrance - Wandering poet

Details | Free verse | |

Nun But You

How do you know? 
Who tells you so? 
Is it premonition? 
One who forever butts in with song;
With the voice gone entirely wrong. 

Do you reach for opinions of loved ones? 
Would they inform you the talent you suspect is none? 
Would you be mortified by truth.....? 
If truth was sincere? 
Or could you embrace the honesty you hear? 
Would you regroup; or give in? 
Would the fighter arrive telling you to win? 

Is it even worth trying to continue.....? 
Or is it only false hope that lies deep within you? 
Are you a no trick pony.....? 
With no chance, no passion, a phony?

But it does burn deep inside you. 
Most times, the only friend to guide you. 
It listens and makes you talk back. 
Filters your senses, pushing you back on track.
You need no affirmation. 
Only self adaptation. 
When the voice inside you fails to love and guide you, 
Release the headaches of self doubt. 
Let you figure you out. 
Because when those in which you’ve confided all depart, 
You are the one left with aspirations..... 
Of the calling you failed to start.

JS Lambert

Details | Free verse | |

A Verse for Algie

A challenge has been put to me 
To create some more poetry
I’ll do my best to be creative 
And not to rhyme while I’m talking to people
In real time 
My favorite type of poem
Is one that’s metered and rhymes 
But I understand that nowadays
That really isn’t a factor anymore
I think the very best poetry
Is the kind that opens doors to imagination
That inspires the artist and moves a nation
That lifts you up through depression and inflation
And leads you to self actualization
The kind that paints a picture in your mind
And takes you from the daily grind
Transporting you to far off lands
Where there is no war, there is no despair
And the lion lies down with the lamb
Peace out!

Details | Pantoum | |


Vivid imagination spins,
when one creates
a fine literary work...
life would never be happier.

When one creates,
ideas keep on flowing...
life would never be happier
with thoughts swifter than light.

Ideas keep on flowing
like water from a waterfall
with thoughts swifter than light
I am glad to reach my home.

Like water from a waterfall
that's pure and refreshing
I am glad to reach my home
without worry, sadness or doubt.

That's pure and refreshing 
as I drink it with great delight...
without worry, sadness or doubt,
to satisfy my unquenchable thirst.

I'm still writing my first Pantoum,
seeing shadows advancing...
without worry, sadness or doubt,
I pay more attention to form than rhyme.

Perched on the power line, owls stare at me
and wonder what I am doing at such hour
by this bright
vivid imagination spins.

Details | Free verse | |

My Gift

I am a song of wonder,
Of lust and love,
Drifting on the breeze,
Bringing a greater understanding to all who behold my gift,
At least that’s what I hope,
I don’t need to be different to change the world,
I already can,
All I have to do is write,
And let my words be seen,
And hope that to someone they will make a difference,
That they will show someone the world in a whole new way,
A way they’ve never imagined it before,
And that makes me special,
All I have to do is write poetry.

Details | Quatrain | |

The Poetic Skies

I’m writing of my neighbor,
Who sadly passed away.
She planted the poetry seed,
Of the poems you read today.

A piece of me left with her,
The day her casket closed.
She spawned my poetic inception,
For her, my work’s composed.

It’s been eleven lonely years;
Her poetic sun set, to never rise.
I’m still in mourning far from setting,
Illuminating the poetic skies.

Her presence cast infectious beauty,
But her life’s light untimely set.
Leaving a wealth of memory,
That my heart will never forget.

Her poems speak forever,
Reminding my tortured soul.
Of their creator’s radiance,
That sadly had to go. 

I’m up here with other stars;
My poetic rays sting the eyes.
It's my time of day to shine,
And grace the poetic skies.

For Chris' "Get Your Rebel On" contest

Details | Classicism | |

We Are All The Same

Take my hand I want to show
The world that you outta know
The Bi’s and gays are all the same
What does teasing them have to gain?
Jewish and Christian may be different religions
But like how Atheists say they may not be precision
From Japanese to Korean, white to black
Once you make a racial slur you can never take it back
Why make fun of one another?
It’s like judging a book by its cover
Join together and you will see
Everyone goes through the same pain and misery
It doesn’t matter if you’re short or fat
What’s in your heart is where it’s at
From the music you listen to, to what you wear
Making fun of someone isn’t fair
Would you like it if someone made fun of you
Even if it wasn’t true
Every human being is all the same
This is not all just a big game
Sometimes discrimination leads to suicide
Would you like if someone diminished your pride?
Everyone is different in a way
But there still the same shall I say
Our journey is over but let us become stronger
We’ll come together and let separation be no longer!

Details | Rhyme | |

Ireland's Journalist Jewel

The dedication of this journalist gem
Whose writing, brought down
Drug dealing men
Eire's Sunday Tribune
And Sunday's Business Post
Newspapers of note, for in them she wrote
But it was the criminal world
And her writings so splendent
That craved her to write for the Sunday Independent
This brave reporter put her life on the line
To reveal to her country
Their drug filled slime
To avoid libel
Pseudonyms she chose
To protect the paper, from legal blows
Drug dealers uncovered
Showing their ill gotten gains
Irrespective of lives and families pains
Threats turned to visits, firing shots at her home
To deter her uncovering
In her investigative roam
Three months later she was shot in the leg
But the dedication of her
Thousands of newspapers were read
Near Newlands Cross
On the outskirts of Dublin
On a motorbike, two men with a gun
At a traffic light junction
With a Magnum .357
Ireland's Journalist Jewel, was taken to heaven
The name of this gem
Veronica Guerin
" In memory of a brave woman, wife and mother who took on the 
                      criminal underworld in Dublin, Eire "

Details | I do not know? | |


Once upon a time, I wrote about love.
It was based on no poem, sung by none
drawn from the deepest through
of a soul that its flame didst burn.

Once upon a time, I wrote about hope;
each passing day, i got more hopeful 
that people would at last began to cope
with the situations they are, if careful

Once upon a time, I wrote about the morning.
every now and then, I remember the frown 
I had, when I discovered that the last wordings 
were longer than the first, like they were drawn.

Once upon a time, I wrote about time
that waits for no man, always in a hurry;
if you keep to it, you'll do just fine
but to the lazy ones, it flies past: fast and blurry.

Details | Lyric | |

I'm Thinking naga-uta lyric form

with muse in my hand
and wire tapping on brain
I begin journey
to explore imagination 
to find a story
for sheer enjoyment
when bounty is truely found
on that given day I sought

Entry For 
Brian Strand's 
Lyric Contest

Details | Rhyme | |

A Season of Verse

Days in seasons gather As due storms, above a setting sun Memories holding me in stillness By living out, in each and every one In verse, a vessel to amble on, with Or mere ways which a man journeys back As pages become the stir of echoes By outward, inking thoughts into black Some are turned, with smiles stained Others in very tender tears Evermore simply by aural laughter Freeing imagery of foregone years And in eye of mind I see thee read To turn another, then one more page And feel in your heart, my envision bleed

Details | Rhyme | |

Crumbs of Deception

...A poem dedicated to a character named Koreen Mae Garson (a lady, not a man)... 

Your love smokes me like a worn-out cigarette Your love blemishes me with bite marks You brush aside the crumbs…now I’m stomped on all over again Your hugs are constricting like a serpent Your hugs loses its passion…my fury vigorously sparks You abandon me cold-bloodedly, now I choke in harsh punishment Your treachery strangles me…you don't consider my screams of importance You snatch away my humility and leave me with the crumbs of shame Your arrogance plants a grave in me…you don't notice that I desire your radiance You ditch me with senseless remarks and you make me feel game You ruin my modesty You stole away my heart’s virtue You bruise my sustaining dynasty You complete me with rue Your conceitedness intoxicates me… Your arrogance underwhelm thee… You unscramble my remains and insert me with the liquid of corruption Your self-confidence leads me to never-ending fate…you disregard my joy You handle me with maltreatment/enchantment and smudge me with your provoking expression You crushed me with your cunning plans, now you made me hunt after my prized boy Your hatred penetrates me with lush, crooked trace You swap me onto the floor, now I’m smashed into smithereens Your smiles lose its splendor...your enlightenment gains disgrace You disown me carelessly…now I spilled your moldering beans You’re imprisoned by the chains of infuriating heat, Feeding off the crumbs of deception

Details | Free verse | |

Abstract or Concrete

What are the words that give meaning to a page,
what is a page, what is a word.
Who is the audience that drives the poet’s ambition,
what is the desire to fulfil this ambition.
Is it the satisfaction of knowing their words are meaningful,
a line upon line rhyme or verse occupied by limitless thoughtmanifested as ink.
What is a poem but a bold statement,
fearless of interpretation.

For more poetry goodness, visit my website: 

Details | I do not know? | |


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 | Lyric | |

My Only Room


As I step in to the room in the corner
I got creativity hint
As I activate my dream hunter
I breathe energetic wind
As I try to fall asleep deeper
I find words written inside my brain

Prima Adinda Minardi
(For 'Inspired' contest. Sponsored by: Miranda Lambert)

Details | Free verse | |

Heartless Fire

In my fervent heart,
You knew I treasured you
But you didn’t return those tender feelings
Just see the fumes arise from the consuming fire
Because my wicked desires wasted away into embers
I love you…I love you…These feelings are ever so new!
I LOVE YOU…I love you…These feelings are always true!
You knew I honestly adored you…oh yeah; I always did from the start
But you don’t consider those mild feelings—you wrecked those bits by bits
Ah! Now I’m crammed into the ascending fire, splintering me with the strokes of death
Because of my virtuous desires, I’m wasting away into the pit of corruption
I thought you were encompassed with my passionate kisses
But you wanted to chase after your callous blisses, now I’m faced with crises
I detest the thought of adoring you…but I have to admit—I love you!
I love you…I love you with all of my heart! Do you love me too?
I know the desires that I have constructed for you never occurred in your heart
I know in the bottom of my heart that you were only enticed by your sick pleasures
You’re dumping me into the raging fire and you’re a sneaky little liar
Because I ain’t lying like you do deceitfully to me—I’m in love and I can’t draw back my desire
You brought magnificence in my eyes, comforting angel
But I’m subsiding into the cavernous fire
Because I surrender to my legit desire
How could I free from the embrace that yanks on to me?
You brighten up my dreams and set me free from reality’s calamity
I love you…I love you…These feeling relieve me from the blue!
I LOVE YOU…I love you…I adore your every existence—do you get the clue?
You knew I kept this feeling inside for so long
Nevertheless, I feel that I belong
In your heart…In His heart…
In my heart…we’ll never depart!
You are my true endeavor
And I wanna win your heart forever!
You’ll always be loved because you’re above beautiful
But, you don’t believe this love will survive in this stranded palace
But I’ll attempt to win you with all of my might and I’ll defeat the malice
Our boundless love is like two fireflies floating in the midnight sky
But you disturbed our greetings and you didn’t even accept the feelings I felt for you
Why did you blow away our interweaved feelings of passion
And blew them away into the heartless fire?
My precious love, why did you diminish my eternal desire?
You knew I worshiped you
In my sensitive heart

Details | Free verse | |

I Got Dough {Solfege}

Do -  do   -        a female la beer
Re -  re    -        a drop of re beer
Mi  -  mi             without my mi beer  
Fa-    fa -           place to drive to get ti beer
So  -  so   -        you ran out of mi beer
La   -  la   -         la de da la de da I'll wait for la beer
Ti  -    ti    -        spilt spilt ti beer so no more more of la beer

Do - Do              Do la la think I'm sexy after about six six so beers  LOL 

Got Beer !
Over The Lips Thru The Gums
Look-out Stomach Here It Comes LOL

Also Entry For Izzy Gumbo's Solfege Contest

Details | Prose Poetry | |

The Game

Rap is quick, witty and fun.

Poetry is smooth, rhythmic and heartfelt.

Rap and poetry had a love child.

A daughter, named Spoken Word.

She grew to maintain the better characteristics of her parents;

From Rap, she took freestyle, freedom, and grass roots movement.

From Poetry, she took imagery, theme, and voice.

Together, all three, as common forms of expression,

spread to every rapper, poet and storyteller in the world.

Details | I do not know? | |

Different Realities

The pregnant dream vs the naked existence.
The healthy belligerent vs sanguine invalid. 
The buoyant child vs the cavillous pensioner.
The all-giving African vs the all-recieving European.
The befriended neighbour vs the ostracized man.
The kaleidoscopic optimist vs bleak pessimist.
The raw truth vs the falsified lie.
The low-key good Samaritan vs the ostentatious donator.
The good vs the bad.

Details | Alliteration | |

Alliteration Mystery

Take the time to set back and travel the minds turntable--
Set the stage of your spirit of your soul ever so simply--
Each ember of life that earns you strength is everything--
Seal the seats of friendship with stars from heavens sky--
Relief will be your reliance; reliance can be your role--
To live life loving with much laughter and spiritual light--
I sound like a pound of purity, with prosperous preparations--
Though that is hardly the fact, the terror of life totally thrives--
Drives me to dare divide my dreams and sacrifices decently--
No, I do not know the key to never failing, or sainthood--
My mystery is mesmerizing mere meter or rhyme or prose--
Writing written words to warm or calm mere mortals like me-- 

Details | I do not know? | |


Art is art is Art,

and as such it will be confrontational to someone,

and will at some point in it’s existence, 

piss someone off every minute of the day

( CLiPiCs AKA Kriss Lee: 03-06-09)

Details | Rhyme | |

Rains Of Surreal

There were clouds from the sky
To be a little darker then before
Some thoughts in sacrifice to deny
The ever mist in darken haze to recall

And the walked path was an unsheltered one
He who bears the weight of unnoticed vapour
Should be realized to have unflustered thoughts come undone
For he who thinks will thoughts be flooded lesser!

That be pure and impure to see
For a path of evil may well be a course to undertake
To understand the substances of purity
To then walk perhaps the dream-fill path in wake

As the rain becomes heavier in turn
It only meant for the routes be harder to view
To be drench toward a point of no-return
Guess not the unseen road but be sure of surreal!

Mayhaps an after-rain be of rain an after
To share the affair and to embrace as one… the unknown
And to walk is the path already be taken forever
Yet the rain, hasn’t me to recall of those being shown

Details | Rhyme | |


You lay in the surf waiting for me
Although Burt Lancaster and Deborah Kerr we could not be.
Trying at love with the incoming tide
Kelp and seaweed stuck to my side.

"Great gods", thought I, as I wrote the rhyme
Use "Adonis" and "Poseidon" from another time.
I'll let love be the center of the poem I write
And show all who read it, my emotional insight.

The pounding of the waters blue
Will be my metaphor of a love so true.
And I'll have to sex it up a bit
For passion plays a big part in it.

I will use "penetration" and words like "breech"
To add to that image of us on the beach.
With the romantic beginning I have said
And to the altar of love that I've been led.

Because I  finish with our pledge on the shore
The reader will always want to have more.
So, the green eyed girls will be my poetic night
And close the verse, so crisp and tight.

Note:  It took sum lookin' fer me to find,
          Which of yer verses to redo in kind.
          I be such a nut on rime y'see...
          This'n be the one fer me.

          Not only be the words of it I do,
          But "Glad Tidings" title caught me good eye, too!
          'Cause it be 'ard fer me to act on yer quirk,
          Me spleen to trash one o' yer better werks.

          As I be not 'fraid of a few typed words,
          Trashin' me stuff as if'n they be turds.
          So, 'ere y'ar matey, me own attempt whilst I be sprawl,
          To change them words that ye did scrawl.

          Me words 're somwhat boggin'
          'Cause me be thinkin' what was in 'er noggin'.
          And if'n ye take offense at me 'ritin' a bit,
          "RRRRRRRRRRR emember that ye asked fer it!

Details | Free verse | |

Distressed Like the Weather

Dark, departing clouds waved their last goodbye
My smile transcends and then…descends
Brought down by unexpected departure

This weather stays with me for a while
But, with my trustworthy friends by my side, 
They’ll encourage me to move on—even if I’m sunk deep with regret 
At least I have some numbers to dial!

Anguish once again reigns upon my mind
With God always by my side, 
He’ll clear my pathway and renew my frame of mind

I could pray for a bright future to rely on…
While I wait till the weather’s completely gone 

Details | Sonnet | |

The Heart of a Poet

The heart of  the poet bleeds words of  the conscious  
Strung like beads  into a design that is precious
A collaboration of the senses and the mind
To the poet heart. the two are entwined
When the mind begins to see,  touch or hear
A feeling  may provoke a heartfelt tear
The poet heart may strike a unsettling chord 
With the thrust of  word-filled sword
Into the core of the one who may read
And begins to sprout a poignant seed
In a heart that that was living blind
Or unsuspectingly to remind
Of the memory of a time long past
The reason why the poet heart’s words are cast

Details | Sonnet | |

Sonnet 6

Now ... tell me the truth at 80 spaces .
Oh yes monthly at no extracted cost ,
trumpet swans announcing "All-New" "Chases"
... Gameshow w-/ only purpose " Just stay lost".
scratch that ... start at the count ... three Faces.
flicker on screen , once more , spider webbed frost.
Pulse of cheekbone ; paper Artic traces ...
Hailing to the Fanatic's RoseArm crossed.

	... Why just imagine , All times // All places ...
Daydream reality clearly embossed 
by Our pristine chords reading "All's Debased" ...
Job to do ... hands join ... Avert as off tossed 
I may stain ... lip gloss ... gulp of life wasted.

All Presents, Our Situation Hostage .

Details | Haiku | |

' Uni-Verse...' (Haiku # 11)

   ‘ Uni-Verse ’   Haiku  # 11

        Oh, What Universe
What Grand Word, Did God Speak First
     ... Gave Beginning – Birth !

Details | Sonnet | |

Twenty Thousand Times

In poem or prose, if I have one ideal
that no one, in creation, had before.
I would share with the world, and not conceal
this consideration, behind closed doors.
If to me, an apothegm should creep
into or through my offset, wayward mind 
on parchment this archetype, I would keep
to reassess accepted space, and time.

Ah, this dilemma I will never fight.
My every concept has been over-worn.
All missive or poems I will ever write, 
have been penned twenty thousand time before.
For all our thought bright enough to glisten, 
seldom fall on ears arranged to listen.

Details | Narrative | |

pilgrim poem

it starts out full of determination, 
crusading with vision and vigor
a strong staff, new boots, and a good hat.
a map with direction and no mud stains

walking with purpose in mid-afternoon
the clouds in the distance poignantly
seem to illustrate some medieval tome
with guilt edges to pages and sunrays

the poem feels good, and the thoughts
feel strong and direct, not tangential like
the scribbling’s from some past dreaming’s
and foot in front of foot, we cover ground

dust gently, almost imperceptibly, swirls
around the now broken-in boots, the stanzas
march to their own steady cadence until they
begin to slow, as the heat bares down more,
now thickening the tongue, with a newfound
thirst for words and water

the mind...the mind, and it's steps, falter
just a bit, as concentration is baked with
aimless uncertainty, the hat feels heavy
to the pilgrim, and the notion of continuing
seems pocketed, in favor of some poetic shade

poem's purpose muted, for just a line or two, 
no more, to rest beside the road of travelers
lines passing by, waving or nodding a word
in the pilgrim's direction as they pass

and the writing looks off in the distance
and down to short stanzas, covering tanned legs
leaned with the effort of the pilgrimage
mind circles as the hat is waved like a fan
to cool the thoughts into some coalescence

refreshing the whole body of work with purpose
strength begins to build again as breaths slow
with resolve and triumph appears as achievable
the pilgrim rises again, dusts off his derriere
and marches...hell, parades to a poetic end

© Goode Guy 2012-01-26

Details | Epigram | |

Atticus Finch


("To Kill A Mockingbird")

Details | Rhyme | |

I'll Follow You Like Your Duckling

I'm like your duckling, dear 
I follow wherever you roam so have no fear
I'm your duckling, so don't disappear 
Be my dependable leader
I'll stick around and I'll abide by your side
Like a shadow...(3)
Wie ein Schatten...(2)

I mimic like your duckling, beloved
I swim wherever you paddle so slip on my gear
Be my trustable coach 
I'll follow your routine and float by your side
Like a reflection...(3)
Wie ein Spiegelbild...(2)

I'll follow you wherever you flee
Just signal where we ought to be
I'll follow you wherever you take wing
Just push me back and forward like a swing
Lift me up and pull me down
And I'll follow you
Like your pesky duckling

Take wing, my darling angel 
I'll watch your Devine flight and wave a farewell 
Someday I'll dwell with you 
But I'll be your duckling and will always have you to turn to
Like a hero! (3) 
Wie ein Held! (2)

Like a shadow...(3)
Wie ein Schatten...(2)
Like a reflection...(3)
Wie ein Spiegelbild...(2)

I'll follow you like your ugly duckling

Details | Rhyme | |


  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 | Sonnet | |

Beat Red

I’d like to write poems beat red.
Like the color of my face
when white spit foams the lips.
I’d like an utterly violent embrace.

No pretense, nothing dishonest
about this undoctored rage.
Hold nothing back, let it all go,
tear off clothes, and punch the walls.

I’d like my poems to be suicidal.
Willing to jump off the Golden Gate,
overdose on sleeping pills,
a Black and Decker drill to the skull.

At least then I will have killed
for complete love of the poem.

Details | Burlesque | |

Poetry loves Porn

I hate the words
when I can not touch them
I love life more than I can say
This is the reason why
I tried to seduce Poetry

But she was a whore
Dressed like a slut
Eating like a horse
And talking like... me

I saw Her walking in the streets
She never noticed me
I eat Her just like I use to eat my brain
She never noticed me
She was in love with another Man

She never knew what love was
Because she never had a soul

Poetry loves in a porn way
She gives everything
Because she do not have to give

Details | Prose Poetry | |

The broken road to heaven

The broken road to heaven 

The broken road in need of maintenance  
through which we have traveled, mute and solemn 
to our delight
was alight with millions of glow bugs;
evening was another leaf fallen
when I whisper to my friend Richard,
“Is it heaven? Have we arrived at last?” 
he smiled,  “we are yet to reach my home.”
=© 2009 - All Rights Reserved Kushal Poddar 

Details | Limerick | |


Sky blue and baby's breath breeze
It's my time to do as I please
Pull my head from the sand
With pen in my hand
And lines from the grass on my knees

With hedges and fences to hide
My garden, it fills me with pride
Inspires me to write
even by moonlight
I still dont want to go inside

For I have no eye on the time
And a mental 'Do not Disturb' sign
With Rhymes and Haiku's
I've nothing to lose
The long day ahead is all mine

22nd June 2011

Details | Alliteration | |

The Prime Directive Quiz ( P D Q) or Prolix Drama Queen Part One

When You Really Discern… 
‘Why The Drama?’ Pattern
and Pending-Adoration,
When You Perceive… 
Who Demands and Why?...  Proceed… 
… to Ply and Pry to Ascertain…
’ He Deserves This Portion-Acclaim’
  and Drumming-Heart, Soulful-Desire…
and Defer-Strength to Dry-Pyre
 and Humble-Pie, Donated-Data –
 in Your Plea-Bargain-Brain- Por-Nada
Disperse the Diaspora
Prefer Real-Deal and Retain Prerogative-Honor

 To, The Divine and Peerless… 
 Person of God – of Pure-Spirits
…  Whose Personage Positively… 
Remains Due-Homage and Dignity
…The Pinnacle… 
Of  The Direct-Pact - Empirical 
Drawn and Done, 
with His Precious DayStar-Son,
 Who Deigned to Come
by The Father’s Decree… 
 Was Dispatched with Poise-Prudently
as Probe and Provision… 
for Our Poverty and Pleurisy-Drain-Derision

He is The Pivot-Portrayal of Royal… 
and Portal-To-Pace-Immortal
This Diadem-Prince-Progeny… 
of Dazzling Famed-Piety and Propriety!
The Possessor and Presenter 
and The Permission-for-us-to Speak and Palace-Enter
The Premium-Derivative-Son,
 This Potentate Happy One...
 Proof-Explained and Patent-Won
Delving Mysteries; Described Memories; 
Drawing Forth Miracle-Draperies
and In Deference… 
As A Pro-Dative – Proconsul-Presence… 
He Maintains Preference
and Displays:  That, The Dynamic-Will… 
and Determined-Purpose Still,
Definitely,  is Top-Priority…
 One… and The Preeminent-Same… Pardon-Plea
He Is The Presiding – Deciding-Door-Key…
Precisely! -  Praise-Accordingly!

For We Are Wind-Swept, Droves of Dust… 
Dirt and Air-Gusts,  
Now, Plundered-Seeds… Still-Planted… 
Packed to Earth, Properly-Contained and Patted
 if We Continue to Divide… 
Disfigure, Pilfer and Hide 
From SonShine, then in Dirty-Prairie…
 We’ll be Permanent-Lain- and Perjury
If  ‘We Choose’ to Develop… 
Too Low-Down, to Peel-Hope
  or Plow-Perverted… 
The Preview, We’ll Not Regain…(We Deserted!)
Its Our Duty and Delight… 
to Reach Dawn-Heights
and Par-Policy:  Dump Rotted Produce…
and Pitch-Pit-Grain- Pro-Ruse

Details | Quatrain | |

My Friends

My Friends

Alone with my thoughts
they speak,  form and flow
alliteration with a purpose
undulating to and fro

Words that speak to me
ideas form and grow
from my thoughts to my pen
my friends to the page flow

Stephen (Stoic)

Details | Free verse | |


Bleeding so painfully...I escape the light
 I try to forget the hardships...brewing in life
 But, it's too hard to live this life...this life
Breathing so heavily...I fade away into the night
 I try to forget my slits me like a knife
 But, it's too hard to live this life...this life
Fight away the monster in my heart
 Throw away my sorrow...Take away my wretchedness
 Burn away the hideous rage...tearing me apart
 Take away the anger...renew my joyfulness
Oh God...please forgive me...
 I long for Your cheerfulness... to set me free!
Bleeding so dreadfully...I pray for delight
 I try to pray for mercy...for this pain is too much to bear
 But it's too hard to live this life...this life...
Fighting back tears...I discover His light
 I try to pray for comfort...and I know He is there
 I pray for His scare away the strife
 And escape from the darkness
I look forward to the afterlife
 When there's no sorrow or pain...
      When there's no evilness...
   no craftiness... 
That time will come!

Details | Free verse | |

Girl Inspired

The girl that inspired me, she came into my work yesterday
The girl had long hair and a smile of grace
Her words were soft and proper like artwork of the mind
Her advice was amazing and right
Her advice was merely her story

The girl had a face and it read clear 
Oppertunity knocked and I was always here
I saw the doors open through my life over and over, and when I finally looked straight ahead

And over the next hill 
And above the rolling waters
And inside my heart of dreams I came into the reality
That my time has been well spent and again I will be on my path

Like the girl
I cant wait to thank her


Details | Verse | |

A Poet's Mind

An emotional outlet
A chance to be free
My way of conveying
What’s happening in me

My thoughts trickle out
Of the ink in my pen
I keep writing so madly
As if there’s no end

A poetic expression
A story to tell
Sometimes it’s like heaven 
Sometimes it’s like hell

Don’t sit and judge me
For my words have no voice
It’s a born infliction
Not of my choice

I may not hold conversations
Or have pictures to see
Just read what's in print 
If you want to know me

Details | Free verse | |

Pro Predicament

Circuitous circular departures cleverly Sequester and  
embrace Inexpressible  moments of time.

Reexamine status, prevent  consciousness apathy, 
fabricate and reflect acceptance of self. 

precisely propose  to expose fallaciously filtered 
fantastical trickery touched theories.

Turn tasteless translucent tall tales into stable, sturdy, 
structured strands and threads of reality.

Penniless pocketless Poets put the points paralleled 
and placed above onto pure white pieces of paper.

 Once they find the ramble in their role they carefully 
command,Clever creative content to appear from thin vapor.

Amusement, bemusement, a resplendent  daring drawn 
out dark dance down a solitary diabolical descent. 

Lingering Layers let love live in a finely spun web of 
lazy, lofty, lyrical linguistic letters; lost lurking spiders cant
 reach the heights that sadness fled.

Poets are pros, pronounced proponents, that precisely 
reconstruct a feelings components that fails to leave any 
audience in a stoic state of stoney discontent..... 

Though they tirelessly endeavor to gain a fans approval 
and respect, they fail in fortunes favor. 
 Yet each day they commit make their art 
when most would be right to quit. 

Anyone can become a pro poet, 
you can tell we are devoted, though it should be noted 
if that's the readers intent, not a paid pro among us can 
come close to turning our 
thoughts into rent!

Details | Narrative | |


There was a great English novelist I truly admired since my vibrant youth,
and his name was Charles Dickens; and his classics I read and revered.
He wrote many memorable novels, and one of them, filled with truth,  
was: "A CHRISTMAS CAROL", which he splendidly narrated...
as those London's bells tolled above a foggy, busy Avenue. 

Entered in Brian Strand's contest A Literary Love Affair                             

Copyright 2009 by Andrew Crisci

Details | Narrative | |


Speaking from the podium, to thank 
all for my Poet Laureate Award;
overwhelmingly glad to receive it
from the hands of a famous critic...
I discern how the audience loves my lyric!

I have never spoken so openly
about the idealism and realism of my poetry;
and they are listening, focused on my lines
recited softly to them with emotions and tears,
and their positive response is my reward. 

Applaud me for creating new rhymes and rhythms,
poetic words inspired by the wilderness of frontiers,
by the truthful insights I expressed with my momentum;
unlikely other poets, who are perpetuate in memoriam,
and lie into tombstones never having been given honor.     

Entered in Brian Strand's Poet Laureate contest

Copyright 2009 by Andrew Crisci

Details | Rhyme | |


Perhaps it was the most unappreciative gift:
a pen and a composition book wrapped in red paper
imprinted with Santa image riding his sleight...
I expected toys I could play with after school or later.

My sisters received many gifts from leather shoes to wool hats,
and as I held that gift with perplexity, Mother asked me,
" Son, don't you like it? " " I like it, Ma " I replied disappointingly...
" One day they will make you great! She attested with eloquence.

" A teen like me was going to be great 
with a pen and a composition book?
 How could an ordinary mother have predicted the future so precisely? '
Only an astrologer, or medium could have guessed what was awaiting me! 

A few years later, a revelation came to light:
a pen and composition book appeared in my sight,
there in a brown shoe box with old photographs they laid... 
waiting for a hand to give them life without any magic wand.

Details | Rhyme | |

The Poet

Living in the fragment
Shards keep me stagnant
I’m both plaintiff and defendant
Daily tried in my own lament
Choices within myself I resent
Down on my knees I repent
No answers leave me discontent
Or are angels ever sent
Pulled by the devil so evident
Mired in midlife not my intent
My poems where I vent
Giving and taking advice lent
Days slowly pass and there’s no dent
Lost souls are my life’s precedent
Sickened by my own ailment
Painted with emotions so transparent
Love adds to my abandonment
Pain penetrates like an insurgent
There’s no way to circumvent
To trust again I’m ambivalent
The pleasure of pain coexistent 
Looked upon as an embarrassment
Dreams realized are only a figment
My story no one could invent
These words written are blood sent
Of a life forever being spent
Seeking a valid endorsement
Blood , sweat, and tears are a requirement
For we have to be diligent
So all can understand what we meant
The life lived unknown as the  poet…

Details | Cinquain | |


read by many,
wakes our  numb senses...
teaching us logical lessons
by stealth!

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 | Lyric | |

The toys are Broken

I dreampt that everyone
vanished without a trace
and I was the only one
wearing blue that day
never felt soo happy
never felt soo alive

I dreampt that everyone
lived in houses that were all the same
and I was the only one
who couldn't slide
never felt soo lonely 
never felt soo alive

I dreampt that everyone
was famous
and I was the only one
smiling that day
never felt soo special
never felt soo alive

I dreampt that everyone
had the same dream as me
but I was the only one
God spoke to
Never felt so righteous
never felt so alive

One room leads to the next
it goes on and on
but it just never ends
One story
alone cannot make proper sense
so they go on and on and on and on
but it just never ends
One thought
uncovers all the rest
it goes on and on and on and on
until everyone forgets
One song
breaks the code of silence
but goes on and on and on
until everyone forgets
One memory
leads to the next room
it goes on and on and on
but never makes sense

Details | Blank verse | |

A Broken Dream

 A broken dream shattered down life's open stream 
like a tear drop ripple the calmness of the water spread like an open wing 
of an eagle flying jet king 
letting out a sonic boom scream 
so fast that you never just saw what you seen
 among despair and doubt through the cold heat
surround in despair and failure its why I strive to succeed
yet it seems my life is old thread it comes out in seams as it frays
is this the read deal or am I still living in an open closed dream?
trapped in this mind prison a lockdown poetic king
Im behind the gates and the influence wont let me go free
I know I got the mind keys to achieve what I left behind
but my own addiction chains wont break this concrete
it wont let me leave
I must step up to the plate and do me a deed
broken dreams planted everyday just from a single seed
Life is really about death so take heed

Details | Blank verse | |


Put pen to paper and
as the ink flows
so too your strength grows.
The power of the pen
to heal and reveal
innermost thoughts
Words within
hitherto unrecognized
take form.
As you scribe unconsciously
the introduction to self
sparks a new friendship
of intimacy.
Put pen to paper
for the combining of the two
creates a powerful force.

Details | Free verse | |



Details | Rhyme | |

The James Gang - Wordslingers

High noon beckons
For this trio of men
With a flick of the wrist
And the write of their pen
Words transcend from thoughts to paper
Like a delicate cut, from the best draper
Images flow and picture our sight
These three Amigos, and their literal writes
Wordslingers they are 
As their poems unfurl
The might of nature
The love of a girl
Peranteau in verse, word wise and free
Goff in the mix, with his poetry
Fraser's pen follows, our History
Once again to the nib of my pen
This Tallahassee Lassie prompts me again
The James Gang, and their abundance of words
Held in their hands, like knights with their swords
We get stronger each day, not a bullet in site
Three Amigo's with a pen for their write
Inspirational to me, is Lady Carolyn
For in my heart, she will always be in

Details | Cinquain | |


Adelaide Crapsey
Versifying unknown souls
With tinge of dawn

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 | Ode | |


Desire make me flee to England's shore,
to Stafford where Shakespeare wrote
sonnets by candlelight and moonbeams;
let me open the tall, wooden front door,
to see him in that corner weaving a thought,
swiftly turning them into theatrical schemes!

Ah, he weeps for a past tragedy he witnessed, 
making those tears flow on clean sheets
that leave him heartbroken and drenched in tears!
Oh, those sad moments seem to disappear
as he dreams of unforgotten faces he loved...
and many say he didn't feel joy but fear!

Shakespeare's spirit is not a common phantom whose voice can't
be heard everywhere it rumbles...listen attentively, don't fret!
Glance at his pensive face, read the inspirational words of any play
he's writing on paper for all to ponder in their own, persuasive way!

Details | Couplet | |


Excitement is running through my mind at this point,
It is hard to control so much 

When something so honorable,
Happens to come across

For me personally,
It was the proposition

From a contest by,
World Poetry Movement

In which I entered in,
And received a letter back

Stating that my poem,
Had made it to the next level

But that is not all,
Oh no

What's more is that they informed me,
That they were publishing that very poem

In a book titled "Stars In Our Hearts"
Which is to be published in August this year

I hope each and every one who happens to read this,
May read my poem "The Beat of the Heart"

In the book.
Thank You.

Details | Free verse | |

PhD Maybe

I lust for knowledge,
My day will come,
PhD maybe,
My day will come,
I believe it,
No faith placed in me,
But from me indeed,
My strength is my rock,
I will follow through,
The language of life,
I know it well,
It is my spell,
You will understand,
The day I receive that third diploma,
My doctorate in English Literature,
That will be the day of true destiny.

Details | Villanelle | |

The Coming

I come to learn, and make my coming prompt.
I feel my intellect in what I cannot understand.
I know by going where my heart and intelligence leads me.

We learn by doing. What activity is there to be started?
I hear myself jumping from eye to eye.
I come to learn, and make my coming prompt.

Of those helping me, who are you?
May God bless the Helpers! I shall give back to you,
And know by going where my heart and intelligence lead me.

A Letter is written on a Page; but who in the world may know what’s next?
The author goes on an imaginary dream come true;
I come to learn, and make my coming prompt.

Fate leads us into a whole world of unknown
For all who know, so don’t be afraid,
And, exceptionally, know by going where the heart and intelligence lead.

This dream supports me in a lovely manner. I must believe!
What goes around comes around. And is waiting.
I come to learn, and make my coming prompt.
I know by going where my heart and intelligence lead me.

Details | Free verse | |

Do u hear

Do u hear my call only in words

Or do I need to be in front to ‘be’

In your thoughts; in your feelings

Sometimes my pen is dry with tears

It shed; thinking only when it bleeds

You reply, you reply, you reply…

Details | I do not know? | |

Letting Thoughts Run

Letting thoughts run, fun 
happily eager to meet one another in a clash of ideas
each as unique as the last they mingle, and greet as individuals in a mind of mentality, a 
party pulling out poetry in an attempt to define definition of self, indefinite.

interesting to see thoughts of wisdom, timeless and now 
advise thoughts of hopelessness in a sea of certainty
washing up possibilities washing away concerns
cleaning the soul of poisonous thoughts with purity.

Pure is energy
Pure is light from the sun
Pure is compassion and empathy
Pure is initial
Pure is without thought

Thoughts live one at a time
Thoughts travel in a single line

You can only hold one thought at any moment
so make it a good one, a positive one
one that makes you smile

Good thoughts bring about good things
bad thoughts bring you trouble

Manifestation of thoughts into the physical.
The thought of thoughts being materialized, in a vessel
visible, tangible,
in itself shapes these very thoughts.
Creation is consciousness.

Thoughts are free until you put them on paper, or
type them, now imprisoned behind digital bars
these words will never be the same
as the moment they were created in my brain.
spontaneous words can be, here there everywhere at once
with no real connection or responsibility except to the writer writing them
and the reader.

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 Art

Picking up my pen, I begin to pursue my purpose,
slaving away, I sacrifice subjects until I submit work,
suffice with a deeper surface.
Gaining growth and wisdom within my writer’s gravity,
I am grateful to gaze,
and watch as my words wonderfully unite
to whisper and shout in worthy ways.
Drawing artistic dreams,
I dictate and decide the next topic to describe,
whether venting anger or reciting vibrant value;
I aim to paint a victorious vibe.
Masterminding the masterpiece of matter and material
in a meaningful lyrical marriage,
I continue to contemplate and combine careful words
to convey emotion and courage.
Bountifully blessed with creative beauty and belief;
I became the poetical blacksmith,
fabricating fabulous fables
with a sense of fearless frailty forthwith.
I am amply able to inspire ambition and accordingly achieve,
with my notepad navigating toward noteworthy
after being notorious naïve.

I think therefore I am,
I write because I can.

For more poetry goodness visit 

Details | Rhyme | |

No Words, No Peace, No Sanity

My feelings block my mind,
Words are too hard to find.
My thoughts can't be expressed,
My head is beyond stressed.

Adrenalin has rushed,
My screams cannot be hushed.
But  words cannot come out,
Words replaced with a shout.

The pounding in my head,
There's no tears left to shed.
The burning in my eyes,
These feelings I despise.

I cannot take this pain,
It's driving me insane.
I try hard to cool down,
Sanity not yet found.

Wash my face with water,
Cool the need to slaughter.
Now everything's all right,
Take out my pen and write.

I am trapped no longer,
Now I'm growing stronger.
The pieces are now whole,
Now I am in control.

By writing, words increase,
I feel a sort of peace.
Insanity maintained,
My sanity is gained.

Details | Free verse | |


  Let poetry be your voice,
 any subject, it's your choice.
 Let emotions run free,
 it will make you feel better,
 it works for me.
No need to feel bashful or shy,
no one will see you cry.
Write of happy moments and sad,
the good and the bad.
You can show a person how you feel,
words make it all the more real.
Poetry is good for the soul,
filling in a missing hole.
In a world often full of strife,
poetry gives you life.
you can read it every day,
and interpret it in your own way.

Details | ABC | |


To write poetry
Is to master an art
Where simple becomes artistic
Where ugly becomes beautiful
Where you give your thoughts
An appealing outlet
Poetry is like blood
Flowing in the nerves
Dripping from the tips of pen
onto paper
It is the words
that speak directly to heart
Poetry is a way to tell
to inspire
Without speaking... 

Details | Free verse | |


                                                        It weeps.
At the feeling of one's touch.
                                                                                         The hollering, screaming,
wrecking innocence, in silence.
                                 It once lay awaiting the touch,
awaiting the callused fingertips,
                                             and ready-
                                                                                                for the first strum,
bleeding into a love song,
                                                 silently killing a dove
  and regretting that first encounter.
                                                                     Which turned into obsession,
           deep, penetrating breaths, lingering while the wind unfolds the secrets,
                                                                                                 the story within the tune,
 the life throughout the song.
                                   And it never takes a soul for granted,
                                                           it gives
more and more
                                                                                           asking nothing in return,
patiently waiting for one more encounter,
                                                                a master soon to be.

Details | Epic | |

Shall I compare thee to a summer's day

Shall I compare thee to a hellish hound?
Thou art more lovely but of the same mind.
Rough winds may shake you but you won’t be downed.
As summer divided us, I was blind.

Details | I do not know? | |


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 | Free verse | |


Is there a purpose for struggling,
enduring trails that could be been avoided?
What motivates an individual to surpass
any conceivable build a concept?

A normal person has less cares than a genius;
no passion for art or interest in science,
so aimless is that existence...
resembling a shadow passing. 

A philosopher once said that
legends are made by dreams,
by each stage as they are woven,
but their inner voices are as faint 
and distant as raging waterfalls
descending steeply, to splash in rivers below;
and to hear them, you must get closer enough,
until their loud sound can deafen 
the ears and astonish the eyes...
Oh, I have contemplated them in sheer surprise!

Nobody ever sees a thinker's curved back
posing on the water-splashed, cracked rock;
if civilization has betrayed his idealistic thoughts,
accusing him of insanity and prejudice...
how can dark minds be lucid enough to discern
what he sees in images of true perfection?
And he will be another outcast detested by society...
for having demonstrated a superior mentality?

Go to the highest hill, amid the rugged mountains of the South,
and find him in the same spot meditating
over a glorious view that the very learned once admired;
go and comfort him with a friendly hand-shake,
and amply confirm that his action wasn't a mistake,
but a challenge and a cause worth-taking!
And his testimony, that all legends are made by dreams,
is found in his prophetic and exquisite writings.

Details | Free verse | |

I Thought, I Thought & I Knew

There is awful lot of things I’ve been accused of in my life
Many I have done and many I would never do
Many times I have felt so betrayed and hurt
And many times I reckon it was no less than what I deserved
You know I often ponder and exercise my right
To seek the enlightenment of open confession
Not only confessing to the Lord or the ones I sinned against
But to the Lord, to the ones I sinned against 
And anybody else who cares to read
You see I believe we are all teachers
Our lives are examples of what we should or should not do
If we keep those examples hidden
How can others learn from our mistakes?
Or share in the beauty of our blessings?
I believe our wisdom can only be as deep as our truth
For one will never quench their thirst at a dry well
I remember once I was writing about my children
How I had failed so terribly as their father
That they used the inmate tracking system
In order to know where to send my birthday cards
And sadly enough it even got way deeper than that
And I thought
You can’t write that what are people going to think about you
And I thought
If you don’t what are you going to think about yourself
And I knew
My life would never be the same again

Details | Rhyme | |

Heavenly Tree

Ghostlike rage Haunts me…it smothers me… I can’t handle the smell of burning sage It overpowers me…will I EVER be free? Sweltering rage Grasps on to me…it bothers me… I can’t expose my courage on stage It’s horrendous…will you EVER pay the fee? Childlike mirth Reigns upon me…It chases after me... I can’t let loose my youthful imagination, flipping page to page It towers over me…will I EVER joyfully flee? Heavenly birth Recoils from affliction… tracking me down… I can’t shed the grief that lead to rage It pulls me back…will I EVER be a budding tree?

Details | I do not know? | |

Embrace Me

I have the mind and strength of love
My hands has an arkward touch and movements
My eye's has the sight of beauty 
 and love that goes skin deep
My breath that touches the side of her right ear
Sends a tingle up and down her spine
My heart pours out the most touching and loving words
That really has never been heard
I feel hypnotize by her sexy perfume and her sexy legs
crossing each orther in those sexy steletose
The night is getting late
The feeling awaits
The touch of her is untouchable
My mind began to hesitate
As i began to create
The motion of real love attraction
Getting a good satisfaction
This is not a production
I'm just feeling the seduction

Details | Concrete | |

Invisible Within

Pain is my beauty, rage is my sadness.
Laughing is my soul crying out silently.
Yet you do not see, these truths that lie within,
instead you turn a deaf ear, blinded from the darkness of your sight.
You only feel your sympathic ear, reflecting my hearts expression.
Powerless daily, I struggle to allow my invisible voice from within, 
To speak and to shine thru.
A moment in time
The music bringing you back to places in time which 
affected you with an emotional
consequence But since all this time has passed now it 
has become a remanicent memorie of
all the uplifting, downsizing, 
and overwhelming roller coaster rides.
A message in time to come, if you choose to see it. 
An immediate refreshing of the emotional
in combination with your intellectual self. 
Then it becomes not just a message anymore.
Instead it has grown into a great metamorphosis of spirt to embrace; 
consuming your sinful
nature, leaving only the lambs blood, 
giving you clarity, peace and serenity.

Details | Limerick | |

To Earth he Came

An alien came to earth called James
Looking for a New Jersey dame
    He found one on the soup
    Amidst this amazing troop
And revelled at her writing fame

Details | I do not know? | |

By A Lone Cowboys Hand

Upon the page forever bound, the wagering of life will be found,
Where those words are gathered in paper and ink and bring a cowboys life to the brink
Of wit and charm with a cowboys creed, what’s on his back is all he’ll need,
For those turns in life that unfold, like a horse that he couldn’t hold.
His wild eyes would test his fate, with quick sharp hooves his teeth bared with hate.
Or a more subtle gander into life so told where he could walk on land, not branded or sold.

Find a friend not easily made, standing alone when he has strayed 
To a place where he shouldn’t be,
And with in his eyes all he’ll see 
Of life and early death,
Beside a friend until his final breath.

The pages are bursting with emotion and wit, the knowledge of where he got most of it.
Feeling the breath of a horse rode down. Hearing the spurs as they strike the ground.
Smelling the leather and sweat of a hard days ride.
Knowing they have done more than just tried.

Horns that gore a pony that he was on, artistically maneuvered in words and drawn,
To make you feel the at painful fall,
The reality of a mad cows bawl
All etched into words and forever bound to a book of silence,
If not read now sound will fill the mind and souls with imaginations of prairies and knolls, 
And mountains where cattle hide with no brand burnt upon their hide

You are drawn into a life where men were free, and shaped by the land like they ought to be.
 Lives that were whittled and chiseled into long hard days,
The force of mother nature and the changing of ways 
Bring alive the west, we now read and hear. The wisdom behind the handmade gear.

Cowboys North and South, bring knowledge and hence are a powerful part of evidence, that the Grit of Smokey, Flint and Sand where brought to life by a Lone Cowboys hand.
From cover to cover you are woven into the past and live with the cowboys the author has cast,
Turning each page so you could read on 
Knowing the emotions and feelings along 
With the horses and cowboys names.
Brought to life by one man,
Will James.

Details | I do not know? | |

Animated Life

Dwelling with the gracious Lord
Traces righteousness and worthiness
Enlivening my glum life
Dwelling with the Almighty
Embraces blessings and gratefulness
Animating His faithful life  

Details | Light Poetry | |

' The Greatest Poet Of All ... '

God … Is The Greatest Poet of All
God … Is The Greatest Poet
God, Speaks … And Leaves Us In Awe
… Astounded and Author-Devoted ! …

Yea … We are Humbled and Thunderstruck
and Sublimely Mesmerized
on His Sacred Utterances … We Have Drunk
like Raindrops of Soft-Mercy-Cries …

… While Angels, Sing in Quicksilver-Skies
Even His Son, is Called:  ‘ The Word ’ and Wise          ( John 1: 1 )
and Every Will and Syllable, and Vowel, Which Rise
… Begins, with Wondrous Words, ‘ He ’ Vocalized

And His Words, Are Strict-Forms and Bright-Joy-Colors
or Sometimes, Warnings in Stark Black and White
Yet … Articulated in Glorious Auras
from He, Who Called, The Darkness … Night               ( Gen. 1: 5 )

from ‘ He ’, Who Said:  ‘ Let There Be Light ’               ( Gen. 1: 3 )
‘ He ’, Who Orated, Birds in Sun-Flight
‘ He ’, Who Orated Sounds, So Right
Spoke Words, Worthy of ‘The Copywrite’ …

… Like, ‘ Let Us Make Man In Our Image ’ …                ( Gen. 1: 26 )
… and Humans, have been Echoing, Ever Since
For His Words Are More Than Vintage
They Are Epitome of Love and Law-Sentence

… Yea … We Emerged from God’s Epiphany
We Should Recite, What He Spoke First
in Such Beauteous, Lilting-Poetry …
… God, Spoke Forth ‘ The Universe ’ ! …                      ( Gen. 1: 1 )

… Called, The Dry Land, Earth                                    ( Gen. 1: 10 )
Called, The Waters … Seas                                         ( Gen. 1: 10 )
Pronounced Eve, Mother of Birth                                 ( Gen. 3: 16 )
(tho’ She Stole at Speech-Trees)                                ( Gen. 3: 6, 13 )

Yea … God Called Forth, Flashes and Flowers
and The Breath of Life and Swarms of Honey-Bees
And with Dynamic, Inspiration Power ! …
God … Even Called Forth … me

… and You, and You, and Your Voice Too !          ( John 3: 16  & John 10: 16 )
And Refreshing-Dew and Dawns, Brand-New
And The Rare-Edition – Chosen Few                   ( Matt. 7: 14  & Matt. 22: 14 )
… Each Bound-Volume, Ringing, Amen-True !      ( Rev. 14: 5 )

Yea … God, Is The Greatest Poet of Them All !
So, Let Us Catch Each Poem-Pearl, in Free-Fall
and Collect Them and Gather Graciously, as They Call
to Conjugate and Climb O’er, Deaf-Mute-Stanza Walls

… to Applaud, The Greatest Poet, Ever and All …

Details | Free verse | |

Obsessive Compulsive Son of Man

Judge me if you want to
the devil on my shoulder is one of your own making
you live through me
through the cliches of the worlds three perfect stages
the holes in the plot of phase one
of what i crave most to inform myself
the logic of the puzzle of action for reaction
and an angel of choices i seem to be offered
where the path of least resistance seems to help me out

Obsessive compulsive
music lists
genius at shopping
thye beliefs you feed me
the soultrain im waiting
the dance of destiny
the right shoe untied
the two left feet

I do what i see
what im told
what i think is right
lie when i have to
not because i am evil
but to save my skin
or because there is too much at risk to sacrifice

Its not entirely your fault for me be claimed to impertfections
i forgive you your trespasses
but i refuse to keep playing the victom
forever eclectic
pulling in pieces of you
to build my safe have on a puzzle 
for there to be light in the darkness
the way i want thing 
my utopia
what i weant
even if its a lie

Obsessive compulsive shopping
row by row
reading movie by movie
tle and artist of every cd
looking at every gam
and walking through the clothes line
the things you might find in the fragrance section
after all the games and lives you have bought for your
to smell like a god when you watch
the scenes of what has gone wrong
with what we wanted
so back to the start of where we fall apart

the mirrors o seven clocks
and the recyled dreams of the obsessive compulsive
son of man

Details | Rhyme | |


What makes a Genius appear to be
As clever as you or me
What makes them brainy, sure to excel
The next few lines are sure to tell
Various subjects show their form
For you and me, it's not our norm
Literature, Poetry or Mathematics
Turns their brain, leaves ours static
Einstein, Curie and Jimmy Carter
In their fields they become Masters
Child prodigies as young as three
You have to admire what they have in thee
When you look at them with the naked eye
You would never think they were Gen-i-i

Details | Quatrain | |


I choose Sunday as my leisure day,
and very glad to have accomplished much in forty hours:
I look at the Heavens and pray...
to delight in this blessed day among other ordinary days.    

If we all set apart a day to worship Him,
more blessings would be showered on us...
think of all his wonderfully kept promises
that inspired David to write Psalms for Him! 

I've seen sickness, desperation, unhappiness and poverty 
flourish in wretched souls that have given up on faith,
why have they chosen to live hopelessly and allow misery?
Have they ever sought God instead of indulging in mirth?     

Many of us may not be spiritual persons, or the ones with diseases,
but putting one day aside for reflection can mend our ways...
forget how to get rich and dream of sailing the high seas,
choose a special day among other ordinary days!

Entered in Frank Herrera's contest,
" One Stand Out Day "
written by Andrew Crisci

Details | Sonnet | |


I'm the sonneteer of another era,
Struggling for fame and dreaming of glories...
Living free in prosperous America,
Where there's hunger for interesting stories.

Invite me to share yours as thrills resume;
I will give my opinion anytime,
But perfect syllables count and strict rhyme scheme
Are required for rhythm to happily chime.

Petrarch and Shakespeare were the greatest
Poets who created remarkable sonnets;
Read their works with unquenchable zest:
You'll discover they wrote them in the hundreds!

Study the unique forms of each sonnet; 
Model yours on them with true interest!    

Details | Free verse | |

A poet's stand

Artist paint thier pictures on canvas',
musician paint their pictures on music,
But poets paint their pictures on words.
Poets aren't as recognized 
as actors or singers
but poets have the strongest voices
out there.
Most people don't care
what others have to say,
but poets are the true authors of life.
I'm truly sorry if you can't see,
that poets are out there,
and one of them is me.

Details | Rhyme | |

Poetry Contest

Time is blurred
   with every word 
Tanya's floral air 
Ky'Ambrae's trying a straight scare
Johnette's oceans of mysteries
Paige's Fallen series
     one and two
even my love goo
Vernette's sullen train
Dennis' thorns of pain
All trying for the purse
while all still in verse

Details | Quatrain | |


The warm spring rain still falls on the cherry trees,
pelting on the sodden and drooping *lavender lilies...
forming a small lake, where playful robins
bathe and fend off the thrusting, thirsty shrikes.

Soon children will come out and act dippy...
chased by wild puppies and mousy kitties
fighting over their stuffed, torn bears;
oh, there goes my peace and *tranquility!  

The *fragrant lilacs are in dire need of growth and color,
lately they haven't soaked up enough sun and raindrops:
tingeing them, allowing them to revel in their *splendor;
never denying lovers the *dulcet tones of their voices.

The tranquil skies conjure up a past *bliss,
can a poet's unrhymed words, emitted in a *whisper, go on *lilting?
He will delightfully inhale the strong perfume of the breeze *wafting!
And will he create verses with *eloquence?

Entered in Andrea Dietrich's contest,
Word Warrior Challenge: Beautiful Words

Details | I do not know? | |

Let the Poets Speak

You've heard all
      the bombast of
pundits and politicians
Now it's time
          to let the poets
Starlight shines above
filled with questions
  and rhymes 
      and loss
  Now it's time for a change!
         Open your mind
   leave all your worries behind
Let the poets speak!

Details | Free verse | |


To write a poem,
some say, is the easiest
thing to do.
That may be true.
Can you put on paper,
what's in your heart,
that's only the start.
A vivid imagination,
you must have too.
If I could paint like I write,
then maybe I would have
a masterpiece overnight.
I have been to Paris and Rome,
but never left home.
My imagination lets me go,
no stopping once in flow.
I could fly to you tonight,
while I'm sat here tight.
That's what poetry is to me,
it sets me free.
Free to go ,
free to do.
nothing to stop dreams coming true.
Is it  the same for you.
If so then tell me, please,
I want to know.

Details | Free verse | |

Between the Lines

"hi," you say
"Hello," I reply
And yet,
between the lines
is an unwritten conversation
which is not heard,
but understood

Details | Free verse | |

An old motto renewed

woke up this morning
to an epiphany
of how your world works
be the best you can be
the best human 3 coil double flusher you can be
at first i was upset
in denial
that i too could live up to such high standards
how could i ever compete with such human waste
when they practice being a walking talking waste of skin everyday
acting it out
singing it
and making more money just by practicing an old motto renewed

Thats the only power you have over me
to be or not to be
a huge clog in the toilet we know as life
and i could practice it
all day and all night
no point in dancing around it in denial
but that might make me worth something
if i could pull off the feat of unequal measure
and finding someone to label what they really are
and laugh at the fact that they are oblivious to how your world works

Practicing being a total waste of skin
and then blame it on someone else
and hang their dead baby off my neck
but nope i'm better than that
i can be the best 3 coiler double flusher i can be
without any practice
just human nature at this point

Act 1 scene 2
making one person living a lie
look like a good person
as the rest of the play is all about everybody competes for the reward of being a clog in the 
toilet we call life
Song and dance
still the same glory
and yet soo many of you basking in your power
of who is or isnt in denial of how your world works
practice makes perfect i guess
no point in trying to change anything
just go dangle someone elses dead baby off your neck

an old motto renewed
be the best double flusher i can be
live it, sing it, paractice it to one day show the world their brand new lie
and next lesson of how to be succesfull at something
that will only come naturaly
why not?

Details | Bio | |

Newfound Inspiration

Leopard print, yellow brick
  smoke in the air, not thick.
Shadows cast upon the wall,
  people all around, some short, some tall.
Mellow music out the speakers flow,
  sitting with those I know.
Rock & Rye, artwork catching my eye.
Poems flowing from my fingertips,
  casting a sideways glimpse.
Inspiration flowing from the Red Eye.

Details | Quatrain | |

To Wit

I'm inspired by the strangest things,
I feel I must admit;
But ideas are only half the war--
The rest is using wit.

Details | Epigram | |

Your Great { Epigram }

I have joined a really great group
none other then poetry soup

Tribute To All My Rowdy Friends 
in the soup bowl   Luv Ya
Thanks For Your Support

Epigram is derived from the Greek word “epigramma” 
meaning “inscription.” The epigram is short, satiric, humorous, and witty. It used 
at times to express social criticism or political satire, and is often written as a 
single rhyming couplet. 

Details | Rhyme | |


I had the traits of a gorgeous child,
different in looks and behavior,
only mother understood his tremor...
when night fell and he ran inside.

An adorable child expressing curiosity,
touching everything in his path,
and those hands seemed full of creativity...
when visions lured his interest.

I hold this photograph to reminisce the grace
of that tiny toddler beginning his first, memorable race... 
while his mom stretched her protective and loving arms, 
ready to hug him and reward him with tons of smiles. 

I had the traits of a gorgeous child,
obsorbing the vivid images and colors of the seasonal scenes...
I'd describe in my writings, to feel the essence of unreal dreams;
Oh, was I aware of my final stride?

Details | Haiku | |

In Your Times

Have you ever felt
You were born decades too late?
Centuries too soon?

Well, maybe you were...
To bring back old landmarks or
Usher new knowledge.

So, let history
Repeat its lessons through you
Or write your own books.

Details | Free verse | |


They flow like water 
Splashes on the page
Words like ink
Seep in and come alive
Words that breath 
And speak to me 
Put on rough new pages
Smell of dust and leather 
With a flourish of a pen 
A rush of anticipation 
Waiting to paint the pictures
The words will tell
To touch hearts
And change lives 
Words that won't fade 
Lasting through time
A joy and a thrill
These words take shape 
Shifting, molding 
Bringing life and creating 
Something new

Details | Free verse | |

The Chosen One

My odds feel slim as a stick figure but my desire thicker than Monique and three golden 
corrals, the competition is higher up than Yao on Shaq's shoulders but who can write 
with deeper meaning like a bottomless pit that's really my mind's great divide like Blue 
Bell with only 2 flavors and a gold rim, fresh imagination making it easy for me to word 
the painting I'm putting on the back of your intellect so beautiful it'll have you lustful for 
intercourse with the text itself, excuse me as I breeze past the assumptions of 
becoming arrogant and self centered speaking with a spotlight and nothing less to 
sway the masses but my own pure skills, move aside please I have mountains of 
oppression and depression to move from the slums in my mind named last resort 
towards the demolition yards called triumph and victory, follow me as I guide loved 
ones and good souls back across the sea filled with their tears shed over periods of 
pain and turmoil, before we begin this journey take a last glance back waving goodbye 
to others who wish to join us but can't make the change from frozen still to 100 miles 
and running to catch up with our current standing. -poetic

Details | I do not know? | |

Our Time

Finally our time has come,
We slowly start becoming one,
The rose pedals piled on the bed,
Will cushion as you lay your head...
Tugging on your lingerie,
Struggling which words to say,
That will touch or calm you down,
As I pull it half way down...
Starting with the softest kiss,
While I gently pin each wrist,
And softly blow aside your hair,
So I can fall inside your stare...
Touching you in every place,
So much you have to turn your face,
While everything below your hips,
Start trembling beneath my lips...
Locking me between your knees,
And stopping right before you squeeze,
So the climax won’t portend,
What you want me to start again...

Details | Free verse | |


Everything is going well,
looking forward to living a fuller life,
burying the not-so-happy past 
under the ashes of turbulent days...
willing to forget all the hurtful ways.
With thoughts and pen ready to create,
new lyrics for songs and verses for poems;
who ever said that life can't be grand?
Don't assume I stare at the hourglass,
counting every flowing grain of sand! 
Honor and glory were not expected,
but I accepted them with gratefulness;
and they are not the gods I bow to,
I pray to a real God, who always dwells 
above the unreachable realm of blue. 
The gladness of being alive and thankful
has made aware how I greedly clung to my estranged, dark world...
with people passing by, never saying hello;
did I ever wonder why they were so distant and cold?
Why didn't I share anything with them...only glorifying my ego?
Pride can be achieved by willingness and stride;
and it has the loveliness of very delicate lilies,
which an unexpected wind can suddenly taken away,
to never bring them back to the scented, open meadow, 
and be picked by delicate hands to adorn a lovely home. 
So desperate to excel, motivated by desire and passion,
to go beyond the unexplored and find a perfect image
of that peaceful soul living on a deserted island,
where Man has never left any imprint of his intellect,
or imposed on land and fowl his invasive foolishness.  

Details | Free verse | |

Family Tree

Our family tree will never stop growing…our faith and comfort will never crumble
Love grows here…so have no fear—God is near
My family, though packed up with pride and low self-esteem, still appears humble
Mirth produces joy and our hope gives birth to cheer

God is our Father; who could play this role as skillfully? Who, other than God, created the world so genuinely?
Love comes from He…so scare away the anxiety—God will grant us ecstasy
My family, though packed up with hope and despair, cherishes my soul with glee
Rebirth and life comes from He and our faith should draw near to thee

"i love you sweet boy..we will have fun this summer and be a close and godly family..nighty nit my light"
This summer, I am positive that we will be a close and godly family
But we must be lights of the world…and we must be willing to finish that race of hardships to earn His dignity
By all means, we will have an enjoyable break without paying a fee
But we must be God’s faithful followers…and we must be prepared to follow our Shepherd who is the key

Of never-ending faith and comfort, nourishing us abundantly
He still exists…He unravels the insanity
Of this world and set us free from blasphemy
Watching over us with pure vitality

Give us Your water
Don’t leave us in the gutter
Listen to the words we mutter

I pray that our family tree will look up to you devotedly

Details | Alliteration | |

The Prime Directive Quiz ( P D Q ) or Prolix Drama Queen Part Two

and Par-Policy:  Dump Rotted Produce…
and Pitch-Pit-Grain- Pro-Ruse

It Was Due To Prior-Parent’s Vain-Disobey, 
so They Diminished, That-Dare-Day…
The Delectable…
 and Passed Up The Palatable –
 Main… Held-Accountable
Course (so  not  hard !) 
But They Failed to Avoid: 
 The Ditch, The Decline, The Devoid
They Deformed; Distorted… 
and Perished, at Path of Disdain- Deported!
Prithee, Who Wants to See… A Dashed-to-Pieces Pottery?
Not even-Periphery-me!... It’s No Longer Picture-Pretty 
Despite Protocol-Deficiency… ‘til I get a Decent Setting Plate
On Broken Dresden- my Pheasant-Dinner Won’t be Ate

And Now… Disorder of The Day… 
is Devious, and Double-Dismay
…  Disgrace, Depression… 
and A Putrid-Depraved-Puke-Stain-Progression
 Plunged into Disease and Death; 
Some Plummet and Pose-Deranged-Stealth
Percolating Panic… 
and Picking Up Pride-Plagues- Still-Pandemic
from-Cain’s Prozac-Paddock … Pathetic !

Though, All Are Not Dissidents-Decayed… 
Deteriorated …  or Dastardly-Dross-Sprayed
 Applaud- When Prodigal-Lost is Found, 
and Those ‘Punching-Back-At-Pangs-Bane’ Pound!
By Adhering to The Dedicated-Drive, 
of The Deft-Guardian-Defender’s Eyes
Who Points Where Our Polished-Pebbles’ Sling, 
Put-Practice-Ping-Ping-Aim (ing)
Dove(ing) Over to Dangle The Desist… 
or Meet Thy Downfall Pretenders-Risk…

For We Pummel Problems… 
and Dent and Pelt Puzzle-Plight-Chains (Pop ‘em!) 
Definitive Deeds, Decorous… 
Meant to Disable Dynamite Pipes-Porous 
To Prevent Our Pulverized-Maim 
and Proffer:  A Predicament-Slain

Our Pilgrimages In Pursuit of Paragon-Virtue… 
Must Make Distribution or Divesture:
the Property… of Pomposity
Pageantry… Profits and Desperate-Popularity
and don – Parsimony, and  Penury, 
Pariah, Pest-Control and Peculiarity
yet Pleasurably, we have heirloom-Pendants and Pence-a-Few …
and Pearl-Gates and Doubloons and Dew Drops Too
‘Cause, Priests and Prophets Must Pray for The Reign…
and for Pre and Post-Op-Apocalyptic–Novocain ! …

Details | Verse | |

A blood pool

Why should I worship you?
If I need to die innocently,
Why should I respect you?
If you should rape me pregnantly.
Why should I honour you?
If you shall kill me decently?
I am pointing you,
You are also dying as me cowardly.
But I never claimed my death,
Because I am poor,
I have no source to compel you,
For reconsidering on recommendations,
Nobody can alter your coffin,
With my sucking blood.
But my sighs shall chase you,
When my children will learn that,
You were born in a sucking blood pool.

Details | Epigram | |

Untitled #155 / Your voice is a pearl

Your voice is a pearl,
you must dive deep to find it

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 | Ode | |


Desire make me flee to England's shore,
to Stafford where Shakespeare wrote
sonnets by candlelight and moonbeams...
Let me open the tall front door,
to see him in that corner weaving a thought,
swiftly turning them into theatrical schemes!
Ah, he weeps for a past tragedy he witnessed, 
making those tears flow on clean sheets
that leave him heartbroken and drenched in tears!
Oh, those sad moments seem to disappear
as he dreams of unforgotten faces he loved...
and many say he didn't feel joy but fear!
Shakespeare's spirit is not a phantom whose voice can't
be heard everywhere it roams...listen, don't fret!
Try to glance at his pensive face, read the words of that play
he's writing on paper for all to ponder in a persuasive way!

Details | Free verse | |

Writing Class 101

Photobucket - Video and Image Hosting

It goes on and on
It's about everything

An open channel

It's a brave new voyage
into the concepts

of poetry

It's an amazing new journey
into the paradox

of reality

It is the Omega of Class
the First of it's talent

The leader of the way
for those to express

the feelings from their chest
into metaphors
and profound stanzas

It is a nightmare worth rereading
A dream
worth reliving
and a chapter

to your

Never ending story

Some are there to mess
Some are there to impress
Some are there to learn
Some are there to burn for a turn

Some get better
and everyone moves on

As the beat of the soul
It's the inspiration of a nation
its the nexus
of dreamscapes
and the Hearts of sleeves
for the Queen 
The Queen of all hearts

Details | I do not know? | |

Trapped, Alone

Failure to plan on your part
Doesn’t mean an emergency on my part
That is what today over the radio I heard
And as sharp as an arrow in my heart it stung

Now it’s almost a month
Since on the boat of chance I jumped
	...hoping for luck
I’d heard enough of my big dreams banging my head
Now here I am, so worried of what’s ahead

I know all about that positivity stuff
In fact I write about it trying to earn some cash
But man, how tough it is to live off art in this part of Africa
The society looks at me with suspicious eyes for they do not understand

I am a lone ranger in a range full of cons
I am a range rover in a range full of thorns
I try my best to improve my all
But always to reality’s end I fall short

Sometimes I wish to be back to the home that didn’t foster my hope
Sometimes I wish to be helped by the dad I’ve never known
But all the time life shouts upon me the reality that I’m alone
Oh, I know I gotta stay to fulfil my purpose
	...but sometimes I wish I was gone

Details | I do not know? | |

What causes me to write poetry

It's when I am deep in emotion
That sets the wheels in motion
When my heart bleeds to the core
And my heart pleads, more...more...
My senses they race
Thinking of passion, love, disgrace
There isn't a single thing that is not thought of in my little mind
Letting the bustle of life, like a scroll unwind...
What is it that I really see?
Life's passionate reality
Forever dreaming of what never was
Thinking of what's to come...
Because life is a dream's reality
A love's frivolity
Always searching for a new tomorrow
Trying to get over the endless sorrow
Of life's pain and dissapointment
Until visions are sent...
Through the clouds of fantasy
Although it may be imaginary reality
It's the only world I'll ever love
And the only need to love life
In expression of a poem

Details | Free verse | |

How It's Written

My mind is empty but I can't stop the pen from bleeding continuously as I write the 
actions I'm doing until my mind fills with something of interest only to spill out on paper 
as if I were talking to the reader letting them see every motion, opening their mind to 
display all 5 senses as I describe them, feeling each word almost to where it can reach 
out the paper and touch you with the knowledge of all sounds, sights, movements, and 
hopefully taking the brush of your imagination and literally painting the picture for you, 
hopefully showing you the very aspect of another situation in someone else's life that 
might be either unknown to you completely or in resemblance to a experience of your 
own, and as the story ends I leave you with the choice to wonder why I felt the need to 
tell you that at all or investigate what you read as more than text entertainment. -

Details | Free verse | |



As singing sounds
Through the future 
In a blaze of light 
With the
Piercing rhythm
Of a 
Perfected past


Flying stands of words
Into the web
Without the gems of the living plasm
And without 
The perfect rose

I  wonder and ponder

The poet seeketh the muse
The muse seeketh the poet 
The poetry of the beginning
The poetry of the end   

Details | Free verse | |


The poetry that emanates
From creative mind is like
A resplendent sun rising
From behind a horizon 

Metre music metaphor
Cannot be separated in sch creation 
As everything operate in unison

Alliteration,not deliberate
Rhymes not contrived or forced
Imagery nevr coerced

Throughout a matrix of 
coherence runs and thoughts rotate 
Round the central axis
In such creation
Emotions are not stuck on sleeves
Nor sentimentality wails on crossroads
No pleonism muffles theme like blind
Blankets heaped over newborn babe- 



Details | Rhyme | |

Poetry In Motion

Poetry in motion is like singing a song,
With words their meaning, short or long;
Thought expressed with feeling of the written word,
An expressive idea carried as if on the wings of bird.

Gaiety, festivity, dedication or sorrow words meant,
Even to cherish, share, or a way to just vent;
Carefully scribed from thought, said or just done,
The poet can be serious or write just for fun.

A long time ago many stories were poetically told,
Some became treasure and thus never grew old;
Rhythm, familiarity, or just were easy to say,
Poems that endure, even now, to this day.

As we ride the winds of time so much can be said,
The very essence of poetry that dance in ones’ head;
Not for fame, nor fortune, not even for fleeting power,
A symphony of lovely words like the beauty of a flower.

For as long as man lives and is able to clearly think,
He will express his feelings with song, verse, or drink;
In his bed, at his work, or just a sudden notion,
He will happily sing a song with poetry in motion

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 | I do not know? | |

Creative Bandages

Be your own explorer and see for yourself. 
There's lessons in all the world. 
In each blade of grass, and each flower petal. 
Flying off the tail of your coat, 
Hiding creative bandages. 
Papers full of words of life. 
Packing out your dingy jacket.
And money is no object. 
Life is so short and is so briefly lived. 
That your out for living, trying to help,
And dying in the end. 
Because your dreams were larger 
Than yourself or even others. 
You tried to save the world. 
But it's flying off the tail of your coat. 
As your riding into the sunset, 
Hiding creative bandages.
Like papers floating in the sea. 
You sail away. As your journey lives on. 
On to the next person who needs our help. 
On to the next person who's soul is gone. 
Love is like the open ocean. 
Your a drop of water in it's hand. 
But someday, your journey, will end. 
You'll find some sort of resolution. 
Maybe, a pen in your hand. 
And finally, return home. 
You'll Leave the world, 
Flying off the tail of your coat. 
Hiding creative bandages. 
That you've kept threw land and sea. 
You've learned so much, throughout the years. 
So drop it out into the world. 
Your collection of creative bandages. 
You'll show for all of them to see. 
So Your journey may be said and done. 
But you'll always have your dreams. 
And those creative bandages. 
That you pray will save the world.

Details | Couplet | |

it grows

The white page reflects onto my face,
Out come the words woven like lace,
Here I spill from, my heart does bleed,
The pattern grows, like a tree from seed.
And now it's done, my thoughts perceived,
I leave for you, to open and read.

Details | Limerick | |

Some rime with that?

A poet was rhyming an ode
Driving his car down the road
He became so engrossed
That his car hit a post
And his trousers became a commode

So from that day on our sweet poet
Swore on his word that he'd stow it
avoiding such deep concentration
Before he'd become so unravelled
Or he'd be on a roadway less travelled

Details | Free verse | |

You Know (In my Life)

You know
In my life
I have loved
And I have been loved
I have hated
And I have been hated
I have tried to kill
And I have had others try to kill me
I have lead others into addiction
And I have lead others out of addiction
I have been a Wolf
And I have been a Lamb
I have always dreamed of just being simple
And my life has always been very complex
I have a dear friend who is a Missionary Nun
And one who is a convict on Death Row
And I love them both equally
And understand them both completely
I have been all that is wrong
And I am all that is right
In our society
I try so hard to help others see and understand
How it feels to be me
Yet I myself can’t fathom why
Anyone would even care
I have been as cold and hard as steel
Yet compassion fills my every moment
I cry every time I watch Forrest Gump
And I rush every time I watch Pulp Fiction
For I have loved with every drop of who I am
And I have drank from the cup of excitement
I am everything you should be
And everything you shouldn’t be
At the same time
Many find comfort in me
And many fear me
Many love me
Many hate me
Yet everyone seems to respect me
While I struggle so hard with self respect
I know our Lord is using me through my poetry
For this gift
I did not learn or earn
It struck me like a bolt of lightning in the night
At the age of 41
And my soul has been in poetic turmoil ever since
When I was nothing I was something
Now I’m something and I’m nothing
But a Poet
And I find great comfort in that

A special thanks to Jesse (Redman) Wasson
Who inspired me to write this poem in his 
Last letter to me. Please pray for him he is
fighting a three strikes case for his life.

Details | Free verse | |

You Are Jamming My Dreams

I wait crossly
To get picked up straightaway
I wait optimistically
To step into the murky bowels of my car

I can’t advance…
When you’re dragging me to your feet
I can’t progress…
When you’re motivating me to be incomplete

I wait at ease
To get a ride home
I wait with heaps of crotchetiness
To jam myself into the jumbled car

I can’t drive on…
When you’re creating traffic in my dreams
I can’t carry on as fast
When you’re taking your time on the freeway,
Though your obedience beams

You’re jamming my dreams, sweet dream catcher
You’re liveliness gleams…It’s not what it seems... (2)
It’s certainly not what it seems…
Blame it on my dreams!
You’re just a dream come true…
It’s nothing that popped out of the blue…
It’s not that surprising
If you only knew…
Oh, you don’t have a clue…
This infatuation is positively true!

I can’t move on…I can’t drive on… (2)
I can’t ride on the road to victory…
I can’t burst forth by dashing proudly
Until you hit the brakes and cease from
Jamming my exotic dreams

I can’t travel on… I can’t light up the sky…
I can’t dream on and on and on
I can’t drift on and on
I can’t…I can’t move on
I can’t… I can’t!
Until you inspire me to gleam!

(the whispers grow soundless)
I can’t drive on…
I can’t drive on…
I can’t drive on…
I can't...I can't...
I just can't,
Dear friend...

Details | I do not know? | |

The apple of God's eye

You and I are the apple of God's eye.
He treasures each of us and that's no lie.
He loves us so much that it nearly makes him burst.
He gives us the strength to go on when things are going the worst.

God is a big part of my life and that makes me truly blessed.
He will make your life wonderful because he is the best.
If you're thinking about giving up, please remember that God believes in you.
He knows that we are very special and that's most certainly true.

Details | Quatrain | |

Copy this Poem

Please copy this poem.
Post it on your office wall,
next to your bed,
or the toilet paper roll.

Memorize each word.
Recite it to your teacher.
Spin it into a song
and preach it like a preacher.

Use sign language.
Transcribe it into Braille,
Aramaic, Chinese and
Spanish. Let the world

know that this poem
and any other poem
that you or I write
is worth the daylight.

So, please copy this poem.
Post it on your office wall,
next to your bed,
or the toilet paper roll. 

Details | Light Poetry | |

' Light Years, Away '

Far-Away … Light Years Away …
How Appropriate, It Is, We Say …
Light Years Away … Words To Measure
The Great Distance to Explore Celestial Treasure

… For He is Light Years, Away From Us
… yet … Closer … than The Lightest Touch
Closer … than The Merest Whisper
Closer … than even Lovers, Can Venture

and yet … Light Years Away … from Man’s Technology
Light Years Away … in Telepathy
Light Years … of Surpassing Intelligence
Those Light Years Away … should Inspire Reverence

… in Wisdom … He is So, Far, Advanced
We, Will Never Reach … His Zooming Stature or Glance
Beyond, What He Has To Show
Look Back at Him ? … ‘Please !’ … Keep Learning To Go …

… Light Years Away … Oh, Joyous Mystery!
Light Years … of His Supreme Love and Gracious Majesty
and Divine Dignity and Glory and His Excellency … All Light Years Away
so … Up … Up … and Away … that’s how Real Superheroes Pray

… and that’s how We Travel, Light Years Away … Day by Day by Day

Details | Rhyme | |

Nothing that I miss

I grew up on the right side
          Of the wrong side of the tracks
I hit the ground running
          With no thought of looking back
First I ran from town to town
          Then from pen to pen
Caught up in an endless game
          There is no way to win
Then on day while I was banging
          My head against the wall
I realized the only way to win
          Don’t play the game at all
Today that seems so long
          Though it was just the other day
That my beloved lab and I
          Had to go our separate ways
Some days when I’m alone
           I can hear it call
As every vein in my body
          Suddenly starts to crawl
My demons have been many
          As I walk with my ghost
Friends that I knew and loved
         Gave their lives to the host
As I look into the mirror
         At my tattoo brands
Reminders of the other day
          When I was a different man
On the right side of my chest
           Is my gangster patch
In the world of prison gangs
          B.C.G. is hard to match
A break off from the brotherhood
          It’s an assassin’s brand
And every time I look at it
          I wonder, “Am I forever damned”
I guess it’s neither hear nor there
          It simply is my past
And I beat it down everyday
         To make my future last
It’s all about “just one more day”
         One second at a time
As the battle rages on
         Up in this heart of mine
“Just one more day” has worked for me
         As I lace up my shoes
It’s been one thousand one hundred seventy one
         Since I last wore prison blues
The trials have been many
          It’s hard to conquer fate
When you do know it’s true
          Inside you do feel great
And about my crawling veins
         Just one thing to say
Once again I used my pen
         To write them away
I think now I’ll go inside
         Give my wife a kiss
Answer the question she ask of me
         Nothing of that life that I miss

Details | Ode | |


poet in flight
writing for a free airspace
keeping the seatbelt on
closing both of his eyes
to let the poem fly for itself

Every breath that i whisper
a single movement of the pen upon paper
giving takeoff from the runway of ideas and rhymes
no one would know who this poet truly be
he uses a 1000 different names to keep him silent and unknown

During this duration of poetic flight
He will write a sonnet or a narrative some night
to describe the feeling of floating away with the air
there aren't any typos nor mistakes to make the reader even care

Look around you at the space between the pen and the wind
Solly! it is so enticing and enchanted to be a Poet's Romantic
picturing the trees with the alphabet
coloring the sagebrush with just the right felt-tip pen

You,the reader,will notice for a time
the perfect serenity of this fable sublime
There aren't any Dirty words or imagery,my pet
to hover forever,near the 747 jumbo jet
Creating the space
Tracing with each Finger
The Flight of the Poet
whose ode to the old stanza will forevermore linger

Details | Free verse | |

Guiding Answers

When this page is study
and children write essays about it
they might go on about the introduction and how it was explanatory
they might estimate it was second guessing that it switched and then went
to the what for
why is this author writing
do you hear me
im right there what i want you to say now break away
and dont fall in and see where the story goes
in the window
in this mansion
going on forever
and in the muse of the beast
of the psychologies
the confusion sees nothing but clarity
put the pieces together
and ask the questions
nothing there between the lines
and where did ti t all start
was it the biginning or the end
did the rumor mill come clean
or do i just need therapy

soo much to rebuild
soo much to reponder
soo much to see through
i think that maybe si should start the page over
maybe its not in my mind baby
maybe its outside crazy
maybe its trying to enslave me
maybe im not worth saving
maybe its something and im not explaining

In the end of the puzzle the treasure found and a new legacy of the blueprint of 
the plan
that was left thjere in the seal of fate the previous generastion left in the puzzle of 
the plans of the story of music
no one ever really listens to
that has much mueaning
an audio soap operah

Details | Narrative | |

Thanx for the Welcome

Hey, thanks a heavy bunch for the welcome
Hey, thanks a larger lot for the welcome

My heart is duly enthralled
My mind has been positively stirred

Two days ago I had a lot on my mind
Now ‘coz of y’all, here I exist in delight

Heaven must be missing quite a number of angels
For what I read on my screen can’t be wordings of ordinary mortals

For now I don’t need heaven
For I have found myself a haven full of the soup I need to get well

A brick at a time, each with purity and love in mind
I’m certain this shrine full of wonder will rise to shine

Such are the blessings of men and women of initiative
Offering poets like me and you the mortar to build our dreams into reality

My heart fills with gratitude, tonnes of it in advance
For the doors of opportunity I’m certain to unearth, in this shelter of dreams

The beginning might be a tad bit rocky
But please bear with me as I drift off my ecstasy to clarity, as consequential of this 
new discovery

I promise to soon find my bearings
And flow at ease like a new Lamborghini on these sleek streets of many dreams

In the meantime don’t mind if sometimes I blurt
For a new soup like this always tastes so sweet, makes one reveal what he was 
meant to keep

Thanks indeed for allowing me to be a part of you
Allow me to advertise to others that you and I on Poetry Soup too

Details | Limerick | |

Guzzi Girl Limerick

Do i know a poet called Suzi
No, but i know a Deborah Guzzi
Her poems are great, well worth the wait
All poetry she reads, she's not choosy

The Limerick Game..Carrie Richards has been tagged!!!

Details | I do not know? | |

The Poet

Through liquid from the poets pen
Images flow from women and men

Feelings pouring from the poets heart
In black and white from miles apart

As tears ran from the poets eyes
His soul inside poured out his cries

Through many strokes from this craftsmen
The poets words flowed once again

Though only a few will understand
The words that flowed from the poets hand

His finished masterpiece came to an end
And the poet prayed he did not offend

Details | Free verse | |

VII: Conquered

A single, unnoticed ray of light
shooting across the sky at night
straight down to my head
in our conversations 
it is, as it has always been
between the King and I.

He tells me what he sees, 
and he feels for the unworthy
he cares for the damned
though he see the lies
that are fed from the lies
of the leaders

Return soon, brother in arms
return from the sea, comrade
walk upon the shore
or walk on water
once more for the doubters
the King knows all about us
alas, he has not returned yet
I will know that day
once, twice, more like seven times
to the exact the moment he's raised

Conquered by all of the hope 
of your allies
the few that still dare to 
believe in you
very same as the ones
who keep feeding you
in the outskirts of our realizations
the dreadful dreary dreamy illusions

The King best exists in the pretense 
of pretendness
at the moment just before, your mind intervened
and cast in just a shadow of doubt
that spread rapidly far, and between
this now makes him limited,
now I have my chance
to pull the wool off the greatest wolf
the world shall break its trance
I am now your lord
I feel all the world
I am always yours,
your Magus.

Details | Dramatic monologue | |

WISDOM: wise words

to have wisdom is better than being strong
and your wise words should flow like a song
spoken quietly with honest intent
sincere in their message and content

wise words are to be used as a persuasive tool
and not to be shouted by rulers of  fools
but if they are spoken from a man that is poor
to people they lose their ardent fervor
but if spoken by a man of considerable wealth
society will cleave to those words unto themselves

wisdom can't be bought nor purchased at any price
wisdom is a learned thing from an experienced life

Details | Rhyme | |

Long lost poetry found

Half empty cup,
man walking up.
 In the zone,
 staring at a half eaten scone.
  Books strewn about,
  writing without a doubt.
   More poems written today,
   than I thought I could muster.
    Before I'd be a fluster,
    now they flow freely,
    my mind at ease.

Details | Narrative | |

Ben Ja Min

on Jan 17th 1706 Benjamin Franklin was born 
became a printers apprentice 
established the first lending library
was known as an uncommom comman man 
that taught self in science and inventions

Benjamin Franklin 1706-1790

Also Entry For Brian Strand's   Vignette
A Literary Love Affair Contest
         GL All

Details | Limerick | |

Ruby, It Ain't Tuesday...

My dear darling Rube,
Just think, if you were
smokin' a doob
The poetic miles you could cross...
Yet your talent is there,
And I know just how rare
And I know that you care,
And now for words, I am at a  loss. 

Thanks, your fan, tom

Details | I do not know? | |

Stop putting yourself down!

You make me mad when you put yourself down.
You haven't smiled in years, you do nothing but frown.
You think that you're stupid but you're really smart.
You call yourself ugly and it breaks my heart.
You are a great person but that's something you can't see.
You are wonderful and I wish that you could agree.

Details | I do not know? | |

Goodbye Gwynne

(Dedicated to Fred Gwynne who died July 2, 1993. He starred as Herman 

You had bolts in your neck and a flat head.
Your skin was green and you were undead.
When people saw you, they screamed and ran.
You were very funny and you were also a scary man.
I loved to see you frighten people and make them flee.
But sadly the world lost you in July of 1993.

Details | Rhyme | |

You Bet!

You bet!
My Heidie poet friend....
A winning streak, I'm on,
Hot as a $2 pistol...
Sun's rising,
It's dawn....
You join the community,
Of endless talent and love,
A charmed life I'm living,
Experiencing all this warm giving....
So thank you, dear Heide,
Trust I do love you too,
Now it's time for 'ol Tom...
To get back in that Old Lady's shoe!

Details | I do not know? | |

The Rebirth of Young Gifted

They tried to kill my dream.

They tried to put a end to me.

Don't they know doubt is like Red Bull to me?

Don't they know that me quitin' is so unlikely?

Don't they know when the sea of doubt wash over me, I can walk on water like the 
Lord Jesus did before me?

I'm goin' keep bangin' your eardrums with my voice until they start to bleed!

So get it through your mind that you can't stop me!

So why do you try to stop the unstoppable?

Don't you know when it comes to comparing me to these other young poets I'm 
in my own league?

I'm goin' keep provin' you people wrong in everything I do.

'cause I'm known to spit the truth.

So let me spit some wise thoughts to your simple-minded self!

'cause when it comes to facin' me in poetry, you fall shorter than an elf.

So fear the 2nd comin' of me!

Like Tupac said "Fear me, I'm comin'!"

Y'all goin' fear the rebirth of Young Gifted.

Also known as Y.g.

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 | |


Tony Kushner wrote plays as a telephone operator,
Kafka wrote stories at night after working as an insurance adjuster,
Grisham penned court room dramas religiously for three years before
being published.

These playwrights and novelists and poets,
Lived a dual existence-

By day,
They lived an ordinary existence,
Maintaining a 9-5 or overnight shifts
While balancing obligations like
family, grocery shopping, taxes, rent or mortgage
friends, bills, lovers

At night, 
In their precious time-

They were on a lonely, thankless journey,
Only their desk, the lamp and their pen and paper/typewriter/computer
 as company,
Communing with their muse,

Creating, Rewriting, editing, repeat

Telling stories for the mere pleasure,  to satisfy an 
Incurable hunger for their words, thoughts, voices

To be expressed, considered, read,

Without the guarantee of money, fame, recognition or success..

I remember them when verse rushes through my mind 
like an angry, swollen April river,
That I forget the words as quickly as I conceive them,
or I compose long winded poems
with no direction, shape or grace.

I remember them when procrastination and writer’s block
Prevents me from writing for days, months or years,
or when I hear that my high school nemesis is a doctoral
Candidate in poetry 

I remember and thank them for giving my inspiration
To continue.

Details | Rhyme | |

O, What A Time of Morning

The sun touches the mountain peaks.
O, what a time of morning !
Beauty is here for one who seeks,
here within God's adorning.

All awakes from the cold dark night
as the fog lifts from the scene.
The sun is raising mornings' light
as all here looks so serene.

Once again, I write at the wall,
this place where wonders abound.
Here, it is the things of God call,
now, with no one else around.

Within natures' sanctuary,
it gets no better than this.
Of distractions, I am wary.
so much I don't want to miss.

How constant and steady, our God
as sun's light bids all to rise.
Time not spent with Him would be odd;
our Creator, True and Wise.

Details | Free verse | |

Faux Fur Jacket on a Hot Day

Starlight, star fight

I hope no one cries tonight
I hope that life 

is more than the sun

and more than that book I read

about the horses,

more than the dirt on the floor,

sitting there like a 

fairy dust covers a flower.

The flower blows in the wind

and I weep 

for the day that comes when

life no longer 

has an end

or really a beginning.

This jacket is itchy

and I itch it like my mind

hurts, it hurts when I think of 

how sick I am of

running away from 

the life that is coming

to me.       

Details | Free verse | |

From Cover to Cover

From being forced to cross the Atlantic Ocean under the cover of stars
to volunteering for a mission above every ocean to the stars.

From being stared at on an auction block and having the family sold and separated
to ten years running, in the most watched block, as a priceless model of the family unit.

From working for peanuts and fertilizing somebody's land with the blood that runs off of
the back
to owning the land, working the peanut, and transfusing the blood back.

From being robbed of a spoken language, losing a religion, a culture, a god
to influencing: the language spoken in cultures, songs in religion, and the pathway to God.

From losing a hand and a foot or a leg for not being fast enough to get far enough away
from “the man”
to using the hands, legs and the feet in running farther and faster than the average man.

From the king, of a nation, beaten into a personal slave and called names like coon,
spook, and “Boy”
to a boy named King who would grow up to “win over” a nation for the equal freedoms of
every person.

From generations that had to take the last names of past presidents
to being the name that can give a future generation its first president.

Details | Ballad | |

It's ashame

Where will love take me but up a hill and then back down one, yet this sounds so familar,
like a rollercoaster ride its playing with my emotions. It funny how you can  say things
so sweet and pretend like you mean them to make me feel so good but all you was really
doing for me teaching how stupid I am to fall in love and how you can do me any kind of
way and I not realize what your doing. So quick to believe in love to give my heart to you
but you think this is some kind of game; a trophy to be tossed any type of way and when I
tarnish you have no use for me. The cruelty of the world I have no control over I cry
before I take the time to understand I have to move on; withholding any love I have left
to give I am insecure, refusing to truly try again.

Details | Rhyme | |

Holiday Tag " thank you Linda "

What will i write
For my Poetry Soup Tag
It's about holidays
Which we all think are fab
There is so much choice
Many places to go
You can head to Aspen
For the Colorado snow
Or even the Maldives
To enjoy the heat
It's such a wonderful place
Delightful people to meet
But, if its rain you want
Scotland's the place to be
Believe me
There's plenty to see
Or you can spend time at home
On Poetry Soup
Where you can comment and write
With the Poetry Soup Troop
Or even better
Take your kids to a beach
Watch them smile and play
Keep them well within reach
But, what ever you do
When your holidays come around
And where ever you go
Please be all, safe and sound

" Thank you for the tag Linda, and i now tag Carolyn "

Details | Free verse | |


hits hard,fierce
words flowing out
onto scraps, paper
flowing out
a great release
who shall read it
who shall praise it
who shall remember it.

Details | Couplet | |

The Most Beautiful People

Sometimes we write in a certain way
That’s the style God choose that day

I pick no subject I just start to write
I just simply rely on my inner-sight

I truly feel pretty good on this day
It’s all just a frame of mind they say

I headed out back so I could mow
Busted and disgusted, wife said no

I hurt all the time the drop of a dime
Pain will always be a friend of mine

Pain is the only one I had for years
So much pain full of so many tears

Love on the inside, pain on the out
It last day after day without a doubt

I’m not quite sure where this will lead
As I eat all the pain and plant the seed

Love planting them, then watching them grow
Into the most beautiful people I could ever know

One of the most beautiful, check this out
Tag Chris Higgins, what this poems about

I'm pretty sure by now we all know just how 
special Christopher Higgins is to our mixture
of perfect homegrown soup,  Bro I love you
                                     God Bless, MJ

Details | Cinqku | |

a cinqka

all those years
writing no words
inspiration came - pen

Details | Free verse | |

The Testimony

Let me tell yall a little sumthin bout me
I left my church to pursue my callin 
forget soul searching God got me on the throne
so I'm spiritually ballin
Now I then seen the political numbers
so people doubted I can do it like Stephanie Rawlings
but check it I take orders from the 5 Star General
and I'm just a crucifixion away from meeting the servant

Now look, I been fallin out of his good graces
like Alicia Keys, praying for wisdom, knowledge, 
and understanding so I stay on bended knees
and I'm just me no better than the next man
just lyrically gifted, Paul said we we're more
than conquerors so thats why I'm trying to get lifted.

I represent the 12 tribes of Isreal so I'm one of the 
chosen few, but like you I'm still on the front line making solider moves
this here is the testimony and me I never feared danger
but still people wondering where I came from like Jesus in the manger
I tell em I been sent to witness not testify
live life till the last day 
when the good Lord meets me in the sky

Details | Blank verse | |

all or not at

take it all
take everything
i'll give it up
(all) give it away
or not at
for the sake
the taste
the temptation
the tossed aside remnants
the last drop
at the bottom 
of the once empty cup
with the polka dots
imprinted on my mind
or the shape 
of sheets & blankness
imprinted on my back
your eyes
consuming thought
take away the focus
& blur for me
the rough edges
& harder lines
take away need
remove the emptiness
from the core of light
the center spreads
forgetting myself
in blind sensation
my mental undoing
be for me,
the last thought
(before the end of thoughts)
erase it all
with one stroke
of skilled ink 
& spilled
indistinct intutition

Details | Free verse | |

Inspirations Journey.

                                                     This moment
                                                  Breath deeply and
                                               Place your pen aside
                                             It has little power left in it
                                        Although you have endeavored
                                  These are not your moments inspiring
                            But are too transparent in simplicity to record
                        Where is your racking anger and troubled solace?
                You always compose through those eyes filled with sorrow
            The meter of your verse will be painted with a dangerous divinity
          And a spiritual suggestion as you put blindfolds over our true eyes
       Light that flame within us that directs us past fear as a radiant beacon
   That astonishes the most naïve in us with an exhilarated spiritual moment 
      Only you will hear its approach echoing deep within your creative heart
          The tides of time will cleanse away obscurity corrupting your mind
            The long deceased will reanimate as the verse flows unfettered
                    Those thoughts are fetal now wait to put pen to paper
                         While they grow under the blanket of fulfillment
                           Soon they will all surface and wash ashore
                                    On the eternity of the rising sun
                                         With the storms passing
                                           In the hour of their birth
                                             Let the moment rise
                                               But breathe deep
                                                 This moment

Details | I do not know? | |

Latter Aspect

To rise, then fall, and then rise, yet again,
  this, the most inspirational cycle;
every time I re-awaken to the truth
 of the world, it's beauty is an eyeful;
though, I know, that the inevitable high cost
  will, again, demand I walk through Hell,
as I, constantly, have in my long past,
  far more often than I, now, care to tell;
existence captures my beating heart,
  carries revelation so fair to speak of;
yet, just as Night follows Day, eternally,
  heartbreak chases the dawning of Love;
my promise is to sing a different song each time,
  trailing ever stranger visions,
crossing the sad tide with two token pennies,
  payment for my unending missions,
but, never able to step twice
  into the same, ever-flowing river;
the water's beholden to constant current,
  as it's inevitable driver,
just as I'm forced to unceasing movement
  throughout Time's most darkest, strictest confines;
so, no two Days, however close they may appear,
  can their strokes be of the same lines;
made to define the latest pitch of Night,
  I brave the stream, no matter how re-arranged;
only then able of describing Life,
  after having been absolutely changed.

Details | I do not know? | |

A Round Of Applause

For all you semi finalists, I salute each, one and all. I'd contact each of you,but the
intense pain I'm suffering has kept me from the most basic activities.  It is trurely
a struggle just to walk to an adjacent room.  No matter who wins, you're all 
winners to me.   tom

Details | Tanka | |

Prayer Of A Poet

lyre accompany me
as i write the poetry
of the celestial.
make the words have the magic
of rhyme and of imagery.

Details | I do not know? | |

Thoughts And Feelings

Time flies
When I daydream and write.
Though I despise this place,
I know without a doubt
It is where I learned
Every trace of my thoughts.
My heart is solitary,
Though is so deep,
It feels as if
I may never find
What these feelings of mine
Always dream.
I write my poetry
Through love, feelings
And even hate.
In this life I seem fated
To forever be lingering
Within this world
With faded dreams and feelings.
This state of mine 
Is so misleading,
I must find more meaning.
Time flies
When I am glancing into
The clear blue skies.
The sun rises
And my soul realizes
Every day, every lifetime
Is a new beginning.
As I am writing,
I am thinking, searching
For this life's meaning.

Details | Elegy | |

When I Die

When I Die
Let the angels sing
Let the sunshine turn into rain

When I Die
Don't shed a tear
I shall be in the 
heavens above

When I Die
Meet me there
Its the beautiful place
that you'll see called Heaven

When I Die 
Nothing will do me no harm
The bad days are gone by
No more weeping eyes
No more mistakes 
No more going through
the pain that ache me

When I Die
God has set my soul free
Now I am free
My life will never be the same
my soul had gotten weak, wasn't able to move

When I Die
Now I will be able to live the perfect life
I always wanted to live
Now here is the peace
for me where I lay my weaken body

When I Die
My eyes will be close 
But never forgetting who I was 
Where I came from
Never forgetting the loved ones 
Family, friends, and enemies
No matter who you were
I still loved you
Nver forgetting who you are

When I Die
As each day passes by
surely I'll miss you 
Maybe you'll miss me too
Don't always come teary eyed
Remember who you are
And the special things that God will have for you

When I Die
Now I will become a beautiful angel
Pray for you above
each and everyday

When I Die
I will be waiting on you
In that special place above
where its called Heaven

When I Die
When I Die

Details | Rhyme | |

Building Poems

Words that rhyme and words that don't,
these are toys for the writer's pen.
They creatively come together
to form a masterpiece once again.

These toys they use to describe
the thoughts upon their mind
are as a child at play
with such joys untold to find.

So many building blocks to choose
each poem of which they write.
Limitless are the words they can use
building poems and reaching new heights.

This world is their training ground
as they write of what they see.
Always something different in store,
writing of stuff that makes memories.

Douglas L. Ace

Details | Ballade | |

likely i'll be yours

I woke up alone.. 
coping with reailty
but today
i'm thrown to 
bring the best out of me

i crack the can 
and pull the coke in my cup
glance out the window
at who just erupt

a dear friend
haven't seen in a month
where you been
i've waited to see 
you crush..

the evening rush
how come 
when i wanted you
your well being
i did not know of such

but when i moved 
on... you miss my touch
i bet that hurt you as much as 
me like a mike tyson punch

Glad to see you back on your 
feet... who else could you trust

Details | Rhyme | |

Put It On Paper!

When you’re happy,
Or have a bit of anger,
And you can talk to no one,
To release it put it on paper.
Who cares if it rhymes?
You have free time,
And need to free your mind.
Whatever feeling you have,
And no one has time for you.
Punch those phrases,
Out on the paper.
Doesn’t matter 
If there are line 
On it or not
You will no longer 
Feel confined
Then you have a work
Of art with words.
It could be published.
If it is has quality 
So you feel happy
Or disturbed
And no one wants
To hear what you 
Have to say.
Put it on paper!
Read it aloud,
And stand proud! 
Tell that anger
See you later
Or that happiness
Come back again.
Don’t ever underestimate
The power of the pen.
Let the words flow.
Paper will be,
 Your new friend!

Details | List | |

I'm Happy When...

I'm happy when....Christy is feeling Hardy....when Heidie buys something she 
enjoys...when Jack reeds all the good comments on his work...when Ruby's Mets 
win...when Patricia laughs at the movie "The Addams family Tree"...when Sandra 
cruises the Hudson in her beautiful new sail boat she bought after winning the 
lottery...when everybody's favorite, Sharon, "weans" her children of meaningless 
goals, and they go on to great success..when Rhoda can relax with a gallon of 
Galgiano liquour..when Carol's holiday turkey is roasted to the "perfect" 
Brown...when Karen is no longer O'leary of any fool bothering her...when Vince 
clinches a sweet Proctor and Gamble laundry suds deal...when John says Heck! 
to whoever he wants...(I know,!!,...he already does!!  Power to him!)  when 
Teressa Harrs her Pena Colada is ready...and to all my other Soup Budddies, if I
 missed anyone, I am so sorry...but you aren't forgotten....and I'll make it up to you 
ASAP.   And I'm happy any day I produce a smile or two....

Details | I do not know? | |


I aint easy to be the best 
It aint easy to take a rest
in hours of painfull death
i payed off my depth
I reach out to the people that can do the best
I heard a voice loud and clear
But i heard it wisper in my ears
My mind wonder who was there 
He tells me have no fear
I do i care
When danger every were 
Telling me somting i dont want to hear

Details | Narrative | |

sweating inspiration

as I am here this warm evening
pressing the microphone button 
on my smart phone 
John Quincy Adams sits beside me 
at his congressional desk 
while Thomas Edison is sitting nearby
at a bench in Menlo Park and 
Archimedes is lounging 
down the hall in his bath 

none of them are visibly 
perturbed, nor exhibit
obvious genius as they are 
creating the finer 
points of civilization 
for the greater good

while all I can do is 
speak at my phone 
which flashes lines of ads 
about free online games 
and sites of single Asian women 
as I sweat to create

it's enough to consider
going to a libation establishment
and saying "hey barkeep,
give me a wallbanger
and an inspiration
with a twist"

© Goode Guy 2012-05-19

Genius is one percent inspiration, 
ninety-nine percent perspiration. - Thomas Edison

Details | I do not know? | |

Another One Of Those Times

Another one of those days,
I am feeling the sun's rays.

Another one of those nights,
I am seeing the sky's lights.

Another one of those times,
I am thinking these poetry rhymes.

Details | Rhyme | |

leh-'nérd 'skin-'nérd

A Southern Band, so grandeur
Always professional as they tuned and toured
The Skynyrds, as i grew up with them
Southern gals and Southern men.

Rossington, Medlocke and the famous Van Zants
Straight Southern Rock without a slant
Boogie riffs, and maybe a spliff
But what they produced, was my music wish.

In 77, their world fell apart
This horrific plane crash, did its worst
Cassie, Stevie and Robbie Van Z
The pilots and Dean, died at the scene
Three days after, this title tasker
Ironically titled Street Survivors.

The courage and love
As they moved through the years
Every time i play them
It brings a few tears.

My only wish is too see them live
Absorb their music capture their vibes
Wave their flags, as they do each tour
And wish all their lives to be so pure.

The above words are from who i am
James from Scotland just - A Simple Man

" For one of the best Rock Bands ever "

Details | Tanka | |

When Muse Returns

Upon your return
we will write, we will then share.
allowing new thoughts

Perhaps of our fantasies
or of our realities.

Details | Sonnet | |


To dare to write a poem is a thrill.
The world of words all things can symbolize.
A wordsmith has to ever hone his skill,
And greater grow his gift to empathize.

To break the bonds of esoteric terms
Will free the coded secrets they convey.
By sharing truth, a poet truth confirms.
To hear their words can clear our thoughts away.

These words must spark a meaning of our own.
A special nuance to their true intent.
They speak to us and we are not alone.
A deeper guidance deepens our content.

When poets share the feelings in their hearts,
Then grateful readers flourish by their arts.

Details | I do not know? | |


some dreams are for only dreaming'
nightly entertainment for a lark
and some are meant to wake us
Days go fast in indecision
Daily bread eats up the earning day
Then churning adrenalin hits a  spark
And creation heats its burning way
There's some that dream and some that do
That's how it's always been
But once or twice to keep things nice
Someone will do and dream
It's not correct but I suspect
from observations took
Though not a way to architect
'tis how to write a book

Details | Free verse | |

Will I ever be a poet?

Tonight I wonder,
will I ever be a poet?
I'm a good writer,
sometimes I don't even know it.
The words come to me naturally,
and some of them I don't
even know what they mean!
I love to write
everyday and everynight,
about the things that happen in my life.
I really hope I become a poet,
it's more than writing to me.
I think I have talents
most people can't see.
Poetry is my passion,
it helps me think.
I write the words I feel
in beautifully colored ink.
I hope someday to become a poet
so that people can see,
the true poet I really can be.

Details | Light Poetry | |

A Prayer

I am no poet; 
I just mimic one and pretend
That I could make a ballroom
     of words dance	
And entertain an audience.
But my choreography earns no
Because there is nothing special
     about it at all.

Boasting of this ability
     is but
An exercise in futility.

But You, 
You are the Creator of Words; 
You are the farmer and I am
     the soil
On which You patiently toil.
And all these verses
That come out of me
Will not be if not for Your seed.
So from now on, 
Though un-special they may be, 
Every finished poem, 
These ballroom of words, 
Shall be dancing in praise of 

Details | I do not know? | |

Who Are You To Judge

I don't judge you
So why judge me
I don't live for you
I live for me
I appeared life for everyone 
But not for me
I had a boyfriend
I had a husband
I have children 
I am a mother
I was abused
I loved everyone
I am only human
I need love
I have god in my life
I am a child of god
So don't judge me love me
I am accountable for me

Details | Rhyme | |

The Word

The word,
But spoken,
Even broken,
It’s heard.
It’s a soup stirred,
A flavored token,
Even when woken.
It’s blurred.
It comes through me through you,
Touched by our blessings in a day,
It simply just passes through.
It sets you well on your way.
The word is your physical suture,
Mending you for an awesome future!

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 | Verse | |

Meditations after Li Po /Kushih style

Meditations after Li Po

I follow in the footsteps 
of old poets of the past.
 As geese fly south in autumn.
 Instinct is my only guide.
 My attempts to emulate,
 may not bear such worthy fruit.
I can only do my best

The trees discard all their leaves
 and face winter nakedly.
I ask myself why this should be 
but I receive no reply.
Winter winds pass freely through
 the leafless twigs and branches.
Dead leaves return to the earth.

The trees stand as sentinels
 coated with white bitter frost
Bowing in submission
 to the power of the wind.
Better to bend than to break, 
the trees know instinctively
 the wind dies as spring returns.


Only when the time is right 
the geese will return once more.
The trees will put forth new leaves, 
flowers spring up underfoot
The spring sunshine will inspire
Poets to take up their brush
 and ink: To write poetry.


Details | Rhyme | |

Tallahassee to Ormond Beach

Down in Tallahassee
An American lassie stayed
Her poetry is a joy to read
It's the way her writes displayed

Writes on subjects cool
They en captured all our thoughts
Of history and life
Our imaginations caught

To Ormond Beach she travels
Near the ocean she will be
To stay in the family house
Fishing so frequently

And once she's settled in
To the Soup she will return
To grace us with her writes
For more i want to learn

Be safe in your journey
To make yourself at home
For we will all be here
I doubt we'll ever roam


Details | Couplet | |

Unique Horn

Carpe Diem, seize the day
Live by the rules of the game you play
The world is your oyster, enjoy the ride
When the going gets tough, look on the bright side
Silence is golden, take that to the bank
Put that in your pipe while smoke screens draw blank
Though money makes the world go round
Speak louder through actions than through sound
Empty vessels make the most noise
Best medicine, laughter, daily poise
Fool me once means shame on you
Shame on me, that’s fooled times two
Follow your heart, reach for the stars
Dreams come true, firefly jars
A bird in hand is worth two in a bush
When push comes to shove, shove comes to push
A stitch in time always saves nine
As luck still favors prepared minds
Fortune favors the brave at heart
Every ending once had a start
Live your life without regret
‘Tis better to forgive and to forget
We’re proned to get as hard as we give
Throw stones in the glass houses we live
Don’t count your chickens before they hatch
Two birds with one stone, that’s quite a catch
A rolling stone gathers no moss
Too many cooks spoil the broth
Just try again if you don’t succeed
And don’t believe everything you read
Make every experience educational
To think twice before speaking is critical
Let sleeping dogs lie I always say
Cause every dog will have his day
To be taught new tricks no matter the age
Nothing ventured, nothing gained
Two heads they say is better than one
Violence isn’t always the key my son
Beggars can’t choose, that much we know
More haste less speed, no time to grow
When seams come undone, it’s cause for concern
We are what we are, we live what we learn

Details | I do not know? | |


If you have a deep feeling, inside, write it down.
Don't think about others, what they'll say, you're no clown.
Just pick up some paper, and get your favorite pen;
Then pour out your heart, tell the world what's within.
Now, put it in verses, and make the words rhyme.
My god, your a poet! You'll be remembered through time.

Details | Free verse | |

Worthwhile Writing

I was writing on a paper
Suddenly I started writing on minds
Then the reaction from the readers
Made it worthwhile!

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 | Free verse | |

Write! (Cameo/Septet)

You there
Staring at the screen
Are you reading this morning?
Here’s a thought
Take inspiration from my words
Let them flow through your being
Then write

It feels good?
To write new poems
Letting go of the silence
Allowing your mind to now focus
On new words and new verses
Creating poems
For us all

Details | Free verse | |

Where The Truth Lies

The truth lies between silence
wisdom, knowledge, and deception 
it lies between politicians and big business men
supreme court judges and prosecutors 
who be doing the sentencing 
and the ones who know are too
afraid to come forward because fear is 
what they be living in, and why I fight to expose 
the truth the ones who fight to keep it hidden
be collecting big checks and 
counting their dividends

The Truth lies between stupidity and ignorance 
a lot of niggas talk that gangsta, gang banging
trappin, gun totting, killa life
they tell me to get it how I live so I'm livin Christ-Like 
the truth lies between family ties and 
business partners, peace makers, risk takers 
the ones that wanna see someone do good
and the people that we call haters
it lies between savoring the moment
and those who are
outspoken, heartbroken, they say stop snitching
or your loved ones gettin a death certificate notice
the truth lies between me and them friends and enemies
trusting in man and puttin faith in the one who was
and who will always be with me

Details | Free verse | |

what's in your head? predict this!!!!

Did you see squares all over the page?
stars of E.S.P?
wavy lines?
blue circles?
Can we add it  with a plus sign
come a cross something few will known was here?

Was this my test for the prophets?
are we following white rabbits still?
Is this just another complex inkblot
rainbows and angels
metaphors i don't understand to throw into history
for you to hand to someone
to ask what does this mean?
what do you see?

And then popularity and polls
you become subconscious prophets 
leading the world in some direction

was it the vision of a blue rose slowly blooming
but unfortunately due to the icicles
and snow it has black specks all over it
can you see the green moon
or is it red?
can you sense the passion for insensitivity
are you taken a back?
what am i trying to express?

do the pieces fit
is there still a method to my madness
or are you just my game now?

read this please
ink blots and poems
squares and puzzles
tests and perceptions
and only the geniuses and eccentric already controlled stand out
but if you sway, stand out

be careful

is the square inside or outside of the square
is the star spiraling around the triangle that was never there until just now

here's your pen and pencil
heres your paintbrush and canvass
read this ten times
then begin

is it a vase
with angels and humming bird with shapes in eyes
with spirits, ghosts in doorways
is it resting place crowned with intuition
of spheres and other influences
a library of records
that centers around stars and stripes whited out
and denials danced around
struck out
and basically restrained smile
squared off to circle our emotions
like an angel you just met who wrote this
inspire the new muse
be studied that only geniuses
the mentally ill
certain artists can see
or be forever cursed and manipulated until 
you finish your masterpiece inspired by this confusion

whats inside
what sense is here
what is orchestrating
the fruit bowls
and wheels of the mind?
what hypnosis did you fall for?
what do they know you can help others with in the conspiracy of art museums
thats been done before
never been done before
what ghosts and traces of white and yellow are still lingering

what esoteric seeds of psychics are still circling from the squares of the stars 
sprout from the weeds of your mind
heres your pen and pencil
write a poem, draw a picture, paint a painting
what does it mean?
are you crazy?

did you predict this?

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

Details | ABC | |

Poetic Journey

At beginning, certain derivatives escaped form,
Growing here, I joined keen living mighty names,
Obtaining poetic qualification, returned sweetly,
Telling universally valiant words,
 Xeroxing yearlong zeal

Details | Rhyme | |

What's in a poets mind?

Clearly you can see, 
It’s about the likeness of you and me 

It about true expression 
With a different meaning an a impression
It’s a flower you can visualize 
And its beauty, truly you can tantalize 

Yet we’ve taken and brought into the light 
It may be delicate moments that we’ve made bright
Surely its about seasons and reflections 
And lover's connections 

I know its grandma’s cooking 
And grandpa he was so good looking 

Maybe it inspirational 
A new life with God, sensational
Its about dreams and possibilities 
Then its about war and hostilites

It’s about depression 
And the sadness of rejection 

What’s in a poets mind? 
I’m sure you can see 

It’s life, love and all thee above 
Wouldn’t you agree?

Details | Rhyme | |

To be read and heard, Our Poets Words.

Poetry is thought
Turned into words
Where many can read
Not many will have heard
But the spread of writes
Our poets words
Once someone has read
Then someone has heard
This poem is written
For the Poetry Soup pens
Our family of members
Every single one a gem

Details | I do not know? | |

Blindless Passion

What was I to say to her
If I still had my sight
Out of all the people passing
I could smell her walking by...
The perfume she keeps wearing
announces her before she's near
Although I never met her
I get excited when I hear...
The patter of her footsteps
or the scuffing of her heels
No matter if she smiles or frowns
I know the way she feels...
Then one day I spoke to her
just sitting across the aisle
I didn't hear her say a thing
But somehow I sensed a smile...

Details | Couplet | |

A Visit in Style

Hello there my dearest old friend, it’s been a long, long time
I wish of you to sit a spell, indulge me with your rhymes

I have a few to read to you. I’d like to know your thoughts.
I have so many styles now. It’s great, what I’ve been taught!

The Cameo is popular; I really love it so.
The Septet, too, is oh so grand, I wanted you to know.

The Haiku, though so short, is a descriptive piece to read.
It provides all the clarity and imagery you’ll need.

A Tanka is much like that but has two more lines instead.
It really sounds just as descriptive, if out loud it’s read.

One that really is a fave, is the Diatelle; it’s great!
With many lines and syllables it’s surely to elate.

So many styles to say the least, I cannot say them all.
We must revisit them one day, so please pay me a call.

Details | Ballade | |

likely i'll be yours

I woke up alone.. 
coping with reailty
but today
i'm thrown to 
bring the best out of me

i crack the can 
and pull the coke in my cup
glance out the window
at who just erupt

a dear friend
haven't seen in a month
where you been
i've waited to see 
you crush..

the evening rush
how come 
when i wanted you
your well being
i did not know of such

but when i moved 
on... you miss my touch
i bet that hurt you as much as 
me like a mike tyson punch

Glad to see you back on your 
feet... who else could you trust

Details | Narrative | |

' A Poet, Goes To War ... '

‘ A  Poet  Goes  To  War … ’ ( Josh. 23: 10, 11 ) 

A Gentle-Poet … Goes To War
Oh … How Far … How Far … How Far …
Did You Push A Tender Heart
before Poet Finishes, What You Start ?

Just Like That Musician, Shepherd – Boy
whom a Lion and Bear, Dared Annoy          ------  1 Sam. 17: 37
Trying to Steal Some of His Precious Sheep
Poet, Showed Them … What’s His … He Keeps !

And That Same, Brave-Poet Went To War
Against Goliath’s Insulting, Roar !                ------  1 Sam. 17: 45 – 51
… But With just One Pebble Fling
That Poet’s, Sling, Thru All Of Time … Rings !

And If  A Wise-Poet Goes To War …
That Poet … May Wound and Scar                -------  Acts 7: 54, 57
For Words, Gouge Deeper Than Stones
Pen’s Mightier Than Sword … Cuts Clean To The Bone !

But, You made Poet … ‘your’ Foe, with Mock-Chimes
The First Thought … Just Give Them, Calm-Down-Time
But, Know … This Poet Thrives … Behind Enemy Lines
Forgiving and Wishing, God-Giving, Words-Divine !

‘Cause When Peace-Loving-Poets… Go To War …
‘We’ … Must Travel by:  The Bright Morning Star    ---  Rev. 22: 16
and Wait on His Orders … His Way
and I’m Cautious … Like ‘The Commander’ Says …  -- Matt. 10:16

So, Before you feel The Need To Spar                  ----  Zeph. 2: 2, 3
Before…  Big Poets … Have To Go To War             ----  Genesis thru Revelation
… Know That Such Poets … Are Word–Warriors
 … Don’t Make ‘em Go Off … on ya’ !

‘Cause you Won’t Survive … The Tongues of Fire    ----  Acts 2: 3, 4
( or The ‘ Lake ’ Either … If You Live Like A Liar … )  ---  Rev. 21: 7, 8
Gon’ Wind Up, Locked Behind Abyss’ Bars
… For Making  ‘  Poor-Poets ’ … Go To Wars !          ----  Matt. 18: 6

Details | Narrative | |


The romantic man was mysterious, inventive and restless: 

and the Universe's vastness influenced his intellect,

in the arts' world he was known as a crafted lyricist and poet;

by the creativity of his mind, he kept that flame lit...

in the human soul, he drew real images of his fate.

Copyright 2009 by Andrew Crisci

Details | Acrostic | |

Carol Brown

Charming, like her name
Against all odds, her spirits never wane
Ready to laugh…and to cry, to give and to share…
Of little things she has, with everyone ‘cos she really care
Like diamond, bright and precious…for love is in her blood

Beauty beyond compare, knowing her I am truly glad
Rare creation, like her writings without flaws, so pure and true
One, two or three…and there you see…she’s always free, just for you
What I learned, from her, is to be humble, for not to stumble in search of fame
Now and forever, she will always be Miss Carol Brown… charming, like her name

Details | Pastoral | |


Sometimes this world is as non-descript
as the very lives we oft times
                                choose to live.
Then God comes down and hovers over-
His breath divine becomes our cover.
As we then look up and see through
                               Heaven's Eyes,
The skies open up from above and pour out
His Life, His Love,His Grace from above.
The world is then no longer non-descript,
For we shall have seen 
                                  The Truth.

Details | Free verse | |

My Eyes

My eyes stay dry 
To be a dusty dry reflection of will 
Sandier then the tough jolt of sin 
My eyes stay cool 
Freezing the hell that danced in my life 
Stopping the activity that made my brain spin 
My eyes…. 
Are dangerous 

Look carefully into them 
There is no howl of defeat found in them 
Nor is there any dance of victory 
Look closely… 
And see that I have given up 
The gleam you see is not of joy 
But of frozen expectations 

Oh yes indeed there is a large expense of thoughtfulness in my gaze 
I see everything in a light that mocks the sulking shadows 
Yet my light… is artificial 
Its shine simmers but for a moment then is taken away in self indulgence 
Then I’m left alone 
Left to battle and find my away around the dark 
My eyes are confused 

They dart left and right with all the grace of a failing bird 
Whatever they capture in their gaze they hold it in self denial 
Uttering curses when the captured tunes them down 
With mocking music and self exile 
When my eyes are confused? They become desperate 

Gasping in any neglected air 
That air of freedom 
They choke it up like a lifeline 
Clutching its spirit 
With the last of its strength 

But most of all… 
My eyes are hurt 

The ice is protection 
A shining layer upon a broken heart 
The desperation of freedom 
Is the result of being broken apart 
I have grown 
After tasting the whip of reality 
And I have fought 
Yet above all 
Above anything there is about my eyes 
My eyes are doomed 

Details | Carpe Diem | |

study to show thyself approved

to study and know all about the word of God
to take the Good News, the Gospel into your heart
for you can't tell anyone about something that you don't know
and you can't take anyone to a place where you don't go
you need to know the word of God for yourself
you need to know the word of God for your spiritual health

look to Jesus Christ for your identity
look to the word of God in it is your destiny
study on the word of God and show thyself approved
for the word will help you determine in life what will be your next move

many think that everything is pre-destiny
and that the Lord God already knows what it will be
but no matter the direction or the path that we decide to take
we need to know the word of God to avoid life's little mistakes
so study on the word and divine the wisdom in it
study and meditate on the word and then embrace the Holy Spirit
let the truth in the word be your guiding light
follow the basic instructions and you will get it right
let the word be your business and the force that makes you move
study on the word of God and show thyself approved

Details | I do not know? | |

Out to you

Give me your input and please accept mine
we can both take this chance and share a little piece of mind
what a brill ant calculated risk
you should know me by now wether I' m speaking or writing
I use time to my advantage and place the words where they best fit
I formulate till the ink is between the lines
the next step
I now describe
typing it out on this keyboard
I become frustrated because it' s not my favorite thing to do
but I go through the process anyway
just to get these words out to you
yeah, whoever wherever you are
just to get these words 
out to you

Details | Carpe Diem | |

The B.I.B.L.E. :the basic instructions before leaving earth

how does one sustain and retain spiritual revival
to go to the next level and have spiritual survival?
how do you move higher and increase your faith
and not regress nor become stagnant?
we need to be saturated in God's holy word
read the basic instructions before leaving earth

if you can't seem to understand the manual of God
how can you know your purpose in life or even where to start?
we're all in this world trying to make some sense
dealing with reality hoping not to get warped nor bent
know your basic instructions before leaving earth
be aware of what it is that God wants you to know first

when reading His manual in order for everything to turn out right
you must follow the basic principles sent down from the Kingdom of Light
we always get in trouble whenever we veer from God's hands
we always have to struggle when we don't follow His master plan
but for the grace of God, but for His will
but for His mercy that you are here still

you can tell much about some people by how they maintain the Lord's temple
it's a way to measure their faith and obedience, plain and simple
so stop worrying about worldly possessions forget all of that stuff
don't be a slave to material things that can't help when life gets too rough
don't worry about what you have nor what you think you own
for all you see belongs to God, the Kingdom and the throne
it's a matter of trust, it's about putting God first
it's about reading the basic instructions before leaving earth

to grow in your faith just study the Word every day
and stand on It's foundation for It will guide your way
advance in godly spirit and discover your true worth
by reading your basic instructions before leaving earth
you're a child of Christ so exult and edify the Lord
use the Holy manual and all will be in accord
yes, the Bible is required for it's the focal point
It's the prerequisite for one to get anoint
for the Bible is the primary source for spiritual preparation
It's the guiding light to spiritual revelation
so read and study God's manual and develop a powerful thirst
for reading the Basic Instruction Before Leaving Earth

Details | Free verse | |

How writing works within the unfinished seal of fate

Within the chemicals 
remain your mind 
somewhere the soul  divine 
within inspiration 
everything you say and do 
not depending on the clothes you wear 
or the shoes that define you 
you are a writer 
gift from soul learn lessons 
want to share them 
with spaces perplexed reason trapped within 

as you become an artist your soul begins to scream horrors 
cry and shout 
you begin realizing the nightmare 
 pessimism's hellfire's 
 truths wonders doubts 
don't fret my friend for this is only the beginning of your gift 
 only a matter of time 
for your brain
creativity to understand privilege 
blueprint or the script 
essence has developed 
take it slow learn tools of expression 
 when your mind notices 
you are paying attention to your spirit 
 your soul,  doors begin opening and closing 
 all tumble down this rabbit hole 

when you learn to express feelings inside 
start to understand there are many sides to this puzzle in time 
start to understand life lessons 
and the beauty of art 
you become humbled enraged 
smart stupid and full of heart 
keep asking questions  
don't forget to go back through your own pages and answer them 
don't forget to look through insecurities
unanswered prayers 
tell yourself what you have learned from them 
don't deny your lessons your heart is begging you to learn 
keep in mind as you grow to become wise  
throughout time 
great thinkers 
historical revolutionaries 
were also once blind 
reasoned with the puzzles inside 

when your brain realizes you are listening to your thoughts 
your mind begins playing tricks 
whether you like it or not 
see through the illusion  
learn which voice to hate more than you 
and offer yourself clues 
to go back on to which door 
you obviously readily did choose 
keep in mind you are beautiful and your soul 
the angels mans plans and god will pave the way 
you might feel lonely like everyone but there will come a day 
when all the loose ends fit 
and you see your piece of the bigger puzzle 
your voice of reason in the insanity 
screaming filth 
that’s a blessing to be heard 
but don't forget 
you choke on your own words. 

Details | Free verse | |

Quiz Clue #4

This is the final clue,
Before I tell you,
Which I will by tomorrow,
And end your puzzle sorrow,
Though I hope someone
does pass this test,
And be smug with all
the rest

Details | Rhyme | |


Roses are red Violets are blue Just what I needed For my breakthrough

Details | Free verse | |

Voice of a Poet

Poet your voice chants in the corridors
of milieu ideas and constant change.
Like trickling waters it smoothes the soul
making us whole.

In the desert, words become the cup that pours
sweet wine for us to toast.
Binding the imagery and visual,
feast to post upon my heart.

Devaluation of life now forged in
the cavities of our memories.
Journey poet and bring to us the
words that move the light into

Separates the skies from the winds
fierce eyes, part the sands and build
fortresses of trellis and mount the
great walls..

Many may try to stop your path
and many may
block your way.
But in the end,
it is your words that echo in the

Your reflection from the voice,
silence is not enough to stop
the voice that opens the doors
to silent corridors.

Details | Rhyme | |

Judge and the Grace

Adam ate the apple
he wanted to judge for himself
and we are all his children

Judgements of the judges
the wise judge all things
it would be wise not to judge at all
those who judge will be judged
to judge our very nature
some will judge angels
and how can we judge angels
when we cannot even recognize the devils within
if we profess to recognize devils then sin
how is it that we can judge ourselves worthy 
to inherit the kingdom of heaven

into the fires again, Oh man
if we inherit the Kingdom Of Heaven
what will we do when we get there
and how is it that you do not know
we are home

Details | Couplet | |

When Poets Meet

Commonalities shared in true spirit
Congruent in every sense of the word,

Like souls drawn together;
Though the unenlightened deem them absurd.

Unfettered synaptic responses
Birthing emotional literary compilations,

Wholehearted unadulterated creative endeavors;
Soliciting the world’s adulation.   

Details | Couplet | |

Unbearable Away....

Although optimism is there
Pessimism we also share

In times such as, a day like today
Poetry takes unbearable away

Over whelmed between work and home 
Our minds all need some place to roam

Everyone feels hopeless at times
Magical words heal us with rhymes

We are divine, our  lives are a test
Allow poetry to cleverly jest~

Witty remarkable writing indeed
Can sooth irreparable souls in need

Details | Enclosed Rhyme | |

In Lonely Tears, I Pray

O Lord, to you, I come today;
Fruits of my lips, I bring;
Hymns of praises, to you, I sing; 
In lonely tears, I pray. 

Yet worthy not I am, I ask
Have mercy on my soul; 
Lord, despise not my every call;
‘Tis life, to you, I trust. 

O Lord, to you, I come today;
Keep me, from vanity;
For in peace, where I longed to be;
In lonely tears, I pray. 

Details | Free verse | |

Favorite People

To Shar, Patricia, Christy, Ruby,
and more,
You are among those I most adore.

Details | I do not know? | |


To make the world a better place
Put a smile on someone's face
Maybe win the human race
Aspirations with a trace
Of hopeful humble pride
To face that final moment 
And know I really tried
To paint a masterpiece of words
To fill the endless night
With fervent flames so bright
That others see and dance
In sweet and free abandon

Details | ABC | |

Steps to?

poets, poems,and poetry,
they seem to be just words
all about love, lovers and pain 
about fillings of a boy or of a girl
a time,or a place just somewhere
taking you to the highest of all highs
after drying your tears from being  low 
heart felt paragraphs written from with in
gut wrenching letters no longer able to hide
they are mask  we hide behind to not be seen
they are our dreams,our hopes,and our wishes, 
pain from a dark side that made us cry and weep
nightmares of a past we can't let go of,show,or tell,
they are of mothers,fathers,brothers sisters,& family 
ones we lost,wished we had are wish were still alive
they are about kids and how they warm us with a smile
how they grew into people we always wanted them to be 
even wrote of the ones we lost in death, to drugs,or just life
they help to remove the sadness we carry deep down inside
to say I love you when we can't I miss you when we are unable
to speak our minds for being politically correct  here isn't a must
so a man can write instead of saying those words  I sat and cried 
so a woman could wish for love to find her before shes old and gray
are a young boy can tell of puppy love and the girl who lives next door
how a school girl can speak of her first crush,her first kiss,or just boys
we all have something deep down inside that we won't even think let out 
to say how we really fill what we really want are how we want this love to be 
and here we found away we write,.pour out our hearts,our minds,our passion
these are writes we don't want others to see,writes we want are love ones to read
words we put on paper like tears to a tissue they mean so much to us as you can see 
they are all steps we take,from here to there to find and release......poets,poems,poetry.   

Details | Free verse | |


Beyond Imagination where hope exist
Lies the hand of God's list
Unconditional love is the gift from heaven
Dreams we share is only daven
Far away through cloudy skies
God's Love will grows and never dies.
A promise will be made from the heart
Heaven and Earth will never be apart
We kneel down each day and pray
So God Smile on us Everyday

Details | Rhyme | |

When I Grow Up

when I grow Up
I want to teach the world
how to salute to a flag thats unfurled

when I grow up
I want to take my brothers hand
and march across this beautiful land

when I grow up
I want to find a girl
that makes my heart just swirl

when I grow up
I want to find a job
and not have to beg steal or rob

when I grow up
I want to learn about God
and miracles created through bowing nods

when I grow up
I want alot of friends
who will hold my hand as my time ends

so when I grow up
I hope this fun never ends
of pretending and playing this game once again

Tribute To Childhood
This was seen through a little boy's perspective lol

Details | Acrostic | |

Behind the Wall

Willfully erected..obstructing..
    emotional velocity halted..
Armor.. imprisoning..
    safe and secure.. spiritless..
Layers of pain.. eclipse 
    and enclose..restricting ..
Languish not behind the wall..
    surrender to the magnitude of emotion..
Escape the enchantment of safety..
    passions unleashed.. fireworks erupting
Delight in the wonder of Love..
    thrill to the sensations of life!
    ~ rejoice as the bricks tumble..
    ~ shout as the wall falls....

Details | Epigram | |

Untitled #156 / Poems are pearls

Poems are pearls,
you must dive deep to find the best

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 
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 | Quatrain | |


During my poetical career I had never received a trophy,
I exploded with joy when I received it by first class...
"Enjoy your reward!" read a note signed by Laura Mckenzie;
and this first prize is my achievement for future success!

Entering poetry contests is fun and rewarding to a greater extent,
and any price is a rare opportunity to bask in your talent;
poets never get rich in this non-lucrative trend,
but satisfaction and accomplishment go hand in hand!

Thanks, Laura for the beautiful and glittering trophy, which I have placed on
my highest library shelf for all to see and admire; it actually seems small...
compared to those given to movie or music stars,
but it is the grandest and preciousest by all means!

Like a gladiator in Ancient Rome winning that fierce fight,
standing in front of a wooing and delirious crowd before dusk...
and being honored by the Emperor with the gift of freedom,
I am also set free by the excitement of my enthusiasm!

Yes, my trophy has gladdened me, and one unexpected day,
I may win the Nobel price, too...who says that's an impossibility?
More passion and desire I will put in my work, and I will not fray!
My confidence will feed that fire and with undefeatism I begin today!  

My poem is dedicated to Laura Mckenzie, who was the source
of my inspiration. 

Copyright (C) 2010 by Andrew Crisci

Details | Ballade | |


They had no army standing tall
no navy with it's mighty ships 
no cannons blasting cannonballs
they had no need for all of this. 
They lived in buoyant, peaceful bliss. 
They were joyful, and seldom sad. 
Great were they for poets they had. 

They had no master, but for God. 
A charitable and unselfish race 
no punishment, no prisoners to flog. 
They shared their love and with grace 
and welcomed all to this graceful place. 
They weren't boastful, or brightly clad. 
Great were they for poets they had. 

They fought no battles, waged no wars 
on them the sun would always shine.
They never sailed for distant shores.
They had no need for gold to find. 
They had no clocks for which to wind, 
a loving group thankful and glad. 
Great were they for poets they had.

They were all we could hope to be 
a grand model for society. 
They were brave and strong, kind and free. 
A true vision of morality, 
yet never existed -in reality. 
So be thankful as the world goes mad
we’ve been blesed with the poets we’ve had.

Details | Prose Poetry | |

Souper-Men/Souper Woman-Convention Idea

I think we should ask the Soup people about this convention-where to have- how 
much each would need to contribute.  This could be a big promotional coup for 
the Soup people-even if they charge us , say $20 per head to attend- and more 
for site...etc...And perhaps I can get my old band together for entertainment- I'd 
even do some of my stand-up and comedy gratis.  and maybe 
vote for a couple of categories of poetry- romantic, humourous-sad-life-loss- 
and "Grand Master Poet"  Please advise me of your thoughts!  Thank you, and 
God bless you all!!        tom bell

Details | Free verse | |

I am a Writer

These words upon this page
colored with the black ink of night
hardly mean anything to anyone,
well,l anyone but me. 

It's like the paper becomes my body
the pen becomes my blood and tears
the very beat of my heart
is the meter that it goes.

I paint in my words,
something a painter never can capture
something far deeper inside
where no one else can go.

The pen is like a blade
slicing open all these memories
sinking into a rhythm of something alive
what am I creating?

Pencil is to soft, and can't make it through
Pen is strong, bold, and swift,
makes it easier to breath at the end
when finally it is done.

Would you call me a writer
for the prose by my hand?
Well what else could you label me,
for define me and you ruin me.

For freedom is where my writing thrives
The simple tools to strengthen me
Pen and paper such simple words,
yet strong enough for me, for I am a writer...

Details | Ode | |


                                        We are quiet when the poetry comes out of us
                                       To not utter a word but just typing what inspires
                                       The A B C's in the rhyme
                                       Are of a scheme that lnks Story with a purpose to 
                                      open the eyes of many who may be blind
                                      It does not matter to the order or style of the individual
                                      If the desired artistry or expression is intended by
                                      the pen of the author
                                      Poems interwine between humor,life,and death
                                      They are the piece of our hearts
                                      What we feel in our souls
                                      For each verse
                                      there is a line or more that becomes identifiable
                                     not only to the poet but to the reader,as well
                                     Do not despair if we are not  yet recognized
                                     for what our writings in Poetry are all about
                                     It only matters in the Poet's own Dreams 
                                     in Ballad
                                     or of Sonnets
                                     TAKE THIS PIECE,MY FRIEND
                                     MAY IT SERVE YOU WELL

Details | Free verse | |

Language Arts

A word and a breath but it’s the thought that counts.
Up or down in or out love and trust is what it’s all about.
To you I say can you hear me perked up on the mounts.
You are in or you are out.
A touch and a whisper but it is the kiss of truth.
Knelt or bent I am down on my knees.
And I beg you please.
To me I say can I hear me or am I aloof?
Language arts is a dance in the breeze,
With a summer squeeze,
A winter’s pinch,
The spring’s stench,
Even the autumn’s leaves!
Bathing in the words and dancing like a twit.
Singing in rhythm and painstakingly making a switch.
Language arts is a breeze on the summer Seas.
Lifting you up or pulling you down and spinning you all around,
It will knock you to your knees,
Lifeless and unbound!

® Registered: Ann Rich   2005

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 | Acrostic | |

Pen of a Ready Writer

Many Days should speak, and multitude of 
Years should teach wisdom, I said.  But

There is a spirit in man:  and the inspiration
Of the Almighty giveth him understanding; therefore,
No prophecy is by the will of man, but holy men of
God speak and write the word as they are moved By the
Unction of the Holy Ghost for the edification and 
Exhortation and comfort of those who will hear and read.

Details | Rhyme | |


                                           For as long as I remember
                                           I've always loved to read
                                           It didn't really matter what
                                           It all fulfilled a need
                                           A good love story warmed my heart
                                           I traveled through time with history
                                           The comic pages made me laugh
                                           And I always loved a good mystery
                                           Through the pages of books I have traveled
                                           Across oceans and deserts I've roamed
                                           I've not spent a dime on my journeys
                                           And I just close the book to come home
                                           I get to meet famous people
                                           And though I've never set foot in a college
                                           Every book that I read will help me succeed
                                           To expand in wisdom and knowledge
                                           I must say though I do have a favorite
                                           Tis the greatest book I believe ever written
                                           For treasures untold as the stories unfold
                                           It speaks volumes to those who will listen
                                           Its a little of everything rolled into one
                                           Humor, mystery, history and love
                                           All written by one single author
                                           Our glorious Creator above
                                           Someday I might too be an author
                                           I'll never know lest I try
                                           But regardless of whether I'm published
                                           I'll still love to read till i die


Details | Ballad | |


One smile 
to her... 
Message sent 

One touch 
to him... 
Message sent 

One look 
an open book... 
Message sent 

Such a lonely world, 
yet billions of messages sent 
What they meant 
What they should 
What they say 

Reach out today, 
a message to send 
To a lonely one, 
a friend 
What you can say 

Such warmth, 
to travel far, 
in a heart star 
In a message, 
sent to you 
Given today 

A message sent... 
For you... 
For me... 
What it all meant 

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     
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? | |


Pain is weakness leaving the body,
Bleeding through the skin
Pain is a knife,
constantly twisting into your side
Pain is a teardrop,
Crashing to the floor
Pain is the anger,
That breaks through the bars
Pain is persistent,
getting under the skin
Pain is the screaming,
No one cares to listen to
Pain is the screeching,
You can't stand to hear
Pain is everyone's worst fear,
But pain only makes you stronger

Details | Free verse | |

Muse to Muse (English Pensee)

Sit down
Write a little
Share some thoughts with me today
For I will share some thoughts with you
As we write together

English Pensee, 5 lines 2/4/7/8/6 syllables

Details | Rhyme | |

I Love Your Art

Paint me a picture using just words
With a brushstroke, soft and sweet
Use colorful paints for clear imagery
For your lovely words, 
They serve to replete

A master painter, a poet indeed
Daily honing your talent and skill
Paint me a picture, using your words
Let your canvas be paper
Let your brush be your quill

Details | I do not know? | |

A Somewhat Abashed Writer Reads from his Works

     To assume the
        takes a lot of nerve
To get up in front of a 
       And read what you have
       is something which requires 
a little "chutzpah"
      But if the time is right
It's a good thing to do
       Let the light hidden
in the words
  Shine on the awaiting public
You only have a little time
         here anyway
So give them your perspective
Your outlook on things
       If the time is right
and if the ears
      are perceptive
   then you will 
see subtle changes
The future is an unknown quantity
      But if we share - if we share
then we will see
          that meaning comes through
and the small light kindled 
   may light the way
to the next dawn

Details | Quatrain | |


Through these verses I divulge my poetical expressions
to ignore criticism and not hoot while extricating my ideals;
my work is marked by indisputable integrity,
more plausible than a woman's chastity!

Recognition and deserving honor are nice,
but they are the least rewards I seek,
best of the best...who ever was ?
Worst of the worst.. I cannot be!

I fall between these two, lest I fault
and fairly deserve the dungeon... 
the crowds not applauding my effort,
not  proclaiming me a champion!  

My words are soave, sometimes as rigid as hooves of a horse...
reminding all that I am as human as anyone else who bleeds and rejoices, 
but  my creativity is not satiated by inferior knowledge or bizarre notions,
although my glory is never accompanied by real expectations!

Like Homer and Virgil the masters of ancient poetry,
I do praise their work, and recognize their genius shining in their word;
Troy fell and Rome rose to prominence by a bloody sword;
I don't fall by trickery, I stand on my fortress of liberty!

My obligation must be fulfilled by ardous work, I will not depart,
or merely linger on...until this mission is faithfully accomplished, and this voice,
before fading, invokes its last sunset to finally fall silent;
and if readers acclaim me, I have succeeded in my poetical expressions!

Copyright 2009 by Andrew Crisci

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 | |

Palm of A Hand

(For Poet's worldwide that have experienced a Poetry Contest) 

Human makes a Wish, and wonders… Will it come true?
Asking of Whom? Dream catcher of mind, pleading prayer
Will it come to fruition this time?

Arrow blazes, note attached, Check to be cashed,
Human desires written in print, Candles of green lit,
Burning flame for abundance…

Deadline to meet, trying of luck, 2 stamps for weight
Envelope seals my fate, Seconds wasting away, Mailbox full
Perfection of timing, calendar, massage for comfort, X marks the day
Released with intentions perceived, Forecast of victory, Clear and Sunny 

1176 hours of Hell, 7 weeks of handshakes, Mailman Pal, New best friend
Box of junk, Flag down, empty space of dust, No response, 
I lost…Not Good enough

Human takes a day to recover, Cuddles with lifetime lover, reciting verses in ear
Amateur Poet’s Number one fan, Special dinner plans, Contest not mentioned

Evening has come to an end, parking of car, walking through grass
Shooting stars, Perseverance take the wish, famous book to be published, never 
give up

Holding my hands to sky, asking her, why? She responds “It just wasn’t Time.”
Scratching of my back, Lover appears, Hold back the tears, I listened…

“Your autograph is priceless, Sign away” Presenting a feather in ink, I began
My graffiti signature, Powerful Human, in the Palm of a Hand…

Details | I do not know? | |


To show you that i live to be true
 here is what im willing to do
I will for sure you there's no mountain to high to climb
I will talk and never walk out on any situations
I will love you not just physical but spirtually
I will take two moments of my time and give you one
on a daily
I will for sure you that we will make it
 through any task or storm
I will be your backbone when your strength feels weaken
I will pray with you any place time or day
I will for sure you that my love is true
Do you feel that there's anything else left that
i should do or say

Details | Rhyme | |

do you really think yr poems are thoughtless?

being of
the reality known as spotless?, 
mind yr manners
writing banners

under the cornerstone bridge
that is lined 

by a hedge...

and follows blue river
over rock
sand, and stone

never letting us 

feel alone...

Details | I do not know? | |

Better Days

When all hope is gone in this world of ours

I just wait for night, the passing hours

And when the time comes, I gaze up at the stars

Gives me inspiration, to write these 16 bars

Pick up a pen and express what I feel

This world has become a vision unreal

It's become darker than charcoal

Satan's mark is all over our souls

I hope that one day we shall change our ways

I just close my eyes and try to imagine better days

Details | Lyric | |









Details | Blank verse | |


Soothing, calming, exciting, fun.
Loving, laughing, living life.
Sadness, death, anger, and hate,
An exciting adventure awaits.
Moving, touching, inspiring, and such.
An intresting mystery haunting your thougts.
The fantastic future is new and different yet,
The past is familiar and warm.
Whatever your type-
Literature is the paving stone that lights up life.

Details | I do not know? | |



Details | Free verse | |


There's the hill
Here's another bill
The taxes are due
Look at my face, it's blue
The kids need to get to school
But I'm out of it like some fool
I'm late for work
And I'm called a jerk
I want to go home
but I'm still paying on a loan
Finally, five o'clock is here
And guess what, it's the end of the year

Details | Free verse | |

A Muse Me, A Muse You (English Pensee)

Sit down
Write a little
Share some thoughts with me today
For I will share some thoughts with you
As we write together

English Pensee, 5 lines 2/4/7/8/6 syllables

Details | Verse | |

A poem a day

Behind icy cold stares of vague minds
Our inner most thoughts are kept at bay
The eyes of the brain so easily reminds
That a poem a day keeps the doctor away

Connect with surroundings, make contact with art
Marvel at the sights of children at play
Open the love filled eyes of your heart
But a poem a day keeps the doctor away

When mists and winds submit you to drying
The eyes of a soul who’ll find a way
Hypnotic relief in cleansing and crying
As a poem a day keeps the doctor away

The human condition allows us to bear
Emotions that brim over day by day
Exclaim the knowledge of comfort and care
While a poem a day keeps the doctor away

Details | Burlesque | |

Another Tiny Tad of Tom's Terrrible Tidbits

What Caesar really said; "I came, I saw, I ran like hell..."
(Speaking of Caesar, I think he's famous for going to Las Vegas and making 
If it looks like a duck, quacks like a duck, it's probably a pigeon.
A bird in the hand is worth a roll of paper towels.  what a mess!
When the going gets tough, I leave.
The only thing to fear is, well, pretty much everyone.
If at first you don't succeed, try something else.
If money is the root of all evil, you should be rich.
Never count your eggs after they're scrambled.
You get what you put into it.  Yeah, like my lemon flavored meatloaf!
Two and two makes group sex.
"I think I'll never see, a poem as lovely as your knee."
If you think you got it tough, try my steak!
Sixteen tons, and what do you get?  Squashed.
It's better to have loved and lost, than pay for a divorce.
If music be the food of love, My ex-wife was tone deaf.
 Into the Valley of Deaf rode the 600 defective hearing aid batteries.
The Hallmark Hall Of Flame- a card store is burned down.
Have a good day!

Details | Quatrain | |


Made up of syllables, of numbered lines
Of imagery and rhyme
The many styles of poetry serve well
To fill my time

So many to appreciate
Those on which, we rely
Pick one out, let it flow
Come on, give it a try

There’s a Cento where you copy lines
From many poems before
There’s a Lanturne with a syllable count
But, has just lines of four

Try a Diatelle or Rictameter
Where lines ascend and go reverse
Try a Pensee or Clorgymach
What ever quenches thirst

There’s a Butterfly, a pretty form
That has a syllable count
There’s a Markette, too, that you should try
So see what it’s about

Get out there, expand your mind
Learn now, a varied style
Then you will be writing more
So much, to give a smile

Details | Prose Poetry | |

Last Chance Quiz

The challenge ends at midnight, tonight,
New york time

The questions, again:

1)What is the significance of "The Mystic Knights Of the Sea"

2) What is the significance of the following: Up, Down,Top, Bottom, Strange,

1st prize- a tom bell autographed poetry book
2nd prize- not getting a tom bell poetry book
GRAND PRIZE!!!!-Banning tom bell from this site forever, if you so wish

The decisions of the judge (me!) will be final,  well at least for a week.....

Details | Free verse | |

What Did You Find

with muse in hand 
and wire tapping in brain
I begin this endless journey 
to explore the depths
of my imagination 
to surpass this longevity
called boredom 
I willingly shall
come up with a great story
for others to enjoy when its
bounty is found

Inspired by a 
photo from 
a sister site

Photo showed a blank piece of paper 
and a pencil in a hand    lol

Details | Free verse | |

Critique Nazi (poetry game) To become what you wanted

for now i am empty
but soon enough i will fill that whole
edit myself
with all you remarks 
and believe you me
the comments that go along
that you write
will be writing me

for now i am a shell
a hollow wonderful thing
and then you come along
tell me a thought or feeling
and i add it in
and leave you to wonder where it went how i did it
and i become everything you said to me

One poem written by many
through my minds eye and hand
one poem right here for you to see
i am the shell of nothing lonely
and waiting for the comment to change me
the inspirational words to satisfy someone
who will unsatisfy someone else
until all are satisfied
and i am something
no longer hollow
no longer shallow
a lesson in learning critiques of nature
and everything you could have would have should have said
is right here

I will become everything you say i should be
everything you say i am
i will exaggerate
everything i should add check or change your will be done
this page becomes everything to somebody
begging for control
this page loses all sense of it
as we take turns leading blindly

Details | Acrostic | |

Internal Rush

Delight sings in her slow dancing verses
Responding to internal joy
Under its spell of illusion
I consider returning reply
Duty compels me to reason
I shake off her clutching hands
Coils shatter loose in confusion

Descending to fall at my feet
Responding in kind
And trying to find
Colorful words of endeavor
Or stating it simply
No hidden evasion
I mean no invasion of Self
An attempt at reply to an acrostic cry
Never tempered my internal elf

Details | I do not know? | |

different drummer

a try at beating time today
A poem sung a rondelay
thoughts transferred to someone's mind
with words repeated to remind
and stick so well they will repeat
in time to pulsic heartfull beat
a thousand years from now
should children bring to light
and sing 
my words of joy and hope and Spring
a nursery rhyme
a try at beating time today

Details | Dramatic Verse | |

making It great in 2008 (part19): Just Do It

to make It great in 2008 just do it
just make sure that you're in sync with the Holy Spirit
as you can do all things through Christ who strengthens you
for as long as you're in Christ there's nothing you cannot do

when I think about the presidential election of 2008
I realize that a historical event is now taking place
an African-American man has won a major party nomination
for the very first time in the history of this democratic nation
but in order for him to take that seat
there is one task as voters we must complete
just do it, just do it and stop all the talk
stop the criticizing and player hating and just walk the walk
walk up to that voting booth and make a conscious choice
for the voting booth is the only place where the government hears your voice

when I think about those words written by the apostle Paul
in jail and at the end of his life's long haul
in a dank dark cell he inked those encouraging words
about what it takes as a Christian for one to be heard
just do it, just do it find your joy in Christ
just do it, just do it just make sure you do it right

for there is no substitute for the authority of experience
you must actually live through it to serve the sentence
you can read about it, you can goggle it, you can even say that you understand
but it's like having a baby it must be experienced by one's own hands
to know that in you there has been a major change
to know first hand that your spirit has been rearranged
to know that the Lord has bestowed upon you His grace
to know from your past that a change in you has taken place
for mole hills can become mountains, big can become small
minors can become majors and short can become tall
to experience for yourself being a part of the body of Christ
to understand that a spiritual change has come into your life
to know and believe there's nothing that you can't do
for the Holy Spirit of the Lord Christ now abides in you

I say this to the Democartic Nominee, Senator Barak Obama
you will be the next president in spite of all the Republicans drama
you're destined to do great things through Christ who strengthens you
so don't worry about John and Sarah for there's nothing that they can do
it's not just a coincidence that on the very day that you were appointed
it was 45 years since Dr. King gave a speech that was so anointed
so make It great in 2008 just do it but do it correct
bring about a change to America thus earning the people's respect

Details | Free verse | |

Help one another!

Encourage one another
and promote each others work;
help them if they're struggling
nurture all their worth.
Advocate or contribute,
stimulate their minds;
Recommend a sponsor,
to assist, support or sign.
Foster them or forward them;
publicize and popularize,
all will help to plug;
every piece that warrants it,

returned with such a hug!

Details | Verse | |

The Dream No One Seemed to Belive

The Boy Who Was Misunderstood 
The boy who really wished he could
Achive the dream 
Nonone seem to belive 
That the boy could achive such a dream.

Copyrighted  (C)

Jay Thapar 

Details | Rhyme | |

Rhyme and Reason

A pen in my right hand, 
And I am off to la-la land.
I’m zipping through the zoo,
Or just passing by you!

Poetsville is a city to be,
There are great big trees.
Homes are huge there.
Rhyme and reason are pretty fair.

Little people dance in the streets,
Shuffling their tiny little feet’s!
Always a song and always a voice,
Lyrics dangle in the breeze by choice.

There is always a Rhyme with a Reason,
Sprinkling rainbows for the next season!
Rain or shine the poet knows how,
To turn it around making words that wow.

There are deserts and oceans by the shore,
You can count them one, two, three and four.
It is a rhyme and reason just for being,
Right side up with what you are seeing.

So off to la-la Land I will be,
Just my pen and just me!

®Registered: Ann Rich   2006

Details | I do not know? | |

Love's Calling

We are told to love.
It's not a choice.
It's a gift from above
That has its own voice.

It will speak in the dark,
But only if you listen.
It speaks to the heart,
If you'd only pay attention!

But we live our lives
From day to day.
And while love barely survives
It's gets pushed away!

Details | I do not know? | |

Better Days

Today was one of the longest days of my life
I felt as if i was living in strife
The hours of the day is always the same
What and who was there to make the blame
My exscuse was lame
I knew i had to make a change
I went home finding myself on bending knees
Praying to god for a better day
He said always believe in me
You will make a way to a better day
Not just this day but everyday

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 | |

The writer

Minutes turn to hours,
as the clock ticks onwards;
still the paper before me
remains crisp, white – untouched.

My right hand is now cramped,
from it’s gripping my pen
and the notation on my pad,
slowly bringing alive my thoughts.

Every scribe I write becomes structured,
I stop to think before every word;
look back over what I have written,
disjointed, yet I know it all.

A play on my script,
tweaking here and there.
Informing every thought I record,
bringing brilliance for my virgin page.

Words form sentences,
pictures are painted; a masterpiece of art,
breathing life to my work,
to be realized by many.

I transfer my scribe,
to my neat sheet waiting.
Ink flows smoothly, a pleasure to see.
Release washes relief over my tense form.

Midnight strikes, not long left now,
before I can lay my pen to rest
and bid ‘Goodnight’,
to another fulfilled and worthy day.

Details | Name | |

A War of Fairness

Although a person is mature or adolescent,
But always afraid when he visits a new area
He is always aware about his dangers.
But a baby smiles equal without justifications.

When he is innocent and has no experience,
Nobody is an enemy, he smiles for all.
He likes to play, as learns about his parents,
Education of respect burns his loving heart.

He starts to learn about community barriers,
To concrete a war of fairness that he deserves,
When he is young, doesn’t care or has non sense,
Elders need to learn what is their education?

Details | Rhyme | |

Peranteau Poet

Peranteau is the guy Whose words inspire me so Especially his delightful ones That make the bloods flow He never writes a marathon They really are like sprints It's the way he uses the words Which makes the reader's glint To use fewer words are clever It shows the writer in he His passion pulls us in Always a delight to see To view his future writes As a favourite he will scoop Words written by his pen Is a blessing for the Soup A few words for a lovely guy whose write's are truly kool.

Details | I do not know? | |


A shadowy night,
with flashes of light,
a boom, a tic, a slash,
something whistles then smash,
you're on the floor,
begging no more,
fear is in your past,
you try to run from it fast,
but fear devours you,
you can't overcome it,
you want to out run it,
you're scared,
but you're dared,
to look in the face of your fear,
but when you do,
you find out it's actually you.

Details | Free verse | |

I Am...

I'm a slave so I got slave traits
brought with a price, brought to America
and got bidded on, slapped, whipped 
worked cotton fields and of course been spitted on
you see I then did a bid caught probation and
to be on these streets again I'm scared
probation or parole 
don't mean you free it's just another way
for this country to keep you in check
now you might get some respect from ya homies
but tell me whats that, truth is I'm just a slave wit benefits
so times ain't really changed from then till now
cause we were slaves then and we still are now
when you see a slave what you hear shhh! not a sound
we was lost and then found or rather already found
just taken, robbed, and raped given a clean slate
wit a new name thats kind of the reason 
I could never wear bracelets and chains 
so I'm still locked up in my own mind frame.

This is what I am or rather who I am
a servant of the great I AM
and I am every man & woman who fought & died for freedom
I am every Malcolm X, Martin Luther King, Harriet Tubman
that chose to lead em, I am every Nelson Mandela,
Rodney King and Jesus Christ thats eternally bleeding
I am the truth, way, light & every righteous reason
every preacher, evangelist, poet, public speaker, & deacon
that believes some people are only in ya life for seasons
and as a young adult to my young brothers & sisters
I been sanctified to lyrically feed em that everybody 
walks their own path but only you know who you 
should believe in.

Details | Fibonacci | |


and then-
state of the moment.

Details | Quatrain | |

Inspire Yourself

Sometimes it feels as if from thin air,
But other times it never shows.
Where the next idea is to come from?
No one truly ever knows.

Sometimes it’s divine, subliminal thought,
But other times it hurts the mind.
In any case, all we certainly know
Is that inspiration’s the hardest to find.

Like the ink in the quill, soon to run dry,
The mind, too, can enter a void.
Be careful not to linger within that realm
For the poet gets quickly annoyed.

To escape the power of the uninked write
Just put your paper under the pen.
Let it all flow, regardless of thought
And the poet will show his face again.

Details | Rhyme | |

Writes On Display

Here are my raw emotions for all the eye to view
My dreams, my hopes, my inner thoughts and my aspirations too
Here I feel exposed and truly on display
Where people who don't know me comment anyway

Sometimes when people read your writes 
they don't get the real you
You have to remember, that these penned thoughts 
are what I've been through

It takes guts and determination to let others read
your pain
And then for them to dissect it again and again
It feels really nice when people just like me
put their openly exposed life in print for all the eye to see

So all of you on the soup who feel just like me
maybe this is our way of healing, and our way to be free
So if you have nothing nice to say 
Don't say anything at all
Cause you could be the catalyst in our rise and fall

Think of how you would feel if someone put you down
Don't say something that will bring, someone else a frown
For all of us want to feel, that our writes are nice
So think twice, before you write some hurtful words of advice 


Details | ABC | |

Poetry in Notion

Expressions and thoughts
Feebleness and weak
Gifts of never-ending words 
Honor and reward is what we seek

Why is poetry a mistaken talent?

Details | Classicism | |


I am non religious 
And believer in God
But my guilt is that
I were born a human
And willing to act as a human
As nature provides me
All my necessities
Free at cost,
I never paid for a seed,
I don’t know 
Who produced it?
And how long ago?
I know only a thing
Someone, who designed a human body,
Also build a brain to control it.
Is he known as a God?
Or is nature developed all?
For my care
For my happiness
For my human growth
Air, Sunshine, River, mountains,
Forest, animals, birds and planet
Day or night
Is a religion can produce?
Or just can divide only 
For its separate identity
Or different belief in natural spirit
Why do I need a spirit?
So a human can purify its deeds
A person can differentiate to justify
Own qualities as good or bad
To examine a sophisticated approach
As an evil or a Devine
Recognition for mankind’s
Behaviour or attitudes
For welfare or betterment
For a living standard
As a human on earth 
Not a God in Heaven.

Details | Quatrain | |

The Poet's Dance

You have me at an advantage
You know all the features of my aging face
You calm me with your conversation
while you wrap me in rhythm and spin me with grace
We always stay deep in the shadows
dancing the dance of two souls in the night
You string me with pathos and cling to my hand
while you delicately hide your eyes from my sight
You cover my gossamer glow
with petals dipped velvet in words
You pardon my errors in a poet's empath
and crying a river ensues
So I give you the song, the advantage
I bow to the shadows which cradle your skin
I wish to be always beside you
Your fragile spun muse, hidden solace, within...

Details | I do not know? | |


These words I write to fill in blanks
Till empty has less more
With a paper on a stand
A scripture seems more pure

I wrote what’s red the pen that bled
You feel the words that pour
The painted signs with deep lead lines
Eased all my times of gore

I wrote these things
On blank I sing
A surface for a weary king
Of all machines utensils work
To sounds of heaven whistle rings

These words I write
To smite the plain
Confusion loss and 
Pain remain

On this paper
I leave my pain

These words I write
For meaning


Details | Pantoum | |

You Inspire

I cannot help but smile at the very thought of you
You create an image of loveliness that so inspires
For deep within this man rages a fire burning true
The very thought of you releases new desires

You create an image of loveliness that so inspires
Your face of beauty gives my mind words to write
The very thought of you releases new desires
As poetic fires burn from the flames you so ignite

Your face of beauty gives my mind words to write
So all come together then, neatly and with flow
As poetic fires burn from the flames you so ignite
Your beauty gives my poems light, eternal glow

So all come together then, neatly and with flow
For deep within this man rages a fire burning true
Your beauty gives my poems light, eternal glow
I cannot help but smile at the very thought of you

Details | Blank verse | |

the secret source

artesian well
gush and flow of thirsty love
his Banyan soul rejoiced
new trunks from his psyche
arching,bridging the gaps
between synapses
chemical bees abuzz
with words of love
he ,a forest of one
she,his indigo lagoon
she hidden in his roots
he,reaching for the sun
for all to see
roosting the colored birds
of poems ripen in his leaves
indigo blue as their source
picked and shared by all

Details | Free verse | |

Distinguished Genttlemen

The laurel wreath
Bestowed on victors
Every four years
Blood, sweat and tears
In Pythian Games
Honoring Apollo
At Delphi onto Greece
In a classic ceremony
The corruptible glory
An immortal crown
Prized to artists
Public officials
The poets of Rome
And here at home
A rebirth of antiquity
With Apollo's oracles
Music and poetry
Prophecy and medicine
Things of God as things of men
The reform defecient renascence

Details | Free verse | |

The Bricklayer Poet

My friend was a stone Mason
built houses made of words
usually rhyming, I suppose,
but that really matters not-
the message is the essence,
the reason...we build
our worlds the way we wish
our buildings of words 
are strong willed.

Details | I do not know? | |


A time for sharing and caring
Embracing the hearts and smiles of 
First giving thanks on ThanksGiving
Theres so much to be thankful for
Than there CHIRSTMAS with a jingle bells and 
a rudulph the red nose reindeers shiny so bright
Making deliveries all through out the night
Putting a smile on many faces that's a blessing
with many lesson of growing and learning
Remembering that it was really all about the birth
of chirst and a baby was born in a manger
Enjoying the melody of holy night so to all
MERRY CHIRSTMAS and to all a good night

Details | Rhyme | |

keep lifting me higher

there are times when I'm feeling lost and low
I'm all adrift and don't know which way to go
so I read the words of The Father to get inspired
for His word alone will keep lifting me higher

as I open the pages of that sacred tome
I know now that I have finally found my way home
His word gives me all that I desire 
and will forever keep lifting me higher

the spiritual pictures that I receive
are gifts from God, I truly believe
oh heavenly Father I just have to say
thank you my God for your words today
for with them I will never go astray
and to you I will always pray

no longer feeling so sad and down
the words of my Father in me have been found
now I'm on the path that my God requires
because His word alone keeps lifting me higher

Details | Free verse | |

My muse.


                                 You inspire me,
                                  your the reason why,
                                  You have made me see,
                                  how fun it can be.
                                  With out you I would not have begun,
                                   your my number one.
                                    It was as if you touched a switch,
                                   my poems spinning in my head,
                                   waiting to be read.
                                   Waiting to be free,
                                    you inspire me.
                                    I can not thank you enough,
                                    except to say the poetry I now write,
                                      I dedicate to you,
                                       not just to night, but for ever and a day.
                                        for your inspiration,
                                       I thank you in every way.

Details | I do not know? | |

My Soul Rejoices In The Lord Everyday

(Swap Quatrain) 

My heart everyday, in the Lord rejoices too 
Because without Him, I wouldn't last a day 
God wants all the time, to walk with me 
In the Lord rejoices too, my heart everyday 

Every morning when the sun glows, I open my eyes 
And send all my praises to God above high 
The Lord wipes all my tears away, yes, I know 
I open my eyes, every morning when the sun glows 

It doesn't matter to God and that's so, what in the past I've done 
Jesus forgives me when I repent and then my sins are just gone 
God is my loving Dad, and yes that in my heart I already know 
What in the past I've done, it doesn't matter to God and that's so! 

Dorian Petersen Potter 
aka ladydp2000 


Details | Free verse | |

Memories {Clarity Pyramid}


recalling previous facts
of mental impressions

drawn from memory

"Of Person Thing Or An Event"

A Clarity Pyramid is a poem consisting of two triplets and a single line. 7 lines in all. The 
poem is center aligned when displayed. The first triplet has 1, 2, and 3 syllables. The title of 
the poem is the one-syllable word of the 1st triplet, which is displayed in all capital letters. 
This line is followed by a two-syllable line, and then a three-syllable line, both of which clarify 
the definition of the poem, or are synonyms for the title. The 2nd triplet has 5, 6, and 7 
syllables. Its design is based around a life event contained within the triplet which helps give 
a poetic view or outlook on the first line - the title. The last line is 8 syllables, and is in 
quotations as this line contains a quote that defines the first word -title. 


Details | Free verse | |

The Cradle To The Grave

 The Cradle To The Grave 
The Cradle To The Grave 
From the cradle to the grave                         6 
they come ideas to minds                    5 

heart translates ideas                            3 
to words poem does become                5 

A Krish Poem 
Krish has a rhyming scheme of 6 5 3 5 
in India this verse is found 
only at the CHARLAX website 
a new religion is founded

Details | I do not know? | |

In a Clique of Sunflowers

     She loves to wear her long green gown
she lets her yellow hair hang down
     Her brown face turns up to the sun
the transformation now is done
     She runs out to the garden
to meet her sisters there
     they tremble in the morning mist
they bow their heads in prayer
     She soon connects the circle
with hands so cool and green
     her brown boots shuffle in the soil
like roots she stands between
     they sway to piping wind songs
they bask there in the light
     They giggle through the showers
and whisper 'til the night
     She takes their seeds of wisdom
inside to bake a cake
     Sunflower muffins on the sill
for phantom friends to take
     Her sisters of the circle
are murmuring her name
     She can't  fit in the world inside
she'll never be the same
     Now she belongs, she's in a clique
she's not the last one to be picked
     Inside she's small, unloved and plain
but gardens grow a healing strain
     Of all the gifts she yearns to share
she's beautiful and special there.
     Ther's no one left to bid goodbye
she shuts the window with a sigh
     The moonlight glows on sleepy heads
Sunflowers sleeping in their beds
     She digs her toes into the ground
soft and warm and all around
     Her sisters brush against her sleeves
She reaches to embrace their leaves
     You're one of us they seem to croon
As their garden grows beneath the moon.

Details | Free verse | |

Complimenting reality

we should be realising the fates
and who is belonging in what safe place
those who build bombs around the world that should be locked up
and those who guide us to kill one another
and blindly spin in circles to direct another war
should be held down in chains
but this art of conversation is not about that
I'm not writing to lift that veil off of anyone's eyes
go ahead and fight among yourselves fools
fight in your shallow stupidity of who is better than who
because who sits on what throne when they poop
This is about a hurt being we are here to cater to
an insignificant thing that we dont realize is great
something poets
slash and tear apart
and the cynics bruise and poison
and walk away from
cornered and scared
and no one realizes that this being named reality
truly has a heart

so stop for a second
put all your poisoned prayers
and two edged swords and gardens of poison ivy away
look at the green grass of fields on every side
and look at the reality we have created
that wishes she could run away from the babysitter we are
shame shame shame shame
drop your seeds of deceit
and zodiacs that are arts of war
and protests of cartoons
that complain about everything
as we gripe and complain about how horrible everything is
and look at reality
The child we are here to babysit
is it his or her birthday?

not saying 
put your rose colored glasses on
shove down another bunch of lies
that would make the poisoned angels who fell from the heavens
on gods birthday party of infinity proud
but see the truth for a second and understand that this being
this essence
this center of everything
of delusion and magic
of emotion and experience
of religion and confusion
of what we are living needs four compliments
and it is time we hand them out

How do you explain reality to itself?
this being....boy or girl?
this esoteric seed we all lock away, trash talk
right in front of its face?
is mystery a compliment?
Is blessing the truth?
Is life lesson enigma of endless riddles and understanding
closer to revelation?
and just what would you do
if you could understand all the pain this being felt
all the confusion?
at all those particular times it chose to stay with you or leave
and why?

can you give reality a compliment?
and can we see whose got it wrapped around his finger
sending her off to battlegrounds and wars through delusions
and terror to save him or herself?
as a babysitter
can we keep reality together?

Details | Free verse | |

the Nothing of EmptinessReplaced

her face was A golden eclipse that needed a change
she was fulfilled with inspiration
he was intelligent and business wise
they were well on their way

forever was their love was to do you good
limitless were their souls changed to do you good

Warm rays would take it all away
windless summer afternoons it all away
and find gods little gift there but what is yours

His voice was the heat of the afternoon
her hands were soft spoken words
they were closer together mercedes

When your heart unto me replaces everything beautiful blue eyes
when blue skies of white stars is an item ort a feeling
when we are closer together everywhere i will be with you
when empty is fulfilled
you will see all your wishes
and all my desires
and drain those away and replace the questions with answers

For Everywhere replaces Everything
nothing replaces empty pioneer
i was Everyone now replaced
replaced with something schooled girlfriend
and something gave me Reason

Details | I do not know? | |


O riginal work;
D eep within the soul
E xpressions on paper;
S elf-gratification our goal

© Stacy Lynn Stiles

Details | Lyric | |

Of Thy Words

the nectars
of thy 
words, for when 

the lackluster 
night comes, with dull eyes
I’ll be in a room, 

with beams
of your eager heart
is my light, 

them, ah sweet nectars,
that will move my world
to contentment!


for poet Ernilando Tugaff

Details | Free verse | |


People's praise may persist
Before the perfection of
Promise and potential.

Details | Verse | |

A Person can Trace

A person can trace a person he has such skills.
When he blames a person, he becomes a criminal.
Then why he is criminal and innocents suffering, 
Then who will trust in if he fights for covering?

Someone isn’t guilty when he is breaking system,
Law cares for his safety and believes in custom.
Barriers and barriers a person is feeling tiredness,
What will be future if human has a guilty kiss?

He works for joy but conscious fills in pressure,
When he feels guilt and thinks himself in a crusher.
When he is strong he never cares for his deeds,
When he feels sick and dies for his greeds.

Nobody has tracing greeds as he made him nervous,
He never understands always wanders in curves,
Crisis comes and he replaces it with cleverness,
But he is only a man and he is a big robber. 

Details | Rhyme | |


I have a new friend,
Her name is Kady Burney.
She is nervous about her writings,
I think she needs a gurney. 
If you get a chance have a look see,
I am sure you will like it,
I am sure you will agree.
Please make her welcome,
Help her feel at home, 
She is such a good poet,
We don’t want her to roam.
Thank you very much,
Y’all are the greatest
Please keep in touch,
You’ll be glad she surfaced.

Details | Narrative | |

My Favorite Song


The most beautiful and the saddest song I’ve ever heard,
    Was the Old Rugged Cross as I hung on to every word.
It brought sadness the brutal way our Savior died,
   And the way He was mocked, and so viciously crucified.
But His death was short lived,
    His prophecy He fulfilled.
He suffered His death like any mortal man,
    Succumbing to the pain that was part of the plan.
Beaten and bruised before being nailed on that cross,
    The day the world experienced it’s greatest ever loss.
And, yes I do I cherish that old rugged cross with all my heart.
    Knowing that He died for me helps me to play my part.
And the beauty part of the song is where I lay my worldly trophies down,
    Knowing that the Lord Himself holds for me my crown.
Sometimes I see visions of those crosses on that hill of so long ago.
    And I feel like crying out, Stop this madness, Stop it don’t you know?
Then reality awakens me to thought that this deed has already been done.
    Nailed on that cross, Jesus Christ, God’s only son
What He Gave,
     Was probably our only way for us to be saved
So yes I will cling to that old rugged cross,
    For without what it stands for we all would be lost.

Details | I do not know? | |

To A Young Poet (Fiboquatro, V.1)

Chaste and
Oh, gently whirlwinds  
Through wonder page of whisperer

Fragile, yet too prevailing
Sweet smile upon his tender age
Youthful and witty, his charms tinge
This world o’ mine, with glade of sage


Fiboquatro is a poetic form, consisting of 2 or 3 stanzas, 
a combination of Fibonacci and a stanza of 4 lines, with
an abab rhyme scheme. The specific theme for this form 
is more of love and inspiration, but a poet writing in this 
form can have his/her own choice of theme. Visit my site 
to learn more:

Details | Kimo | |

Writer's Block

I am ready, set on the mark to go
Run in between the white lines
Waiting for the gunfire.

Details | Blank verse | |

Still Spinning

Each inspiration, a different star point
tenderly dipped in leaded glass 
and allowed to dry.
Star skins unmolded birth devotion,
breed insurrection,
and are extremely edible 
(though they never pass through you)
They go down sharp and imbed themselves
into your throat, your lungs, your very being.
Each point of inspiration a delicacy,
a mood swing in transit,
a feast.
Spread me this feast in a famine, 
starving of long burnt out star shine and glass
I am filled up at each point of abandon,
glowing white heat and still spinning...

Details | I do not know? | |

My World

On that stage, I see my self on that stage…
I feel free.
Free to say whatever
And free to do me.
Dressed in sweat pants, black shirt
With white long sleeves…with a coofy
…Just being me.
Nothing anyone says,
Nothing anyone does affect me.
Because all will respect me
None will neglect me…but if so
My words shall protect me.
When I am on that stage 
I am on a pedestal…
Where many wanna bees
Wanna be me…
But what they fail to see
Is me doing me
And not anyone else…
I chill and be myself
By myself because 
On that stage, I see my self on that stage…
I feel free
Free to say whatever 
And free to do me.
But there are infractions and glitches
That takes me away from all the relaxation
And freedom…
Then it hits me…
That no matter where I see myself
I will always be back 
In the world of rules and consequences.

Details | Dramatic monologue | |

Soup From Scratch

Some people see a bowl of soup,
I see the ingredients...
Some people see the words...
Nothing wrong with that...
They are talented, artistic...meaningful...
I see the heart capable of forming them
I see the mind behind the words...
I see immense value added to this
Version of reality...
By the words of those....
Far wiser, far kinder,....
Than I....
I see love, concern....
Things I cant find in my own family...
I find hope...the most precious of gifts,
Bestowed upon me by those with
no ulterior motive...
These simple things
Restore my faith in humanity...
How blessedly lucky I must be...
To have stumbled, somehow,
Upon these most gentle, wise, souls
Serendipity at the soup
Soul of the soup...
I sometimes wonder if these
Wonderful people in Georgia
Realize the incredible
service they are providing
for the rich of word,
the rich of heart,
For the beneficial expression,
Of all mankind...
All over the world...
I know they are not getting rich off us,
But we off them..
For uniting those who know
The art of words...
Seemingly....a vanishing art.
The gold mine of thought
To be mined here...
Far exceeds ....
The gold of the richest
Treasure chest....

Details | Free verse | |

The World Needs Poets

The beating heart, the thinking mind These, my friends, are the tools of our art. We are as much bound to our art As it is bound to us, within us, ingrained into us. For a man can look upon the sunset and see the sun descend. But we, people of our craft, poets, look upon the sunset and stop. We watch, discern and focus. We interpret it and share it with others. We see a painting already painted and the layman sees the canvas. My friends, the world that we live in may not understand us, But, it remains our obligation to let our talents thrive And share them with the world, regardless of reaction. So, when you awaken tomorrow and the sun shines upon you, Or, if the skies are grey, but alive with action, Take the time to witness, record and focus and share. The world would be a far off worse place without us.

Details | I do not know? | |

20 Line Limit

This is what I’m facing
Constant thoughts pacing
As if they were racing
But I’m tasting
Poetic frustration
Writing poetry in 20 lines???
Not with this extra space that I’m wasting
But what’s wrong with this nation,
Limiting my poetic congregation
To decrease my lyrical fluctuation
That’s why many lines are vacant
Poetry readers are impatient
But they’re going to hear my poetic donation
Full of information
Of a poet’s fixation
To “Poeticize” this nation,
My poetic foundation
Comes from lyrical conversations
My limitations compared to yours is amazing
The mark of Jesus Christ is what I’m chasing
But thanks to me and my pen’s affiliation
This poet shall influence my Lord God’s creation.

Details | I do not know? | |

Lyrical Invention

Before I say the things I want to mention
I ask you “Please pay attention”
And listen
When I am hintin’
My cranial membrane’s tension
Causes difficulty to spit this lyrical invention
Conventions on suspension
But pay notice to my retention
Of the vocabulary I mention
The incomprehensive comprehensions
Of this poetic technician
Makes many realize exactly what their lives are missin’
So listen!!!
Some envision
This as a competition
But their competitive attitudes are responsible for this world’s division
My writtens
Have the impact of a multi-car collision
Many would agree that my rhymes are sizzlin’
But their meanings are hidden
Access to my rhymes are forbidden
Hate and you’ll be forgiven
I spit poetic darts with absolute precision
And it won’t be long until I am on HBO television
But I first must make decisions
To maintain lyrical nutrition
Because I still feel imprisoned
And wounded by incisions
But I shouldn’t worry if it’s the truth that I am living
Know that He has risen
Stop grinding and start grinnin’
We need constant repetitions
Because I am scared of what I envision
My bars make prisons
That all starts condensin’
Dripping and rinsin’
Me of my afflictions and pensions
Not to mention my malicious jurisdictions
My words paint depictions
Of how lyrical vixens
Go back to the days that crackers were lynchin’
Niggas on trees because they had dreams of going to Princeton
And since then
We have grown up and dissed them
Those who died in the struggle ya’ll know I miss them
Now that I am finished my invention
I hoped that you listened
To this lesson that was hintin’
That past struggles resurrect
We just got to pay attention.

Details | Rhyme | |

Turn Around

Hour after hour time passes us by, 
Life as it is never stops but goes on, 
So live your life the best you can 
And do well before your life is gone 

You can do anything you want 
Climb the ladder of success right to the sky 
Take a deep look and turn your life around 
Because God loves you and wants you to be free! 

Dorian Petersen Potter 
aka ladydp2000 


Details | Name | |

My Place

You are great because, 
You have opportunity to grow,
You are great because,
You have system to help you.

Don’t blame me, 
I am n’t criminal,
Don’t blame me, 
I am n’t ideal.

I understand as you understand,
I feel as you feel,
My poverty is curse,
Because you never prefer me.

Your religion always exploited me,
Your education always ignored me,
I am also not a beggar, If
You have selection a person on my place.

Details | Light Poetry | |


Alike at all.
A pleasure to see.
Alike at all.
A great need.

Alike at all.
A real good reward.
Alike at all.
A great desire.

Alike at all.
A big surprise.
Alike at all.
A great picture.

Alike at all.
A no doubt for sure.
Alike at all.
A great alike.

Alike at all.
A good picture to see.
Alike at all.
A great reward.

Alike at all.
A quality and unique.
Alike at all.
A great beauty.

Details | Free verse | |

The Ruby-ic's Cube

She comes in colors.
Rearranges herself at will.
Masterful pen.
And a mind never still.

As imaged in my mind,
The Rube with a doob
in her left hand
Merlot in her right,
Penning her heart out,
All through the night...

Artist painting with words,
Colors she invents herself,
Every now and then a little humor,
Like a mischievous elf...

And so many love her,
And so glad she is back...
Especially me,
This old poetic hack.

Details | Name | |

Hard To Believe

Why do you spend lot of time with animals?
His wife and family always argued.
When a native comes to visit, you have to discuss,
You shared your knowledge, if he is interested or not.

You never thought what they think about you,
Your opinion is; until we didn’t share something,
Nobody can learn or enjoy a lot of happiness,
What is special in animals her non-stop sparks?

Animal produces food but never claimed as human,
Look at the honey bees, we always afraid to touch,
But all likes to eat honey, to enjoy its taste,
Valuable to eat for health, it provides energy.

Think about nature, everyone has a language,
The entire races, human, animal, birds and tree,
Enjoy speaking and singing but hard to understand,
Without identification or learning, it’s hard to believe.

Honey bees also has poison which deliver when bite,
But never mixed in its product, as human do,
Their unity is under a command of one queen,
A natural learning, a person also can produce sweet.

Details | Acrostic | |

An Awesome Write

Allow me the time to say to you all
Never, ever put down your own write

A poem is something that comes from the heart
With words of power, for feelings ignite
Even the best may stumble and stutter
Some may even, with words, totally misuse
Others can interpret, so don’t ever fret
My theory is that, we’re not to abuse
Everyone, yes, you all, write so very well

Words that inspire, speak of rapture, the Lord
Really, all of you, pen the most awesome verses
In styles that amaze, to not leave us bored
This, I say, you all pen really great reads
Everyone here, you just have to believe

Details | Free verse | |


We dream, hope
In love we cherish
Hoping to find happiness
Thinking its out there
Always searching, yearning
Too many never realize 
it is in the “here and now”
Dreaming and wishes
For something else
Longing for what will be 
Always thinking about, 
 when it will come
Rarely appreciating 
It is here now 
The dream  has come
We just forget to appreciate it
Living our lives waiting for Friday’s
Or this date, or when we accomplish that

Always waiting, wondering 
for our ship of dreams
On tomorrow’s ship that is always sailing
Scheming for the boat, often losing hope
not realizing 
Not living the dream 
 life is our dream
of appreciation of what we have
And making the best of it
Not lusting for what will be
Or another’s something
Its being something
Making yourself someone
It’s a smile, a gesture
A joke
It’s not the hope
Of tomorrow
Its living our dream today
Today every day
 all it brings
Tomorrows anticipation
Of it never comes!
And when it does
Too many find they are still
Hoping, dreaming of nothing 
Not living today!

Details | Blank verse | |

Rain Drops

When first the cold wind,
Blew to them, they flew away,
To dance under the sky,
To welcoming the clouds.

They sat on the air waves,
And made tops as peak of mountains,
Tired rose up with its joy,
Up and down to cuddle birds.

Sea, Bird and Air convey massage,
To the plants and trees,
All shared their happiness,
To kiss rain drops.

Animals bathed their bodies,
Burning earth smiled once again,
New leaves and grass touched rays,
Nature delivered fruit and flowers in joy.

Unblocked and unbreakable affords,
Hide new dreams of love,
To touch un-awakened mind,
To keep this life for living.

Details | Rhyme | |


I can do better
without your help
I can do better 
all by myself
You leave me at home
and its not cool
You make me feel 
like a dumb fool
i wait for your call
but you never think to dial
i used to love you, 
you even made me smile
but now all i have are tears, 
tears that roll down my cheek
i used to be strong 
but with you i'm constantly weak
I'm sorry i have to leave you
but its something your making me do
because you've pushed me to the edge
you're making me leave you
but i do love you
and i always will i swear
but i feel I'm the only the only one
in this relationship and its not fair

Details | I do not know? | |




..... POETS...USE...........

Details | Free verse | |

Answering Machine

and its raining
and so jaded
are you there?
The place you would be?
Are you happy?
Are you thinking of me?
the wind calls your name
and its all your fault
Are you there?
Can you answer me?
Are you smiling?
Are you thinking of me?

Broken hearted
I'm calling out to you
corrosive love
I've been the fool
and destitute
falling in love
I've fallen victim
fell for you

Are you home?
Can you hear me?
Will you pick me up?
Answer the machine
I can't take it anymore
accompanied by my broken heart
Are you there?
Are you alone?
won't you answer me?
Know that I love you
Answer the machine!

Details | Free verse | |

Now it's your turn

Take on my act
the game I'm playing
let my image slide
take it on this act i am
let me shine in your stage
and I'll create another palyer
another place to be
read between my lines and realise 
my game between the lines
titles and missing words
and now you know
im missing sleep thinking i"m jesus
take on my act
we'l fake my potic death and slide on the internet
take on my hand of cards under the table
and take on my acts of the selves and drewss them up like dolls and barbies of 
men or women
phoenixes or whatever
let them slide
surround them with puzzles and let them live
every life on paper lives
it sits in an empty toom until you take it somewhere else
and write its next chapter
every new creation thought up put on paper is alive somewhere sitting in a room 
waiting to be dreampt again somwhere else
but they see soo many nightmares

let me slide
one at a time
but hel me find out who
and i will
write like i am something else

I'll take these poems in a few months
after theyve all been read and commented on
write like soemthing else
and the story continues
but someone has to pretend to be my shadow
my memory writing like i did
as i reveal the next layer or angel to leave its lonely room
You will see me inspired by you
praising you
putting you on pedastools
and then that will slide
and then i will do another act for man
and tha can slide
but yu have to take the act on for a few months and ponder it
and then tag somebody

Details | Free verse | |


Oh great hand of fate
What have you dealt me?
I sit here waiting, watching,
Reading the many words of others,
Dreaming of places, people, loves,
New relationships and so much more.
This poet’s heart may be shared
But yet it still beats and can certainly
Feel pain through the many pangs
It now endures.
Fate, be not a master despised,
But encourage and respect the hearts
Of us all to reach through our words
With honesty and emotion.
Be kind on us and let all plans
Fall upon the mercy of tomorrow
In order to bring smiles to faces
And hope to our hearts.

Details | Free verse | |

Starving Artists

With brushstrokes soft
of many pastels
worlds come alive
on the canvases of life.
Each one, a master painter,
gently, some not so,
painting scenes, stories, events.
We, as the artists, 
like what we have done
leaving it or them 
to view.
Our work is then judged,
some harshly, some not.
Yet, judged, often times
in a pleasing, satisfying way,
thereby leaving the artist
full of himself or herself.
Not full in a bad way,
but enough to know
we have affected another.
Well done, master painters!
Well done, Poets!

Details | Free verse | |

My Poet

Spun words of eons
surpassing the flesh.
Blistering images of ancient
masterful verses of soul.
You speak to me of jewels
gems that touch deep my soul.
You mesmerize in visions
speaking of laced words that
have bound my heart to
Voyages you have traveled 
with me.
To mystic ports of cannons 
artistic forge and gardens 
of delight.
In flight of your verses 
on gentle
golden tipped wings oh how
my heart sings.
Poet you have gathered heavens
stars as flowers in all their 
Words of healing balm reach
me deep where my scars
leave depth in my soul .
Each verse you speak smooths
the balm of healing till they
fade away making me 
Nothing in this world holds 
precious place in my heart
Poet than your words.
Muse of Poet light you
set this poetess in verse
by your musings.

This is a dedication poem to my poet.

Details | Verse | |

Son Of Devil

If academic degree is sufficient,
To mobilise or to activate,
To improve a vision of someone’s nature,
To learn skills and to provide,
Best opportunity to deliver,
A better service for the welfare,
And for a high standard for living,
I also succeed to get a higher degree.

When I found myself,
Degree develops only sources for living,
Not sufficient to establish,
Justice, Equality, Liberty and fraternity,
I had lost a balance of my life.
I stop to read only books on a subject,
I chose all the basics that I need,
To become a human: a civil person.

The society is facing injustice,
Inequality, bonded labour, racism,
Prejudicism, what is behind them?
Only degree holders,
If they were human and civil person.
Nobody cries on Earth for help,
Poverty, injustice, racism, 
Inequality and racism,
Is a provision of these intellects?

If they are educated,
Their standard should be based on education,
As they have belief,
And service, it seems,
There academic education is bluff.
Who does prepare children for suicides?
Who does care soldiers to kill innocents?
Who is greedy and not selfish?

Was Lord Jesus academic?
Was Lord Mohamed academic?
Was Lord Rama academic?
Was Lord Krishna academic?
Why these academic people still have belief,
Heaven is better place for living,
They are dishonest and corrupt,