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On Writing And Words Passion Poems | On Writing And Words Poems About Passion

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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 | 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 | Bio | |

Unwritten Conversations

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

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

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

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

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

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


Details | Free verse | |

Come Back To Me

The Ink Bottle sits, alone,
It’s only Companions,
The Feathered Pen,
The Paper Pad.

The Desk, once alive,
The Words,
No longer,

Love, abandon,
But wanting not,
The Freedom,
It has.

A Wooden Chair, dusty,
Reclines not,
For the Comfort,
Once given.

Time, a mystery gone,
With passing,
Never to be recovered,

Days of gloom, waiting,
Shine not, The Light,
The Heart,
Once brightened.

Come back, to Me,
My words, of Joy,
Of Laughter,
Wisdom, once known.

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 | Free verse | |

smitten with raincoats

Low and behold the hypothetical child… 
smitten with raincoats and anorexic amber… 
silently imbued with a spiritual vocation;
the pension led phonographs of silver split denial… 
passively fathered by motherless harlots
… castrated by the wire… 
low and behold the hypothetical child…

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 | Concrete | |

The Nose

                                  I like it
                               For I 
                      For my soul!

Details | Couplet | |


Come, my muse, to that mystical realm And shower me with imagination at the helm, Let’s run again along green meadows fair Floating, flirting like fairy wings of exalted air If it just be for a sweep time, or only some hours, Yet for a long while my words, they will flower To weave threads on loose pages, now like weeds Once bathed in fountains of blooming seeds, Then without care, a burst of moonlight shall claim A birthing of free spirit, hands daring without shame © . . ……..

Details | Ballad | |

Poetry Soup

Since joining just yesterday,
I have not had much to say,
As I sit here idle,
Waiting for a title,
I watch as you pass my way,

I am honored to be here,
While a select few may jeer,
Mostly I can see hope,
From the end of my rope,
Bringing about a joyous tear,

For all poets who have been called,
Disenchanted or enthralled,
Our mission always true,
We inform and move you,
To make you act or make you halt,

To rise above and expound the truth,
Or to lose ourselves in a groove,
Whether blatent or far out,
We live to learn - live to shout,
About love, laughter or the blues,

For although I may be new,
To this small poetic group,
I see what you've built,
With talent and skill,
Namely this Poetry Soup,

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 | Quatrain | |

I Remember the Day

I remember the day when comments were the main
They're all very instrumental to the Soup's mainframe
Some comments are influential that created other writes
And many were like tuition that kept us crisp and bright

But there now appears a drought growing larger every day
We need to increase our comments as they help us write our says
Maybe it's time for change, for the Soup to alter it's route
Many foundations have recently left, will others follow suit

The columns showing us the views, tells us nothing at all
How many have clicked on a poem thinking that's a bit of a trawl
So another poem was open and not a word was read
So basically the views are worthless, because comments are our thread

We can learn from our comments but we will never learn from the views
It's our democratic choice for all, of what we do and choose
Nothing stays the same for ever as it appears to be
It's still the worlds best poetry site, that's down to you and me

Details | Free verse | |


Black as both the crow and the cat that Edgar Allen Poe wrote of.

More meaningful than you might think.
Words penetrate our hearts and minds, but
ink does both and sinks deep within and between the pages, binding, and lines.

Dark and mysterious.
Yet clear and concise.

Hurtful, yet helpful.
A never failing flicker of light.

A tool, a hobby, the hearts design
A love, a passion, a joy and a show of affection, rejoicing, celebration and of all that is mentioned and more combined.

Man's gift, man's privilege,  man's pot of knowledge and gold.

Both for the young, the aging, and the old.

A device to say both hello and goodbye.
A way to rejoice, sound sorrow, or joy.
A way to say I love you, to someone for whom which you care.
A way for them to say the same, six words of miscomprehended compare.

A way to convey feeling, to record history and time.
A way to teach us, knowledge that we may not else find.

Forever it stays.
Black as night and yet light as day.

Our greatest invention, always it must stay.

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 | Free verse | |

Growing Prose -My Passion-

Sweet prose
As sweet vines

For "MY PASSION" contest.---There it is, short and sweet:)

Details | Free verse | |

Night Poem

It waits...
A prickle about to lodge
In the heart of a Mighty Light

Above the low-dipped setting sun
The Knightly Night prepares to come

To lift me like a rising fog
Up to greet the countless stars -
That twinkle at a Sun's descent.

The horizon painted with lullaby
Of colours and their somber tune
Day's bed is laid behind blue mountains
And quietly it goes to sleep.

Inside the womb of a Sleeping Day
Begins a fierce protest 
of dreaming thoughts
Now stirred awake.

Then out of the thick and cluster
And whatever dangers of flight await
Newborn wings of thought emerge
And rise and rise and rise
Captured by the winds of Night -

To wander heights
To kiss the skies
To dance to the gentle humming
Of spirit drums -
Wings beating
A duet with the breeze.

So when day comes breaking through
Dawn is greeted by what was writ
At the festival of it's eve.

With merriment's ink: 
A Kiss; 
A dance; 
A song etched deep: 
Art carved out of sky.

Title: Night Poem

Details | Light Poetry | |


I admit that I’m a poetic tart,
I’m as fickle with scribes as they come,
I giggle at Nash, Frost makes my lips part
and Burns leaves me completely undone.

As for Auden, his words take me home
until cummings sends me a sly i,
then Shelley, that rake, bids me to roam
while Poe gifts me a reason to sigh.

I curled on a loveseat with Longfellow,
Later with Yeats I hummed a sweet song.
Basho shared my old, feather pillow,
but I clung to Kerouac all night long.

Poets, a warning, I adore you all,
I’m smitten by verse, whether formed or free.
Over and over I submit to the fall
yet still play the fields of poetry.

Details | Free verse | |

Spirit Of The Ink Well

Rising from within my quill
Waves of ink crest and crash
Upon the papered shoreline
Riding in and out on the tides
Of yesterday found…

Sullying the once untainted
With both the rash and tender
Of the restive poetic spirit
An autonomous symbiosis
Of today’s moments…

Endlessly seeking identification
Ink scrawled candle flames illume
Scratched out paths into tomorrow
The journey of the minds eye
Of tomorrows chance…

Each penning a new step forward
Into our own intangible dreams
Our elusive target moves ever further
Where no direction can lead us on
Of our poetic hopes…

Details | I do not know? | |

Why Do I Write

Out of all the questions I have been asked in life
None of them stump me more like this:

Why do I write?

It does not stump me because it’s tricky
It stumps me because it’s a stupid question to ask

Why do I write?

Because there’s nothing more relaxing than it.

Sure sometimes it’s frustrating
Difficult, fundamentally challenging
But that’s part of the beauty of it

Letting you emotions spill out across the page
And knowing that people read it
That people expect who you are
It’s brilliant

When you live a life of not speaking up
Of being that quite person in the background
Expressing yourself is… magnificent

I’m not me when I write
Something takes over me, controls me
So much so that I don’t really know what I am writing consciously
But it works so well 

I guess some people will never understand 
The joy in it all

When you're my age and you develop some characteristic
That doesn’t suit the normal criteria you get picked on

It happens, you can’t stop it
But I feel sorry for them

Expressing yourself through writing is one of my greatest joys
And I’m not going to stop
Not now
Not ever 

Details | I do not know? | |

The Poet

Every letters the pen writes Every words in paper's written In my mouth it plays In my mind it lays In my heart it lives.

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 | Sonnet | |

Out of Nowhere

What we are trying to do this morning,
pulling some poetry out of nowhere.
Drag it kicking and hopefully screaming
out from under the bed,or from somewhere,
maybe crouched behind some lonely synapse
deep within the jelly I call a brain.
Just try to fill a page, you fool, no lapse
is allowed. Beat the bushes, stop a train,
play a new piece of music, a new beat
that you can tie some words to, stalk the muse
into a corner, fight dirty, some heat,
anything you can, I don't know, some ruse,
cross-eyed, tongue out, drooling on the keyboard,
anything to add a poem to your hoard!

Details | Light Poetry | |

' A Metaphysical Moment ...'

‘ A  Metaphysical  Moment ’

A Metaphysical Moment
Electrifying To The Touch
Breathless, Thru The Clouds
Can My Heart, Take So Much

… Can My Eyes Endure
All This Vision, I See
Can Voice, Even Speak
Over Roaring of This Sea

… Can Ear Even Listen
When I Am Flying So Free
Soaring, So True With You and
Metaphysical Moment and Me …

A Metaphysical Moment
Will I Ever Understand
This Mystery of Our Universe
The Mystery of Woman and Man …

(And I End This with an Haiku for
The Haiku Master ‘Raul’ Moreno and
Metaphysical Poet Extraordinaire’ (smile))

Metaphysical Moment (The Haiku)

          Understanding A
      Metaphysical Moment …
      … Nature’s Mysteries

Metaphysical (definition) as an adjective:

Metaphysical of early 17th Century Poetry
Relating to the poetic style of John Donne,
George Herbert and other early 17th Century Poets
Who used consciously intellectual language
And elaborate metaphors that compared things

Details | Free verse | |


I don't know how to abandon 
This maniacal world 
Where electric words stalk my nights, 
Devouring my mind. 

Volcanic images appear 
As uninvited guests, 
Wrestling atrophied concepts 
Into structured rhythm. 

Metaphors tease unrelenting 
As sounds tickle my heart, 
Disowning my need for respite 
From red saturation. 

Yet I feast upon each moment 
Of inspired reverie, 
Count each hour of sanity 
An insulated gift. 

I fall into meek thanksgiving 
For voice of expression 
Even as I hear the approach 
Of mystified ideas. 

For what would I be without art 
Conveyed in written form 
But an aching, unfulfilled soul; 
Derelict and deprived?

Details | ABC | |

My Silly Little Love.

My silly little Love,
Is not to far away,
I think about you day by day by day,
My silly little Love,
Your what makes this heart stay a beat,
Pounding, Pounding,
My silly little Love,
You fill in all my blanks,
With out silents without questioning,
My silly little Love,
You sing to me,
And hit all the right tunes,
Makes me giggle,
Oh, How I Love you,
My Silly little Love,
You pull my hair back when it's in my face,
To notice I'm here, For the World to see me,
My silly Little Love,
Tough and strong,
Shows little emotion,
But I know what's going on,
Silly Little love,
You are the One.

Details | Free verse | |

Why i'm a poetess

I'm just a kid, and life is a nightmare
I'm forced to be mature beyond my age
Using my writing as my therapy
Scrawling my thoughts across the page

Every couple days or so
a poem or two I write
I can't sleep while my thoughts process
So i scribble throughout the night

I give you all my thoughts and fears
this is the reason that i write
so that i can clear my head
giving me the strength i need to fight

In this book i write the things
that i cannot say to their face
but letting it all out on paper
helps me to keep my place

writing poems calms me down
and puts me back in control
I have been writing poems for a while no
since i was twelve years old

Writing puts things in perspective
shows me another point of view
it helps me work out what was done wrong
and shows me what i need to do

If you look closley at what I write
I think that you will find
That exposed on these many pages
is the darker side of my mind

Everything i feel, i write
my thoughts are a tangled mess
I write to clear my head and keep myself sane
thats why i'm a poetess

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 | Free verse | |

Featured Poet****Chocolate WoW

**A Sweet Waltz**

As I kissed her lips
tasting her candy glaze
she bended ever so slowly
for a little of this mayonnaise.
And I said arise baby, 
don't stay in that stance.
stand up, we'll embrace
and start this love dance.

A freestyle by a dear friend of mine who gave me permission to post this.
I hope you all enjoy. Please, he wants to hear your opinion.... He will be reading..... 

Samuel Brooks
"Chocolate WoW."

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 | Light Poetry | |

' Where Are The Words ? ... '

Where Are The Words …
I Am Looking For Words …
… That Will Give Meaning
To Meeting You, This Evening

And What Can I Say ? …
What I Long To Say …
Instead of, Good To See You Friend
And Oh, How Have You Been ?

… Such Polite Conversation
Is Safe Presentation
Nothing More … So Much Less
I Need Hunger- Honestness

Packed With A Passion
Full-Out Conflagration
Instead of A Shy, Dulcet Tone
I Wanna Torch-Talk You, To The Bone !

Use Words, To Sear You To Your Soul
Singe, Deep Inside Your Soul
Soft and Husky In Confessions
Words, That Demand Actions

Emotive, Elusive, Essential
Elocution of The Quintessential
Romanticism Expressed …
The Pleasure Of Your Face, Eagerness

In Bold Explorations, Evolved
From Virgin-Feelings of First Love
That Make It Seem … Like Last Night
Invoking Future Visions, So Bright !

Oh, Where Are The Words ? …
I Am At A Loss For Words …
So Many Things, I Want To Let You Know …
Instead of Just Saying … ‘ Hello ’…

              For:  Ismael Nieves 
Who Has Such A Passionate Style To His Poems
(and Also, The Little Joke of Big Words Between Us …
Hope You Enjoy This One Kiddo - Smile)

Details | Free verse | |

In a Risky Rhythm

She kissed the kiln and fired her tongue
in sparks which lit the rhythm stream
and reeked of rancid gasoline
and the blue of honest fire
She danced in shoes of kerosene
her heels in flint, her soles in sheen
as barefoot she would always be
to tattoo the earth with toe prints
She missed the mark and shot the sun
(which swallowed the fire come undone)
and swept up ashes noon 'till night
with anklets of turquoise and jade
She riddled wars and froze the moon
In silence, she slept on pitch and ink
and gained momentum for her dance
on edges burnt risky with rhythm.

Details | Rhyme | |

What is Poetry But Text...

Sensitive ears of nature I have 
Poetry is not the sight of words 
but the sound.

Spoken,sung or played on a guitar...
Human, machine,instrument or nature.
Any of these are cool as long
as they're written down.

A flute playing, a bird singing ,
a car engine starting. 
Someone whipping , chopping,
cooking in the kitchen.

Hear it first, then write it down.
For what is poetry but the text 
the sound that you've found?

Details | Lyric | |

I Chose To Be A Poet

When I started my writings I didn’t know that much;
But, as I began to write, I learn to know so much.

Let’s say I knew a thing when I got featured, my poem;
I knew what rhyme is, but my heart has its own anthem.

Writing is not that easy, which made it hard to meet
All the poetic forms, if I always see, but a white sheet.

Yet, I knew that if I will try, I will lose nothing; I tried.
So I wrote this very short poem, a senryu thing: a bride.

That you took joy reading it, making me smile and proud;
The way I see myself now, I’m a poet, with a voice: loud.

If I chose to be a poet, sure I wouldn’t be in a losing end;
For a poet never lose, but certainly, wins a heart. A trend.

At least now, I know how and what to write. I learned.
I’ll be writing sonnet today, for yesterday it was tyburn.

You see, I learned a lot, through the help of my God;
And you, my love, His blessing to me when I was sad.

Details | Bio | |

Feeling The Flow

The way
words fit together
is kind of a ritualistic measure,
where word
     and verse
flow rythmicly
     to the cerebral cortex
          and hormones
to cause a response of choice.
You can't think about
how they go,
it's all in
the way that they roll
     out if the mind
and on to paper.
You see
     it's kind of like
a mathematical equation,
this blissful creation,
but they're not all about
      beautiful things,
I write with destructive potency.
I can create
a morbid dreamscape
that can flow into the mind
and reek havoc,
     when its strong enough
I'll make your brain spastic,
turning in it's own juices,
squirming to end the atrocities
that your not reading,
                        but feeling.

Details | Free verse | |

Dreamy Haze

Grasping my soul into its mystery,
Leaving me motionless, breathless,
Wanting to breathe more of its
Aroma, its sensation, its 
Mystified, encrypted feelings…

It’s my devotion, 
It’s my colorful ocean,
It’s the web of my emotions…
Smiling, as I meditate
My uncontrolled enthusiasm…
My beautiful fervor, my passion…

A-h-h! As its hymns play,
Harmoniously, its words begin to say
All the things in which I want to hear,
Words that draw my manifestation…

Between the hazy mists I sit,
Watching tiny droplets of water
Condense with tenderness on my skin...
Slithering, as new worlds of words
Begin to form within…

Dreamy haze in which I feel alive,
Take me into thee,
Where no one can revive
Me from this ecstasy, from
 My life’s fantasy…


Everything in me,  and
Everything destined to be…


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 | 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 | I do not know? | |

Why I Really Write (2005)

I grew up where my opinion was a waste
Everything was chosen even my taste

Speaking my mind was seen as rude
Everything I said caused a feud

I speak my mind 
It helps me unwind

I'm honest and don't beat around the bush
But after every word I heard 'hush'!

To develop communication it needs to be fed
All these words should have been heard and not read

I was told that someone would cut off my tongue
I was very young

I could barely read or write but I had little choice
My pen and paper has become my 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 | Lyric | |

More Than Words...

Once again as my pen fails the page
In a humble but sincere effort
To honor my loving sage

As I ponder and attempt to deduce
In a low, soft chuckle, “more than words”
My rhetorical excuse

By function; words exact, color and define
And with Webster’s sword levied I chase
Definition of you into the sublime

Concept, newly born of insight and ash
Presents no attempt at justice
So its fate is sealed to trash

And alas, as a thousand times tense
I seek to corral feelings
By pen within paper fence

For moment’s sake, suppose these words I cannot cage
I humbly offer in place of love song
The feelings that surround this page

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 | Light Poetry | |

How Does It End

Quill n hand
Ink is black
Words frothing

Lost in thought
Words breathed forth
And set free

Two souls meet
Blend as one
Passion ooze

In the night
Dim of moon
Lust or love

Writer knows
He leaves it
To our thoughts

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 | Senryu | |

Beautiful Words

beautiful words- 
poet prowls
for the pen

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 | Idyll (Idyl) | |

Beethoven Opus 133---poetically

Contractual agreements with publisher caused DELETION

Details | Limerick | |

A Limerick to Dave

There once was a fellow named Dave
To a pen he was master and slave
During the day he would lust
A blank sheet did not trust
Yet at the end of the day he woud cave

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 | Ballad | |

The Forgotten Ones

Forgotten somewhere in the midst of steel and concrete. 
Bound by shackles and chains even in our sleep. 
Living like wolves preying amongst lost sheep. 
Concrete tears and pains so mindfully deep. 

Forgotten by those on the outside. 
We cant even run no where, we cant even hide. 
No choice left but to sit and fight. 
In here only the strong minded survive. 
Truth be told in here what is wrong is right. 

All most os us got is wasted M&^*&F*^&&ng time. 
We sit back and work out and write heartfelt rhymes. 
Not to be a victim of prey we all trying. 
Many stories are told, songs are written of truth over lying. 

We are gone for the moment but not truly forgotten so the hurt we must not show it.
 We are to old while we young to be crying in front of full grown men for this is a time we must out grow it.
 There aint no way out this hell hole and we all know it. 
Feelings of hopelessness surrounds te heart to the point where we can no longer control it.
In here there is only time no fun. 
Darkness fills night no light shone in here from the sun. 
Only by our own selves we may be out done. 

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 | Concrete | |

Swimming in Poetry's Ocean

Im out swimming in the ocean 
looking like moss in this giant bubbly green potion 
Fading in the dark awoken 
in this life ship motion 
Sailing all the se7en seas literally in this poetic land of the soul called free
 we ain't free we locked out until we locked in like some G'z 
I just want something better 
yet Im still swimming in the things are even wetter 
I write life until death so what you read could be my last letter 

Details | Free verse | |


"Are you Quill?," She asked abeam.
"Yes, of course! - mostly - when the Muselle` 
visits oft'n'r upon, as my wont!
"Well, here!, this will surely help at the Magic...

And IT, Voila!, was in hand, a thrust-unmistakable!
Blunt, bulbous & sleek, a slick Recife, 
this Turquoise and Silver stick.

Is IT "Blue?" Is IT "Black?" 
Pray, "Blue-Black!?"  Wow! - 
A Sole instrument for Playing in the Indigene,
Soul Colors of the Earth! - I nearly crack to Self.

Swirled-embedded, b'neath the haute Baekelight-Crystal
like a LavaLamp-Entemp.  IT's messages of ambidexsrait-
Threads, Mola thru splayed fingers.  O' Charitable Mage 
You have brought to Life!...   I     Write    Handcrafted!  

Details | Ballad | |

Family First

I cant believe Im going to have my own family, something I never had; 
Its time to step up and be a real dad; 
Now I can remember the things that make me happy and forget the things that make me sad;
 Its time that I start doing good than the bad; 
I want for my child to see me as a role model; 
Its time I break my own chains to that alcoholic bottle; 
I want to be that someone who can be trusted to follow; 
I silently cry at night because the truth is hard to swallow; 
I jus hope I can make that change today not tomorrow; 
I got to change before I end up in an?early hearst; 
My art is my gift and alcohol is my curse, I must break my own alcoholic thirst;
 I must relieve my own selfishness tendencies before they burst; 
I got to stop making alcohol my only because its no longer just about me, because my very own family comes first

Details | Ghazal | |

How to love

My roots are trembling
through clay orgasm,
tumbling the landslide
that speaks every shake or so.
Leo roars and I await life,
Generic roving rumbles
reminding me of the world around,
but I never remember
how to cling to the ground.

Details | Bio | |

I Am Poetry

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Praise no other; I am poetry.

Details | Lanterne | |




    deep feelings

      from ones own heart


Details | Verse | |



Abomination scorn Affection Passion Yearning
Struggle Attempt Cherish Relationship Flame
Taste Tender Inner soul Bloom Bamboozle

I was a woman scorn 
Unknowingly  cherished a relationship
where the flame was no longer existent;
where time flew by in the distance and I missed
everything in my life I intended 
because I was accepting a me that depended
on him
I made an attempt to bamboozle the truth
and convince myself that he wasn’t screwing Kim
Ultimately I faked passion and lustfully feigned for affection
since I’d been betrayed
So, I got down on my knees and  I prayed 
I began yearning for knowledge of my Inner soul
I began to taste freedom and feel whole
The healing began and my consciousness rose - fresh bloom
It was no longer a struggle to end an abomination that would 
prove to be a path of doom

Details | Rhyme | |

If You Know What I Mean

I had this crazy dream
It's the one that keeps you interested
If your me, you'll know what I mean
To ignore your self resisted

So deep in slumber I went
On this night of required sleep
It's the snooze we always dream of
Into dreams of abyss deep

Through pages of looming clouds
As they fluttered in dreamy breeze
Many words I could see in my reach
Like winter leaves, on crying trees

Enticing in dream like flow
My two eyes can't be everywhere
I'm like a Rabbit caught in dreams headlights
In slow motion action I stare

Scattered yesterdays are all around
When I grasp they crumble to dust
Past words in anagram free
My steel beams now reduced to rust

In drift I try to imagine
Day to day life without the soup
It's a sentence I Just can't comprehend
Once tall and proud, I'm painful in daily stoop

Details | Free verse | |

Inspired by Words

A poet’s mind 
is like a maze 
intricate words 
winding throughout
a never-ending path 
of inspiration

deep thoughts within 
the heart and mind 
of an artist
who paints dialogue
between the writer
and intended 

poetry is a gift
a blessing of revealed 
thoughts and emotions
that are desired 
and longed to be told

never neglect your gift 
your art
you never know who 
might find healing 
through the talent 
you hold 

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 | |

One Spark To Burn My Forest Down.

Cinder snaps
Lightning wings
You are this
and many things
Wrapping print
paper ink
Caught amongst
the lines, I think
Pomp and light
Candle wane
On the verge
but always sane
Liquid sugar
Sweet intake
Watching ripples
in your wake
Rainbow glow
Air to touch
Catch my ears
It's just too much
Marble mind
Cinder skin
Wishing you 
would let me in...

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 | 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 | Haiku | |

All About the Music: Sole On Soul

Click clack; Sole on soul.
Swaying shoes to the rhythms 
The beat makes you whole.

Details | Sonnet | |


Because of you, in gardens of blossoming Flowers I ache from the perfumes of spring. I have forgotten your face, I no longer Remember your hands; how did your lips Feel on mine? Because of you, I love the white statues Drowsing in the parks, the white statues that Have neither voice nor sight. I have forgotten your voice, your happy voice; I have forgotten your eyes. ~ excerpts from Pablo Neruda’s poem, “Love”
Flushed hands spill passion, softly wild In a languid explosion you rise With threads and threads of angst piled Spewing flamed embers’ cries And I feel your veins in my chest From twilight laced I rile again Down fingertips my soul’s unrest To drain on verses from your pen A language of fire scents my mood, That marks thorns when love and rage twine. Sweet flowers ache as plucked lyres brood On frail stars, veiled light breaks my spine Dear Neruda, salt of heart clears Offering balm of gentle smears ~ Pablo Neruda , a Chilean poet, and diplomat, was awarded the Nobel Prize for Literature in 1971. For Francine Roberts’ Tribute by Sonnet

Details | Acrostic | |

Lost In Thought

Now who would of thought the thoughts that would truly get the mind lost in fragile thought?
 So much on our known life, 
about unknown death when we laugh at others but at ourselves we really cry, 
in our very own hidden truth lies, 
amongst our own poeple who we defy, 
until we fight, 
for wrongs for personal rights, 
**** the darkness is what make us appreciate the light, 
I dont talk the talk nor do I walk the walk because I walk my talk while I swagger and swerve im my talks through these walks,
 Life can get so messy with death that its time for those of us here to grab the broom so God can mop,
 I live life to the fullest with what little I have because I dont have a lot, 
I live life shitty sometimes like almost everyone else like it or not, 
Im not special Im so unique Im individual with word talent I know I got, 
I know what I dont have so its important more knowledge among me is sought, 
I can be wrong half the time but can still make it 100% right I was self-taught among a young soul that seems to be bought,
 I got a bad limp but dont get me wrong I can still gallup through darkness while I jog lost in the early morning fog waiting to be patiently found in the midnight lounge where I trot,
 Truly lost so easily in profound hard thoughts litterally running from the cops waiting to duck and dodge from open gunshots,
 Bodies and shells drop where caskets are made among a dying crop, 
I can still make a splatter where there was just but a tiny dot, 
I used to have merely nothing now atleast I can truly say I have a safe spot, 
I was found looking for truth in lies lost in thought....

Details | Lyric | |

I Can't Say It Without You

I was your never ending composer
We spent many a nights, and many an hour together
But now you’re lost inside
And I can’t find my way, again.

( chorus )
Cause I can’t say it without you		
It hurts to be without the feeling		
Never knowing when it will return		
But I know that you would stay with me	
If you came back, again some day		
But till then I’ll wait till you appear.	

I really miss the way you make me feel
People said we were meant to be together
Why’d you leave me so unexpectedly
I hope you come back soon.

( Chorus )

It’s been two months since I’ve written you
All I’ve got to show is crumpled bits of paper
The passion and creativity is now gone
So come back home so I can work it out.	

Details | Haiku | |

All About the Music: The Infinite Magic of Lyricism

Pop may be catchy
But not lyrically deep
Case in point: Chris Brown.

(N.B. Poem written after hearing "Don't Wake Me Up")

Details | I do not know? | |

Feeling You In The Rhyme

So many verses, And not enough lines...
My soul feels the rhythm,But my mind produces the rhyme...
Word by word poetry,just forms in me!!!! ,Constantly,
My mind creatively preforms unknown free styles....
Collaborations of rhythm and rhyme,
Giving my words a voice that can connect and be heard for miles...
How Beautifully it all comes together right before my eyes.... 
Although I never would, I couldn't change it if I tried..
The Irony in relation to what i write an what is felt, At times it hits deeply...
Cause each verse is more than just some words...But also the soul that flows in me.... 

Details | Quatrain | |


And you all thought
that after reaching home,
I would jump in the shower so fast
and off to bed...I'd snooze to end my boredom?

On my lunch hour I take a light nap,
it's beneficial to your health the doctor confidently says;
and should I ever see a scary, black cat
running across my windshield...a nightmare surely begins.

Working hard in a warehouse
with people and forklifts in full swing,
I must be more alert than a mouse
being chased by a bunch of hungry cats drooling.

To sit at my desk and write a poem for a new contest:
is a challenging and rewarding experience for an obscure poet;
and while others sleep and their spirits float in mysterious dreams,
I reflect over the rhetoric language of what life seems. 

Details | Acrostic | |

Everytime I Look Around The Corner

I live a life in a place where alcohol violence reigns supreme/ 
over a dying culture split in se7en groups of se7enty times se7en of rival teams/
 I hear my brothers hollers I hear my sisters screams/ 
I see people live among broken glass like that of many broken dreams/
 I sometimes wish I could not see what my two eyes sometimes see/ 
I cant act blind as if it were just a brush off my sleeve/
 The more I lose in life the more it seems the less I need/
 I try and overcome my own selfish greed/ 
I got a child on the way I now look at what kind of role model I'd be/ 
I was was incarcerated so I must not take for granted for the simple fact that Im free/
 But it hard with tattoos on my face in place where tattoos like mine seem a disgrace/
 Lord watch over me as I take last place in this life game race/ 
It not a matter of being first second or third Lord cuz all I need iz your grace/
 help me to better walk off this destructive road and slow my pace/ 
Just take me now if Im done with your purpose if thats the case/
Because I dont want to live like I got to look over my shoulder right around the corner....

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 | Free verse | |

It The Everyday Struggle That Make The Man

It The Everyday Struggle That Make The Man

This struggle we live in,this world is or enemy and our friend we fight to see it beautiful.Have you ever heard "I've given up all hope and am ready to die to day"
I'm sorry but this is more this is not some joke have you no heart have you no thought on what someone other then you have to deal with.I want to see the smiling faces of everyone that a longing dream since the day i could walk,Dreams are meant to be kept close,hearts are meant to be keep open,life is meant to be filled to the fullest.How can you say forget it and go and prepare to be put 6 feet under? I'm taking on life building up this life to see a better future for those who think they have none.Who am I to say people are crazy when I myself am crazy.Who has never been grief sicken in't human to the least.I say to those out there it is an everyday struggle that make a boy into a man and a girl into a woman,but if there is love there then this is what should be said"it is beautiful to love but to love is to know how to grieve".

Details | Rhyme | |


Human language is used for its aesthetic 
To me writing poetry is prolific
It does not matter if it is oral or literary
Just keep it simple and ordinary 
Conveying emotion or ideas to the reader's or listener's mind or ear
When you read this tell me what you hear
All these effects to generate meaning is what marks poetry 
Beauty is found more in the balance of ideas than in specific vocabulary
Poetry was created to escape the logical
That is when my pen, words, and paper become so magical
I write with a combination of elements like theme tension, complex emotion, and profound 
reflective thought 
With my words I weave that trap so now the reader is caught
There are several poetic forms, such as ballads, sonnets and rhyming couplets
Compared with prose, poetry depends less on the linguistic units 
Alliteration and rhyme, use poetic structures
Poetry is used in several sacred biblical scriptures
Rhyming verses are frequently used in songs
That is why it so easy for us to remember and sing along
I always write more for the eye than for the ear
I want the reader to be animated and be full of cheer
Love, understanding, and hope that is what I'm giving them
Poetry to me is life's need rhythm

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 | 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 | Bio | |

Untitled...for now

‘my eyes
with a film over them
clouding them with 
iridescent shapes of

I'm reading this again...
probably not the best thing 
for me to read at this moment.

sending off...hmm? 
do you still feel the same?

a ramble of unpoetic lines
shoved together haphazardly

if the power of words can kill
I’m butchering a pig—
—blood as virtual ink!

not poetic…

comparing my ‘poetry’
to yours
my UNpoetry

you say—
—you claim to love it

sending off—

—do you still feel the same?

‘my eyes’
-coming ‘round full circle-
‘with a film over them’
—just incase—
you’ve forgotten

[my eyes
with a film over them
clouding them with 
iridescent shapes of

‘clouding them with’
‘iridescent shapes of’
—not quite—

sending off—

—do you still feel the same?

do you 
feel the same?

Details | Ballad | |

The Artist and The Poet

There aint no other way how to put it or how to say it,Im the Artist and the Poet/
 Through my created creations I show it/ Im gonna rize to the poetic mountain top before you even know it/
 This my poetry and self-made concrete art only I control it/ So all ya critics out there behold it/
 I was gone for a minute locked up and locked down trapped inside concrete/ 
I was at work the whole time my poetic skills only got better they did not sleep/
 Now I arize through shackles and chains I now know true defeat/ 
Im here to stay Im the artist keeper the true se7en poet of keep/ 
I will do what I gotta to be poetically remembered the day I go se7en feet deep/
 But for now my life upon ya'll I lyrically creep/ 
My thoughts are one of a kind they cannot be replicated/ 
Im so relevant now fifty years from now I still wont be outdated/ 
Its your coice you can love it or you can hate it/ Go ahead haters debate it/ 
Still Im the Artist and the Poet thats my motto statement/ 
A whole empire of poetry and artwork since lockdown I have painfully with pleasure created/ NEVER AGAIN WILL MY ART AND POETRY BE UNDERRATED/
 I was nothing before all the time spent in concrete and confinement/ 
Now Im truly poetic with artistic assignments/ Anything I draw I can also rhyme it/
 There are more to my tattoos each one has a story and a meaning behind it/ 
I knew there was hope in poetic art I just had to find it/ 
All I got to say now is "F@#k ya'll who wanna Doubt me/ 
F&%k all dat shyt you judge me like Im on American Idol when you dont even know shyt bout me/
 Your vision of life is blurry and your death thoughts seem to be a lil cloudy/ 
I am a Poetistic Diamond in the rough it was God it wasnt you who found me/ 
Now I know more people from around the way gon crowd me/ where money and trouble again will surround me/
 I was a lost gem on lockdown waiting to shine, waiting to poetyically explode/ 
A natural born poet carving out my own road/ Living by my own F%$#%ckin poetic codes/
 I can't be rhymefest free when I get lost in that poetic mode/ 
My Time is almost here/ I been waiting for this momnet all f&&%&ing year/ 
I cant believe I made through many concrete shed tears and many unheard of outside fears/
 My freedom day is near I will not blow it/ 
This my time now homie I control it/ Im concretely the smartest writer even if you aint know 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 | Blank verse | |

Why Do I Write

Why Do I Write?
I was born in an era when Shakespeare, Shelley and Wordsworth were kings. Reading them was like hearing beautiful music and after all these years…it still is. Then I fell in love with Emily Dickenson and the Rubaiyat of Omar Khayyam…what wonderful words of wisdom they imparted! I write because it allows me to express myself…my thoughts, my compassion, my soul… much as my singing has done all my life. Now that that part of my life is waning, I can still be a “diva” in my own eyes! lol I write, because my heart tells me to in the wee hours of the morning when sleep eludes me. I write because these thoughts and words which are choking me...screaming to be free...must be released. I write for those who mourn, or who suffer illness, to console them and say I understand. I write for the lonely, for those who have no hope. whose stories tug at my heart. Since I can't hold them close to me, I try through my poems to convince them there is hope and tomorrow will be better. I write to be show I am still relevant and have viable thoughts and opinions to share with the world. Experience is still the best teacher. I write to protest injustice wherever I find it. To be silent would be cowardly. I write humorously about inconsequential, everyday situations, to bring a laugh or two into our lives. I wrote my memoirs for my grandchild, to preserve the past for future generations. I wrote poetry to release grief and sorrow when death came to call, to help me find peace and acceptance. I write my religious poetry…not to flaunt my religion…but to praise God and thank him for his sacrifice for me and for the peace his presence brings to me. I also ask his blessings for my friends and loved ones and for the heavy in heart, so that they might find peace and deliverance from the evils of this world. I do not expect my work to be published…I have no illusions about my talent…I write for everyman, most of whom would shy away from the literary world and consider it elitist in the extreme, but when tragedy befalls them, they take comfort in simple words of encouragement and consolation. But most of all, I write for the sheer joy of it and because my soul requires it!
Copyright©2008 Beatrice Boyle (All rights reserved) For Frank's "What turns you on" contest

Details | Free verse | |

An Inferno of Words

One pen sparks a heatwave. His brazen words engulf and sway the frigid heart to rise like an inferno on an indestructible day. Shyly, I warm myself near the flame seeking his energy to kindle a blaze of hidden desire glowing beneath pale skin. I ask one pen to evoke passion within, heart and soul. His smoldering words unfold to ignite the coldest heart and rise as inspiration, no lethargy or docility in mind. The intense heat, I find burning from his torch arouses my sluggard mentality on an indelible day. Words can be the fire to light our path. One pen sparks a heatwave.

Details | Nonet | |

My Lifeline

You breathe into me a breath of depth.
You allow me to see beauty.
Pain transformed into wisdom.
Life lived as a witness.
You consume all of me.
I lose myself.
I love

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 | Light Poetry | |

' The Prince Of The Passionate Land (or) Prince Freakasso ... '

To The Prince Of The Passionate Land
Who Paints, With Both Words and Hands
Lightly Brushing Masterpieces
Riding His Realm, Wherever He Pleases

In A Far Fifth-Dimension of Grandeur
Or On A Different Cubism-Dream-Wonder
Sometimes, He Splash-Blue-Subdued
Oft Times, Just Look At The Hues, He’s Used !

His Word-Pictures Paints Such Fantasies
They Are Prince Freakasso, Styled Originalities
Places, Where Only Imageries, Can Go
Like The ‘Namesake’  Mind of Pablo Picasso

Whose Paintings Shouted, ‘Expressionism’ !
The Same Bold Style Stamps His Individualism
And When Prince Freakasso, Paints With Such Speech
His Lips, Brushes With Words So Sweet

 Prince Freakasso, Of The Passionate Land
Who Paints, With His Lips and Hands
Lightly Brushing Masterpieces
Riding His Realm, Wherever He Pleases

    Aaaah, Sweet Prince
Let Your Painting Commence …

From Your Pearl-Sculptress,


Details | Free verse | |

In League with Others

I am in league with the roses,
Petals askew in a scarlet conspiracy

Oh I am in league with the roses,
Swaying along in this lover’s confederacy;

I’m in league with the devils,
A mob together raging alight

I’m in league with the devils,
Our very breaths fanning our damned plight;

And with the clouds I have marched abreast,
Bringing storm and heavens in tow

For amongst the clouds I have marched abreast, 
Purpose seeded in the sky to grow;

I am a hire sword in league with grander designs,
Through all of which I am never prone

Yes, I am a hireling in league with foreign designs,
Happy that I am never still to stand alone.

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 | I do not know? | |

When I Write

In my life there are many things I crave.
Passion is one of the biggest cravings I have,
Because with passion comes many other cravings;
Love, Happiness, Friendship.
These are only the passion for emotions though.
Reading, Singing, Dancing.
Now these are passions for doing things..
But none of these passions compare to my passion for writing.

When I write everything else in my life goes blank.
My worries disappear.
My stress fade to nothing.
When I write my heart beats faster.
My mind races into a million ideas.
My soul flutters like a butterflies wings.

Writing may not be my only passion in life,
But it definitely is my only true passion.
My passion for writing goes beyond anything else in life.
If I could not write down my feelings, 
They would tear me apart from the inside out.
My world would come tumbling down.
Without writing my life would be nothing.

Details | Free verse | |

Lasting Freedom

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 LASTIN FREEDOM you know what I mean.

Details | Epic | |

My Very Own Seeds

My time keeps ticking/ Fresh outta mind prison/ I still have a hard time trying to listen/
 I keep on walking yet I keep on tripping/ The pain in my brain heart thickens/ 
Redemption for change Im still missing/ 

Im still on the reservation/ Dont any of my own people see the alcoholic devestation?/
 More self destruction than self creation/ Addicted alcholism among our own we keep making/ Young hearts and souls everyday we be breaking/ Most of us young souls around here are rarely forgiven because we are to busy been forsaken/
This is my own mind made prison astrology/ Im hard like a rock involved in geology/
 Dont any of my people understand this poverished prison geolgraphy/ 
Our destruction can be seen in NAT GEO, dont you people see it in the photography/
 Time is no joke nor is it alive yet somehow it can still bleed/ 
Im still out of prison yet in my mind it still doesn't feel like I have been set free/
 I know my out out but I dont have the keys/ In or out it still remains hard just to be me/
 Everything now days in life cost a fee/ Its not my culture its the American Greed/
 I guess now days I gotta leave a trail, I gotta PLANT MY VERY OWN SEEDS......

Details | Free verse | |

Coffee Shop

Bustling people and clinking forks
A crowded maze of tables and chairs
The soft conversations meant to be secret
Rise to a horrible din of mingling words and phrases

The smell of stale coffee beans and perfume
Caress my nose with a familiar touch
The morning shines outside the huge windows
Burning brightly, it washes out the crowd

People become shadows in the insane light
The breaking dawn ruins their features
I set alone in this madness of Sun-fire
My senses raped by terrible sights and sound

They fuel my desire to be ...

The smell of unwashed skin and vodka
Drifts in on a fugitive breeze
The rattle of a beggar's cup points to its source
Its owner's suffering passes silently amongst the crowd

An old man sits with his paper in hand
A daytime hooker enjoys her hazelnut creamer
A well-dressed woman curses her cellphone and spills her latte
A child grips her legs and she curses him as well

In a dream
Sepia tones and friendly faces
In a nightmare
Shadow beasts and hungry eyes

They fuel my desire to be ...

My pen begins to glide along the rough paper
A few words, hard pressed, appear like forgotten children
Suddenly their voices are not so loud
My eyes begin to focus only on the paper

A beautiful thing begins to form
An ornament to the chaos around me
I find a wonderful peace
And the words flow gently and with ease

The shadow beings float around me
Trying to disturb my bubble of genesis
There sounds cannot stop me, I do not fear them
These hateful beasts are helping me so

They fuel my desire to be ...

Details | Senryu | |

Nectar Niche

Pure inspiration:
honey combed wax bursting sweet
between mandibles.

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 | Verse | |

Those Who Write

There is a Book of Secrets each person writes the book is about all the things they do from the time they are born to the day they die Some write a about discerning lifestyles, which indicates a Blanket of Darkness, masquerading the true nature of what they might feel inside Some write about the Shades of Fall while sitting in their favorite chair looking at the October Rain drops cleaning smog from the air Some write lyrics for a love song while looking up at the starlit night They find themselves humming the tune, creating the title for the song - Romancing The Moon Some write about The Jewels of the Faeries creating a magical tale, to be read to children when it's time for them to go to bed Then, there are those who write about A Gate of Dreams, taking the reader to a Gentle Place, Where the Angels Fly- From Where They fall In Violet Light to mend their broken wings Every writer has a story that needs to be told The greatest reward the writer receives is to know their story touched the reader's heart and soul
Rosalyn M. Lampkin

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 | Lyric | |


My heart aches for the love I deserve
I cry for this one I love
but I lack the nerve

I know not what to do
i know not where to go
but this fact I do know
I love with all my heart  and soul

I love with every part of me
for this reason, I'll challenge destiny
My future holds my secret reality
I have opened my heart for all to see.

Details | Haiku | |


there are those that need
structure even in their art
personally not

for me, I'll write it
however it comes to me
sorry if it don't fit

in your poetry 
mold, keeps me from growing old
you wouldn't want that

so write your tight 'lil
lines and I will still write mine
hopefully we can

share some dreams and things
and for each of us it will
still be very real

Details | Free verse | |

Living Language

Language is a
trumpeting vine,

Blooms in every shape,
         size and color

Tendrils of words grow
     every which way,
here,                            there,
&			            yon,
insinuating themselves,
curling lovingly,

into, around

the vertical and horizontal,
pillars and frameworks

of each diverse community


is a slow, lazy ocean
whose tides lick
the verbal shores

offering new sand & water
    while re-absorbing and changing 
          the old

It flows out,
      ebbs in,
a living, breathing,
constant motion


Language is essential, 
is vital and ageless –
a kaleidoscope mosaic

always perennial,
always new

Without language,
what would you or I do?

Without language…...................

Details | Limerick | |

David and Goliath

There once was a voice that took flight,
I chased after prepared for a fight,
we fiddled with fickle 
and stumbled a little
then scribbled with all of my might.

Details | Rhyme | |

Drunken Master, One More Please Be For You Go

Black russian; White russian If 
you dare o0zing sex on the beach 
strolls down mem~o~rized long
Island ice tea left me stranded on A 
one night affair.

Impacted viberations through
bloody mary's vines quenching
her thrusting thirst for one more 
blow~job If you pleaz!!! He Asks.

Convalescing bodies hit the floor
like A G-6 Screaming death 
spathums roar....

His Pensive innercourse ; gave
her nothing but gin n' tonic 
explossion of self desire on
slippery nipples and A ding o' 
ling Rides the roller~coaster 

He now must leave her 
with wet dreams 
of exotic pleassures......

She stops him for a moment
and asked just one more please
before you go! Good Sir.

He replies: no my lady
Thank~You and goodbye!!!
Drunken Master.... vixen.

Details | Lyric | |

Keep Me Awake At Night

i never thought i would say
these words are so true
but the fact still remains
i'm so in love with you

i keep thinking about 
when my world is nothing
you take away the grey
with all the things you say
and baby my heart will stay the same
i promise, ohh yeah 
you keep me awake at night

so as long as it keeps pounding
your words will keep on reminding
me of your love, while they keep on lying 
and i know no matter what they say
i'll be yours forever and ever 
as long as you want me too

i never thought i would say
these words are so true
but the fact still remains
im so in love with you

i keep thinking about 
when my world is nothing
you take away the grey
with all the things you say
and baby my heart will stay the same
i promise, ohh yeah
you keep me awake at night

boys and girls sometimes 
say things that are so fake
but baby when you speak
your words i'll never throw away

so let's kiss
just one last time
before you leave
i want your lips on mine
and i'll always remember
ohhh,  hell yeah
you keep me awake at night

i never thought i would say
these words are so true
but the fact still remains
im so in love with you

i keep thinking about 
when my world is nothing
you take away the grey
with all the things you say
and baby my heart will stay the same
i promise, ohh hell yeah
you keep me awake at night

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 | Light Poetry | |


Some things are there that wakes me as I sleep,
They are the dreams of mine aroused in my nights.

The day today and those were passed yesterday were timeless,
But clusters of their memories fill my mind in my nights.

Now the voice of revelation sounds in the thoughts,
That surprised me giving an intangible world in my nights.

And a day when I sights my heart-crush,
A feeling of loneliness appears very inane in my nights.

Next day thought which make me humane clicked to me, 
When I thought I am not considerate in my nights

Details | Rhyme | |

Your Love Poem

                                              My pen was dry and my paper was full..
                                       I promised you a love poem that would not be dull..
                                          So I will lay you down and kiss you with lines..
                                I will whisper sweet words on your neck and take my time..  
                                     The kisses will rhyme and our hearts will beat in tune..
                                   The format will be warm and structure will heat up soon..
                                       We will glide through poetry as only two poets can..
                                          Slipping and sliding to new words as the ink ran..
                                    After the editing is done and the proof reading complete..
                                    I have written you a love poem without leaving my feet..

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 | Free verse | |


For nine months
With love and pain
With joy and suffering
In her womb she carried me
A mother she is 
And a woman of virtue.

When there was no one, she was the only one
Even left alone, she never leaves me alone
Indeed, she’s a mother 
And a woman of virtue.

When toddling, she cared
And still directs when I could run
She is a mother of the child and the adult
In her thoughts are all, even the descendants to come
Many names will I call her; “A mother of all”
And a Woman of Virtue.

Details | Free verse | |

The Same Reservation Road

I walk through the reservation valley of alcoholic death/ 
I fear no darkness among my own for the light breathes life on its own through my every breath/ I can no longer fit in for I need to stand out above the rest/
 I can no longer follow, I got to be the host of my own because Im tired of being the guest/
I want to be the writer I dont want to be the reader/ 
I want to be the artist with the brush, I want to create I want to finally be my own leader/
 I want to be able to follow society's rules because I am tired of being a cheater/
 I want to be the supplier because Im tired of being the seeker/ 

I guess life is what I make it/ Forgive less as much as I still continue to forsake it/
 My life is just a jolt but at times I feel death shake it/ Grab my emotions by the reins and straight earthquake it/ I try and fix my problems until someone comes by and breaks it/
 but this is my time because Im still young so this young opportunity in life I must Take it.
I got to hold my head held high from being low/ 
I got to stay lost until I find my own being my purpose of another young lost soul/
 I cannot stop because Im too tired of staying stuck I must stay on go/ 
This my life now I know it my story waiting to be patiently told/ 
This my life now I got to let it un fold/ Let it slowly but surely grow/ 
Im just a hidden bomb waiting for my poetry to blow/ 

Details | Enclosed Rhyme | |

Broken yet Bound

Yeah I know my life may be broken but yet my purpose in my life is still bound/ 
Im picked up by Jesus everytime Im lower than dirt burriend alive underneath the ground/ I look for signs, I look for meanings, I try and hear something great but cant hear no sounds/ 
I look like S&^t, I look like a clown/ 
I know life aint no joke, aint no game because a lot people I seen last decade and last year are no longer around./
 I was lost in lies until I found truth, I was lost in prison until appreciating freedom in me was found./
 IM know I still got purpose for broken life that is bound...........

Details | Rhyme | |

She Made Love To Me With Poetry

She made love to me with poetry
Rhyming erotic terms
Descriptively and explicitly
Painting a scene that made me squirm

The rhythm of her words
Moving like the lovers she described
With each passing stanza
I grew hotter deep inside

I was building to a climax
Simply by her words upon my screen
Delicately yet deliciously woven
Erotic but not obscene

My heart palpitated
Sweat built up on my brow
I had never been moved like this before
But her words did it to me somehow

She made love to me with poetry
A ballade I’ll never forget
Who knew that you could be seduced
By someone you never met

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 | Free verse | |

Dim the Lights to Encore.

I'm not unhappy with occurrences there in
where moving there upon the silent floor
in undercurrents rippling, marble still
I find your voice as never found before

I'm not uneasy as we dance this dance
where silence reigns the air in static still
as all the sleepers break in dreams at once
You hold me here but not against my will

I'm not unwilling now to take a chance
to blow confusion's wrist a solid kiss
and silently insure the moment's pass
if you would grant me solitude in this

I'm not uncertain as the curtains close
wherein we find ourselves behind the stage
as often what takes place behind the scenes
will pique an interest longing to engage~

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 | Free verse | |

Stick Poetry

Amass comrades,
Tell of your fractured spirit;
They may perhaps share your taste,
But in no way
Hang stick poetry
With Shakespeare,
Like Claude Monnet
Accompanying Renata Bernal
To the ballroom.
There is nothing abstract,
Or occult
In allegories
Of men parting
And women crying
Like clouds
Hanging over Kauai.
If I desire to be pedestrian
I would walk 
The middle-of-the-road.
For Christ sake
Let’s write … gems.
If this charge is too tedious
Our job is to listen. 

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 | I do not know? | |

Passion Fruit Juice

where oh where does my passion lay? in a shoebox, under the staircase? i’ve been looking all day, i’m getting too tired to play. i guess it’s better off this way, to be missing eternally, than to have been found and broken, a curse that bounds when spoken, these days i hardly mention your name. most dreams are fairytales, i need to pretend if i want to achieve. i’m numb, like i’ve had a lobotomy. i am living in honesty or i am not living at all, my passions been pressed into the page - transformed from a natural beauty into something useful.

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 | |

the ceiling burst

the debt ceiling talk
led to so much tension that 
the room's ceiling burst

Details | Blank verse | |

Lost Poet

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 | Rhyme | |

I speak poetry

she says i speak poetry and its true
knowing me i must have flowed for you
look to my eyes , a full soul in view
words all the moments your love would do

spare hearts for those caught in thought
the difficult twist that rips and knots
the lines i gave, a brave, soft spot
when the queen of my hearts fell from the top

forgive but yet i shall never forget
faith in no faith, but its best if i slept
rather dream than see worst outcomes at best
create a new love for some hearts Ive kept

i dont know why I must speak as such
a rough young man, can eat nails for lunch
scars and bone, dress shoes covered in dust
when stripped of my past, i whimper at a touch

Details | Free verse | |

Do not read this

But now your here,

Raise a glass
to all the talented poets here
who, inspire us to write everyday
and all the friends we have met along the way.

Brought together
by a common interest
to express our thoughts
and feelings
and give pleasure
to all the poetry family.

peter Dome. copyright. 2012.

Details | Couplet | |

The Soup for Me

Sticks and stones can miss their mark..
But hurtful words can hit in the dark..

You can dodge a bullet and a bow..
But a deadly phrase never misses low..

A place to share and sharpen our craft..
But negative vibes still make me laugh..

A round table of minds to write as a group..
I do pray for love and peace on Poetry Soup..

To all that are here for the right reasons...

Details | Quatrain | |


He lived when Elvis, the Beatles, Johnny Cash and the Rolling Stones
had strings of hits and he passionately hummed those up-beat songs...
dreaming of becoming as successful and famous as they were;
and following his dream, he turned into a big country singer!

Everywhere he went, he carried a heavy transistor radio
and listened to them and learned those country and rock lyrics...
and the longer he sung them, the more he fed his ego,
so he wrote words without music, hoping to create melodies!.

Sitting at the piano as Beethoven did, he frantically played those keys,
blending them with easiest chords; and if they sounded awkward to him,
he would certainly use another chord that was simpler and more harmonic...
so the boy's passion for music grew as he planned to hit many unknown roads!

Up North, people called country stars:  hillbillies with nasal, funny voices
and such names like rednecks caught on; one would be surprised by their remarks,
or at how they unfairly they were discriminated...and they were all proud Americans!
But the boy's passion for music took him to unimaginable heights and riches!

Details | Rhyme | |

Poetry About Poetry

Shades of color bounce within
Singing their hues dancing in place
Vivid lines colored outside
Rules broken with empty space
A midnights dream heard and seen
Gleaming from the twinkle of a eye
Wings touched flown and plucked
Gliding like a bird up in the sky
Wishes from pennies thrown into tears
The reservoir over flowing with pigments of pain
Drowning from the shadows 
The flood paints the day
Words speak volumes of silence hidden
Their sounds blind to what they see
Mirrors of nouns and verbs 
Their meaning and secrets lost at sea
Emotions ruled by laws of language
Spelled in boxes of glass
Melted from sands inside
That voices strangle to grasp

Details | Ottava rima | |

Serenity and Sexiness

The warming glow that brings my heart abloom,
A fireplace with silent flickering
My passions flowing in a low-lit room,
Oh, take my pen and write, muse whispering.
Soft, quiet thoughts embracing songs, consume.
Engrossed, dramatic shadows shimmering.
Endorphins gleaning precious words, oh soul –
Serenity and sexiness made whole.

© February 6, 2011
Dane Ann Smith-Johnsen

Written for Poetry Soup Member Contest: SEXY! 
Sponsored by: nette onclaud

Details | ABC | |

The Letter S

I can use the letter s with so many s words, 
I am the seventh sign supreme soldier from the reservation suburbs, 
I fly like seagull in the open ocean sky supreme like an serpant eagle eating birds,
 I am so solid Im siked and sipped up from the sizzy sizzurp, 
I stagger until I swerve swiftly as snake in the souless society lost curbs, 
life so crooked it stained with soaked blood life around death curves, 
I cant believe so many lost soveriegn souls *****on they own siblings as the culture turns,
 I know I am sure of being sure of what I sought to learn, 
The brain with suicide can sometimes burn. 

Souless savage in society I be among little certain satans, lost in circles saying "7th Sign Empire Engraving"like my own still souls of savage culture on certain colors discriminating,
 But whats even worse is soul on souls hating, 
Society severed in broken circles still forsaken, 
Serpants searching society split in seven different groups of seven hundred seventy-two,
 Forsake my Se7en and I forsake thee seven times seven fold because truth be said Im souless to you,
 Se7enth Sign Supreme Solid Serene Soldier of of the sacred seven, 
I say I have always said society on my word S

Details | Free verse | |

joy of written word

joy of written word 

Here comes the festival again
‘For the joy of written word’
There comes a time when 
My excitement is limitless
Like the little children I bloom
Noting sweet than a book I see
Nothing joyous that words I read
Here comes the festival again
‘For the joy of written word’
The world of books & words
The festival of writers & words
In the cultural capital it comes
I prepare like the joys of Eids 
Make list, spreading the news 
Along with the friends i prepare 
New faces to meet, new books 
Authors, poets & writers 
Young and old to meet
New cultures to discover, 
New words to learn
A festival unlike in red deserts
A festival of million books
A festival of billion thoughts
Beating in my heart with joy
Here comes the festival again
‘For the joy of written word’

Dedicate to Sharjah International Book Fair - 2011 #SWBF
This trade show is held in Expo Centre Sharjah during 16 Nov 2011 to 26 Nov 2011

Details | Light Poetry | |


Some things are there that wakes me as I sleep,
They are the dreams of mine aroused in my nights.

The day today and those were passed yesterday were timeless,
But clusters of their memories fill my mind in my nights.

Now the voice of revelation sounds in the thoughts,
That surprised me giving an intangible world in my nights.

And a day when I sights my heart-crush,
A feeling of loneliness appears very inane in my nights.

Next day thought which make me humane clicked to me, 
When I thought I am not considerate in my nights

Details | I do not know? | |


my spine moves slowly with each sound
you speak 
again my spine quivers...shudders even

which is it?
A running horse or walking fingers?
I care not!!!
slipping into an abyss of...
Coyly I smile.
Who's first?....sigh!!!

Details | I do not know? | |

The hand that gave me Poetry

I colored my reality with fallacies and stained my skies with lies
The darker shades of pain resembled a subtle but comforting sound of dirt 
landing on this coffin as I tried to burry myself
As I tried to hide what I had become
Every brick of lies that you told that I believed reinforced the walls of insecurities 
around me
It was hard to breath
The warm colors hope faded into distant memories of summer rains
Engraving my name into the empty space half way between here and infinity
You reached into the abyss and shone a light into my darkness
And from within me silver and gold were reflected back
So with this ink and paper I can rewrite the pages of my history 
So with this ink and paper I can reroute the path to my destiny
Walk me along those lines
Along the lines of a beautifully written poem
One whose similes resound with divinity that the moon and the sun are made of 
the same substance
One whose rhythm makes mind, body and soul move to this heart beat
One whose imagery is only matched by the supremacy of my minds eye
One whose depth was so deep that not even you could get it
One whose influence rides alongside the wings of intoxication, seeps into the 
crevices of the mind and changes you
Walk me along these lines

Inspiring hand that gave me poetry, touch me again.

Details | Ballad | |

Hidden Deep Within

I'm back to my writing, 
I'm back to my thinking, 
I dont know why I keep fighting, 
I don't know why I keep drinking, 

I always think I'm too spiritually weak, 
when I choose to ****ing smoke, 
but even ever more when I take that next drink, 
killing myself ain't no ****ing joke. 
Soon I will be six feet deep, 
I'm down in the reservation gutter finally broke, 
words said softly but nothing meaningful ever spoke. 

I'm back to my writing, 
I'm back to my thinking, 
I dont know why I keep fighting, 
I don't know why I keep drinking, 

Tell me something different Lord! 
Tell me why I grew up so ****ing poor! 
Tell me why I spent time sitting in prison crying to you on a concrete floor! 
Tell me why I can't have what I want in this life in what I truly do adore! 
Tell me why I am doing this when I can be doing that because this *****I'm doing now is a bore!
I'm back to my writing, 
I'm back to my thinking, 
I dont know why I keep fighting, 
I don't know why I keep drinking, 

I know the answers I ask are hidden deep within, 
I just have to look past my sins, 
I guess I can be an outlaw of just another outcast laughing at the world with a silent grin,
 I know I can be no hearted in the land of OZ I'm the mother fuking man of tin, 
I know if I would I would do all this *****all over again. 
I used to be the one at the end of the trail with just another loss but this my time to win.
 I know the answers I ask are all hidden deep within.

Details | Free verse | |

Scent Of A Korean Tea

See this not as a flattery
Thou, we both know that 
We met, only, yesterday
But truth is I am missing 
You, every night and day

You and only you
I think of no other, as
I spell out 
These words of mine 
My arts, from the heart

You told me 
To gaze the stars
Whilst I begged you 
To ask the birds
How to fly

I remember that night
It’s something, I’ll not forget
The scent of a Korean tea
Brewed, delicately, with love
To sanctify me

It was already two a. m. when I 
Walked home, from your place
Guided by the sleepy moon 
I found out, we passionately speak
Nature’s own language

Details | Free verse | |

Jill Scott

"Love rain down on me..."
she bellows sweetly
I drink her soul through
the sounds
Letting me into her universe
dripping with love, food, imagery
a beautiful symphony of words
"Slowly, surely, I walked away from..."
the thought of turning my  cd off
Jazz seeping through my pores 
melting me like chocolate in hand
'I understand what you sayin' girl!!!'
Moving feet with every beat
"Love rain down on me..."

Author's Note: Some of the words in this piece are from actual songs. Jill Scott 
has been a tremendous influence in my poetry. Her music and words are 
constant companions. Much respect to her.

Details | Lyric | |

Blood-Drenched Paper

Wordless and pitiful, this fool can’t deny
The emptiness hollowed out deep in my mind
Nothing will redeem these broken thoughts
And nothingness is all I have, I’m so damn lost

I can’t remember how to sleep anymore
I can not recall the taste of oxygen or law
Only the blood that was spilled from my mouth
As I choked upon the words that threw me down

How am I still living without my heart?
How is it that I can stand when I fell apart?
Truth is that I am gone, deep in the dirt
A place where I can not think; where I’m safe from hurt

I can’t recall a way to speak anything
That does not remind me of every single thing
The dry blood across my skin will not be washed away
And whatever else I try to hide has stained all I say

Collapsing into a mess upon the kitchen floor
Fearing to even walk out of my bedroom door
The sun burns away every place I can cry
And the moon delivers another thousand lies

How can I ever hope to breathe and sleep again
When every single breath I take turns dreams into pain?
The stains of blood are punishment for all that I said
And nothingness has carved your face deep within my head

Wordless and pitiful, the things I will write
The deepening eternity of every lonely night
The broken thoughts accompany a song that always plays
I’ve lost you forever, but this music will remain

Details | Light Poetry | |

With The Rain

With the Rain…

Every day is in documentation
Getting it out
Getting it down
Read, if even for one moment
And find something that you can believe in
A solid thought
From a scattered mind

No tomorrow without tonight beforehand
The time will come
But not to rising sun
Seeing, the clouds of rain
That place your spirits in a dampened state of array
A melancholy heart
Speaking without thinking

Growing tired, growing weary
Always as I near the pages end
No endless novel, I’m too far restricted
From going that deep into character, my dear friends
Little gems of thought and emotion
That must rain from me; onto you, all of you…

Details | Free verse | |


I let my voice resonate
so softly
feathers caressing me
like notes on a keyboard 
I soar high 
strumming me 
sweetly I glide
from side to side
as my ears move my feet
"Pa da pa pa paaa!!!"
delicate words
needed to be heard

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 | Blank verse | |


I got
        CRAZY words!

Y’all should see ‘em –
         They’s a
         N’Awleens jumpin’ jazz

    wit’ stilt-walkin’, trash-talkin’
   ‘n’ flamin’ side-show
  sword swallowers

(Voodoo princess in the corner –
   Doncha think y’oughtta warn ‘er?)

They’s ju-ju in the air
  & frantic dancin’ lewd &
         high-life thugs

Well – they jist ain’t
    in control 
    of they senses

  an’ they sho’ ain’t in control
    of the fences --


have been

   s t a m p e d e d

I got CRAZY,
   words make hocus-pocus pie
    wit’ jumbalaya ‘n’ sweet paella
      ‘n’ eggplant parmesan --

I think 
   I’ll eat them words –
      I’m sho’ they taste

‘n’ they ain’t too bad
    digested ‘n’ re-
    gurgitated, neither!

Yeah! Taste them words
  Wit’ yo’ ears,
   Wit’ yo’ eyes
Wit’ da pre-rational room
In yo’ mind
‘n’ dance, dance to they samba –

Starlit night time
    Drunken, shoutin’ revelers
Aswirl in a frenzy
    Of passion ‘n’ despair

Skirts ‘n’ voices
        Flappin’ in the stompin,
Stomped-up dust storm


Got crazy –


Details | Acrostic | |

Poetic Soul

Paradise of beautiful thoughts via heart
Ornamented with pure and serene art
Enlightening postings on varied themes
Teaching various paradigms supreme!
Intellectual writers love to spend days
Creations of delight coined in selfless ways 
Sharing of common passion gets rear    
Offers new chance to entrants in its sphere
Umbrella for world wide authors in one group
Long live the heaven with name Poetry Soup!  

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 | 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 | Rhyme | |

Drug of Delight --My Beloved Wish--

You are like my mesmerizing lullaby
You soothe my body…warming me like blankets
You make me die all the time when you prepare to fly
You are making me daydream without ruthless regrets
Your powers are amazing! You can even teach me to fight
With Your thundering might,
You melt away my impassive heart…
Like a candle, scorching with fright
You are like the merry midnight sky
But our merriness broke loose when you waved bye-bye to our friendship
You make me cry in high spirits time and time again…when I receive your reply!
You are inspiring me to take wing like an eagle, but I lost my grip
My emotions are roaming freely…someday I’ll reach to heaven’s height
With your mind-blowing sight,
You shun out the anxiety brewing in my tender heart
Like a dandy candle…a wish that won’t depart

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 | |

I Want to Write

I want to write something
Of breathtaking beauty
Something of value
That will nurture a soul
Assuage a pain
Tug at the heart strings
And bring release

I want to write the words
That someone will cherish
The words that will bring light
To the dark crevices and corners
Of a battered heart
And bring healing
And peace
And light
And joy
Indescribable joy!

I want to write
About the enchantment of love
And being in love...
About fluttering heartbeats
And quickened breathing
About slowly reaching that melting point...
The mystical moment of surrender
Surrender with sweet abandon
To another
That you are safe
To experience
To know
And be known 
That pleasure is waiting
To be mastered
and to master
and to obliterate all else
Except that moment
in time

I want to write……
But the words
Won’t come
I’m empty...
Parched to the core
And desperately in need
In need of those very words
That will bring me back to life.

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 | 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 | I do not know? | |


Dear poet,
today I read them a poem,
its symbollism I depicted with no mean gestures
its rhymes I mimicked masterfully
and in light tone of its satire I spoke.

Today dear poet,
of their imaginations I begged,
to walk down the lines of your well crafted poem
and rest under the cool shades of timely pauses.

See dear poet,
I beckoned them,
To play in the lushy lawns of your imagination
and ponder deeply of the mood set in your lines.

So I invited them dear poet,
to feast of your nectared thoughts 
and weep of your words gall.

And then I waited............

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 | 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 | Free verse | |

Touch of the Soul

I alone stand vigil over the memories of my past;
I alone feel the weight of them,
feel what it is to be
the man that past has created.
I stand, alone, beneath the stars and the moon,
contemplating all, as I ever have done;
it is only now that I've accepted
that's who I am meant to be;
the writer, the poet –
I stand with the rest of the dreamers.
I sit, alone, among the instruments of music,
playing on and on throughout my life;
music flows into and through my soul,
and I am now and will always be,
the musician and the bard –
I sit with the rest of the drummers.
I travel, alone, with the remembrances of love,
searching always for that one true other;
it is only now that I've accepted that even
without one such, I can live;
the romantic, the sentimental –
I travel with the rest of the passionate.
I escape, alone, in the pages of a good story,
reading for ever and anon;
books speak to me, engage me,
entertain me, release me;
the storyteller and the listener –
I escape with the rest of the readers.
I will fight, never alone, next to my brothers
and sisters in arms;
it is with all of myself that I've accepted
my duty, and who I will always be;
the soldier, the guardian –
I will fight with the rest of the Marines.

I dance, run, walk, laugh, alone, in the rain,
let loose my being in the deluge;
the storm's fury and glory
somehow become my own;
the drenched, the soaked –
I do all of this with the rest of the rain lovers.
It is only now that I've accepted
that I have become
who I was meant to be;
who I want myself to be.
I alone know what it is to be
myself, Andrew James Sprouse,
scion of the sea and of the past,
of the word and the sword.
But I do not alone know what it is to feel alive;
to be exactly who you are,
who you're meant to be.
I do not alone know the truth of pain.
None of us stands truly and utterly alone.
Every single one of us walks, arm in arm,
with those who share your experiences,
your beliefs, your thoughts and your lives.
But you, alone, know what makes your heart free,
what makes your fire ignite and your essence true;
you alone know the visage and touch of your soul.

Details | Ode | |


My shelves are burdened by heavy, old tomes, And publications still fresh from the press, Dime novels and classics fill my small home, Small bibelots enchant, big bibles bless. Many were rescued from second hand nooks, And others are gifts from my cherished friends, Each of these treasures is precious to me, Coins of knowledge, my books, Words that reveal truths and views apprehend, Such are the pleasures of a library. An opus whispers in the lilac gloam, But a mystery winks, so I digress, For the ghost of Cathy on the moor stroams, While Atticus sooths Scout, and I confess that Rhett and Scarlet still kiss in tight crooks, Hundreds of stories unwilling to end, Trilogies, reprints and anthologies, Doorways and windows, my books, Pages that demand the heart and mind blend in volumes of soul stirring poetry. When I need information, text I comb, And though I could simply a keyboard press, These hungry eyes prefer to read and roam old typeset and gild held in a digest. Clever the authors, oh, how their lines hook, No matter if they attack or defend, Their worlds are wider than geography. Wells of wisdom, my books, Mine to enjoy, browse and carefully lend, For I share my riches, passionately!

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 | I do not know? | |

Poetry Means Life Means Poetry (Palindrome)

Means life
Sharing always
Moving and touching others, inspiringly
Delicately, emotion spilled
Spilled emotion, delicately
Inspiringly, others touching and moving  
Always sharing
Life means 

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 | I do not know? | |

To rap critics

You all seem a bit bias and foolish in what you say
a true rapper dream is to change da worlds ways
You may consider this talent forlorn to skill
but it's an equal form of music that you could never kill
you come to your little group and hate artists expression
your i.q. and wisdom must be in a recession
in every lyrist there must be a livin poet
yall's sittin here actin like we can't show it.
and making music ain't about repeatin the past
if thats all you can do your name will never last
as far as write read and play have you seen da machine
it's an art to itself if you'd know if you've ever seen
you sittin in your fourm thankin ignorantly
we don't clown you just spit ours eloquently
If you can't respect art in it's entirety
shut the hell up for peace and serenity

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 | I do not know? | |






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 | Free verse | |


Eyes pierce;
words penetrate;
countenance corrodes…
pity those tough hearts
of rough masculinity
tender muliebrity.

Just think of poor God
…He dares once in a while
out of Maya-muffle
to eavesdrop His devotees’ troubles.

Got encapsulated in Her
enchanting shell, spell
…the God became a helpless manikin
caught within Her tall
woo-prison walls.

What to say
of frail mortal man;
truly gullible
to sirens’ smirks,
swings, snits and whiffs!

O’ man, O’ man…always gets tangled, wangled
and ‘woman’gled
like a fish in an angler’s net.

Details | Couplet | |

Rhymes Are Fun

Anytime I rhyme, I climb, ascending higher and higher
It clarifies life, it fuels my fire

Words constantly cycling through my head
Some I made up, most have already been said

Like: feather, wall, brick, or tambourine
Question! How much for that submarine?

Back to el point; writing, specifically in rhymes, purifies my mind
It centers my soul, bringing me closer to the divine

Details | Rhyme | |

Scary Feeling

I feel like sl-lit,
i wanna flip.
Let my words rip,
come take a sip.

My phone keeps on ringing,
its chesney hawkins singing.
I get this scary feeling,
she's gönnä nail me for stealing.

I look at the sealing,
wish i knew what was the meaning.
I must start to pray,
every single day.

I'm smoking myself to death,
i need to take a deep breath.
Please don't make me fall,
i don't wanna end it all.

Details | Free verse | |

Chasing a dream

I can taste its rewards like freshly made pancakes 

In this type of field I am like the butter fizzing in the pan
But I refuse to melt away. I refuse to give up my chance. 
Even though at times it may seem hard to seek, 

I'll never let it get away from me. I'll mark it down on

the calender like it's my anniversary. 

I can feel it bubbling inside me 

like the formation of a pancake in a pan.
And the images they run through my head

like an unborn child's sonogram. 

I toss my dreams up into the sky with a
invisible magical Spatula and wait for victory. 

Because just like these cakes that are about to 

be devoured I know I've got it in me.

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 | Couplet | |

The Monster

The monster became a living, walking nightmare
my dive into insanity, no longer perfect, containing a blank stare

I should resist, the monster will find me, run away with me
Pretend to hear my meager complaints, force me to see what I'm afraid to see

Blame and guilt, volleying right and left, up and down
It's crashing me closer, with every step, I'm falling to the ground

It's all a game, just play along, play the game, play it well
Brimming confidence, dissolved in thoughts, of what? I won’t tell

Demons, devil born souls, run quick, run fast, stand my ground
No sense of fear, n sense of foreboding, not even a slight sound

High speed, pursuit of hell, bent on going, bent on crashing
Giving into the power, life's faster, lights flashing

Crash and torment me again, my eyes close after all
The beginning of the end for me, feeling numb after the fall

Is there a way out? I'm different, distant and moved on
Listen to the water, calling, coaxing into death, I'm gone

Endless, empty cloud; dreamless oblivion; oxygen, exhalation
Am I dead? Still alive? Broken into pieces, I need motivation

Reality closes in, walls me in; until there’s nothing there
Death comes behind me, containing a blank stare.

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 | Rhyme | |

That Angel Smells Like Lotus Flowers

I know not her name, 
But I can trace her by scent, 
She has driven me into a smell-at-them game, 
And am attracted to her a hundred percent, 

Stronger than my very own Chase, 
But am unable to keep the pace, 
The scent, be it expensive, I'll buy on higher purchase, 
I just want a glimpse of her face, 

Is she a material girl in a material world? 
Who taught her to smell so sweet? 
Whatever the case I'll buy her the world, 
And place it beneath her feet, 

I spoke with the wind to reverse her scent, 
And I followed it to a mansion so beautiful, 
It is here that I'll pitch my tent, 
Till I see this angel that converted me to a beauty fool, 

Alas! A master piece, 
If she isn't a runaway angel from heaven, 
Then God must have really been at peace, 
And created her in days more that seven, 

Introduce myself I shall, 
Even if its only for a while, 
Am Leonardo da vinci, please Monalisa smile, 
But she disappears behind that great wall, 

Details | Prose Poetry | |

Into the Light of the Day

Into the Light of the Day

Front from back who can tell how many lives are changing
Beginning to end
We start and finish time and again
Enter and exit, we come and go but no one knows
Just what it all means to me

Doors unlocked remain unopened for lack of challenge
I only cross where others would not dare look back on
I find intensity in the fight to carry on, at any cost
Survive for you and I, you and I!

Unfinished works lie untouched in the process
But at hand we have created another chapter,
This verse
And tomorrow, saving me from today
Will find this pen in hand
Guiding myself and any believers
Out of the darkness of the forest
And into the light of the day…

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 | I do not know? | |

I Am

I am
a writer with a will.
I am 
a shadow without the sun.
I am 
a bird without wings.
My mind
is a novel,
my heart;
a love song. 
My passion
is free,
My freedom 
is me.

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 | Rhyme | |

The Poet

It is a fever.

The poet

They found the poet outside the park

His steps spoke many words of wine

His upper half seemed half asleep

And his feet walked a crooked line

His arms were spread as if to fly

His lips apart as though to speak

The telltale flush of liquid joy

Told tales of  rum from cheek to cheek

The night herself caroused with him

Drunk on sadness, drunk on care

And drink they drank, the weary lovers

Setting wine against despair

The bonds of reason, broken down

His mind amok, and absent sense

The world in woe, the world in glory

Lay before his presidence


And it was then they walked to him

Rudely rousing man from dream

Casting eye on village bard

Taking man as man would seem

"Sing for us again, o bard

Cast your words at senses keen"

This was why they broke his peace

Winters twice his summers seen

"Sing for us again o bard

Spin sweet words from bitter truth

Stir the embers of your heart

Dig through elder years to youth. And

Let the fountain spring with might!!

Showering us with wisdom earned

Showing us the link in hand

Of teachers harsh and lessons learned

Free yourself from wine's embrace!

We would hear a tale or two"

Turns to them, a wizened face

"Ask not man, but what is due."

Graying eyes regard the gathered

Moving on, from face to face

"The world whirls in the hands of time

And yet all things remain in place"

"As yet all men remain the same

The board reset a dozen times

Pi-eces unaltered, so is game

Though rearranged, the given lines

You come to me as bank to debtor

You plague me with unbridled want

Says at last, man to tormentor

'Cease at once your unjust haunt""

It is a fever

"It is not a gift so given

It is not a boon bestowed

Nor is sight beheld as blessing

When the eyes have overflowed

With the sorrows of existence

Pain cavorts with all men born

Know the price of your persistence

Hear the words of man forlorn

What is loss compared to weakness?

What is pain compared to need?

When the soul suffers from sickness

To give blood to those who bleed

O for those suffering in secret

O for hidden scars concealed

Know a secret's mark of secrets

Is in wounds that never healed

The world at large, and I remain

Numb in spirit, numb of mind

My inner coldness feed by pain

Reaped from years left far behind


It is a fever that I have

It is an illness I possess

It is a symptom that you worship

It is a sign that you profess

To love, to need, to love to hear

While I remain diseased of soul

You chant and clap then disappear

Then falls to me, each telling's toll


It is a sadness that I feel

It is madness that I suffer

When the muses offer gifts

Turn your backs and run for cover

Talent has a price, and paid

This price I have, each passing day

Rise to cup and rise to can

Drink my fill then come what may

All my masters come before me

Warned me of the poet's curse

Know you all of Byron's story

Know you all that Poe's was worse

Happiness is bound to beauty

Joy to all that beauty, see

But for those that birth said beauty

All is pain and tragedy

Listen to my fading voice, now

Listen to my silent plea

Know the doom of every poet

And ask of this, no more from me

I will fellowship with Bacchus

Gimlets of the finest sort

Rise to can and drunken glory

Fall to pleasure and cavort

Now my night bids me return

Wine is all that shields from sorrow

Sets me free from all concern

Trouble enough, will be tomorrow"

His soul unburdened, back unbent

All is caught in a lengthy pause

He turns to go, the air is rent

With sounds of cheer, and of applause

Now lowering balding head to ground

"Man may speak but none may hear

Sing for us again o Bard,

Has now become a thing to fear"

Details | Rhyme | |



An AFFECTION for just a snuggle
A feeble ATTEMPT
From public SCORN
Since the day I was born
I so long to CHERISH
A YEARNING that won’t perish
To TENDER the FLAME of self control
A love to BLOOM before I slip
BAMBOOZLED by your swaying hip

Details | Ode | |

Prayer To My Self

Walking away might be the most hardest things for a man to do, you cant even imagine what that feeling can do to you. Falling flat on your face would be better than to look shameful, even walking around naked around the streets would be cool. But like any story in life goes, there is always that one person that will help you get back on your feet and walk again. No matter how much you fall, no matter how much you stumble upon a struggle, that person will be there with you till the end. Give love and thanks to this person who never leaves your side and helps you put a smile on your face everyday. When the day comes to an end and you know that the person has to go, all you can wish is for your special person to stay. Mine has walked away on me, I was so blind that i couldn't see. She wanted everything for her self, for me to change and be what she wanted me to be, but i had to let her go and never see this person again, cause it would only be worse in the end. Writing this is more painful than getting your body tattooed, writing this is more painful than getting over screwed. Writing this is more painful than words, writing this is more painful than razor sharp swords. No matter how much you try to let it out it just wouldn't come out, the pain is way to deep and its almost like its tattooed on your bodies gout. haven't i been hurt enough in this world, i just don't understand why i am being treated like this, is it cause i am better than you and have nothing to look forward too but my blue and black handkerchief? The cut was way to deep my dear, you just cant imagine, i have been cut and bruised for the last time, i can promise you that. No one will ever touch this body or hurt this soul ever again, if you wish to try so, go ahead and check it, but before that go ahead and get yourself a casket.

Details | I do not know? | |

Caught Up In The Rock And Roll Game

Don’t get caught up in the game 
Don’t get caught up in the fame
It will drive you insane
It’s only you to blame 
When you get caught up in the game*Refrain: 

Because you walk through the crowd
They all know your name
The road twists and twists
 With a surprise each turn
Try to stay above it all or you’ll soon learn
 That the eyes looking in are hungry for your blood
Don’t mistake it for the love
Cause they all want a piece 
Of the music, rhythm, and soul
They love the Rock n Roll
Then there’s the girl who writes the rhymes  
Loves the love and soon you’ll find
Her spirit is so real and her sex appeal
I know you feel 
The fire that burns from the words she writes to you
It’s a powerful heat that makes your heart feel new
She loves the melody you put in her soul
It warms her heart, it makes her whole
Her spirit soars so high 
When you look into her eyes
The fire is so hot between the girl and this rock n roll guy               

Don’t get caught up in the game
Don’t get caught up in the fame
It will drive you insane
It’s only you to blame
When you get caught up in the game

Details | Rhyme | |

Dawn of Misfortune

You’re the dawn of despair and gloominess
You’re the sunset that discards my gladness
You deceived me…you made me trek the road of calamity
You grieve for me…you yearn for my sympathy… but I overlook your pity

Horror strikes me, scorching away my destiny
My confidence has slowly departed from me…so what should I do?
Terror swallows me alive, now I’m begging to flee!
My self-reliance has disregarded and fled from thee…now I’m crammed with woe

Digest the emptiness that I feel deep inside
Heed to what I’m about to announce to you…
Digest the affliction that I brushed aside
Hear what I’m about to warn you about…it’s all true

You deserted me…melt the isolation that has filled us with woe
You brainwashed me…you tarnished my bliss
You captivated me…now I have nowhere to go
You terrorized me…you singed up my happiness

You’re the dawn of anguish and shame
You’re the midnight stars that burn with fame
You betrayed me…you made me cut down my garden…shedding fertility
You mourn for me…you long for my forgiveness… so I’m ready to accept your plea
What is the code that will animate your presence?
What is the code that will liquefy the ice of silence?

Details | Rhyme | |

attending the now

rain drops due cause the dew thickens
 in the morn light barely flicking, misting
crickets stop in thickets and listen
stillness of the moment sundials ticking
presence of the motion constantly spoken
loads of odes a la mode  left open
soaked in a coat my hope approaching
light broke I awoke and eloped with odin
my lips sealed no promises broken
mind in a frenzy, excited for devoting
more meaning in the fire, desire is stoking
lines that humble me, released emotions
spiritual language, balanced ascending
challenge amending, talented bending
of words I've heard or purged for an ending
my muse eludes to conclude  I'm attending

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 | I do not know? | |

I Am A Writer

Not inspired by great people before me
Not bound by words to be graded by this time
I am a writer for all time
Inspired solely by my spirits knowledge
Bound only by sincerity to Self
The gift, though mine, is yours to take
but always remember, mine to give
I am a writer, exposing for your theories
the coldest,warmest,deepest caverns of my being
Fear not and judge me
For I am a writer capable of timeless love
Accepting of all life's lessons
Measure my greatest pleasure
with all your spirits conviction
Leave mediocrity for those still searching
Take from me what I freely
and without hesitation hand over to you
The priceless gift of a writer

Details | Free verse | |


It wasn't what we wrote; 
that which was startling, or true,
or even the stark cynical twist
which grasped at the neck so early,
but the fact that deep below
was the cold pathetic marrow
that ached and ached and we
felt no shame in our therapy-
writing page after page 
of neurotic fireworks,
and very few,
but the most low and dying
really knew
and felt
The Grime,
that slime and slithering evil
of despair and medicated happiness,
our poetic moments-
that which we could bare,
'was', and 'is' why
we will never be loved.

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 | |

Latenight No2

On grieving:
there is both a time
and a place.
Leave your swollen sensations at your seats,
and please allow the door to hit you on your way out;
I can tell you need the kick.
Call it a funeral,
sounds like a carnival,
call it a funeral,
I call it a fun-for-all.

Details | Rhyme | |


To reach real glory one must persist,
do not imitate any literary work, resist;
be original and creative,
be unique and try not to forget
that confidence in oneself is very imperative.

Rhyme Scheme: A, A, B, A, B
Syllable Count:  9/14/ 9/ 9/14

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 | Rhyme | |

Prayer of Thanksgiving

I thank you Lord for life,

 health,and strength.

I pray for the haters,

Who think they have me bent.

I love you Lord with all of my,

Heart, my mind, and my soul.

I know that even if I strive,

To live right and allow you

To rule my life, then all of

My battles for me you'll fight

And win. I will then see

You and I'll walk the paved

Streets of gold in Heaven.

I pray that  each  day,

I help someone to come,

Your way. I love you Lord,

To express it there's not

Enough to say.

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 | Lyric | |

Poetry, Craving...

you, I’ve 
penned so much, 

ache, typing
forms, such as:

rhyme, sonnet, acrostic,

and free-verse---

to name 
a few, though 

bled, but 
not fed up 

...from craving, for your lips!

Details | Dramatic monologue | |



Details | Rhyme | |

New Song

When I lay with you,
I sense all that I might yet become;
the sheen of our sweat,
my glistening purpose shines in sum.
Of the flutt'ring mass,
you are my most significant dove;
and, riding you,
my lioness, the hint of perfect love.
When bare before you,
you see my many masks as mere hints;
tasting fingertips,
I kiss the swirls of your latent prints,
as my thumb traces
the pattern of your breasts'  hard nipples,
our smoothness is lost
to our lust, leaving roiling ripples;
going down, I know,
tonged, circled motions bring you delight;
in your ecstasy,
my promise of most beautiful light,
with arms 'round my back
in your feral, feminine embrace,
I, then, breach and thrust
into the curvature of your grace;
all else falls away,
my sole thought is of  you, here and now;
I'm overcome by the scent 
of cornfields, as though I plow;
I drink of the ripe vine
that my heart's yearned for, for so long;
in you, I found inspiration
to write this, my new song.

Details | Free verse | |

Saturated Bodies of Ink and Blood

Progressive letters talk and reel
Tempting minds at the brink of fruition
Imaginative portents come to being
Through the exchange quality of mental travel
Ideas fashion acclaim and source the brain
Stimulating fervor glows mutant at souls pestering

But when boundaries come to claim
Their acute diatribes of definition
Suspicion sets precedent 
And bodies are blocked from exchange
Love loses commotion
And falls on the reign on unjust heads

Come through fire and change
The ringing dance of changing times
Rewinding a renewed past to press the future
Set upon homes and dark roads
Jungle heat captures gestation
When all human plans fail again

Now a story of pride set on sails
Gyrates and flails from mythic seas
What facts miss, emotion drives in hiss
Bleeding like battered bliss
To regain a sorcery of concerted mind

Life itself burns at both bridges
Growing ashes amidst flames and scattered brains
Ink splattered
Porous hole in memory takes shape
Yet mountains of lives grow thin
Categorized from bland overtones and underlings
Blood gathers barbaric at contact

From shock therapy progressive motion
Minds regain power out from distortion
Ink settles in firm consolation
Healing all breaks of skin
And the ripples unseen bend again

Details | Lyric | |

The Other Side

A two pedal flower
growing in a meadow
no one around to watch
the growth of such a wonderful thing

The infinite nature of outer space
A soul left to wander the great world
your first maybe last trip away from home

In the deepest part of my mind
sits the keeper of the world
In the mind of another
sits the darkness we all seek

A shadow which is always with us
We fall on our way to the light
getting further off track
and closer to the darkness

The secret of the womens face on the moon
what does she know that we dont?
the wilderness the other side of the world
i have left to see.

once again i will be one with nature
one with the angels
and one with freedom

Details | Concrete | |

The Quill

                                                Page Seeking Life                   
                                         Blank                      Exploring           
                                    This                      Peace 
                                  Beyond                        The
                               Alone                    World
                             Travel      Joy      Unknown
                            Night      The     Letting      
                            And       Feel        Others
                          Day        To            See
                          You                Using
                             Like      Silvery    
                             Just  Quill


Details | Light Poetry | |

' Flashlight-Battery, Baby ... ' (or Shine On Jared Pickett)

The Girls Have All Agreed
On Some Things, All Women Need:
A Supply Source For Our Vanity
… and The Eveready-Flashlight-Battery …

Going Down A ‘Random’ Road
In The Deep of Night, When Life Has Slowed
Down … or Car Comes To A Stop
We Need An Energizer or Copper-Top …

In The Deep of Night, Trying To See
And Feel Safe, Thru Our Ambiguity
When We Need More Than Flicker-Flattery
… Give Us A Flashlight Battery …

… Your Flashlight Smile
Your Flashlight Style
Your Flashlight Confidence
Your Flashlight Manliness

Your Flashlight Ego
Is A Flashlight Hero
… and The Flashlight Form, Most With It
Is The Flashlight, Jared Pickett …

… Incorrigible, Adorable, Really More Than Capable
Hot, Poetry-Soup Staple And Palpable
With Appetites, Insatiable
Your Poetry is Quite Potent-Pleasurable

So, Flash On, Big Screen Valentino !
Lead On, With Lines of A Lothario
Casanova, Would Be Your Acolyte
( ‘Cause Even A Lady Needs A Flashlight )

Flash On, In Sensual-Satisfactory !
Give A Taste of Testosterone-Trajectory
No Girl Can Stand Before A Man, In All His Glory
This Is Factory-Tag… and It’s Man-datory

If Dura-Cell, I Got A Place For You
So, You Can  Keep Doing, What Cha’ Do
And Power-Up, Like You’ve Alluded
‘Cause This Doll, Needs Batteries Included …

And Pour Me A Real-Strong Daiquiri
Put On Favorite CD, Slow-Dance, Track For Me
And Come Here, You Copper-Top-Skinned Honey
And Beat That Drum … You Energizer-Bunny

To:     Jared Pickett … The Flashlight
         and The Romeo Of Poet-Writes
This One’s An Original – Just For You Kiddo …

                 Your Poet-Pal,
                       The MoonBee

Details | Free verse | |


On this parchment
I am forced to write
That of which I cannot speak

On this oh so delicate paper
I am enraptured
by my under lying thoughts

On this meager piece of material
And this once sharp pencil
I try to express the deepest of emotions

On this once blank loose leaf
That I now read to it's fullest
I find that though I wrote about nothing

On this one piece of parchment
About nothing at all it seems
Is full of something you feel, not just see

Details | Free verse | |

i put my pen down

i put my pen down
and stop the writing
leaving the realm
everyone wants me in
stabit, beat it, stop it
the poems they are my drug,
i lose myself within them
i have laready lost myself
submerged in them
i yell out
"is my pen 
here to be for me?
yes the pen is here for me"
why are you here
still, if i am going to
put the pen down
to its death bed
to deprive it of its 
i will take life
strip it form
a lifeless force.

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 | |

Her Silent Seduction

Her mind wanders with every pause, every space Between the lines he writes She is taken to where she never thought she’d travel To where fantasy seems a reality As eyes so affix themselves to the words, the meaning The heart gets a hold of emotions It races, increasing, with each word, each syllable With deep breaths, to this place she returns The heated midday sun is cool compared to her now As words transform her quiet day Into a raging pool of need and want She so succumbs to the overpowering lust of sensuality As her discretion is cast aside Her eyes close upon the very last word read Her heart and body tremble As a quake, undeniable to all, Takes her to the apex of poet’s mountain And back again Returning her to her world And to the next poem to read

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 | I do not know? | |

Tendrils of Hope

Refusing to succumb,

to the alluring haze of self-pity,

I refuse to wallow,
in an ocean of regret,

I choose to banish thoughts of despair,

dispelling pain, while tempting joy to emerge from its shielded lair.

I shall sow the seeds of promise,

nourishing well,

the tendrils of hope,

breathing new life into my nights, my days.

I must stand, I will rise, I have to believe,

in a better tomorrow,

not perfect, nor rosy,

yet filled with tidbits of bliss,

as well as with shards of sorrow.

Details | Cinquain | |


Word traveler
Letting us see his mind
Pen and paper always with you

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? | |


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 | Free verse | |

Drain It All Away

Drain out all the agony
Help me fulfill my destiny 
Catch the waves…it’s coming from all directions
And wipe that frown…

I’m trying not to break away…in front of you, I’d rather stay 
But it seems like…the clouds decide to fade 
I’m dying every day…I’m making time to survive this day
I’m drying… I turned out to be a hideous shade
I’m releasing the sorrow… clinging on to gloom... 

Your affection and glory
Set me free from despondency 
Stand up and face the emotion – your heart mends my infections
And don’t weigh me down…

I’m trying not to break out…but it sparkles in my bloodshot eyes
My sorrow is exposing… but you’re still willing to stay 
I’m caught in midair…I’m a slave, pursuing my demise  
I’m shriveling…I embrace your departure…I’m wasting away…
I’m soaking up the sorrow…poisoning my bloom…

Details | Free verse | |

The Emotional Cry

Inside of my soul is emptiness 
I can't get rid of this
all of this emotional relationship sh!t
made me unstable naw I ain't tellin fables
but listen & look into my eyes more deeply
my heart feels so cold now
the Pope or catholic priest couldn't reach me
reach one teach one 
I hear evil but I don't see none
and whats worst in like 8 months 
I might have a lil daughter or son
and truth be told I can't stand my baby muva
I regret ever speaking to her Damn!
when we was loving I wish I would've used a rubber
she's the reason that I need a brake from the female species
I don't know whats worst dealing wit someone 
who could physically or emotionally beat me
right now I swear I just need to be by my lonesome
I been on the frontline long enough
she's the reason that I no longer believe in love
truthfully speaking if I wasn't a poet 
I'd probably feed myself a slug
Now look in my eyes can't you see the emotional flood

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 | 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 | 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 | Blank verse | |

Bathroom Floor Revelations

i'll bleed myself out
in this swollen well of ink
releasing tension
as deep red swirls into blue-black
the walls are slick
with the parts of myself
i can never climb out of
& as i go under
i wont bother
holding my breath

Details | Couplet | |

Write On

Some save innocent people's lives.
Some get honey from bee hives.
One was famed for coming and healing, 
One was famed for painting a ceiling.
Loves and passions are never far from sight,
Same as mine. As for me, I write.

Details | I do not know? | |

The Crow

The crow, turning in it's
black, oil varnished wings.
The crescent moon, a yellow tint
that sits in it's socket.
The centre punctured making way
for scanning glances.
Take this as a symbol.
The rows of evil arms that grow
from an arched spine. Grab at life.
Devour it. Manufacturers of the end.
They break and bend their calls, players of the wind
as it dances on their tail.
Mysterious, mystical and malicious.
Trademark of superstitious as they lurk
behind our every fear.
Inside the lightest tint of ivory plastered
across the brittle bones.
Darkness eats the light.

Details | Blank verse | |

A Declaration of respect

Knowingly or unknowingly,
Lawfully or unlawfully,
When a person commits crime,
His soul has no taste of blood,

He seeks mercy to repent,
From his forcible power,
That was hidden inside his mind,
He seeks salvation forever.

But when another cruel power,
Serves forcibly punishment for him,
Then his soul reminds him a criminal,
An innocent blames him a killer.

Actually circumstances are very powerful,
Opportunist always picks innocents,
Those have painful poverty to curse,
Intelligent people teach them a lesson.

A lesson of crime is unlawful achievement,
A poor can lost his way because 
He is poor but he is also innocent,
But professional was never declared criminal.

They are enjoying their lives peacefully,
They are high ranked in society,
Their dignity and honour has a place,
They managed crime but aren’t punished.

Innocents kill innocents when a criminal,
Dies in the eyes of Law, system was shaken,
And struggles itself that is seeking change,
Who shall remove these masks from justice?

Over the centuries had passed away,
Who has learning from innocent deaths?
Only innocents were born to wear pain,
But a master mind is always well-respected.

Professionals has their class for protection,
Where they care for eachother to hide crime,
They honour eachother for a declaration of respect,
That’s why law and system has innocent death.

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 | Dramatic monologue | |

It's the time of the day...

It’s the time of the day
When my friend lurking all day came alluring
Pulling me on to the bed of romance
Lost and caught in her cobwebs of passion
I cuddled her with artistic hands
And with a lover’s deft touch, I caressed her
Struggling and wriggling with pained-pleasure of love
Her skin so pure, so pristine 
Light, rich and fluidy was her black blood
Oh! It was her first time!
Oh! It felt like it’s my first time 
Lone long evening, in a desert of a house
Lone like survivors of plane crash in middle of a nowhere
Save for a peeping white fluorescent
An indifferent radio set
And a compromising notepad
It’s the time of the day 
For my new black pen and I
And our copulation conceived for us:
Creases of these poetic lines.

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 | 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 | Romanticism | |

Unto Me

                                 What shall thyself do?
                When the night mourns thy selfless brew
                                And shall call upon thee
                                As for soon, ye shall see
                           The blackened eyes of death
                      That lingers past the baby’s breath
                    That shall grow upon thy future grave
                           And ye cannot soulfully save
                                     Thyself upon thee
                                       Of all the things
                             That ye hath done unto me


                                       Contain thyself
                                 As ye shall make a fall
                                   Into the arms of Hell
                           And under all demons' claws
                                   For the horrid crime
                                    Of that against love
                             That ye hath done unto me

                        O, what a torturous lapsing hand!
             That makes me burrow upon the ocean sand
          And turned the sour grin of the devil upside down
                      That left him to cry upon thy grave
                          Onto which in time I shall lay
                            That ye hath done unto me


                         As I yet wait upon the calling year
                 Of angels to whisper into my troubled ear
                              That all hath been a dream
                          Of the awakening smile of thee
                                      But can not one 
                               Turn thy events undone
                            That ye hath done unto me?

Details | Rhyme | |


History will judge me I'm finally told,
when greatness will be mine to behold;
this naked truth has always reflected my intent...
nobody has ever been able to muzzle any sentiment.

Negative criticism can't eat away my spontaneous creativity,
and diminish this inwardly intricacy;
and if irascibility seems irrepressible...
no irony is found in relevant words that are totally irrefutable.

History will judge me for my free will,
examining my morals and authenticity,
and by its own standard, acclaim me as they will...
even for my fluent and expressive verses of sincerity.

Belying is not the mendacious creed I profess,
intolerant of inequality, inflamed by fairness...
expelling deeds of duplicity that impinge on truthfulness;
and the imbecile, like the scoundrel, still practices insolence.    

History will judge me for my temperament:  sad, jaunty,
jolly, jocose, comical, querulous, lonesome and moody;
and should it immortalize me among its chosen literati...
this honor I will accept with acclamation and dignity. 

Copyright 2009 by Andrew Crisci 

Details | I do not know? | |

How dare you

How dare you treat me any kind of way 
I'm not a rag doll,your soulmate not even your child.
Is it that hard to get through your head. 
What do I have to do to let you know
I belive everyone has rights,just like I had the right to refuse to talk.
All I want is a little respect.
Respect, Respect do you even understand that word.
I can only give RESPECT if I receive it.
Like My Mom Always Tell Me God Don't Like Ugly.

Details | Free verse | |



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 | Rhyme | |

"Early Morning Writes"

I lay here laptop in hand, watching you sleep...
I touch the keys so lightly, trying not to make a peep...
The sheet clings to your curves like a wrapper on prize...
Your hair flowing over your pillow like beauty you can't hide...
As you toss and turn I freeze to watch your breathing so de vine
Your arms and hands peak from this somber only to reach for mine..
Those brown eyes slightly open as the sheets slide and expose another
part for me to see...
The laptop closed as our hands start to wander for paradise is coming
before coffee or tea....
This write will have to wait, for its a time for love and inspiration on this
lovely morning date.....

Details | Personification | |

felt in this world

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 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 the war within the chains of bondage.
Keeping us slaves of death.
Our "seeds of faith" never failing,
surrendering to our human nature.
Repenting with our bankrupted souls.
His grace,given with forgiveness
and love.

Details | Free verse | |

Violet Skull Scavenger

I came upon you like a path 
of broken sprigs
of mint and lavender
Violet skull scavenger
how I do wilt when I dream as
an indigo carousel spun in your eyes
You've broken down every
thought that I might have thought
pearly and sugar wrought
sleeping in peace
'till you crushed them to scent up
our cobblestone walkway by the light of the moon
Now in your recompense
you will dispose, dispense
all of your wisdom in icicle dew
frozen on eye lashes, whispered goodbye flashes
there is no other exactly like you...

Details | Blank verse | |

The Poet

The poet's voice, a lonely flute
From the grotto of orphaned dreams,
And Sorrow the arms which wrap him
'Til e'en they grow frail, and falter,
Thus failing, cast him down-
A writhing soul unblest
By fair Sleep's last kiss...

His word, a sword
And princely thing!
His power firm, and curse-
For his the alighting of Heaven's sighs
Or a phrase to stymie giants...

Tho his thousand sonnets tribute Roses,
Nary a one will bed him-
For his the rage of the seeking Winds
Which howl through gardened graves,
A midnight dance of madness 
By angels peopled and tears companioned...

Thus, then, he lives,
As touching the Dark,
And then the Dark awakens...

Details | Free verse | |

I Took Emerson Off the Shelf

“For it is not metres, but a metre-making argument that makes a poem--a 
thought so passionate and alive that like the spirit of a plant or an 
animal it has an architecture of its own”- Emerson

Your smile is selfish and sensual;
A poet, with Apollo’s privilege,
Dressed in the loneliness of civility
Where is the fire, the flame,
The grab for passion,
That goes beyond the fame
Of a painted world.

Show me how the greening earth makes you feel,
How the curdled fields of winter
Light your dreams; show me these things,
Before a fairy fire, so I know 
You are more alive, than you seem.

Details | Rhyme | |


Quite often I have asked myself
the true purpose of writing,
when I could indulge in life...
and suddenly stop dreaming!

Tired from work, my poetical urge rises:
like tides rising on the moon's appearance,
I look away...even reality is no pretense;
yes, words can survive a body that dies!

I feel and pursue no other passion more than this one:
bringing verses to life when they are non-existent;
at least, they have found in this poet a strong voice again...
they will be recited by vibrant lips, then he'll meet his end!

Details | Free verse | |


                   THE INDIGO SEDUCTION

                      Give me words
                           That spread indigo fingers tapping
                           That jolt me in midnight black
                            That simmer me in violet
                                                                      across delicate cool white sheets

                         Give me words
                             That dance upon my heart
                             That leave my tongue yearning
                             That leave my eyes searching
                                                                       For the far horizon

                         Give me words
                             That make my hands tremble
                             That make my pulse race
                             That make my skin tingle
                                                                       For your silken sheets

                             in exchange

                            I’ll make your next  verse howl

Victoria Anderson-Throop 2013

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 | 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 | Alliteration | |

pour down

Pour down


Utter a word that speaks to the soul

Savor a moment that drips from these lips 

From this tongue, take a sip

Of these moments 

This trip upon journey, 

And reveries galore

A moment to store within the tip

Of these fingers

Writing moments that flip

The mind and stipulations

Of stained conversations

Dripping dirt on 

This shirt of white lasting exploration

Expiration of doubt and drought we have seen

Tasted the bitter moments of salt

Give me juicy stories that slip

From the mouth, from the lips

Whipping away the brand 

Of dry, of bland

Give me words that express

And upon stress, I can strip

Away anything that tips 

The scale of wet hell

Convey sounds from great script

And beneath the water I sip

Truth beyond common words

Snipping girth, I've coerced

Each moment




Details | I do not know? | |

Reason to Rejoice 11032011


WHEN MY FRIEND CALLED to tell me the story of how she lost 
One of her expensive hearing aids
It sounded similar of the lost coin
Diane described how she had taken care of 5 or 6 errands in a day

During that time she placed her hearing aids in her pocket
When she returned home
One of them was missing
Diane hurried back to all places she had been

Retracting every step she searched for the precious item
Her voice held such amazed joy and gratitude 
As she related the moment of actually finding the tiny hearing aid
No wonder Jesus used a story of losing and finding something of value to describe the joy God has over “one sinner who repents

When I hesitate to let go of an old hurt 
Avoid repenting of my wrong doings
I hope the memory of my friend’s enthusiastic discovery
Will nudge me to give the Holy One another reason to rejoice

Readings and Gospel
Romans 14:7-12, Psalm 27:1
Psalm 4, 13-14, 
Luke 5:1-10

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 | 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 | Fibonacci | |

As Often As We Can (Fibonacci)

                                           Still dance 
                                            As often
                                    As we get the chance
                                 Beneath a lovely moonlit sky
                      We allow the rhythmic sounds to take us on high
Like flying through joyous clouds filled by love and sweet romance kindled through the 
art of dance~

Copyright Adell Foster© 2006 Adell1

"Dancing is good for the soul"

Fibonaci: 0, 1, 1, 2, 3, 5, 8, 13, 21... Poetry: 1 syllable, 1 syllable, 2 syllables, 3 
syllables, 5 syllables, 8 syllables, 13 syllables, 21 syllables... 
The number of syllables in each line must equal the sum of the syllables in the two 
previous lines. So, start with 0 and 1, add them together to get your next number, which 
is also 1, 2 comes next, then add 2 and 1 to get 3, and so on.

Details | Free verse | |

Art Imitating

is better found in the voices of lovers.
merely play with words and
search the canvas for visual seduction.

Details | Rhyme | |


I tally all my thoughts at bay,
disguised within my fevered mind,
and to them I regret delay
but wary I will fall behind.

For I believe these weary thoughts 
have given me the time to fear,
All such madness, craven draughts
of one more hour, wasted here.

And for the barkeep I may pass
a time, a piece, of relished bliss,
because my form no longer asks
of me, to find that worthiness,

that lies behind these broken seems
and sulks between my fingertips,
eager for abducted dreams
of words I know and thoughts I miss.

Details | Quatrain | |


Since childhood my vivid and alluring aspirations
painted my rainbows with different colors,
not the ones I was after and truly adored...
who has ever heard of a teenager being bored?

Anytime I saw a train leave the station with its smooth rhythm,
I wanted to be that conductor who could never fall asleep,
and at every stop he would look carefully before closing the doors...
then, laid-back, watch the changing landscape and whistle his tunes!

If imagination had not been there to tackle my reflective tendencies
that were, indeed, rooted in all aspects of the present wilderness,
I wouldn't have cultivated this passion and turn it into a realistic dream...
which allowed inspiration to enter the subconsciousness of this thinker's realm!    

The fast-paced postman delivering mail to mailboxes seldom locked, thrilled me;
he looked so sharp and handsome greeting folks, and it would have been an honor
to chat with them, listening to their suggestions and helping them thoroughly...
I visualized myself as such, and even practiced it daily in front of large mirror!

If tons of ideas hadn't fed the urge to jot down details with ebullient imagery,
unless I wasn't aware of their poignant meaning and powerful message,
I wouldn't have let fantasy create an extraordinary dreamer out of someone so ordinary...
to adorn dullness with my cheerfulness and change winter to spring!

Details | I do not know? | |

Messages Of Love

Write a letter, a note, a message,
Whatever that can make him notice.

Fold the paper into the shape of a bird.
Let the written piece fly away to where he is.

Write a note. Post it onto his locker.
It’ll make him discover there’s an admirer.

Roll up a message. Place it in a bottle.
Never know where it might just settle.

Write a letter. Mail it away.
So that he may read it one day.

E-mail what you want to say. Send it away.
Patiently wait for what he has to say.

Write a wish. Envision it becoming real.
Perhaps someday you’ll both truly feel the same.

Details | Prose Poetry | |

Beauty Is In the Eye of the Beholder

Oh, was it really possible that we’d ever pen, or 
is it necessary to debate our in-sensitivities, 
the ups and downs of life, being sandwiched between
our likes and dislikes of a certain form in writing?

To a degree, of versifying, we have the so-called 
“To each his own” ability
and power to attract the readers of the mind,
to fully enjoy us, in our chosen form. 

Some would profess they dislike haiku
...’cos of its shortness and simplicity
and most likely, many would prefer free verse,
than to listen to the enchanted soul of rhyme

...’Cos of its un-metered style and absolute freedom;  
yet I, the handsome I (ahem!) do love, not prefer 
the beholder of my beauty, my beautiful wife (ahem!)---
a thousand times over, and greater than those few.

Ahh, the exquisite beauty of poetry, 
the subtle meaning half hidden 
in ones’ lines, and totally not seen in its form
but most certainly, lies in the eye of the reader.

Details | Quatrain | |


Putting thoughts on paper, connoting their portent;
contesting guilt by being lyrically concordant
with symphonic tones of poetical elegance,
expressing a mere necessity rather than extravagance.

Details | Free verse | |

Digits enraged

Who has the amble 
amorously succulent,
with digits enraged
and idiom
expressing its
firm tender

Is it the virgin ?

Who is gladly
the devotion,
yet guile to those
who will not accept;
all need touch ?

It is the poet,
the poet indeed !

Details | I do not know? | |

Mental Affair

I gaze a stalky single-helix cradle,
Squished so in seemingly hydrous blue cover,
Attracts square substantial planes in a bundle.

I embrace now feather's mass helve to ladle
Psychic portraits siphon to it in wander.
My fist fiddles as it scribbles on oodles.

Cuts of a suckling tree, soil, river fondle
Paper, pen, poet in cahoots as lovers
Rupture of a skeptic smug gnostic noodle

Details | Bio | |

Mental Prose

Inside the poet's mind lays ideas and thoughts and plans to unwind.
In its thicket are the seeds of imagination which dares to wander out; out of her 
pen to paper and dazzle the reader or amuse herself.
Inside the metal machine of the prose queen is the craft of genius that drives her 
to write, to read and recite ...the click, click, snap, snap...of the spoken word of her 
Fine tuned but ever sharpening her tools of quick wit and quicker response to a 
perhaps, " coined phrase". Yes inside the poet's mind is justice untold and 
stories unfolded to the tender young ears of her audience or the seasoned circle 
of her lyrical peers.
Inside the imagination of rhymes an music that create her own blend of 
linguistical rhythm that moves men to their feet and yet soothing enough to cradle 
her sweet angels to sleep.
Ah yes, the mind of a poet, it holds mystery, romance, questions, history, 
laughter, and elegant language..and yet it is able to convey the feelings, hurts, 
surprises and loves of life in a simple statement.
A poetic mind? Absolutely spontaneous genius.

Details | Free verse | |


Dear dearest amongst other dearests,

Amongst thousands of thousands stars
You’re the first and brightest of other brightests
Amongst the bravest of bravest hearts
Yours not only kindest but also flawless

11th place in 'Truth or Dare n Any poem contest'
Sponsored by: P.D :D

Details | I do not know? | |

Thought Compost

Everybody's made of different stuff,
Some are all about laughs, others pain.
Whatever it is, we all have enough.

I'm made of words, though the majority of them are unheard.

If I don't write I start to fade into a calvacade of thoughts with bombs and horrors.
I gotta get rid of my steam on paper -
doesn't do much good just to dream 'cause it'll catch up with me sooner or later.

Sometimes, in bed, I can't get to sleep at night 'cause the words in my head need release through what I write.

Now if I herd them from my mind and all the way down my pen they generally don't bother me again.
Otherwise it's like I'm trying to hold onto a raging bull, who's tossing me about on his horns,
while I only have a rope to pull.
No spears or weapons of any kind!
Can you imaging the terror creeping up behind?

I don't control the words - I'd say it's the other way round.

Sometimes I've gotta sift through Thought compost, or dig a hole in Imagination's ground
before I find anything worthwhile to say.
But hey, it's not often!

Mostly they march to the sound of a beating drum, and I have no control over the speed at which they come.
They're supposed to be MY troops!  Instead they've got ME jumping through hoops - doing handstands and other silly stuff.
I don't think they'll ever learn when Enough is Enough...

But that's okay.  For all my complaints, I don't want them to go away
(could use a few restraints though!).

If I had to choose something with which to surround myself,
it'd have to be words and language;
Not the sentimental treasures on the shelf.

Food for thought.
Maybe a poetry sandwich, maybe roast beef on rye...

I'll write my dreams on paper and then toss them into the sky. 

Details | Dramatic monologue | |

A Letter to Sir John Heck

To You, My Dear John

I am sending you, this epistle, through the wind
Passing, quietly, across the gentle seas of the gods.

I am a poet, not ‘cause I was born a poet, but I am 
A poet by sole virtue of what my aging brain sees.

And it controls me more often, than my contrite heart.
Is it pretty good or not, the mind first before the heart?

I have been sitting on this board for a year or two
And I have laid my emotions on forms: if not all,
On some of them. Oh by the way, I mastered none.
I managed though, to stand on the first step of the ladder

Of poetry, yet still, I err musing on foreign tongue I loved:
The wording, the punctuation, the grammar, to list a few.

As you read this, my contrite heart bleeds---
For I will never make it to the pinnacle of my passion.

Surely, I wrote to you, not because I am whining
Or maybe I am, but one thing I do certainly know

Is that I am sending you, this epistle, through the wind
Passing, quietly, across the seas of the gentle gods

To ask you, Sir John, the kind-hearted god of soup whisperers
Am I doing the right thing or I am just wasting my time?
Lastly, do you think to have come this far is an achievement?

Your avid fan, across the gentle seas of the gods 

Details | Rhyme | |


I admit to have been influenced as Keats
by some remarkable poets who used unusual beats, 
slowly delving into their very logical and intellectual minds...
so amazed by what they wrote despite their struggling times. 

The first written poem came from Egypt: a hymn to Aron her god,
the Greeks copied the form and style with great skills:
Homer wrote the famous Odyssey, then the Romans
did the same and Virgil wrote, the long epic poem, " Aeneid. "

Who has ever doubted that my poetry isn't authentic?
It came from an unexpected idea that spread like wild fire at a very young age, 
empowering my senses to feel, see, touch and hear without being too frantic...  
by letting words flow as I stood by a river of knowledge.

Details | I do not know? | |

The Sorcerer and the Stone

Dry tangle of strands like leaves of a pine.
Neck-long sable yet lemon to close a beaming line.

Decked by two sharp wan visage processes.
Shut some-screened eyes and jaw- high and breadthless.

Dangling armor is woven garb of chains.
Bony hands impose his thin scrawny mien.

Spread them down to ignite an incipient
Of electric qeues like sunspot lightning

Toward a floating smooth stone before him.
Struck bouy makes a devious glow as his grin.

Growing fulgence throbbing to explosion
in lieu he is sucked like dusts by the stone.

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 | |

Table of Contents

Wham, bam
What's up?
Whatcha got?
Can ya hang with me?
I've got ten on the fact that you couldn't even
bang with me.
I've got words to spit;
I've got games to play,
I've got a one-up on you,
much to your dismay.
If you stick with me it'll be all
boat sinks 
and the turkey is gone.
bell falls and his whole ideal is done.
Pen breaks bread and it is settled for once
you've done it you will never go back-
wards step into oblivion.
Oblivious to what it all means,
Step forward in thought into my dream machine.

Details | Blank verse | |

All Paths Being Parallel

thoughts i never thought through,
words misused
where ever i may have slept,
nothing is wasted in pursuit of a muse.
when every coffee house becomes your study
& the sidewalk is as good a place 
as any
to write your masterpiece,
you begin to understand.
whatever paths i've crossed
or shores i've walked;
nothing is wasted in pursuit of the Muse.

Details | Etheree | |


let me 
be precise~
I am the chief!
Your every wish
now lies within my grasp.
There will be no gradual
lessening of your temptation.
But feel free to keep this thought in mind~
I would never abandon you cheaply!

Details | Lyric | |


I made a stoned heart rhyme

And penned a poem of mine
That will make me known to all,

Soon as they perceive my soul--

I married a sleek pen to name me husband. 

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 | 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 | Rhyme | |

Dreamscape of the Lovelorn

As I sit once more in this chair,
trying to fit word to page in some nice way,
inspiration seems, this evening, rare;
my muse is distracted, keeping melancholy at bay.

I long for a soft, pliant embrace,
shared by a maiden draped in silken thread;
moonlight brightening her already radiant face,
and her enchanting smile, at what could lie ahead.

Her shining hair pours down her back,
like the rain in which we stand;
the right way she seems to lack,
as she looks to me for a guiding hand.

These hands glide down, around her waist,
and slowly we begin to dance.
Underneath the stars, our own new path is traced,
as we float along, in our lover's trance.

The feel of her, so near and so warm,
I cling to, like a drowner's lifeline;
her every sigh, her very form,
beyond my imaginings of the divine.

To go on like this, held enchanted
in her eyes, serenity's sweet founts,
I feel would be my heaven granted;
my trials, her affection surmounts.

The haze shimmers, the dream recedes,
leaving me dazed, shaken in its wake;
as ever and always, my heart bleeds,
craving an end to its boundless, yearning ache.

Details | I do not know? | |

Familiar Poesy

I was quiescent and reposing on a wooden chair

to a faraway distance the vista seemed nothing.

I was engrossedly thoughtful in an empty stare;

In this somber fixation i did not sound maudlin.

In the surrounding, in a room, there was naught to care

even how vociferous the unaffecting din.

I was vacant without a frown or grin.

Then, an astonishment by an abrupt interruption

awakened me chop-chop from the pensive exertion.

An instinctively soft guffaw was my reaction

and an immediate beam marked down my emotion.

From a study to a stir was the alteration;

I uttered a word or two in continuation.

It was a spectacle of fruition.

Sometimes it is diverting to father relation

of familiar episodes in consecution;

Even how minute is their banausic condition.

It can be reported engagingly in a verse

with welcome alternate rhyming association

and with no contemplation to secure confusion

so as any sage mortal can immerse.

Details | Free verse | |

Written Raw

There’s poetry in your eyes,
bloodshot and bruised,
hunting like a vulture starved.
A God to those who find glory in grieving.

I’ve licked the poetry right off your lips,
hardened by time’s punch line,
cracked and weathered 
by the screams you cannot bear to keep.

You are poetry’s loss
and I am you.

So let it seep from our pores
Let it mix in our tears
Let it shape the core of anyone wiling

Let it paint the night in hues of gold
Let it bind us in leather and make slaves of us all

Let it be fierce and wicked and cold and true
And let it shake our bones and swallow us whole

Let it be
Let it be
Just let it be.

And then maybe 
Poetry will give us life 
and set us free.

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 | Free verse | |


I cannot sleep
And so, I go and fix some hot herb tea
He wants to help but some things I must do alone
 It is the wine, he says
You drank too much
The wrong kind
Without the ice
 I am fine I say 
Go back to sleep
 By now, I think I know what the problem is
I have a head too full to lie upon a pillow
 It is not full of wine
 Not full enough at least
Just sleep, you need your rest
I need some peace
He cannot understand
I can help you go to sleep
 He wants to touch me 
I do not want to be touched
His dog is barking
The stack of bills on the desk call to me 
 I walk past to fix my herbal cure
The computer beckons me
I have to push the bills aside to find the keyboard
How long I have missed you
I caress the keys
 My fingers find the words to open up my soul
No one empties me as you do I tell it
 It struggles to fulfill my demands
 I war with it
We do a verbal tango
I sip my tea
 I am calmer
My headache subsides
I am feeling sleepy
Thank you I whisper
I drain my cup and turn off the box 
That moments before bled its glow over my fingers 
And lit up my face
Thank you I say as I retreat to the snores that fill the night
Thank you God I whisper as I crawl into a bed full of warmth 
A large snoring lump of resting passion 
And what is this
Small hands reach out to touch my cheek
They pull my face in for a sleepy kiss
Good night angel
Mommy is here
I sleep

Details | Free verse | |

a poet

A poet can write :

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 | 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 | Lyric | |

Why I Dress

“Wow, you write poetry, like Robert Frost!” my friend said,
forcing my faint face turned into an over-ripe tomato.

“Oh, you must be kidding me!’ replied I.  Perhaps, you mean 
holding a pen, like him. What’s his name again?  Robert Frost?  
But I still not mastered the perceptible gloss of twisting it, 

‘tween my fingers.  I couldn’t even perfect hanging wet souls, 
nor did I have the ability to put them back on a closet of 

loneliness, where their shadows rest, temporarily. At 41, I still 
collect them and put to wash.  There’s no stopping now though, I 

once emptied a can of coke on myself by accident, as I picked 
salted sticks, ala McDonald’s, to satisfy my stomach.  My wife 

laughed, thinking that…you know what I mean? I may not be 
of Frost, but the un-bashing type of comment gave me strength 
to flaunt my thought on a narra table, buffet style, for 

who ever wants to taste my soul can do so. Ah, my heart’s young 
and willing-- to dress a naked word to make her splendiferous.


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 | 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 | Senryu | |

' Poet Definition ... ' 30th Senryu

‘ Poet  Definition … ’   30th   Senryu 

           Define A Poet:
 So Much Reading and Writing
          And Arithmetics

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 | Haiku | |

poetic percussionist

Rhyme and rhythm sing
Past poetic percussion
Ever beating Time

Details | Narrative | |

Day Two

Wow! What a day it has been 
Right, left, centre
Ain?t nowhere that I haven?t been 
On a matatu, on a bus, and so much on my foot
Ain?t none I ain?t seen
And at the end of it all it?s my trouser that split
Right in the middle for all to see
Damn, what had me wearing a red pant today?

So, there it was
Day two of my life gone by in so much effort
Still I ain?t found what I am looking for
But I have a hunch I?m closer to the front
For here I am sitting at the corner near the door
The bed was so much nicer, unlike the breakfast
In the reflection of the mirror I see them looking at me
Well, that means I am a little bit different
And so I intend to be
Writing away my life like this
Till time and fate will send me a fat cheque in the envelope of fame

Details | Rhyme | |



Papers hadn't held her words
For twenty years or more
But ‘published’ didn’t scare her
words were sizzle branded in her core--
Past the corner soul that hides
The little suffering blueblack fears
The place within the fears
That hides the insubstantial tears

There ragged brands had healed
From raging blood to shiny scars
Blood-- now cold-- congealed
As graceful life was wrenched apart

Thus, publishing and some such
triggered not an ounce of fright
far worse black filthy dreads that
danced ablaze in burnt-out lights

So publish me, Be done with me--
she mused as on she walked--
Better to be done with it--
May end the verbiage stalk.

And though she knew
Would never end
The words that came in streams
Was truly voice of true heart friend
That called her in her dreams
And deep she knew she had no wish
To end her lifelong song--

But not to share a single word 
Seemed selfish--deadly wrong.

Details | Idyll (Idyl) | |


We, in the heart of midnight, connected, 
Charged by electronic parables spun 
Through cables and channels of fragile fibre, 
Close-knit and ambitious to be as one. 

The amethyst drape of coffee shadows, 
Heliotrope hands of praying faith 
Gathered me in and held me close, 
An avid, emotional, passionate wraith. 

Devoted, bedazzled I anticipated 
Words that hypnotically burn and entrance, 
Wings of a dove in the lavender sky, 
Soft falling rain from clouds of romance. 

I, in the heart of midnight, concluded 
Placid in peaceful superlative schemes, 
My love is the saviour of hope and salvation, 
Guardian of idylls, the keeper of dreams.

Details | Verse | |

Breaking The Pen

You may break the pen, but not my love…for poetry

Details | Prose Poetry | |


you where to hold my hand
and look at me, my heart might 
skip. I would look away, say 
“The sky is lovely.” Yet there
are clouds covering the sky,
like I cloud my words meanings, for
in truth, I don’t think anything of the sky,
nor trees, nor flowers when I’m 
with you. Only you. Therefore, I think 
I need you, and like the 
infamous poets before me, I will
attempt to immortalize you in lines,
and woo you with verse. If that should, however, 
fail, I lose you to the wind, and men 
yet to come, and without 
you, I’ll be of the trees Orpheus 
sings to, with somber branches and
lost leaves. I will talk and write of your
eyes, an electric, endless brown.
Of your voice, drifting in 
the air and stopping at nothing
to please. Of your figure and grace,
destroying wills of men like the Sirens song,
yet thicker and more potent,
lingering like cigar smoke in the air. 
Eventually, yes, my mind will move on,
but frozen in time would be my
emotions for you in these lines, 
and if ever you need to feel loved, 
you need only read.

If it where to work though, the
story takes a different path, which is 
one I leave to your imagination. 
An obscurity found in most love 
stories. ‘They lived happily ever after,’  
would, could, be us, where you to
dip your fingers (what gentle, 
beautiful fingers), into the well 
of my palm.

The choice then is yours then,   
my lovely R------, what’ll it be?

Details | Crystalline | |

Tennis Poetry

free versing is a scoreless, netless
                                              tennis game;

rhyming, is a refereed version 
                                              of the same.

Details | Tail-rhyme | |

To Rhyme Or Not To Rhyme

An ad for fancy sports shoes
tells the world to 
"Just do it! "

Dash off lines of rhyme or
free verse, haiku or 

Whatever suits your mood
of the moment will do 
the trick

Bill Shakespeare of yore
nasally intoned, 
"As you like it."

Details | Sijo | |

Mental Poetry

With this mind I create, written words of unspoken depth
It comes freely, effortlessly, as if it were a God sent gift
The creations flow, an enraged stream, mental poetry.

Details | Free verse | |

Coiling the Energy

On blunt edges, speak.
Hollow out the wheel of flowing windmill slurs
and words still in their buckets
Dripping, overflowing silver
into hydraulic rivers
on their way to mirror seas.
Worn down wood to hold the world
of all you want to say
Just now, speak.
Let the power of sustenance cool the feet
of flaxen haired children in a spark of the sun
on the edge of the sugared bank
They'll hear your hum, your rhythm
and nod their heads with a thought
that the wind might pick up at any moment.
Creaking mechanics jar the mind
to better days of oils slicking the wheels
and yet you still run.
You still speak.
And the town lights up all it's peppered white
street lights with your energy.
Little pops of heat against midnight's cold breath.
Children learn to read by the strung taffy sap
pulled through wires no longer touched by 
your electrified water.
And the sea pulls all it's soul together in the eagerness
to taste the warmth from your river's mouth.
All from your spinning wheel
with blunt edges
worn to perfection from gentle persuasion
and winsome words.
The whole town holds their breath,
the wheels shine liquid wood,
and you speak.

Details | I do not know? | |

Blank Page

Why Kant I see?
In my mind i see everything
but before me

Here lies a blank page.
but all i see is this page

Opportunities lost
I see what I want
My eyes are lost
Blasted blank page

creativity at the brink
thy will not think
try not to blink
Where did It go?

Blank Page
Mocks Me
Lines and Emptiness
Beg me to fill it

Lost and Confused
Where did I go?

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 | Free verse | |


i'm in this world
and everyone tells me you have to. . .
walk like this
act like this
speak like this
dress like this
sing like this 
dance like this
write like this
be like this
talk like this
and look like this
and i'm thinking who are they to tell me who and how i should be
why can't everyone back off and understand i can take care of myself
i don't want to be this or that or turning into someone else
i like who i am just fine
if you don't like it i don't care
i don't need you to be changing me into someone i'm not
i don't need this type of influence
and i especially don't need this amount of pressure

Details | Romanticism | |

Milk and Cookies

Batman had Robin,
Abbott had his Lou,
Harvey had his rabbit,
Just as I have you

Like milk and cookies
Naturals together since times of yore
And our President Bill Clinton
Had his friend Al Gore

Like Peace and War
Tolstoy's famous book
And magazines so alike
Like "Life" had it's "Look"

I walk in nirvana
Unsure if this is true
And you can count on
A love forever for you

Details | Free verse | |

Poetry Is

Confused pictures in a puddle.
Glimpses of nothing-yet something.
Words bringing you to your knees
Hopeless against your will to forget them.
Franticly splashing in abandoned thoughts
You step away with mud on your soul.

Details | Romanticism | |

I sought after...

I sought after the ocean waves, their beauty glistened in the moonlight, 
I raced the ever changing tide, beneath the eyes of twilight. 
I kissed the vermillion rose petals, like rubies in the sand, But nothing that I chased, compared to the touch of your hand. 
I ran to catch the fading rain, as it fell into the sea, 
I pushed my toes beneath the sand, willingit to love me. 
I glimpsed a shooting star, that shattered the sky above, 
But nothing that I found, replaced the beauty of your love. 
I chased the first light of dawn, as it stretched across the sky, 
Crashing into midnight, as the stars began to die.

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 | Light Poetry | |


She is mines for just an hour 
But she makes it seem like more,
She implies what time is ours 
Stays behind the bamboo doors.... 
While undressing me to shower,
Tending to my every need,
From the bed of Asian flowers, 
To the towels at my feet...
Then massaging me in oil, 
That evaporates in steam,
So her hands can softly coil,
What commemorate's the scene...
Not a word is ever spoken,
Until one is spoken to,
As she dries me off from soaking,
From the moisture coming thru...
As the hour takes each minute,
Just to turn it into two,
She devours me within it,
Like a concubine should do...


Details | I do not know? | |

today I started writing.

And today I started writing.

A spark, a head aching, an inner turmoil
Brewed and threw itself up against a door in my mind.
Its waves crashed exploding through my veins, to my hand, to a pen,
And gathered words on a page like they’d been there forever.

I tried to stop it, to suppress, to get some sleep
But the words created currents, riptides of emotion.
So I surfed gently across the surface to tide pools full of life, memories, full of time;
Absorbing each syllable and phrase as they may soon be lost at sea.

This wave, this current, this storm may pass
Dragging away with it seashells and tiny trinkets of inspiration.
So for now I dig in, waist deep, fixate on this beach I may be stranded upon
Surrounding myself with miles of words and salty sea air.

Today I started writing.

Details | I do not know? | |

"Existence, to the most abstruse level..."

Is it just me, or did I really approach this the wrong way,

I could just forget about it, but it lingers in my mind,

I never thought I would feel this badly,

As if life isn't enough of a burden anyway,

Don't pity me, don't offer your condolences,

That only makes me feel even more horrid,

Breath, heart, sight,

All essential things,

Yet cause you so much misery and woe,

Hitherto, I have not a single regret,

Because life is kind, in its own perplexed sort of way,

And that is what gets me through the day...

Details | Blank verse | |

living words

Such a built up tension
   a fiery burning sensation
I become an export station
   I scream, let it out
It is trapped
   I know not what it is
      but what it is 
   is pain, longing, depression,hope
       anticipation, loss, gifted, Jaded,
       faded glory, a whory version
  of my true potential
      and release is so damn crucial 
  I write to escape and indulge
Relieve me Pen
         Good, bad, sad,
    Here for me and who will see
 But let it out
        Lest I pout
    For lack of expunge
           And take a fatal plunge
And dive head first to meet my thirst
    and bleed on paper
 To see my true feelings,
     my mortality,
           my life, 

Details | Ode | |

Cold As Frost (Ode to Robert Frost)

            Subjective to the eyes upon words, poems are never
 the same twice. 
Quiet as snow fall you revealed the truest form of a self centered
 "October" day. 
Leaves fall in a similar pattern to unfamiliar words being recited 
around an ever-
trusting ignorant society. Perhaps the "Road not Taken" is where 
i shall resign 
my poetic beliefs and live as a reborn gust of wind, blowing lives 
in foretold 
directions. I have taken the time from time which has already 
escaped my life 
and given it too less of a friend, which became more of a burden. 
Pride bursts 
out in every direction giving reason for blame when blame insults
 the very 
essence of my reflection. One star permanently blazed into an 
empty sky can 
depend on me like clockwork, for I am the first to call criticism upon 
"Frost" in the 
winter. If it were truly that simple then the pen would lose it's importance 
as the 
tool of our trade. Who said that brilliance was not born, 
only created through 
practice? Then would be the time too call yourself gifted. 
A lifetime is lived "For 
once, Then Something" and until time is chosen none will be revealed. 
In my 
world; the sun will not shine without the loss of the moon, 
the rain only falls upon 
broken smiles, and the breeze is never as cold as "Frost".

Details | Blank verse | |

Razorblade Rainbow (or Some Better Title)

i feel like i'm dying & never end up dead.
someday, i will write to you in the colors of myself;
the flaking rust of dried blood,
the purple of deep bruises & passion, 
one from the other.
& somewhere near the center,
the shocking blue of the brightest flame 
& the truest green, 
to prove that even pain is a part of growth.
i'll paint you the world through my eyes 
& from the tip of my pen.

Details | Senryu | |

I Write Poetry

i write poetry
in a plain, simple English
am I a poet?

Details | Rhyme | |


The artist sketches, draws or paints;
The chef cooks up a storm.
The singer practices the scales,
Preparing to perform.

The dancer limbers up and moves
According to the beat.
The athlete hits the gym so he
Is ready to compete.

The actor memorizes lines
‘Til he knows every word.
The barkeep makes martinis,
Sometimes shaken, sometimes stirred.

The politician plans his speech;
The teacher grades a test.
The stripper bumps and grinds until
She’s practically undressed.

We all do what we’ve gotta do
To feed our appetite;
And some of us, including me,
Get sated when we write.

Details | Alliteration | |

Journal entries

Jotting down juicy journalism 
Opening oodles of oppressed optimism    
Understanding unity usually unites universally 
Relinquishing random rants 
Naturing neat notions never noticed
All adventures allow an ample accumlation of antadotes   
Love literature like a libidinous librarians long lost lover

Details | Narrative | |


I am unknown
Simply put..a gentle sort of guy
Every day from 9 til 3
Submitting my poetry
They are for all to see

Fame is not my game
Not looking to add
a writer credit to this name
It is the best of just a simple poem
Describing life:Where,How,When,and Why?

To call myself a Poet Great
Is an insult to those who long and wait
There are many who are more talented than I
They will be known
"Poets American Pie"

This "Unknown" writer  in sensitive
Prefers anonymity
Country home on a New Hampshire side
Winters in the Berkshires county

Fate has not been a friendly face
The clock ticks
Father Time points to my face
Even though my work may be shown
All,in all,though..
I'd rather be unknown

Details | I do not know? | |

horrible Dream

Deep down in my soul,
Im taken by fright,
Too scared to be here,
but Im just too polite.

I woke in a horrible dream,
It made me toss and turn,
I woke to scared to be seen,
It's a shame, I feel like Im burned

True love or true lust,
paranoia too,
I thought that I could trust,
You and only you.

I woke in a horrible dream,
Its was so real
I hope that in this dream
That eventually I will heal.

Details | Senryu | |

the P is common

the P is common
pen, paper, poet, poem
always together

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 | |


I see pink lips that mark
Sun’s last kiss to the sky
They fade slower than a lover’s 
But it is still goodbye.

One side of the house
Already in darkness waiting
As my light burns steady
For the end of day.

And as it glows flushed
I see my empty room
Thank my pen for its constant

Oh I wish I could describe 
Hot passion laid outside
My window or flare your
Memory with half the same glare.

Yet watch it fades even now
Until night’s seductive fingers 
Prise love’s fiery glow
From the sky’s forgetful breast

Details | Verse | |

Woman Of The Web

The woman of the web weaved words
  Captivating of the heart and mind,
Ensnaring every atom of the senses,
  Trapping sparks of love of humankind.
And gladly gilds a graciousness of glass
  A mental mirror mindful of reflection,
Upon her sensual strands beloved stays,
  A soul she mesmerised with sheer affection.

Details | Free verse | |


No joy or happiness I find
as I stand before the rack.. 
But death and despair both are there
Bold in white and black..
She was a mathematician 
her favorite word was phi
They captured and they killed her
just to see her die...
Drugs and gangs and streets at war
fill each and every page..
As far away and here at home
a righteous war we wage..
Wishes denied a dark trespasser
that hides behind a mask..
Till desire for what the others have
becomes our urgent task..
In a nanosecond I would fly 
till I was far away..
In hopes to find a better place
safe to work and play..
A place where no hatred grew
where everyone was free..
Can you imagine just what on earth
our headlines then would be.. 

Details | I do not know? | |

my poetry defined

more than verse
It seems to me 
a shape
reversed, on white
pulp, inversed
   on loose
-	torn
from subject,    to
a        Visual              truth
the lines
sooth poetry
a powerless rage
projected on a
empty page

Details | Ode | |

The Poet Within

For you starless nights stretch out 
      and scare away the morn

And yet it's you who tint and tinge, 
      who paint and adorn

Every thread and strand that you stitch 
      and loop with the years

Into the fine fabric of Life, Love, 
      Death, it appears...

      As you daydream nights at the seam
            of a seamless shore

      Sketching the now and tomorrow,
            spinning yarns of yore

      Beneath borderless horizons
            of  the ocean skies

      Till love knows no more your heart, 
            till sight disowns your eyes.

Details | Free verse | |

A Poet's Prayer

   May the paper be my canvas
     that I might with ink of pen
 paint in vivid color a world for you

                of thought
                and depth

  that will speak volumes to you
       in the truest dimension
I am able to attain in this art form.

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 | Free verse | |

The Ghost

I'm gone just like that at the blink of an eye 
and the critics don't know what side I'm on
because I reside wit them both them
niggas that blow hella weed smoke 
and this lost generation thats beggin for hope
and they think it's a joke but me I just float 
away like a boat on a cruise and life or death
curses and blessings which one do you choose
and whats rule 1, live everyday like it's ya last one
poetically sadistic strapped emotionally wit a 
brick of C-4 and a revolver wit one in the chamber
and since I'm a ghost, like the Great White Shark
my name spells danger I'm far from bilingual
 but spiritually I then spoke every language
and I'm gone like the spirit of the lost victims 
like a well people keeping throwing coins in
and keep wishing like Christians who's 
spiritually fishing... I'm A Ghost

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 | Free verse | |

The Portfolio

If you look inside
You may be amazed at what you find…

Maybe some small imperfections
Yet, heading in the right direction…

There is one, who does not boast…
But, has endured much and stays afloat…

Having peace in mind
Remains smiling most of the time…

Having not time to stop and gloat
Seeking, to help others remain afloat…

Continue to look inside
You, just may be amazed by what you find…

Details | I do not know? | |

Definition of Form

Magically her entrance
was so graceful and mysterious,
The robe that she was wearing
Left my mind to question curious...
Her skin like golden honey
Seemed to magnify moonlight,
And every curve when she would turn
would make it even more bright..
As she sat in silence
Naked looking out the window
She rubbed her bosom slightly,
Tugging lightly at my ego...
Her legs so soft and silky
seemed to call me when she crossed them,
Would they be as exciting
If the lighting would have lost them...
And as the paint meets canvas
Mending images I've torn
I admire...her entire
Truly the definition of form...

Details | Couplet | |

So, Till We Meet Again

We have poems that make us really different from one another;
You already mastered the rhyme, whilst I‘m still trying to discover.

I have played several times, with this cute little haiku,
While you, deeply, longing to amaze its twin sibling senryu.

And yet, without doubt, we all meet everyday on this central stage,
Where you, un-selfishly, spreading yourself on this blank page.

While my complicated thoughts are being stocked in deep confusion, 
Because I am undecided yet, in what form I must uncover my passion.

For not only you, who suffer in this so-called un-poetic indigestion;
But indeed, happy are those who continue sharing their poetic vision.


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 | Free verse | |

Immaculate Reception

Chants ranting
rants chanting
narcissistic voices
deliciously pounding

Vicarious words
devilishly dancing
choruses spewing
copious chords

Muses climax
narcotic pleasure
poets revel
feeling hypnotic drums

Poetic coitus
lend me your ear
cry havoc
the Virgin Mary is hear

Details | Free verse | |

For The Love of Insouciance

(English version)

He possessed the air of indifference
However, his appearance was quite debonair
Many young ladies hearts fell
To the sabotage, of his indifference
Oh, how their hearts did pine.
Until, finally the lass caught his eye,
Copper colored were her limbs
A peach glow, to her blushing cheeks
Teeth of pearly white…
Eyes as black as the darkest coals,
Hair soft as that of raven’s down
Bound by silken threads of gold,
Upon her beauty he could not frown…
His heart stood as a suitor bound;
His passion burning, as he desired a sweet kiss 
From her ruby red lips…
His thoughts were displayed 
And then dejected by she, 
Oh, what a travesty…
For it seems that, he had sought 
The love of Miss Insouciance

Details | I do not know? | |


Talent’s a gift
Like unto a seed
To be nurtured nourished and  tended
If left as a weed 
It will yet fill its need
To spread itself as it’s intended
A burstable  burden  bourn to be used
Like a chisel or trowel or a pen
To sculptor painter maestro or muse
Guiding a man in his action reaction
His quest of  perfection
A pointed direction 
Creative reflections 

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 | Rhyme | |

Hungry for Words

My eyes are hungry,
like a ravionous beast
To eat the words up
like a tasty treat 

no matter how much i read 
i just dont seem to get enough!
i try to take my time with it...
but my eyes just gobble them up

vampires, westerns, 
romance and more
i read till my eyes blur
or till my head is sore

the hours fly by 
paled and insignificant
but who really cares 
when the world your living in
 is so vastly magnificant

adventures your in, they  never end
with prince charming at your side
or stuck on an island 
because your plane crashed and you almost died

you walk into to a library 
and heave a sigh
 a choice has to be made
but its yours to decide 

Details | Ballad | |

' Legendary ... ' ( Part 4 (of) 4)

‘ Legendary …’  ( Part  4 (of) 4 ) 

Now, that the Maiden was Unaided, Quickly, ‘He’ Located, Her Craftily
Beth, was in A Flurry, Too Much in a Hurry to Hear Turning of A Key 
Alas’ … The Happenstance of Harm, at the Bower, twas’ Done Most Foully !
Alas’ … The Happenstance of Alarm, Maid twas’ Undone for Shameful Villainy!

 * * *  The Maid so Afraid, for The Earl Waylaid – Her, to His Infamy
He Ravaged and Damaged The Maid … and Took Her Innocency …

And She, in Her Distress and Mental-Regress and Misery
Sat Horrified-Aloof, Sitting in Soiled Proof, of Her Plundered Chastity
There Could Nay be Gathered, Her Tattered-Wits twere’ Shattered, even for Modesty
As The Earl snidely Chuckled, and Boastingly Buckled His Belt, Smirking Heinously

Yea, The Earl had Sated His Dissipated Lust and Gloated – Gleefully
Went Back to The Masque-Ball and Unmasked and Called and Mocked Maliciously
Impugned Beth, to One and All, of Her Downfall from Grace to Impropriety
The Earl Made Sure … The Stunned Knight Would Overhear, The Indecency …

But Much to The Earl’s Chagrin and also Akin to Cowardice and Incredulity
… The Knight Spoke Nay a Word, Only The Hissing of His Sword, Struck Accordingly
The Last Look, The Earl Saw Was … Rage and The Fraught-Gaze of  Insanity !
Yea, The Knight, Smote The Gloat off The Face of the Vile Earl, Most Deservedly …

* * *

Thence, The Knight, in Their Sight, Became Legend That Night as He Fought Mightily
He Escaped Royal Guards, His Heart was Beating Hard, as He made it to The Bowery
And by the Window, He could see by Melted Tallow, a piece of cloth hung Raggedly
caught Wherefore Beth … had jumped to Her Death … and Lay Below Crookedly …

* * *

Now, Tis’ Sad To Recite … They Hung The Poor Knight,  tis’ Further Travesty
For The Earl, tho’ Highborn, wast’ a Cur to Be Scorned … a Monstrosity !
Alas’ …  and Aghast, the hope of Lovers Together at Last, Turned into Tragedy
Fie’ and Fain, lest’ we Forget, this be A Story and yet… couldst’ be Reality …

Yea, Fie’ and Fain, lest’ We Forget, …  Why The Earl, His End Met … 

                        … This Too Was Vanity …   Eccl. 1: 14

‘ … Sweet Wine On My Lips … Drip In Ecstasy
Sweet Touch On My Hips … Smooth as Warm Honey
Sweet Love of My Soul … Last An Eternity
Sweetheart, Be Thy Bold in Bravery …
… and if Sweet Talk, Be A Token
And Language Be Spoken …
Be Legendary … Be Thou Legendary ! ‘

                               The End

Details | Free verse | |


The poet's mind unfathomed
Derange his words
And set them screaming in public streets
Where vulgar thoughts exposed themselves
I have the tattered clothes of rape
Lock, lock perfidious tongue
The bat will not beak my blood in broad daylight
A babarous blistering of my landscape
The simian shape
Call to mind Freud
Master, Ellis and Johnson were pedestrian people
They looked but could understand
How deeply ran
The second command give all life
Was the first to man
Hence the first reason we spoke was love
And if speak God to them
They shall spend their candle
Trying to uncover my state of mind
O I can see
But my words are blind.
Read me with no rules of grammar
I mean what is subject and predicate
And the sentance with no comma
How many meanings would you see
If my sentences starts anywhere
And my words like a judge just sat there
Listening to your fear
Making hope out of my despair

Details | Rhyme | |


If we had a choice
Between life and death
Would it make us rejoice?
Or would it be another lifeless breath?

If we had to choose 
To die now or to live for eternity
Would you say your last goodbyes
To see the next life that God has for thee?
Or would you live to see 
What lies beneath every word of every word spoken 
To take life as a simple token?

If you had to choose
Between watching someone die as you are able to do nothing.
Rather than to kill that someone in self defense who is doing everything that's 
Would you do it?
If you had nothing tolose
But your life?

If you were chosen to save
Would you save a child from a burning house?
Or would you be a little less brave
And pass it to go to Europe with a free browse?

Would you do things you normally wouldn't do
Live to see the world at its end
Save a young heart from the massive truth?
To watch yourself lose a best friend?
Tell me, would you?

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 | 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 | 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 | I do not know? | |

My Passion

When I'm huddled up on the floor at 3 AM
furiously scribbling down any and every thought
that pours out of my mind
The question strikes me
"Why the hell do you write?"
The question is honest and relevant
For the fame?
No, not for the fame
I couldn't give a damn about the fame
For money?
Hell no, are you an idiot?
The chances of anyone reading my stuff are low enough as it is
Let alone actually paying me for it
To get your feelings out?
Possibly, it has kept me from losing my mind
on quite a few occasions
But I've kept everything inside
and let a brutal war rage on in my head
as I sat in silence
on just as many occasions
I think in the end
I write for the connection
The possibility of someone glancing at my words 
and saying,
"Hey, I know how he feels."
Or maybe some lonely, mixed up kid
not unlike myself
reading and saying,
"Wow, someone actually understands."
If I could make a connection,
just one connection
then screw everything else.

Details | I do not know? | |

A 17 year old writer.......!

The pseudo alacrity that he is callow,
Lacking emotions, maturity shallow,
Ignorance ammassed, adulthood fallow,
When summarizing vices, all but hallow!

Writing about the footprints of Marriage,
The opposite sexes' ultimate courage,
Bestowed hatred, ransacked heritage,
Frankness kicked for a conventional adage!

Writing boldly about the bold profession,
Of the vexed fair sex, the last option,
Me, shooed away in the biased election,
'Remain in your limits', the unanimous admonition!

Describing the instincts of a teen,
His wild thoughts, crave obscene, 
'Too young to know', advice harsh and mean,
Empathy, curiosity, the unvalued beings!

Generation of young writers,ought to be recognized,
Share of the wrinkles, not to be aggrandized,
Opposing the latter has never been our prize,
Judge us by candidness, a feeling of Paradise!

Details | Free verse | |

The Undisputed Champ

       Introducing the undisputed champ - "The Fallen Star!"/ I'm aware people stare at the 
extremely bizarre./ I'm that "beep, beep" on your hearts radar./  This pen is metaphorically 
my scimitar!/ Poetry Soup says I'm cursed,/ because of the content in my verse;/ but I feel 
as if I'll burst,/ and it will only get worse,/ If I don't relieve this stress!/ So allow me to 
express/ what's on my chest/ before I become possessed!
       I will start clawing and fighting!/ If I don't here you say: "You make this site so much 
more exciting!"/ So what if I don't play nice,/ but I bring that Latino spice!/ You damn right 
I'm a sexy S.O.B.!? And I don't give a flip if you don't like my poetry!/ Who are you to judge 
me?/ You wanna hear an apology?/ For being comfortable and expressing my sexuality?/
       Look I'm 32,/ and that's the difference between me and you./ I've never felt more 
alive!? Don't get upset with me because you're 65!/ I know you wish I would just disappear,/ 
because I live in today and not the day of Shakespeare!/ Don't no one read his work no 
more! / Yes I bring a poetic war./ Blowing up verses like C4!/ My sentences are sharp like a 
       I don't like fake individuals no way./ Why should I listen to what a hypocrit has to say?/ 
Someone told me to just leave it alone./ So those without sin casts the first stone!/ - I didn't 
think so!/ I hope your house gets blown away by a tornado!/ Sometimes my heart grows 
cold like an  Eskimo,/ and other times dark like Edgar Allen Poe!/
       Look before you start pointing fingers at me,/ and condemn my poetry./ Take a look 
see that others have wrote erotica too./ I can name a few./ And nothing I write is taboo!/ 
You just probably stay away because you have bird flu!/ So I can care less if you're my 
friend./ I'm just out to set a new trend!!!!

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 | Blank verse | |


Gems flow from your finger tips,
Each a priceless jewel,
No struggle, No pain,
Just perfection,
You can do simplicity when it is called for,
and be as complex as a difficult rhyme.
I say you are not an artist.
You create with no feeling,
All is technical skill,
With no passion to fire the imagination,
You are an actor,
Pretender, unreal.
The very feeling you should feed on,
You shun like it is rotten.
Behind me.
Give me someone who cannot rhyme, or cannot write a phrase,
but has the passion of rebel,
Give me that person over you,
You ice queen,
You make me sick,
Be gone from my sight, NOW!
I no longer wish to see you,
You do not care for passion,
then I do not care for you.

Details | I do not know? | |

A Record Of A Secret Document

A record of a secret document
Embedded in my memory
Threatening to open
My feelings to the world
And I will keep it clandestine
Waiting for you to furiously
Copy down, word for word
The essence of my emotions

Details | Dramatic monologue | |

Sympathetic Ink

You, a glass tear - filled with black oil
to stain, to rearrange each thought
contained in your metal nib
Scratch, scratch the pompous paper
and tend to wounds afterwards
The thoughts must come!
Must flow!
And yet you sit.
Still. A night with no moon
encased in clear horizons.
Do you wait for me to taste you?
Do you need a catalyst?
Must I stain my tongue while
I wrangle around in this licorice fit?
My fingers know you well.
Calluses you've seeped into.
And still you sit.
Perhaps you need me after all?
To lift the lid, to inject the ink,
to scratch the page?
Do you stare, Oh sympathetic ink?
Do not marvel at the likes of me.
Waste no time but come to me yet!
There are thoughts to be penned so indelible be!

Details | Rhyme | |

The Infinite Shades Of Art

You can keep your brushes and pastels, my friend

Just give me the word and tell me when to begin

And I'll paint the prettiest picture the world has ever heard

With amazing depth of field and colorful words 

But if you're color deaf no need to feel alone

You'll be dazzled by my selection of rhythm and tone

Abstract and romantic, the techniques are plenty

Forever changing portrait until the passion runs empty

Behold the gift of art and the pleasure of expression

Colleges or graduate schools could never teach the lesson

The gift lies within in the very depths of the human soul

And the world is the inspiration for the masterpiece that you hold

An artist by any other name is still an artist through and through

No matter the words or colors, free verse or light blue

Everyone is connected by the same purpose given at birth  

To create a work of art on this blemished canvas we call Earth

Details | Ballad | |

' Legendary ... ' ( Part 3 (of) 4 )

‘ Legendary …’  ( Part  3 (of) 4 ) 

… Now, The Earl, had Spies, to keep Intruding Eyes On The Tryst of Secrecy
Beth’s Tresses, like Raven Wings and Eyes Emerald-Green, Became His Fantasies
Yea, He erstwhile Plotted, for He wast’ Besotted with the Cobbler’s Daughter’s Beauty
All to no Avail … for Beth Knew Well,  Twere’ None, More Wretched, than He !

So, She didst’ Spurn his Declaration and Protestations of Undying Fidelity
She didst’ Return, His Portrait and String of Pearls and His Poems, Peremptorily
Forasmuch, and twas’ this and such, She Rebuffed all His Pleasantries
In Favor of Her Knight, she Reserved This Right, which Enraged, Their Enemy
 - - - - - - -
Now, Twas’ but an Instant, of Insistent Cajoling, that Beth Pleaded Prettily
To Part with Her Swain, til’ Their Hearts Came, to be Joined For Perpetuity
To Compose Herself, for Their Nuptial-Heft, She twould  Prepare Hastily
And Rendezvous for His View, stating … ‘ I  twould’ Look, My Best for Thee!’

And as She left His side, She was Singing Most Merrily …

‘ …  Carry Me in Thine Arms, to Our Beloved Balcony
To a Bed of Blushing-Rose-Petals and Wild-Tossed-Peonies
A Bed Lover’s Designed … Draped in Damask and Brocade -Satiny
And let Moon-Glow, from Yon’ Window, Bathe Us Both Bodily … ‘

… and The Handsomely Styled, Smitten Knight Smiled, as He Heard Her Warm Gaiety …

… Sweet Wine On My Lips … Drip In Ecstasy
Sweet Touch On My Hips … Smooth as Warm Honey
Sweet Love of My Soul … Last An Eternity
Sweetheart, Be Thy Bold in Bravery …
… and if Sweet Talk, Be A Token
And Language Be Spoken …
Be Legendary … Be Thou Legendary !

                                  ( Part 3 (of) 4 )

Details | I do not know? | |


From afar I cried you away.
My tears swept you close
to my heart where you stay.
So play with your toy 
live well in your game.
You called me just a charcter 
a fabled name.

Jumping when strings pulled
I know the routine.
What was meant to be written 
was meant to be seen.
Prior to things like late nights and happy days
there was a poet with a gift
and he called it 

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 | Lyric | |




Details | Lyric | |

Grains Of My Sand

The everlasting presence of elegance
Is distributed through the artistry's vein
In which creativity flows
Never to run dry or begin to drain
Because a mind poetically inclined forever brings rain
That downpours forevermore
Outlined experiences lyrically sane
Whether recited or written
Words are interweaved in position to birth lyrical precision
That started with action of the purest passion
Movements from a left to right direction
Causes an erection
Released freely on blue lines carefully straightened
One on one love making
So that the ritual of spiritual cadence is never forsakened
Nurtured properly 
Thoughts caught in times rushing path
Crashes against shallow interpretations on a daily occasional
Basis is consistent like delivered rays from the mother sun
As long as the world has spun

Millions of years, through oceans of tears
Thousand of miles of smiles
Still my quest will have just begun
The practice is sacred
The dialect is purposely presented naked
Full vision of view must be at use
Total truth is my language in which I choose to speak to you in

Proof no whiskey could bottled
Contents of substance no one beast can swallow
Only ongoing tomorrows
Can withstand 
The comings from the grains of my sand......

Details | Free verse | |

Poetry Reading

Dimly lit with staged spotlight 
The beatnik coffee house 
Espresso or moca in every cup 
Black berets and sandals (optional) 
Digging the sounds of be bop  
In dark sunglasses 
Renditions of Miles and Coltrane 
Smoke like dry ice in water 
Dancing and disappearing 
In light in darkness 
Satisfaction and discontentment 
Free love and hopelessness 
Remembering the past 
Thinking of the future 
With neck-or-nothing passion  
In black 
Stepping to the open mike 
A poet appearing 
No applause 
Finger snaps beating claps 
Extempore and reading the script 
Tables nodding and chanting groans 
Finger snaps speeding claps 
Nodding and groaning 
More and more and more 
Oobalee owa. Selah. 
A poet disappearing 
Satisfied and away discontent 
Freely loved and away hopeless 
Remembering the past 
Thinking of the future 
With neck-or-nothing passion 
In black 
Berets and sandals (optional) 
Digging the sounds of be bop 
Stepping to the open mike 
The smoke dancing and disappearing 
Speaking of light into unseen darkness 
Dimly lit with staged spotlight 
At the beatnik coffee house

Details | Lyric | |

Making it

I have always dreamed
of making it as a writer
writing poetry
or music
that is what I'm good at
that is how I express myself
is through writing
I dream of making it big
becoming a famous writer
make everybody happy
that is what I do
and I love it.

Details | Free verse | |


Expression, creative expression,
That's all poetry is.
Full of anguish and confusion,
Happiness and delusion,
Sadness and obsession.
I admit, I have a confession.
I'm a selfish writer.
I don't write to make someone else's day brighter.
I write to make my own load lighter.
I don't care what others may gain.
I just do this to stay sane,
And that's exactly how it's gonna remain.
So why do I write poetry?
Because it's my escape from reality.
Now why don't you just leave me be.

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? | |

Hope is in the Future

When your heart grows weaker and you no longer want to fight, 
And the hounds are howling, a struggle in the plight,
Remember, Hope is in the future, the outlook is bright.

When feelings of insecurity quickly begin to grow,
And your spirit is at an all time low, consider this even though, 
Hope is in the future, this I do know.

Sadness surrounds me, life is so unclear.
My hands tremble and am always filled with fear, although I must adhere, 
Hope is in the future, the target is near.

The army grows stronger little will to fight.
Everyone has their own wrong and right, but I know with all my might,
Hope is in the future, with faith not sight.

Summer is not eternal winter will come.
No mortal can comfort what damage has done.
Hope is in the future through Christ God's son.

Details | Couplet | |

Healing Ellie

I met you hollow as the bones
of sun scorched trees with roots upturned
Worn to smoothness, polished grey
I met you when you'd less to say
But time and temperance green the ground
by pushing growth and sticking 'round
The seeds which scattered, dormant, light
in a gust of wind and time, took flight
They settled with your words and grew
with limbs of strength, they became you
And soon you laughed and bloomed in pink
and unwrapped time as a gift to think
Soon, your roots entwined the earth
You opened your arms to a million birds
and swayed in the wind to their favorite tune
as you etched them into your friend, the moon
Now you speak as all nature does
with a heart full of passion that's rooted in love
Each limb of growth reaching into the wind
Your words are a healing, You're on the mend...

Details | I do not know? | |

Glorified Hermit

Entrance my heart oh silent air
my thoughts allowed to zoom and sail
to bounce off walls of self defeat
and rain back down in liquid sheets.
Like music lost in fingertips
which hum and rest upon my lips
but flee when passerby's arrive
to catch me at my most alive.
Thoughts which dwell in corner closets
dark and warm until I conjure
up their image in my dreams
although quite wide awake I be.
Mournful melody, thoughts of rhythm
surging from the lonely chasm
written out with shaking pencil
fast as they will let me catch them.
Sometimes thoughts come out in oils
sometimes they speak in watercolors
trees with roots running off the page
or a basket of apples in brown and sage.
That look you have with the sun in your eyes
or the mirror of canvas in bright green skies.
Then there are thoughts which will only let go
when the poetry pulls them and lets them flow.
Loosed they are known for sweeping statements grand
and building tall stories on shifting sand.
They won't blink an eye to a passerby
as strangers are known to occasionally lie.
They fuel up the music and hand art a brush
and glare at the air with an infinite "hush"!
For poetry, melody, painting uninhibited
is the limitless gift of the glorified hermit.

Details | ABC | |


Children of stink, cannot smell the rose.
Lithium in their blood
fathers were happy.

Power over the fire of groins,
was a music to ears.
Everything else was secondary.

The wishes squealed
on the mattresses.
Grief was served in the bed.

Big tears flowing
on the cheeks of ice.
Antarctica was crying.

Sexed up vendetta
did not kill a fly.
Bee was hovering over the heads.

I will expand till infinity.
Life will take care
of ferocious clauses.


Details | Classicism | |

Erato the goddess

Derived from "Eros" the Greek muse 
Bring me the words to form and infuse 
Your name is has been known as lovely
Shine on me privately  
Love of life 
Bring onto me nightlife 
Of erotic pleasure 
And poetry treasures 
From your Greek Gods 
And passionate lords 
I write the words 
That fly like the birds 
As a pair 
Lovers untangled the lustful flare
And Zeus your  statue faces me 
God of daylight 
Pointing to the sea 
Writing lyrics that sigh and jive 
Helping with words I can contrive 
Erato you wear a wreath of roses 
White and myrtle 
Playing music of love so 


Details | I do not know? | |

The Poet's corner (2005)

Where’s the poets corner at?
Where ever lay my hat
On the bus or at work
Wherever my inspiration may lurk 
A poet is a gypsy of every corner 
A savior to a word mourner 
Where ever I lay my hat
That’s where the poet corners at

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 | I do not know? | |

Sound In Your Mind

The sound in your mind
The word on a page
The common dream
Fading with age

Living just enough
Seeking inclusion
Searching for realism
Realizing the illusion

Striving for legitimacy
Marking your word
Starving for intimacy
Wanting to be heard

Everything's better
When we pretend
That we're dead

Someone please stop
All this madness
Swirling inside my head

Details | Free verse | |


I bring you into world
Not from kissy beginnings 
Or caresses
When all the finger wants
Is to drop the dress

I bring you into world
Not from smooth metaphors
Seducing senses and ears
Hollow with loneliness
Longing to breed the flesh

I bring you into the world
Naked of knives
Barren of guns and bombs
Shivering in verbs
Too pale for the meaning of the eyes

I bring you in the world
Like a new brand morning
With all the baggage of history
Broken shouldered, limping
Full of rage for liberation

I bring you into the world
Beginner of the battle
Bringer of the brave
Tsunami and pebble of the wave
Make sand castles fall
Whip the rock to grain again

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 | Romanticism | |

Written words

Thought it might help me tonight
If I at here and just write
About how my life I've since lost sight
Don't know what to do anymore
Nothing seems right
Losing any and all strength here
I have no more might
Words can sometimes help heal
The wounds that had cut so deep
But these words aren't helping me here tonight
I feel like I must weep
But do you think tears coming down from my eyes that seep
Will be what helps me here
No it just causes more sadness
And more fear
I've successed at failing
And have failed at being a success
My life before wasn't my own to lead
Now my heart is lieing in wait
It's already began to bleed
For my heart will never be freed
For the love I have for someone
To which I don't know if he feels the same
He's the one I let get away
And now I live with that shame
You know who you are so I don't have to say your name
No the writing of these words tonight
Still didn't make anything I've done right
They didn't give me peace
They didn't let my mind by forever quiet
All that could only come from time spent with you
Funny what a few simply spoken words from you could do
For me
Before why couldn't we see
What we had been searching for all along
In everyone we met
We had right here in us
And we let time pass by like a phantom jet
God I miss you
Somewhere inside me it's saying
You are missing me to
I'm scared
Never had feelings like this before
Taken a hold of my heart, of my soul
This time we need not shut the door
Let our hearts be free and soar
Then these written words I would need no more

Details | Acrostic | |

Insatiable Desire of the Eternally Inspired

Ignite the fuel tipped silken cord
Nightly wound loosely and limp
Spiraled and braided around my desire
Pressed into wet wax and unkempt
I'll know you before you break open your pen
Remember you as you burn up
Exhausted and wired, you'll feel uninspired but levity won't let you stop

My thoughts have been set quick afire, you've spun me a home molten glass
Entranced and elated, my yearning abated, I sigh knowing this too shall pass...

Details | Free verse | |

The Green Light

I was given...
giving the freedom of speech 
the gift to teach, but most of all
to testify and witness the truth
I'm sumthin this world ain't used to
but think about it, I'm needed
and I know this world is heated 
they know I pose a threat 
and God willing I might just cheat death
and as blessed as I am you and I both know
a sin is a sin, but like everyone who acknowledges
his or her wrongs & rights, I too had to be born again
and my mind set is so militant 
in a way it's crazy, so I'm a misfit to these streets
so God is the only one who could make me 
or break me, take me from this world 
thats why they hate me, but they rate me a problem child
wit a guilty conscience and to them everything I speak 
is non sense

Details | Free verse | |

Reading in Bed

Languid and luscious wet 
like watercolors I lay near 
pillows seeking words 
in a writer’s space riding 
the story coursing 
with compassion freely I drop
the book crested crimson
melts into hot rose petals soft 
and succulent rising 
into you falling into you

Details | Free verse | |

The Poet

And I knew him
In a way
I never knew myself;
somehowI understood
the sadness
in his heart,
and I felt the
and the needing
that ran so
deep within,
and I fell
without a doubt
in love
with him;
for when I read his poems,
I saw ...his soul

Details | Senryu | |

Hollow Words

My thoughts as a whole
You patronize and cajole
And throw down a hole

By Robb A. Kopp

Details | Free verse | |

Ah, They Are Here

Ah, they are here, un-still 
and un-relentless. They kept 
whirling and glowing, with great 
lushness and rhythm, offering 

aroma of strange time—
into the pellucid metamorphic rock of my head,
among the fictitious thin threads 
of life. Hmm, they wear 

no clothes, at all, yet their sultry eyes 
were cornflower blue! Taper flames dance 
with my heart; my starwars stained, 
darken. Oh, I should, 

yes, I should perceive of 
how I will be slumbering with them 
when love comes in the night that never complains
…and not where these thoughts will be etched!

Details | Lyric | |

The So-Called Poetry

‘Tis art that comes from the heart
‘Tis the gift that we ought to lift
And share it with those who care

I must try now to be more like you
For you have such a heart that care 
Uplifting me from my great despair

I have a gift, for you, that will make 
You see what is really inside of me
‘Cos we, both, live in the art of life

Of sharing one another, cheerfully 
You and me, the so-called poetry
As always, where we ought to be 

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 | 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 | 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 | Blank verse | |

...collaboration of inspiration-Stevie Nicks dedication to the red rose grows the passion in the Enchanted Gate and Garden there 
Whenever you call me friend and I believe I've come to understand that I'm the 
Kind of woman with for whom you don't blame for having a Wild heart but you 
know that you can always Talk to me you can set your secrets free you have given 
me your Leather and you have taken from me my Lace I am stronger than you 
know it all comes down to you lighting strikes maybe once maybe twice and you  
see your Gyspy but  you have to Stop draggin' my heart around because baby you 
could never look me in the eye and say you didn't love me you buckled with the 
weight of the words and looking at Rhiannon who is like a cat in the dark and 
then she is the darkness and knowing that even in Dreams when the rain 
washes you clean Sometimes it's a witch and no matter what they say Love's a 
hard game to play you may need to Stand back in the middle of my room my 
Bella Donna riding high a top her pony cause not everyone has Crystal visions 
nor will everyone with their capes pulled around them tight cry for the Nightbird 
some will see their refection in the snow covered hills until the Landslide brings 
them down and even the Gold dust woman with her heartless challenge will pick 
her path and for her we pray although on the Edge of seventeen things may Rock 
a little and sadly enough Some will become strangers you will always have My 
heart I never again want to Fall from grace even if time cast a spell on you never 
will you forget me and in years past I tried to love you before but you would not let 
me I am ready now to be your Silver spring blue green colors flashing and yes 
I'm Strong enough remember I'm your Beauty and you are my Beast poet priest of 
nothing Has anyone ever written anything for you in all your darkest hours did you 
ever hear me sing listen to me now I sing for the things money can't buy me and 
long After the glitter fades I will still be here you said If anyone falls in love it will 
be done to us most of all I have to know when I can see you again because I 
can't wait yes I know you though we've been out of touch...

...this is a collaboration of written words inspired by
Stevie Nicks...

Details | Free verse | |

Rilke's Letters

When letters were written by fire light
and sealed up with charred red wax
containing the breath and the Indian ink
from a hand penned in burning romance
the world hung on every word there within
When letters like these were broke open to breathe
even the birds stole the song from their voice
and the sky held the skirt of the burning breeze
while the breeze blew in tears like it had a choice
and the reader read on in earnest.
When letters contained inspiring quotes
to be spoken in whispers in velvet halls
the writer grew famous in circles and such
for the decadent living which broke down walls
and rebuilt them in modern white plaster
When letters were written in the hush of the night
by a hand yearning touch from it's one true mate
sealed up with a burning, reproachable script
which only would fluster and cruel complicate
the reader would sure fall in love
and respond, there in kind, with a letter...

Details | I do not know? | |

passage for expression

Through poetry we feel emotion
Which sometimes is hard to explain
It's a way to express what you're feeling
whether it be love or it be pain
Putting together a perfect description
of what it is you feel in your heart
A melody of words in rhythm
transformed into creative art
Only finding that years later
being read aloud in someone's home
Will be someone's thoughts and sentiments
composed into a poem

Details | Sonnet | |

Opening Day

Banners swayed to the shimmy, of sprouting springtime rays
As lime lines hugged emerald fields, on America’s favorite day
Youthful faces peaked above leather gloves, of inherited family fun
Sheets of sunshine spilled over ivy walls, of towering home runs

Children cheered the names of heroes, that shadows had crept behind
As old men dawned the numbers of legends, still playing in their mind
Cracker Jacks crunched as hungry eyes, devoured the diamond’s glare
The words “Play Ball!” echoed with the luster, of a rekindled love affair

One crack of the bat, broke a winter long season of seamless strife
As a scorched line drive, was driven into the hope of every fan’s life
A single was stretched into a double, beneath the roar of the crowd
Players dusted off pennant dreams, that slid between the clouds

Opening Day had come and gone, fly balls faded deep into night 
But the Boys of Summer will play forever, in memories of delight

Details | Rhyme | |

They Are Wrong

Men cannot be poets,
Or so it seems in life,
The people that should know it,
Their words do strife.

Cuts you to the bone,
When you read what they have said,
Will not leave you alone,
Run cover your head.

Could not believe it this morning,
When I read these words so grave,
Felt I took a beating,
As if I were a slave.

But is ok for I am strong,
I will try much harder,
To prove,
That they are wrong.

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 | 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 | Couplet | |

My Own Fixation

It is too easy to master the sadness, of my poetry
Than all the combinations, of winning the lottery

I’ll just think I’m sad, sadness becomes my poetry
I’m already mad and sad; still, I don’t win a lottery

That I decided to have my fixation, on a sad poetry
Than harvesting great sadness, of losing the lottery

There is, at least, one big profit of writing sad poetry
Freeing the pain that you gained, perhaps, in a lottery

So come hand in hand, let us build a world, of poetry
Rather than investing your hope, of winning a lottery

Details | Dramatic monologue | |


Steel that fills the skies,
Steel that supplants the mighty ocean
Steel casted hearts of bravery...
These are our guardians,
Our navy, which sets a new standard,
Our Air-Forces,
That can cover the skies
of any spot on earth...
Our men, stout of heart,
Gun at the ready....
Their buddies reason enough...
To face any odds, to take
any face any death...
So their buddies survive...
This is a small sampling of the Steel
of America...
We take our time...
We try so hard...
Not to hurt innocents...
Some take this for weakness...
But that is their's...
This country is ringed by steel,
It exports its steel bite
Whereever, and whenever,
It should choose...
Think carefully,
Save a foolish,
Hasty act....
Should show you,
And those you love,
The valley of death
Is where you have wandered.

Details | Burlesque | |

Congratulations to The King of Poetry

Oh Mighty King Heck,
What less could we expect?
Thine shining poetic armour,
For sure was just the charmer,
To set poetic fires a five alarmer,
Thus to beget the highest honor,
Words that flowed from Gods above,
Such talent one must love,
Dare I say on the next round,
I'll take off my gentleman's glove!!

Congrats, good buddy, and Merry Christmas!!

Details | Name | |


Growing up In thee City, living with a
Family only a Mother, putting food on table Daddy decided,
He could no longer work living In thee City, with four Girls and two Boys
No shame If you could only look the things that I saw right before Your eyes,
Imagine a Father with leaving our home, and never too return
Didn't even give a poem what His Children noctice Mother would
Work all kinds of Jods making sure that Her Family, would
Never part growing up In thee City, was difficult grace but we all
Strived to graduate at the top of our score we finished, still
It wasn't enough Mother gave us a chance at a College, four Years tough now
I think for a moment, and try to relate while growing up In the City,
You definitely need Mother always did Her best that She could
Providing a loving sweet home while growing up In thee City.

Details | Quatrain | |

Birth of a Novel

In a troublesome mood, half engulfed firelight
with a silk sheen perspire, emerging a thought
In round wire glasses, too light to be noticed
and a brass nib in ink, the moment was caught

It was twirled 'round a finger, half calloused with ink
with a wedding band clasp, from a lifetime ago
to be mulled an enigma, in bled scroll designs
on pages which only his fingers would know

By the crack of the fire, he stretched to the brink
every nuance he carried, like whispering skin
The embers died down, 'till he caught up a chill
but he couldn't conclude, what he didn't begin

The words were in charge, in general ink
and he wrote in a fervor, and shook until still
with bones turned to ash, in the blue of the room
a novel was born, but the author was killed.

Details | Lyric | |

Cordial Appreciation

Together, day by day

In your best apron
And I in my evening suit

Hmm, the soup 
Is boiling
With your finest herbs

I tasted it
And wish I have cooked it first
...your bowl of wordy art


Details | Free verse | |

Force of Forces

speed of sound wave's vibrate souls
deep expression words unknown
true language of thought exude feelings
force of forces , assuredness with meaning
syllable symphony , colorful metronome
simple cadences which lead you home

phonic forces from sonic sources
light speed , god speed , force of forces

awakened sight , speed of light
quelling ignorances blackened night
release of dampering grips dark might
illuminate , subjugate , unholy fright
allow god's light to open doors
which fill empty spaces previously ignored

light speed , god speed , force of forces
phonic forces , from sonic sources.....

Details | Rhyme | |

To the Writer Who Pegged Me Right...

Satsuma button a torn reminder
of the writer who read me and printed my voice
Pages uncut and unevenly binded
with etchings of longing a life filled with choice
Midnight pass quickly and frail me no more
I yearn to delve deeper to see what's in store
but my throat is quite aching and my eyes sting in salt
I stand without blood pressure feeling to fall
So lost in her words, so taken with expressions
of me in her mirror of liquid reflections
Cherry tree blossoms as snow on the ground
as my heart sinks in silence, indelible sound
Satsuma button to start a collection
a reminder of the moment a soul pegs you right
Rice paper marking my book with discretion
as I rise with my countenance and bid you good night...

Details | I do not know? | |

Close Calls

So many close calls
Wishing I was dead right now
So many close calls
I gotta live for God right now
So many close calls
That could've ended my life right now
So many close calls
I gotta be a soulja right now
So many close calls
Thank God I'm alive right now
It could've ended within a few seconds
Gettin' caught up in the streets
Could leave you hangin' in the streets
Writing poetry to keep my mind cleared up
Thinking so many thoughts in my head
Wonder if it'll ever fall off
So many close calls
People think if the fear of dying will ever cross my mind
I say no and keep reaching to the Lord
Close calls could leave you speechless within a heart attack
Thinking of the kids growing with no role models
What about us?
We gotta fight and live for the truth now

Details | Verse | |

Icy Melting Drops

Why mountain has, 
A big belly,
What is in his tummy?
 Nobody is telly?

A fire is burning,
In it’s belly,
But greenery appears,
A hard stony appearance,
But climax is cool.

It protects our life,
And stops clouds for rain,
It produces soil,
To fertilise a valley,
And stores water to keep balance.
It seems hard to climb,
A peak of its top,
But fresh air blows down,
After it’s kissing,
The icy melting drops?

Details | Rhyme | |

Among the Greats

Each day, like clockwork
they would meet 
at their usual place
in the poetry section of the
neighborhood library.
There, no one ever bothers them
and the books seem to set the tone
for their meeting. 
Today was no different:

Each and every day at half past three
The two would meet at the library
Between the shelves, among the books
There’s no one about, so no one to look

Their time was important, they seemed fulfilled
Each time that they met, another thrill
Anointed with mischief, had need to meet
There by the books, they created their heat

Among all their favorites, the poets before
Who wrote of their loves, the losses, much more
They whispered in silence, with never a sound
As the two came together and fell on the ground

The passion in the books, above them, they knew
Helped to inspire them, the things that they do
The love that they shared each and every day
Was poetry itself, in a most unique way

But there, there’s a sound, footsteps one heard
They stopped their interaction, silenced all words
Still united as one, on the floor tightly wound
The person approached, they made not a sound

Down the corridor, the person then traveled
Their bodies still locked, not wanting to unravel
He kissed her so gently, she held tightly that kiss
Today must last forever, for tomorrow they’ll miss

They both heated with passion, ready to explode
The lovers among the books, were ready to go
Dared not to scream, for then they’d be heard
Each holding the other’s mouth, to not utter a word

Excitement they shared, oh, each every day
While books sat on shelves, they came there to play
Among giants, the authors, who penned love’s verse
They came each day, to satisfy their thirst

Together they would leave, with smiles galore
From their time in the library, the time on the floor
Knowing, behind them, they had time for themselves
Among the many love poems in the books on the shelves

Details | Free verse | |

The Poem I Wanted To Share

Yesterday I, after work, went straight home 
Because there was a poem beaming 
With hues of beautiful Saturday afternoon 
That kept running through my head
Great! I’ve a poem to share 
No bothering winter wind
No snow to melt before my crisp feet
What a perfect time to write
With a pen and block note in hand
I laid myself on a garden love-swing 
Then, suddenly, you came joining me
With a pink smile on your face
You were very lovely and I fell in love, again
My breath, in haste, intertwined 
In perfect harmony with yours
And, the poem flattered away, completely gone
I couldn’t remember if it was sonnet or free verse
But, it doesn’t really matter anymore
For you held me tight, kissing….and tingling
That I love it, making my day complete

Details | Didactic | |

If You Can't Be

If you can't be a pine at the top of a hill,
Be a scrub,a little scrub by the side of the rill.
Be a bush if you can't be a tree.
If you can't be a bush,be a bit of the grass,
And some highway happier make,
If you can't be a muskie,then just be a bass.

Details | I do not know? | |

A Poet's Dream

A poet dreams, a poet writes
Words of passion, mostly unlike,
Like a rhythm nation, they rock in time
Coming from strange but gifted minds

Like a blank canvas that opens up so many feelings and thoughts
 Writing words that will affect other people’s hearts,
Dreams filled with hopes and despair and some with luck
Others just need the words to help pick them up

A poet words help others to find their deepest feelings within their own being 
Hopefully they will teach as well help those who need just need some healing,  
With love and a understanding that can be construed between each line
Taking on subject matters to their limits and beyond most of the time

Subjects which may considered tabooed, others are right on the mark
Company that is for the lonely, one who hides away in the dark,
Addictions and life’s tough woes, a constant reminder for all
Breaking down the barriers of the self imposed walls

Aspirations of greatness stopped by the initiatives of a once strong will
Pouring out the kindness that will essentially help those with the will to live,
Granted far be it not everything is always right
But hopefully the truthful meanings come out in the things a poet writes

Passions of truthful inspirations coming with the territory of what we live
Trying to show the goodness we have learned and what we have to give,
Reflections of a simpleton who plays the poor man’s role
Someone who struggles daily to reach their goals

No judgments or scruples that can be comprised to clog up a mind
Basic instincts that weave moral fabrics, keeping track of somebody during their 
Ethics proposed to every individual so they stay on track and not get forgotten in the 
Remembering those who simply need a hug or a loving gentle kiss

Producing pictures like a physic that’s able to see within the mind of others
Taking them on a journey within a piece of literature about many subjects covered,  
Each individual deciphers the messages that touches their own heart differently it seems
Keeps a poet writing, bearing their soul that is filled with all of his or her, Dreams!  

December 30, 2003

Details | Romanticism | |


I woke up in the middle of the night, I 

thought I was just dreaming found out that

my girl left me alone now I'm on my own and

now I'm going crazy, because I'm all alone,

I didn't think you would be gone this long,

I'm sorry I done you wrong baby, please 

come back home, baby I'm so lonely, I have

nobody, baby I'm so lonely I have nobody to

make me smile like the way you do, baby I'm

sorry for what I put you through, I just

want you back in my life, without you I

don't know if I could live this long, baby

I'm so gone, I still can't believe you

would be gone this long, I just wanna tell

you I'm on my own and alone.

Details | I do not know? | |

Gracing The Page

Gracing the page
Has not been my practice of late
For my time has been better spent
With bodies
In uncomfortable beds
With double mattresses
And dirty leather couches
With the sounds of war in front of us
But the noise of laughter between us
We’re back
And now, I’ve returned, too

Details | Diminished Hexaverse | |

Whispered Words

Engulfed in whispers
spoken by the wind,
we sought to answer.
The sky laughed at us
and pulled up our words.

These long ropes hang
from silver stars,
contain our love,
and light the night.

Laugh away
frigid sky
while you freeze.

We are
more than


Details | Verse | |

I heard Him

When a person was delivering,
Leaflets door to door,
When a person was calling them,
For a demonstration,

When a person was on strike,
He was never supported by them,
When a person stands for them,
And asks them for a voice,

When a person was delivering a lecture,
They never care for him,
They were always busy,
Domestic matters were only their need.

They never care for candidates
They never care to vote them,
They never care for campaigns,
Always They remark, politics is n’t good.

When a flood made them homeless,
They opened their eyes and watched others,
They were waiting for their president,
They were asking what will he do for them?

Yes, I heard them when they said,
Politics and equal rights is our need,  
A choice for a candidate is our need,
Society can’t develop without service.

Details | I do not know? | |


A poet dreams, like a lover loves.
Or like a hater hates as the mad man sees devils.
And I am a poet who dreams or observes the purity of nature. 
I observe the suns rays as father, and mother is rain.
I dream of earthly ground stays still, a solid rock before our feet
as we sleep at the fall of darkness, or the edge of dusk at horizon.
I dream of eyes as colored green, gold and hue of blue,
I dream of rainbows appear at the peak of 
dawns and the smoke from a flame.
I dream of light as a silver tint giving the motal's ability to see,
the rouge heart beating a melody of drums,
and hands that sense the texture of silk or against a lover's skin.
I am a dreamer therefore I write with a pen.
I am dreamer to observe, and I dream with all my might
because I am a poet.

Details | I do not know? | |

Avenging Treachery

 Taking a walk, easy for some,
But not for me, I couldn’t do it
Thinking of the words,
Why did I leave them, 
I am consumed.
There is no hope for me. 
The constant haunting,
Nagging, pushing out of turn
I have to have them 
They are all I have left.
Oh my sweet wonderful love
Of my life,
Where are you, take me away from here,

Thy blazing blade, tearing, cutting,
Gnawing, at consequences, of my life. 
The torment so majestic, so horrid,
Overwhelming tyranny of my soul.
Vermin waiting for burdens to unfold, 
Their appetites enveloping 
Waiting for their nourishment,
Quell them I know not how.
Solitary doom upon me.

My words surround me now, 
I am protected at last. 
Nothing can break down the barriers,
That protect me.
Wrought words, 
A pleasant feeling of weariness abounds me.
I can sleep now, 
I have made it through another night.


Details | I do not know? | |

The Conversation

Whispered words
Floating on a breeze
Darting past cars
Soaring through trees

Words of passion
Words of hate
Words of dreams
Words too late

A conversation spoken
Never meant to be heard
A conversation spoken
With all the wrong words

The sounds have been cast
The ears have received
In the twilight of the night
The conversation reached me

Details | Burlesque | |

Lexis Affair

The air was disturbed 
by wispy soft strings
the tickles uncurbed, 
like hummingbird wings;
the beat in my chest 
it stuttered a spell
and dared risk a rest, 
a moment to dwell.

The stir of his verse 
had fractured my breath
and nervousness burst 
beneath the great depth;
my eyes came to pause, 
my heart came to flutter
all just because 
of words none shall utter.

The thoughts that emerged 
an enemy force
so quickly diverged 
and took their own course;
the tip of a pen, 
the roll of a ball,
reminding again 
that prisons don't fall.

The blocks of mistakes 
with time as a mortar
old dreams can't awake 
I'll not cross the border.
First lessons I learn 
no need to redo
the errors they burned 
more dreams than a few.

A sense of belonging 
had drawn out a sigh
a wisp of that longing 
I've tried to deny;
The shivers I nursed 
for moments in time
caressed by his verse 
a rush of sweet rhyme.

I slept with his lexis 
and loved the embrace
and woke to a nexus 
of strings to displace
but drums of regret 
I just can not hear
as moments of threat 
still whisper so near.

I hugged an illusion 
for feeling I wept
in dreams and delusions 
that silently crept;
the hiss of commotion 
it shook me to reason
reminding emotion 
is personal treason.

It's never that's real 
forever that daunts
the rousing I feel 
persistently haunts
my wits I can't lose 
post lexis affair
alone with my muse, 
loose quills in my hair.

Details | Couplet | |

Peel Me a Poem

Whisk them all to peaks of passion, 
Words and letters, deeds and action, 
Flow them, grow them in the sky
All exhaled we burst and fly
Butter wings and liquid lifting
Swelled balloons for fingertipping
Catching words, pulp and peel
Need to eat them,  just to feel...

Details | Lyric | |


I am like tare 
that peeks through cracked, cemented ground 
and inter-mingles 
with happiness and sadness. I dance, 

awesomely with 
wild Jasmines, as they imitate 
the night. Ah, those swaying lips that 
mesmerize the silver moon 

obscured by a slow-moving 
dark cat, I wonder if my 
shadow in wintry days is the same 
in summer’s spell.  Look, 

my heart winks
like warm stars 
in the galaxy 
of love. See, I have 

this perception
from a whisperer’s passion. His mythical trek, 
shod with 
pen and paper.

Details | Blank verse | |


how I wish I could flow.
Then I could woe
‘em to and fro,
friend or foe,
I’d have to forego
this plateau
I lie low 
Now that’s flow;
not some
dog and pony show.
And it sure isn’t
the status quo.
now we know
that I can flow
from head to toe.
turn off that
T.V. show;
get caught in the
under toe,
because you are
about to go,
and say hello,
to communication.
Forget civilization,
and obligation.
Here’s a formal
to an,
information transformation;
celebration of relaxation,
if you will.
So just chill,
and be fulfilled.
A little mind play,
and we’ll all be O.K.

Details | Verse | |

Idea A Strength,

Idea is immortal,
A person, animals, birds, 
Trees, plants, mountains,
River, grass, every thing dies,
Except than air and light. 

The world and nature has
Progress the cause of Idea,
Idea lives in air and light,
As a new baby grows,
With the help of air and heat.

A seed shoots itself, 
The cause of air and heat,
When you feel tired,
You may walk in fresh air,
When mind is cool, you heat it up.

Idea comes to touch your mind,
Body gets strength and starts,
Work until idea provides light,
A person feels happiness,
That who listens himself.

Details | Lyric | |

I Write for Myself

So sue me
I don’t write like you
I don’t pay attention to form and rhyme scheme,
And I shouldn’t have to,
That’s the beauty of art

I write from the heart
I say what I feel
Why must it be structured a certain way,
In order to be real?

I will not write a haiku
Nor a senryu 
What’s it to you?
Does that mean I’m fake?

It’s time you wake up
Get over yourself
I won’t change my ways,
Because you say they’re wrong
I won’t change my ways,
Because the forms say they’re wrong
I don’t write for your forms,
Or anything else
I write for myself

Details | I do not know? | |




..... POETS...USE...........

Details | I do not know? | |

Fortune Favors the Brave

If my ink poured out success,
Would my words still hold their value?
If I wrote a book around emotions,
What more could I tell you?

If fame became my fortune,
Would we still be friends?
If my life changed dramatically,
Would I still pick up a pen?

If I left tomorrow,
Would you follow me?
If my words don't move you,
Would you give me eyes to see?

If I lost my passion,
Would you show me how to love again?
If I lost my will to write,
Would you help me pick up my pen?

Details | Verse | |

Laugh is Free

If I did something wrong, don’t laugh at me,
No argue on your freedom I know laugh is free.
If someone is injured and crying for pain,
Is laugh necessary why he didn’t use brain?

You can talk and laugh it is n’t a matter,
You need to think about a place is that better?
If you will seed the nails who shall walk free?
Why a person cares not a person that’s my worry.

If everyone will throw rubbish, what will be a face?
Is animal will be astonished what is a human grace?
This is only a person that can do lot better?
Nobody can serve better if he is a cheater.

Roots are going downward and leaves are going upward,
A person can walk forward as he can go backward.
He is getting old and becoming a child cruel,
He is selfish and greedy, playing everywhere foul. 

Details | Quatrain | |


You have engraved my heart
with the nib of your pen dipped in ink
I never would be one to don a tattoo
but you colored me up before I stopped to think
Irregular beating and vascular crunch
slipped over beautiful walls
Adrenaline master, a natural disaster
responding to each of your calls
Whisper my name in your most fitful sleep
eyes twitching, light of the moon
My heart will respond yet in kind to your voice
with a beating of words to resume.

Details | Blank verse | |

Creative Spirits Pour


o'er thorns,

the wine of creative fervor,

wields the spirit like a sword.

let free your veins desire,

red pathos fills the mind ,

evokes the truth,

   Unheard muses,

match your passions' pace.

fashions' flight beholds..........

new impressions to explore,

    the gifted goblet,

fires the eagles' soul,
    to  soar.

come drink deep

of the brew of kings

and tell us of the secret 



Details | Lyric | |

Listen To My Whisper

Gee, there’s a beautiful muse
And it is there… in my head
Sometimes, it is in my heart 

It is always there
And, it whirlwinds 
Within me

I let it flutter down
Like a yellow butterfly, nestling
On my candle-shaped finger
With a silver quill
It was written, now it's a poem
To behold, forever

I wow myself 
Like I used to do, when I was 7
And I am so pleased

To be here, as a whisperer---
Cheerfully, whispering unto thee
The beauty, my aging brain sees

Details | Couplet | |

Words Glitterati

One rhyme at a time,
One love to linger on;

A little piece of you
And me, the glitterati

Of sonnets, and 
Of free verse;

We let ourselves to flow,
Sometimes, we overflow;

Coating in the passion
To shed out the emotions;

Poetry brings us together,
Re-unites us, when we fall;

You are my poetry
And I’m your rhyme;

You are my free verse
And I am your sonnet;

For words are out there,
Sweet as we whisper.

Details | Lyric | |

As I think Of It

My poem, as I think of it,
I am taken to solitude of happiness,
Where the bitter memory of yesteryears 
Disappears, without traces.

I am delivered in spirits
From hell of anxieties to an exotic paradise
Of hope, where it is me and my poem
Alone for a moment.

There’s rhyming sonnet, and beautiful verses
Even a haiku, too, you’ll see as you gently peek 
Thru my soul, fed by the reflection ripples of the sea
With placid water so warm and really blue. I sigh.

The magical seasons of pink summer night,
Of white winter noon,
Of golden fall day,
Of bright-green of early morn. I breathe.

Sweet caress from the rhyming sea  
As I look deeper into my heart,
A poem, sweet as me as I whisper to you
My life, not of yesterday, but of today.

Details | Quatrain | |


I had thought strength was an ally
But truth be told, I’ve fallen weak
Words that flow from another’s lips
Make me powerless, when she speaks

The words she says, the tone, the way
She makes me feel like the only one
A feeling strong, but makes me weak
For when she speaks, I come undone

It’s everything about the words she says
She writes them as if just written for me
Though weakened by her power, so strong
I would choose no other way to be

Overpower me!

Details | Free verse | |

Water-Colored Words (Reversed Verse)

As Water-colored
Liquid creativity 
Seeping from my cup of thoughts
Mental portraits
Created colors 
Quenching the thirsty canvas
Revealed to a world
Within water-colored dreams
Fanciful minds filled to the brim
With excitement of hearts 
Awaiting the next tale to be told

~Ah yes indeed it shall be known by those~

Awaiting the next tale to be told
With excitement of hearts
Fanciful minds filled to the brim
Within water-colored dreams
Revealed to a world
Quenching the thirsty canvas
Created colors 
Mental portraits
Seeping from my cup of thoughts
Liquid creativity 
As Water-colored

Details | Free verse | |

A power of change

When I stood up,
On the mountain, 
Air starts to blow,
The whistling in my ears.
I looked at the sky,
A white ball moon,
on my left,
A golden burner ball on my other side,
The dark clouds were floating,
Not reaching any where,
Below and above,
Left and right
not going anywhere,
out of my sight.
Mountains and rivers,
Trees and Birds,
Sky, Moon or Sun,
Not even planets,
Only I can dance,
Sing or whistle,
I am your echo,
You can listen through me,
You can live through me, 
You can see through me,
I am n’t only air,
I am your life,
A power of change. 

Details | Rhyme | |

The Wordsmith

               Although you may not fully understand
                   the meaning or the logical sense
                                    of his poetry,

                the images he paints with his words
                     and phrases dance with quiet

              his flamboyant wordplay, witty whimsy
                   and tongue-in-cheek irony evoke
                                  poetic surprise,

                   like the glorious, golden sunrise
                that will,  for the briefest of eternities,
                                        suffice !

Details | Free verse | |

Contrived Poetry

                Poetry, as the height of fantasy,
   contrives a wondrous world of wide-eyed awe,
   of meaning and reason, rhymed or unrhymed,
         of sensible sounds of sensitive sense;

              it conjures up harmony in chaos,
     fiercest faith in the midst of darkest doubts,
    soft healing of the soul's bloodless bleeding,
     pure peace in the pandemonium of storms;

                    Poetry, metaphor of reality,
       sways with the oscillations of the moods,
      drifts with the sure shifting of the seasons,
    sails with the soul, with pain and its lessons !

Details | I do not know? | |


My love expressed

Sadness deeply felt

Hints of certain madness

Some lines make you melt

An explosion from my heart

The words break free

If only for a moment

Through my eyes, you'll see

Details | I do not know? | |

Writer's Block

You're doing fine, you fought the fears
You hang your words on crystal tears
from dripping, burnt out chandeliers
to light the cobwebbed thoughts

You bite your tongue, you shake awake
with egos blown up, stuffed and great
with whispered voice, you supplicate
to have just an ounce, just a sip

This caustic emotion stings for a moment
a wound licked with fresh gasoline
Burnt to discovery with unholy reverence
yet quick to burst open, to bleed

You start the war, your pen in hand
Words leak like tepid milk, sour but bland
Cursing the ground which your lowly feet stand
Light cavities dim to darkness

You limp like lightning, you flood the hall
with kerosene brilliance, you'll burn them all
to the white washed dream you barely crawl
to give birth to purified greatness...

Details | Lyric | |

Here I Muse, Here I Live

Why should I 
Worry about, if 
My quill dabbles 

In musing 
When only 
The aging brain speaks?

Why should I 
Slave ole self whining 
Or give a fig

For what others say?
Ahh, let them 
Spill what they may!

Only be
In silent gaze,

Here I muse,
Here I live, bravely!  

Details | Quatrain | |

My Last Poem

To write no more, shall be hard to do.
to push never again my crocked pen
across the page which once was new
now so stained from pain within.

No more I write to an ascending voice
to hear their laughter from the back.
Knowing full well this be my choice
to write no more for skill I lack.

There shall be no loss to none but me
to find my thoughts uncarpeted then
to let my poets heart blow free
my scatter verse unto the wind.

I write no more I've had enough
to feel their sneer at my printed word
their descending mock for that I love
I drop bitter tears upon my verse.

From my heart so torn and I forlorn
so this shall stand as my final poem. 

Details | Free verse | |

Caressful Diction

Moonlit sandbars
Warm summer’s night
Slow swirling stars
A waltz with delight
Romance is soaring 
In heavenly flight
Just words on a page
Hoping they might
Make you feel as I do
When I’m holding you tight

Details | Free verse | |

My Poetry

without you, my poetry is
dead, leaving a crack of sadness;

and for this I just may stop,
‘cos the spirits are untreatable;

i hurt my mind…
and shattered my sanity;

better if we have not met, you thought;
i agreed, for you delved too much at the vanity;

and thru the pieces that I may have 
or, may have not given;

and thru the songs that I may have 
or, may have not written;

and I think, maybe I should reconsider 
picking-up the thread of my life, for good grace is 

my heart lasting desire; to start again 
as if it were sunrise, perhaps, I find 

a sweet butterfly, however this may seem 
hope is keeping me alive; unto you
eternal peace and joy, I wish
even thru my deepest sorrow.  

Details | I do not know? | |

I (Clarity Pyramid)

                   not of oil
       but words from the heart
    impressed in rhythmic form
   with a blood scent of my quill-

“flowing, for the unknown reader”   

Details | Free verse | |

A Poet's Wife

Here I nestle, against a pillow, all by myself; 
As I wait for you, I‘ve finished watching 
A Mel Gibson film; the title 
I can’t even recall, for my attention is on you; 
Oh, something like this “what women really want?”
Anyway, does it matter to you?
I’m waiting…waiting and still waiting, 
Yet, you don’t want to come near me;
You float somewhere out there; outside this world,
Surely, where we can’t be together;
But if you heed me, on this water bed
We can share what you wanted to write;
How long should I wait?
Or, should I go ahead?
Just a good night kiss is all I ask;
Is that too much, too hard to give;
But your tapping sound is all that I hear;
Crumpled papers, too many; the light’s still bright,
Should I dim it, for you, to be more romantic?
Ah, I can’t take it any longer!
Will I be waiting here forever more?
I don’t think so, ‘cos my eyes, now sleepy;
Honey, good luck on your writing… 
And me, I will close my eyes to sleep!

Details | Free verse | |


         Passion …
A Breathless – Flight
Into Beautiful, Light
then … Floating Languorously Down
into Red, Rose Petals and Our Arms Around…

         Passion …
Oh You Daring-Dancing Flames
Unashamedly Blaze
You Mesmerizing Sight
adds to This Mist-Fall Night
Intense, Consuming, Sparks, and Touch Flickering
… Gold-Glow and Warmth and Whispers, Lingering…

         Passion …
not just – Romeo and Juliet or Paris and Helen of Troy
not just the Fascination of a Young Girl and a Boy
but also:  God and His Son, The Arts, and Songs, like  ‘Ode To Joy’
and Dancing and Chocolate, Ice Cream and Chunky-Chips-Ahoy’
and when I’m Writing or Reading Poetry… Please Do Not Annoy !
I’m Happy as a Child, Playing with my Pen and Paper Toys…

                                  Passion …
I am Pliant in Its Hands … and I am Yielding to the Pleasures
                             of  My  Passion(s)

Details | Lyric | |

Soon As They Come To Me

I will 
Try to catch 

Of the wind, 

Whoosh of mine...

And cherish them, dearly. 

As they 
Come to me,

Of the wind,
Given time... 

I’ll hold them, just for you.   

Details | I do not know? | |

Decode My Expressions

Decode my expressions
Because there’s something
I’m not putting into words
An open mouth dying
To release a captured feeling
Yet, lips tighten shut
When the moment comes
I know the truth
And I hope you do, too

Details | Lyric | |

Young Mind

Barely six years old, when he talked 
to the evening sea, to the moon and the stars 
yet, I am without doubt that in yesteryears 
I had and enjoyed the very same passion

It seems an appreciation at most
and I’ve spoken about my own in the past
so I have had great time, flaunting it
I had and enjoyed the very same passion

hardly have I pushed the brain 
to whisper awhile, this so-called writer’s block 
is not a big deal. Oh, there he is, sitting 

Head slightly bent at my father’s table
I read, by heart, every word that comes out 
through his pen. And, in his young mind--- 
I feel once more, the muse I loved, glowing

Details | Verse | |

Parting The Clouds

Parting the clouds, the impotent tongue 
Lashed futile and died in a misty mind mouth 
Whipped like a cur, submissions in granite 
On misfire pilgrimage, stumbling south 
Shall she, the muse, send and receive 
Or close her eyes and cease to believe?

Parting the clouds, or any red sea 
Miracle made or drowned in full flowing fog 
Circular smiles or ramshackle thoughts 
Frog turned to prince, or prince turned to frog 
Must I, the scribe, tame both pen and ink 
Singing praise to the mythos that taught me to think? 

Details | Romanticism | |

Lost and found

Never would've thought in my younger years
I would be here now with all these damn tears
Tears that seem to continually fall like a hard rain
Why does love cause anyone to be in such lonely pain
In my childhood dreams I believed I'd find love with no strings and no games
Thought someone would love me just the same
I foreseen my life being pure bliss
I never foreseen my life as this
how was I to know in my past
That up to now I would never find love to last
Wanted to be a wife and mother and do my part
Instead I find myself alone trying to make yet another new start
Isn't funny how love can grab on to your soul
Make you lose yourself and not quite have control
Love can take hold of your heart
And if you don't watch out sometimes it can tear you apart
Not saying it happens every time or to everyone
But sadly it really does happen to some
Be careful remember lead with not your heart but your mind
You life as you know it is not always so kind
Don't keep turning a blind eye
If he's leaving you all the time
With nothing to do but have tears to cry
Get to really know and understand him from the inside
Telling him how I feel I have began
I have a long way to go 
And more to say
But for me words only come easy when writing them on this page
I need to for surely tell him and would pay all it cost
Because not telling him everything will continue to leave me feeling lost
I keep right on hoping as I look around
That one day soon I will be again found

Details | Lyric | |

For As Long As I See You Shine

Gee, I could not write a thing, for my mind isn’t working
I am not bidding you bye, for I know you will silently cry
Hope, this is only temporary, ‘cos I’ll miss writing poetry
Again, this un-poetic indigestion, really ruins my passion
But I realize life’s life, and there will always be this strife
Whatever it is, I’ll be just fine, for as long I see you shine
Knowing you are here, for me, and you- that I long to see 


Details | I do not know? | |

Twenty One

At this tender age I can see a picture perfect future
That shines like diamonds I only see in picture
I can visualize that path to stardom
But I fear I might leave my own home

A thousand mile is really far away
But I’ll pursue my dream anyway
Nothing and nobody could stop me
Cause I am now what I want to be.

A thousand bucks is a lot of cash
Don’t you think I deserve a sash?
I think I gotta give up crochet
For it’s time to make my very own cachet.

Details | I do not know? | |

Writing poetry

So is poetry you want to write, how can this be for you are nothing but a 
construction worker, are you ready to give up your life, face the anxiety that will 
shine through your tears, never to relax in subtle idleness. Give up your 
harmonious life. Dispute not what fertile words are waiting to become an infinite 
oasis in a sea of amber, restfulness naught amiss lulled never more. The 
grandeur of senses swooned by the lack of you own spirit to scum the torment 
that befolds it, majestic naught be in remorse that will dwell upon thy very soul. In 
dubious ways your memories to be swept away like forest scents drifting on the 
limpid currents; shrouded, muffled, tortured never to be reborn, solidarity  in your 
right torn apart by oblivions avenging treachery. Demoralizing days to come, 
nourishment shrouded by the harmonious burden to not stop and pay homage to 
your morbid soul. Sweet fervors drifting thru thy window beckoning your call to be 
out, to be reborn again upon life itself, but gilded in your lofty room powerless by 
the seductress need not to stop. Your nature enthralled upon your body fair 
whence restfulness abounds you, sleep deprived, emotion naught, languor 
taken over. Cruel life sleeps.

Details | Free verse | |

Untitled #34 / Sift

Sift harder! Verify!
a pen cautiously pressed to the page
No spirit! You must live!
Crazy welling up from under!
Don’t sit lazy stupid drooling drooping dreaming!
The truth even now is within you! Look!
Before it is lost!

Details | Free verse | |

Another Page

In my mind,
Where all these words collide,
Where silent tears cry;
A place where I find my pride,

Between the pages
Of my life,
Within the happiness, and
The strife…
A place where I feel... alive,

A series of emotions
Within these turning pages,
Like the waves of an ocean;
All these words fill me with motion,

My only source of sympathy,
My inhalation of the sweet empathy;
My every atom that creates me,
Within these pages I find my liberty,

Letters that join to create me,
Emotions that convene to be…
Everything I touch,
Everything I see,

Here I am,
Adding more life to my life,
Here I am,
Swimming in my manifestation;
In the words I write…

My life, my creation.

Details | Senryu | |

Rhyme's Reason

. . . stiff rhyme don't impose,
               use, describing toad or rose,
                         crisp, uncluttered prose . . .

. . . with clipped cadences,
               a thought sparkles, and dances,
                         mind's dalliances . . .

. . . rhyme, as reason's gown,
               doesn't  dumb or drab thoughts down,
                         as gem in the crown . . .

Details | Bio | |

Just One

                                      Just One

                                     I take these thought's,
                                     of burdened mind, 
                                     conceived within my heart.....

                                     Fueled by years,
                                     through searching soul,
                                     in desperate voice, my right......

                                     If many, 
                                     not enhanced by them,
                                     If mere few, 
                                     are touched tonight.......

                                     Then vain,
                                     my words could never be,
                                     If even one soul, has seen my light.........

Details | I do not know? | |

Wrote Me A Letter

Wrote me a letter
Sealed it with your fate
Kissed that seam
With your feelings
While words dripped
Off the paper
Into my mind

Details | I do not know? | |

Let Go

     If you love someone you wouldn't hurt their feelings, you wouldn't lie you wouldn't 
make them hurt and cry. But it's like no matter how good you treat them, or how much you 
love them you still get hurt. It's like a burning fire of flames every heart break ends 
the same. Just loving someone is hard enough and letting them go is even harder than you 
    Staying when you want to leave, it's like seeing your future erase. Leaving behind 
every thing that made your life hard. That made your mind think twice before making the 
same stupid mistake again. Hurting over and over again, you will only stop hurting when 
you stop letting people hurt you.

Details | I do not know? | |

it's been awhile

Dreaming of a place that draws the poison forth from the wound...

This place is spoken only in whisper form. Only in the minds eye.

Taken for granted and tossed about like tattered clothes. 

This place takes that from which he would derive pleasure. Nice.

Taken not from him by the hand that deals death, but that deals life. 

Breathe in that which would kill you, these fumes are friends now.

Feel the burn inside the lung and cough out blood. This is clean.

Writing something new, something fresh, something imperfect.

Trying to get it right, can't seem to concentrate. Must be happy

Details | I do not know? | |


Black and white blur to grey in this haze of non-existence…
this steady humming life flows smoothly down my throat,
medicates my need for greatness,
numbing my ambition to a dull acceptance.
Yesterday becomes tomorrow, 
the unrecognized thud of passing days- 
there’s really no difference between them anyway.
This small stack of words, 
restless papers shift towards liberty,
a strange mix of intricate reality.
Would they understand?
Could my words slide into them, 
resonate through beating hearts,
settle into the folds of their life without being forgotten?
These pages of my soul twist and burn in my hands,
aching for freedom from the fears which bind them.
My failure is inevitable, you see.
This from the burned out street corner poets, 
crumpling the sheets in their dirty hands,
resenting my naivety—
why should I still hope,
when all their dreams are dead?

Details | Romanticism | |


Funny thing, this concept of "half"
Sometimes it's meaning just seems daft,
Like "half a truth"...
What truth is that?
Or "half in LOve"...
An almost chat?

Somethings can seem to be,
Betwixt real or not,
Other things you know have got,
To be true and 100% for real
Because you sense
and you feel,

If this is not real,
And I am merely 
imagining this thing,
Than maybe I'll settle
For half  a brass ring,

I'll ride this carousel
Till it grinds to dust...
But for me, the only thing..
To know, I must...

That we shared the same
With LOve that
Will never unwind

So take my ticket...,
Master of my fate....
I'll ride this LOve
that will never abate

These wooden horses
Shall circle around, forever....
And not for one second,
Will I ever....

Abandon this cavalry of LOve
Because my LOve
Flies higher than
The most lofty
of God's
soaring dove.