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Sonnet People Poems | Sonnet Poems About People

These Sonnet People poems are examples of Sonnet poems about People. These are the best examples of Sonnet People poems written by international PoetrySoup poets

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Details | Sonnet | |

Ghost Rider in Vegas

He caught a ride to somewhere going nowhere;
first hopped inside a slowed-down limousine.
The driver felt a chill and turned to stare
at someone seated in the back unseen.

A new car’s scent; the passenger smelled nothing.
The seat of luxury he could not feel.
The driver then off-key began to sing
to no one as he slowly tapped the wheel.

His passenger joined in and crooned unheard
that ancient tune “It was a very good year,”
his old blue eyes once clear becoming blurred,
and down his cheek there rolled a single tear.

Again compelled, the chauffeur turned his head -
then saw a small spot where the tear was shed.

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A Shade From The Past

Just as days long ago, when decorum resolved, 
before composure, and poise,.. were corsages, unknown
Where propriety mattered, and was favored as gold,
high society, has gathered to flavor their tea
There's a trellis, embraced by a rose climbing vine
Places are set, for dining in jade
beneath shadows that stretch under arthritic old trees
While slivers of sunshine, squeeze through the branches
of silver leafed limbs, in magnolia bloomed shade
Tea will be served, by large knuckled hands 
at several round tables dressed with Swiss lace designs
Wearing lavender silk is our proper Grand Dame'
who fits her surroundings, as vintage as wine

Voices are lilting like the birds in the trees
Laughter and chatter, mingle with soft, summer breezes 

A bouquet of old friends, around a few scattered tables. 
Silver coifed hairdos, to make celebration
Crepe myrtle and wrinkles, beneath ashes and maples
Water cress munchies, and triangle creations

Sweet honey-suckle, tucked over the porches.…
Rose petal blossoms, are painted on china 
Bridge cards, tumble by Blue Willow dishes
Biscuits from England, crumble sublimely

Large bosoms bouncing, and big floppy hats
Gossip dished up with lemon-sliced frowns
Up in the tree is the neighbor's calico cat
who catches a glance, and a chance to crawl down

Are they ladies of leisure, from a time that is lost?
Or a painting I've seen on the wall from the past?

Inspired By the Garden Party Contest
Sponsored By Cyndi McMillan 6/6/14

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Blind Panic

Blind panic

There was a warning came one day
It said disaster’s on its way
An old volcano in the distance
It could erupt in any instance

The molten ash came pouring out
As neighbouring village was in doubt
Folk were running to and fro
It seems they had nowhere to go.

Buildings were cracking one by one
Blocking out the golden sun
This thing did turn our day to night
As everyone was filled with fright

As the Earth did turn to lava
Many prayed to the holy father.

Vera Duggan  16 August 2014.

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Southern Hospitality

(A Blank Verse Sonnet)

In June, we traveled south to Memphis town,
a public poets' fete with Southern flair.
The mid-south heart unfolded nationwide,
an open cloak of warmth spread far afield
in concert with the sound and sense of rhyme.
A graciousness so coupled with its pride
to sharpen all who came in studied hope
and reasoned well effect, to prove result.
Yet seasoned poets put their pens aside;
the books they found, devoured with eyes and minds
already voiced the thoughts mankind repeats,
our ageless chants for hearts in love or pain.
        The weather's pull to southern ports advanced
        the lure of southern charm from heart to heart.

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NIGHTINGALE'S SOUL LIGHTS Plain spotless uniform so pure and white Modest neat gear rendering tender loving fight Day, night 'till wee hours, eyes a must wide awake Extending a hand, shaking off all aches Tiptoeing like a sly in and out of rooms Dim ~ quiet same as white garden tombs Grace under pressure upon first newborn's cry Wiping tears from a gentle old man's dying eye Evenings so dark and mornings so bright Everyday a nurse sees life kaleidoscope lights Despite some voice rudeness to foul remarks Kindness,her soul's sweet perfume, larks A nurse appears unfeeling firm when mankind bleeds Within her are hidden soft golden beauty deeds (c) 11:47pm July 06, 2014

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The cityscape flowed into a winding trail

that took me into the green heart of the park

and I shrugged off a mindset overly stale,

as light teased a creek that stowed waters dark.

Weak, I found a seat, low and ergonomic,

a stump that offered me one hundred rings,

so I sat and listened to sisters reed and willow

touched by the teachings their humility brings.

Others walked by, most plugged into iPods 

They never noticed the blue heron that stood

deep in holy shadows painted by our God

now cast aside for wireless serpents. Woods

shrink as new iDols sow unoriginal sins,

Technology’s church grows just east of Eden.

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Happy Birthday Jenny (Kyrielle Sonnet)

Happy birthday to you Jenny
Hope your big day brings you plenty
Keep a bright smile all the way
Your mom sings your praises today

Soon you will be driving to school
Don’t forget to follow the rules
Enjoy your day with a buffet
Your mom sings your praises today

Happy birthday to you Jenny
Don’t forget to save your pennies
Wish on a star on your great day
Your mom sings your praises today

Happy birthday to you Jenny
Your mom sings your praises today

© Joseph, 8/20/2007
© All Rights Reserved

This is for the the daughter of our own poetess, Kathy.

The Kyrielle Sonnet is a French form from the Middle Ages. It has 14 lines (three 
rhyming quatrains and a non-rhyming couplet). It has a repeating line or phrase 
as a refrain in the last line of each stanza.  Each line within the Kyrielle Sonnet 
has eight syllables.  There are times when a French poem links back to the 
poem’s beginning; therefore, a common practice is to combine the first line of 
the first quatrain and the refrain in each quatrain as the ending couplet for the 

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Inspired by;  Constance La France’s Native American Portrait 

Nikan is a man who once stood proud and true all across this land
in symbiotic relation with nature endowed by the great creators hand
passed onto him by his ancestors to never take more than his fair share
and always be kind to this land for it’s the Mother to all whom she shall bare

When times are lean we all will grow thin together for together we are one
with one voice to sing in harmony for bountiful harvest to our Father the Sun
and give him thanks and praise for warming and making fertile our Mother
who blessed new life into the birthing seasons for every Sister and Brother

Great spirit hear my song of hope that I sing for my people who will cry
we are mighty on the earth give us protection or your children they will die
and our people’s blood will flow upon our Mother like deep rivers of raging red
O’ Father I can see no solution will you spare us from the white mans dread 

I could never make claim to imagine this great man’s woeful sorry or despair
Nikan's song is a lonely tune played for the spirit of his people upon the air.

Nikan traslation from the Potawatomi "MY Friend"

Baamaapii Nikan.......until we meet again my friend

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Sonnet to Thoughtful Women

I did not wish to leave your warm embrace --
   I did not wish for our sweet love to end --
And though your chauvinism's a disgrace,
   I cannot help but see you as a friend.
Perhaps someday a sweeter girl you'll find,
   Who'll do just as you wish for her to do --
A girl who doesn't have a thoughtful mind,
   So she can focus all she is on you.
She'll nod her head, and brainlessly agree
   With anything you say, to make you smile --
She'll cook your meals and serve you honeyed tea,
   And never stop her chatter all the while;
So when your brain cells rot from lack of use,
   You've only you to blame, and no excuse.

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This is David

From his mama's own mouth, this story came
Her travail to carry him, a long trail
Of tears, loneliness, suffering and shame
A hunger for which hope made no avail
And then the hemorrhaging, her vital blood
Like common mud, tearing his world apart
Your life and her life in that tragic flood
The sudden silence of his beating heart
Sirens, Hospital, still he died, once, twice
The doctors testified, for they helpless stood
Perplexed, frustrated with every device
God alone that day turned evil to good ...
Made his purpose seen in life's providence
Restored hope by frail wisp of evidence.
A pimple of flesh, great folds of white sheet
The child like raisin in its crumpled spot
Seemed more alien than a baby sweet
With shriveled skin, and head a global pot
O the tense days, miserable and lone
The furtive prayers of a mother's heart
"As bad as can be, Lord, make him my own,"
The nervous scanning of the daily chart.
The little blimp became a form, a frame
A sense of gladness, a kindle of dream
A moon's memory that gave spring a name
A fresher hope from lost of true esteem.
She called him "David," went to work again
Lifting the load of pain, bearing the stain.
And there in that dark environment he
Like stubborn cactus in dry sand made root
Sucking up the elements, the salt sea
And violence, the meaningless of truth
War and poverty needs no moral code
Survival survival was a luxury for him.
Harsh, and cruel is desire where abode
Drought an, d scarcity, their horizon dim.
We burn trees for coal, cannot make storm
Wealth provides small control, the poor has none
No shelter from life's threats nor men's harm
Nothing is secure, no, not with a gun.
But jackals make them, the frightened keep them
Like buzzards over our sweet Bethlehem.
O David, you should have left that day. You
Should have held your rudder firm 'gainst that breeze
But too little strength was left in sinew,
To heavy the armor that bowed your knees
And deaf the heart that heard the voice before
And answered at eleven. Hope endures
Through even darken deserts, light has a door
To love no human sad ever ignores.
God saved your life twice on the day of birth
And did three more times when you turned your back
To sealed your purpose in your spell on earth.
From the brink of hell, God's love brings you back
To be his Paul, his missionary bright
His little tiger flaming through the night.


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Theory of devolution

I am a pacifist I despise war.
It’s the only thing I actually hate.
I’m never able to brace myself for
Diplomacy that deteriorates:
Recriminating dialogue amuck
That results in irrationality.
Adults become intellectual schmucks
Whose mentality in reality
Is equivalent to a chimpanzee
In spite of our advances in science.
Our mentality still swings from the trees
Where once apish self’s had claimed provenance.
We haven’t evolved from our ancient source
Thus war is likely a matter of course.

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December of that Year - Finale

Throughout the days that followed, panic and carnage spread
The TV stations did their best to calm this human dread
All the hovering ships returned to whence they came
But thousands still appear above, New York now not the same

Communication now wanes, no power or mobile phones
You get a sense of feeling of being in a world that feels alone
Continual drones hum whilst the yellowed skies remain
Our planet we know as it was, will never be the same

Then came the day of reckoning as we all looked to the sky
A shuttle from the biggest ship lowered in hover fly
Suddenly the screens returned as we heard the visitors speak
We are ancestors of the Mayans, we treat as they were wreaked

From our original pasts demise, to earth we gave so long
To be part of here now gone, from an earth you once belonged

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The Sacrament of Confirmation

Confirmation perfects baptismal grace

The Sacrament gives the Holy Spirit to root us more deeply in divine filiation

Incorporate us more firmly to Fr. Christ

Strengthen our bond with the Church

Associate us more closely with her mission

Help us bear witness to Christian faith in words accompanied by deeds

Like Baptism imprints a spiritual mark or indeliable character of the Christian soul

For this reason one can receive this sacrament only once in one’s life

A candidate for Confirmation has attained the age of reason must profess faith

Be in the state of grace

Have the intention of receiving the Sacrament

Be prepared to assume the role of disciple

Witness to Fr. Christ, both within the Ecclesial bond

Annointing of the forehead of the baptized with sacred chrism

Written 09172012

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Deathbed Sonnet

And even after all that time had passed;
            my moon had set above another sun,
it seems my heart was still at odds with past;
            my tongue at war with words I left unsung.

This bed of ardor caught between my teeth,
            will thus remain, and even grow post haste,
where all the while, there's nothing I'll bequeath 
            excepting flowers scent, above my waste.

And so it goes with every vacant beast,
            as twenty-twenty sees - I should have done!
I should have said; I should have been, at least
            a man awake to seed his endless sun.

And as the night descends upon my thought,
            remember son these words that, I lived not.

© Kristin Reynolds 3 11 09

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Destiny's Perch

In the near future, I am going to add it all up into one big sum.
In the meantime, I am going to gather and collect my own space.
I will sift through seeds or weeds and present an enormous case.
But for sure I will hold onto every single yellow chrysanthemum.

In the near future, I am going to roll it all up sealing it by my thumb.
In the meantime, I am going to sit here with every turned about face.
I will drift through time rewinding the hands back to a God of Grace.
But for sure I will give the world a place my heart is triumphing from. 

Quickly, I will come to you,
And instantly I will be gone.
But injustice shall never do.
Nor shall a lie be my spawn.

Or at the least not on my expedient silver polished dime,
And certainly not while sitting on destiny’s perch in time!

® Registered: Ann Rich   2009

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It Makes No Sense At All

Does it really matter who actually eventually wins
As we voters give our lives, do they give us their skins
Do they really care about who votes them into power
As we voters give our lives, in power, us, they devour

How many do remember, where they actually came from
And do they walk our walk, when voted in sing song
How can we trust their hand, their smile when they need us
And their continual door to us closed, all because we make a fuss

Our fuss we make is not born, it's created in our lives
How many of us remember, it's in their voted strive
When does our strive resist, to be taken as we exist
For many days to weeks, we're in continual wanting persist

Whether Democrat or Republican, when elected look into voters eyes
Or be forgotten from hence you came, and in us we'll soon despise


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The King of Goth

The Sussex lad, to title and land born,
An alumni, now he stands proudly tall.
In Oxford students pass at future’s dawn,
For some the inspiration was his call.

Provocative, a mighty pen his sword,
Expelled for godless view from hallowed hall.
The Baronet poet, friend to a Lord,
The Gothic king’s voice did incite them all.

His Mary worshipped at her husband‘s feet,
She held his heart tight from death’s final flame.
Did they engage in black acts, pagan mete?
A dark and often troubled soul laid claim.

Into the storm set sail to the end foretold,
He died before his talent could unfold.

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Pure Circumstance

God knows each heart that walks the streets again,     
each sense of guilt caught in a false pretense.                    
How not to spend a tear at their expense 
or can I not reflect what might have been 
if different circumstance had altered then?    
Had fate or chance to change the future, hence?     
Their shoulders hunched, against cruel wind, intense,      
poor scavengers, who some call useless men         
will migrate streets, in hopes for scraps of food,     
a crumb, a nickel, dime, a place to find                      
a shelter dry, when frost of night is nigh.    
And now I travel home, perhaps to brood                                      
on cruelty of life that bodes unkind 
to some. I cannot eat,...tonight I cry. 


Miltonic Sonnet: For Contest Sponsored By Craig Cornish

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Kim Jong-un leader of the starving

I wonder what your thinking, in your country far away
And what on earth possesses you to threaten mine today
You allow your people to starve, munitions they are first
While daily people starve to death and many die of thirst

Your father and grandfather should have taught you how to care
Instead they shared their legacy of treating people unfair
Many live in work camps with three generations or more
Simply because they disagreed, so now all must chore

You live in style above the rest, have people who adore
But deep down, I believe that each person longs for more
You teach hatred and despise my country each and every day
For freedom and free choice would take yours away

Your people follow in fear, like robots in a line
I wonder how long they will conform or will it be your time
More and more try to escape, or die instead of live
In a country such as yours that takes much more than it gives

Each building,statue, memorial you have to tell a tale
Of twisted truths and travesties instead they often fail
For freedom is what's needed in the country you call home
Grow food instead of opium,and leave the people alone

You have the power in your hands to change what was past
Hurry please before it's too late you must do it fast
Do not start a war in which more people will die
Because your father and grandfather started it with a lie. 

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Sonnet Dialogue: Scorn in Duality, Lit Op 5

I  looked below and saw the dawn from here,
Disturbing may, below the light- a man.

“Oh, stranger most, shall I ask you with fear?”

“Dear one, you fear no one”, replied the man,
“Nor Him, you fear Him not for you are but
The holder of the strings of those you sight.”

A second by, I asked him in abrupt,
“The guardians of the roof, had they loved me?”

He voiced: “Their love are drawn in stitching crossed,
Exquisite yet details are course, you see?
The veil from where it rests you should have tossed,
Each thread in havoc, one chaotic sea!”

I spared a tear, his face did went outworn,
Afar the lake I headed. God, I’m torn!


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On A Summer's Aftermoon

Come sit a spell--we'll take a little time--
from out of life, forgetting what we know;
and talk upon some things I guess that I'm
much closer to--than things life's had to show.

Do you know love? It's funny how it goes
to almost anyone, who needs it not,
but be there need--and love--it never shows
like finer things of life, to those who've got!

Now does that seem to be a fitting thing
to talk about, as passing time away?
Or would you choose what weather has to bring
as here we sit--with nothing more to say?

I guess your life's been blessed--and filled with love
or you'd know what my heart is speaking of.
© ron wilson aka vee bdosa the doylestown poet

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Joyce Johnson And I Have Something In Common

Joyce Johnson has something common with me
She and I share similiar grief confess
When on that airplane I finally see
Compassionate face I will love no less

Then I will see a person who understood
All heartaches, just to talk over coffee
This will make me feel so very good
As we sit down at Starbucks; I'll pay fee

I will ask her how she withstood trials
How did she reconcile child's early demise
I'll ask her to share her heartache with me
While we eat a snack with that coffee

Joyce and I share one thing in common see
Meeting her will be such a relief if only brief

Removed from contest because I used the wrong form or style....

Contest:"First Words Over Coffee"
Sponsor: Michael J. Falotico
Written by: Sara Kendrick

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Catch Me If You Can French Sonnet

<               enticing to eyes watching mama's pink roses bloom
                 fourty years later someone else now cares for them
                 fresh cut daily and seen in her arms their long stems
                 tears streaming down face I sit under swollen moon
                 waiting watching for sun to come up again soon
                 to catch one more glimsp of mama's planted old gems
                 unfurling petals before been chopped or condemned
                 think I'll ask if can take one for my dining room

                 aroma bursting amidst thy supper's table
                 bowed heads we come and thank our Heavenly father
                 somebody still cared though sick and times unable
                 and answers it's door for which one has come bothered
                 to let bask in roses empowering fable
                 and not to be called as it's one's roses robber

French Sonnet is a poem with rhyme scheme
Syllable count is 12 syllable per line.

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The Cardboard Man of My Fair City

Some guys along the freeway exits stand
with cardboard signs that read: Will work for food.
The sympathetic folks reach out and hand
these guys some money if they’re in the mood.

And other poor souls don’t just stand. They live
inside of cardboard shanties that they rig.
Some beg for anything that we might give
and some, too proud to beg, through dumpsters dig.

But there’s one cardboard man dressed like a clown
(who, if he shows his real face, I sure pity),
He waves a sign while jumping up and down
along a busy block of my fair city.

He gets no cash, just strange looks or some yuks.
The sign says: Get our pizza. Just five bucks!

(I know this was supposed to be more serious, but when I 
asked hubbie what cardboard man made him think of, he said
that pizza guy on the corner, and I just had to do it this way!!)

For Paula Swanson's Do You Know The Cardboard Man? Poetry Contest

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There Were None

All have their battles dealing with life
All have their own personal strife
We have opinions of others, sometimes we won't budge
Each has his own faults, we've no right to judge

We preach about Jesus and all that He says
But don't follow His example, set in our ways
When we sit in judgment nobody wins
He suffered in silence and died for our sins

Mary Magdalene was sentence by man to be stoned
They said that by law her sins must be atoned
Jesus spoke to the crowd and when His speaking was done
Who was left to throw stones? My God there were none

Sometime's life's a blessing, sometimes it's a curse
By judging others we make our lives worse

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Greed Wins

                                                         Greed Wins

                       Fate fetched them crushed in a crash, faint in hopes  
                                broken limbs, sober spirit, side by side
                                One by the window, the other beside .
                              They lay in room pale blue, chlorine chores.
                       Months together, movements knelled, they lay forth,
                        new found friends , out ‘a window small, one pried, 
                      Mouthed beauties there, to keep his pal’s smile bright
                             Other but heard, prayed, at this fortune swore,

                                His pal be slain, he be blessed with sights 
                          outside. Lo! Next dark day snatched the good soul
                            The lone peer blessed. Soon, he sent his eyes
                             Outdoors, on an old bleak wall, nothing more
                                Drained in spirit he cursed his greed wry 
                                   “Beautifully lied ...he kept me alive”

Italian Sonnet, pentameter,rhyme scheme  abbaabba  cdcd bb

Mehnaz Veetil

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River Deep, Mountain High

How do we ever know whom we've come to know
All we see is their periphery, externally on show
But what resides from within, can be River Deep, Mountain High
With levels we can't seem to count, internally they cry

Internally they cry, into a world we can't comprehend
It's no wonder they appear like this, if me, I'd be round the bend
One minute their world seems so right, suddenly a darkness descends
All it took was explainable, but a different signal they send

A different signal they send, yet it's receiver appears to know
What was there originally no longer appears to show
Just like a pendulum swinging, to the left and to the right
No middle happy medium, for when it stops out goes their light

When it stops out goes their light, and a darkness descends
Maybe it's what they had become, driven round the bend

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Beautiful Lies

December 18, 2012

Beautiful lies known as little white lies
yet one is no more deceptive than each
The truth is what makes it afraid of light
It's important we practice what we preach

Imagination built on lies destroy
Imagination built on truth create
Conquering evil we try to avoid
Tooth fairy, Halloween, Santa abate

Perceptions and images make it real
Origins of Pagan rituals true
We've wandered down this path for a bum deal
Now more lies are created all brand new

The mask behind a beautiful white lie
is the truth with a constant shield, but why?

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Destiny's Woman

High upon a platform, she dwells among two spheres
Her people mumble strange like chants, that rumble in salt air
The wizened Seidr woman, beyond her fertile years
will hold a staff, against her knees, in regard above her peers

She sits upon the platform, while the people sway and dance
Her eyes are glassy, semi-closed, her mind is in a trance
She is filler of the future's sound, while seeking out the vast
She brings to Fjords, the fish they seek, by believing in the past 

Her voice is as a whisper, she heals and guides them home
Her song becomes distant wind, that fades until it's gone
Among the barren wasteland, it cackles in the cold
Her power is a mountain, found, of spirit frail, yet bold

As she sways her words like little birds, that are carried in the breeze
there are talking sounds, as if from crowns, released from winter trees

For the contest sponsored by Shadow Hamilton "All Things Norse"

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No More Cause To Worry

Now, Railroad Bob has lost his job, he’s got no place for working,
His wife, she cries with desperate eyes, their baby’s head’s a’ jerking.
The union man don’t give a damn, Big Brother lies a’ lurking,
The boss’ in cabs are picking scabs, they count their money, smirking.

Bob walks the streets and begs for eats or little jobs for trying
“The answer’s no, you ought to know, no use for you applying,
And don’t be sad, it aint that bad, it’s soon your time for dying.”
The air is thick, his baby’s sick, the cries are multiplying.

Bob’s wife’s in town, she’s broken down, she’s ranting with a fury,
Their life of sin has done them in, they skirmish, scrimp and scurry,
Their baby coughs, the doctor scoffs, the snow is all a’ flurry,
Bob’s midnight dreams are filled with screams; he knows he needs to hurry.

It’s getting late, Bob’s tempting fate, his choices cruel and blurry.
He chooses gas, they breathe their last, there’s no more cause to worry...

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sidewalk sonnet

Mom's back a crack to caulk
can't knock it in, until it's knocked
them dogs on down the sidewalk
keep on goin', no time for thought

there's rhymes to run
there's cadences to call
there's favors to sun
there's lawns to sprawl

Molly cries aloud the rules
jump a crack 'n' chalk a skip
sneakered hot dogs leap to cool
verses to holler 'n' cracks to trip

ya gotcha hopscotch, ya gotcha 'hood
sidewalk's gotcha a playin' mood good

© Goode Guy 2013-04-29

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O please spare me the 
You this drama queen 
Stop exaggerating your 
We do understand,don't
More attention is drawn 
to your folly
You display so proudly...
The act is fake
Even babies could 
Don't let your crave for 
Exploit your every action
We love drama
But we don't need them 
everywhere like posters
Mellow you act a little
Before you get 

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A Cowboy's Love

His dallying was more than she could bear.
Each time he came around and tossed his love,
as if it were a lasso, in the air,
the sudden swirling loop it made above
him caught her quite off balance every time.

Entwined, not fighting it, she'd weakly stand,
but nothing was so utterly sublime
as being tied up in that glorious strand!
And nothing she could do would make him stay,
for growing restless, he would always loose
her, kiss her tenderly, then stride away
and leave that woman aching for the noose. . . .

the noose that he alone knew how to make
but just as effortlessly could forsake.

Written 3/1/11

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What's Cooking Good Looking

with muse in hand
a romantic longing is the plan
dinner at eight
I hope he won't be late

sherry filled to the rim
soft music for us to spin
candles on the mantel
slight ring of dinner bell

waft of curry stuffed chops
and potatoes creamy and hot
buttermilk biscuits on the side
and dessert for which he decides

this is how mom said to get to a mans heart
with a romantic dinner from the very start

Tribute To Romance

Also Entry For
Laura Mckenzie's
A Romantic Longing Contest

GL All

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Generation XXX

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

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

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

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

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

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Gulf Oil Spill

Our ecosystem and wildlife can no longer be ignored
The devastation caused by the Gulf oil spill must vastly be restored

As anger and frustration surges across the Coast
The depletion of our environment, indeed we fear the most

Several past months, many lives have been erased
In the midst of these disasters, we can only look to faith

Now let us pay a visit to some underlying factors
Volcanic eruptions, earthquakes, and other natural disasters

It was not in their intention for a high tech failed invention
Yell still they don't take into account the consequences of their actions

Efforts to contain this oil spill is more doltish than we have known
What more massive debacles can this single Earth condone?

Many local residents are now suffering from depressions
So think about what lies ahead, our future generations


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Tenant Farmers

Rejection of Christ
MT 21:33-46
MK 12:1-12
LK 20:9-19

Then he proceeded to tell the people this parable. "(A) man planted a vineyard, leased it to tenant farmers
 Then went on a journey for a long time. 
At harvest time he sent a servant to the tenant farmers to receive some of the produce of the vineyard
But they beat the servant and sent him away empty-handed. So he proceeded to send another servant, but him also they beat and insulted and sent away empty-handed
Then he proceeded to send a third, but this one too they wounded and threw out
The owner of the vineyard said, 'What shall I do? 
I shall send my beloved son; maybe they will respect him.' 
But when the tenant farmers saw him they said to one another, 'This is the heir
Let us kill him that the inheritance may become ours.' So they threw him out of the vineyard and killed him
What will the owner of the vineyard do to them? He will come and put those tenant farmers to death and turn over the vineyard to others
" When the people heard this, they exclaimed, "Let it not be so!" But he looked at them and asked
"What then does this scripture passage mean: 
'The stone which the builders rejected has become the cornerstone'? 
Everyone who falls on that stone will be dashed to pieces; and it will crush anyone on whom it falls
" The scribes and chief priests sought to lay their hands on him at that very hour
But they feared the people, for they knew that he had addressed this parable to them. (LK 20:9-19)

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The melody can not be denied, pulled

from dreams and a lifetime of heartbeats.

First, come long notes that the piano mulls

while fingers linger. He returns to his sheets.

The tune reveals itself in black on white,

echoing warm ivories. A full moon prowls

several clouds that seem to skirt its light, 

like words that evade him. So, he scowls

at the window, takes the stillness inside

then sighs as everything falls into place.

There it is. The chorus no longer hides.

David knows the night, how it encases
a song. Lines love keys, those ebonies,

for the dark unlocks perfect symphonies. 

*David, I know you prefer the new minimalist sonnets, something which you showed us and I do plan to explore those as well. Thank you for what you bring to Soup. 

Thinking of you and the Mrs! Blessings sent to both of you!

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I offer this poem as a toast!
To the poet, I admire the most!
His talent is , second to none!
He's written hundreds of poems, I've read every one!

From reading the poems he's amassed,
I find his range of emotions is vast!
He's a genius of Rhythm and Rhyme!
I'm impressed and amazed, every time!

To me he's a Poetic Master!
He can make me feel joy or disaster!
Love and Greed and Compassion are,
just a small part, of his large, repertoire!

Larry Belt, is my favorite, for sure,
he's a Poetry Soup, Connoisseur!

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I have had many frightening visions
of demons pulling me down into the infernal abyss:
to burn and torment my bound and shivering body...
as Dante envisioned it in his Divine Comedy.

Ah, Popes, Presidents, Kings, enemies and friends made no apologies...
they were glad to see me join them in their cell!
I accursed them even in that place called," Hell ."
And that gave me an opportunity to write many appropriate analogies.

" My flesh will burn, not my spirit! " I desperately hollered.
" This is not a place where I should pay for my earthly sins!"
" Eternal fire and condemnation are wrong!" I protested.
" God loves everyone, and He only demands repentance!"

Finally, that dreadful vision ended at the coming of the sunrise,
I found myself on Earth witnessing the wonders of Paradise!

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There’s moments when the dawn of a new day causes us to be
Ungrateful, unkind, and very selfish.  Often times I discover that we (those of us who deem
Ourselves to be sound mentally, physically, and spiritually, and grace with understanding as
We laid claim to having unconditional love) are not those things we think we are.

The evidence to these truths to be without doubt, is visiting with the sweetness and the
Perpetuating joy of The Caring People in Rosenberg, Texas.  Their loving hearts have
been woven from a Heavenly Fabric, which was created by God, Himself.

They love you with a majestic manner.  They know what we so easily forget.  Their
Love teaches us how to love unconditionally.  It’s a privilege to be apart of The Salvation
Army Harbor Light Men’s Choir, in Houston, Texas, and travel to sing the songs of Zion, to these
Royal brothers and sisters.  The Caring People embrace us with such eminent love

That causes the heart to weep with joy and the mind to leap as gazelle's.  To really understand
These precious souls is to know what it is to give God Almighty, His Thanksgiving for giving
Us the honor to go before His wondrous sons and daughters at The Caring People, in
Rosenberg, Texas.


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Kamikaze Khristmas

I was shaken, my jingle bells taken, ornaments on a runaway corporate sleigh
It had nitrous oxide, investors selling so high, stuffing stockings with my pay
There were elves with cleavage, garters and high heels, twirling on candy canes
And then there was Santa, 10,000 I fathom, having a Bud and watching the game

Oh what have I done, my mistletoe belt buckle undone, clutching a coupon in pain
From my confusion arose, a few sticky ho ho’s, caroling Christmas has come again
Frozen my chatter, this rooftop never fatter, held hostage by a holiday of cheer
Building superstores for a thrill, reindeer on the grill, our 24 hour savior is here

I threw open the door, red tagged a commercial whore, a price check I was needing
Not to my surprise, this place had supersize fries, and just a hint of insider breeding
Cross-eyed speaking, restroom reeking, why the see-through thong with the GPS
Kamikaze carts diving, my crippled heels crying, damn you people for having sex

Bruised and battered, a world raptured, by a fat man with a bulging sack
Barbies with inflatable boobies, Hentai movies, Christ please hurry back

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Another Sonnet Written at a Coffee House

You sink into the bosom of the chair 
And wonder if I too once sat amidst 
The chattering, white coffee sipping fare— 
The lonely writers ‘pining for a kiss. 

Did I peer out over the porce’lain mug 
And purse my vulgar mouth over the lip 
My eyes a’roll behind my glasses’ fog 
My writer turning phrase and spinning quips? 

Did I curl my toes under my feet 
Threading my fingers ‘round the scolding cup 
My yellow molars grinding to the beat 
Of meds-a-glee and glutt’nous caffeine ups? 

I didn't’t sit cross-legged and introverted— 
I flipped through glossy pages and consorted.

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Jesus Christ' Parable -The Prodigal Son

Forgiveness of Sins / God's Love & Mercy
LK 15:11-32

Then he said, "A man had two sons, and the younger son said to his father, 'Father, give me the share of your estate that should come to me.' 

So the father divided the property between them. After a few days, the younger son collected all his belongings and set off to a distant country where he squandered his inheritance on a life of dissipation. 

When he had freely spent everything, a severe famine struck that country, and he found himself in dire need. 

Coming to his senses he thought, 'How many of my father's hired workers have more than enough food to eat, but here am I, dying from hunger. 

I shall get up and go to my father and I shall say to him, "Father, I have sinned against heaven and against you. 

I no longer deserve to be called your son; treat me as you would treat one of your hired workers."' 

So he got up and went back to his father. 

While he was still a long way off, his father caught sight of him, and was filled with compassion. 

He ran to his son, embraced him and kissed him; His son said to him, 
'Father, I have sinned against heaven and against you; I no longer deserve to be called your son. 

But his father ordered his servants, 'Quickly bring the finest robe and put it on him; put a ring on his finger and sandals on his feet...

Then let us celebrate with a feast, because this son of mine was dead, and has come to life again; he was lost, and has been found.' Then the celebration began. 

Now the older son had been out in the field and, on his way back, as he neared the house, he heard the sound of music and dancing. He became angry, and when he refused to enter the house, his father came out and pleaded with him. 

He said to him, 'My son, you are here with me always; everything I have is yours; but now we must celebrate and rejoice, because your brother was dead and has come to life again; he was lost and has been found.'" (Taken from LK 15:11-14, 17-25, 28, 31-32)

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Mess in Indian culture

humidity in culture climax.
why's nonsense pain in sex?
killing, rape and abduction,
is women's attitude corruption?
why natural growth is at risk?
the world society is in progress,
but hindu traditions are in mess,
rapes; leader blames a western fix.
no women is protected by law,
nudity for men is women's rape tax.
over the centuries system is slow,
pain in veil is cultural glow,
disconnect women from the growth,
is it only a solution for modern flow?

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Book Launch

The generous seas do roam vividly,
And sacred words spoken earnestly.
People suffer and people go to war,
I just hope these words will go afar.

Yesterday I published a FREE book,
Indeed a feat of altruism, no crook!
I suffer in silence in every moment.
I have no money to publish a stunt.

I was just hoping for word-of-mouth
And email propagation as loudmouth.
Book is at:
I accept feedback just at:

-ALL NON FICTION- (This spiel typed in the spur of the moment - God Bless you)

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The Stud Syndrome

Passion piles on deeds done in heat,
yet not to defeat the sounds ever so 
discreet of a wanna be who abounds 
of indiscretion.  He smirks and smiles 
and twirls that lonely hanging curl,
deep within squalid contemplation, 
He thinks about last night and of
her begging him to stay.  Unreal !

Out loud he laughs at the implication. 
Gees, they get dumber every day.  
Those Izzy Pop, geek on geek, fresh 
nature freaks, needing absolution.

High above the clouds of discontent,
he sits, heaven sent, in motley aura

A condition otherwise known as Meglamania

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City Sonnet

Out-of-towners in the city,
Seeing folks go rushing by,
Seem to think it’s such a pity
Their hellos get no reply.

Small-town friendliness ‘round here
Sticks out like the sorest thumb.
In this urban atmosphere,
Self-absorbed we’ve all become.

There’s no room for conversation
With a person we don’t know.
Why allow a complication
To disrupt life’s ebb and flow?

Still, we might return a nod;
More than that, we’d find it odd.

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Sonnet X or The Bluebird Sonnet

O why’d they misconstrue your colour against you?
When the song is swift imagination, so sweet and full
Why’d they whisper of weariness, of idiomatic blue?
When pause is ponderous play not a dark silent lull
It is the bluebird’s song that warm thoughts entice
That unexpected exuberant bout of welcomed joie de vivre
That instant intoxication of all virtue and all vice
Oft’ heard from coffee’d morn till the day’s end receive’
When beguiled by melody left to lilt through wistful air
That beacon of curiosity which so quickly is consume’
Cheery embrace – the listener enraptured is divided ne’er
Till the final bar closes only then may the day resume
Though for tunes of waking night the bluebird composes nigh
Alas, her song is for bright day not for moon’s sleepless sigh

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Spirit Wind

(A Cornish Sonnet)

Behold new green enchants the distant plain,
where once the hooves of hundreds thundered on,
as braves drew aim in hunger for those slain
and eagles soared aloft through purple haze.
In drumbeat's pulse, flames flickered near the dawn,
outlining dancers shadowed in the blaze.

Where spirit wind played priest to man and beast,
a pale moon's face exposed betrayers' lies, 
and red man's rage clawed forth to find release.
Dry dust storms swept the ranchers' dreams aside;
throughout the land echoed the victims' cries,
in land that once ramped up a home-born pride.

Behold new green enchants the distant plain,
where spirit wind played priest to man and beast.

cfa © 5/14/2010



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On Badmouthin by Ike: Ike and Jane series

Well lemme tell ya a thing er two bout people,
Ben round plenny of em and ah got sumpin figerred,
Don’t make no diffrence if’n they is under a steeple,
If’n they small, medium, smart, dumb, big er bigger,

Ah seen that most ever body kin dish it out,
But ain’t many a tender body kin take it.
Ya see criticizins fair easy to do as shout,
To do that folks are a chompin at the bit.

We thinks we got everthin lassoed right smart,
And got a holt a the branded calf by the tail,
But truth is we ain’t hardly got no heart,
Gotsta look at ar own sels ..else we fail.

So yup, ah reckon that’s what most a us folks are all about,
We cain’t take it but sure as grass grows we uns kin dish it out !


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C'est la vie

Late 80s, Quebec, Ville de Lasalle, A piece of my life, a piece of me, I left behind; Fait accompli. What I miss most? Je ne sais quoi! Cartoons! Lagaffe, Robin Dubois! Bicycle rides with my good friends, Next to the river, along the bends. I left behind a piece of my life…

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Familial Bonds

A fellow stranger's doubt will surely sense  
Judgmental indiscretion of defect.  
'Tween enemies pure hatred circumvents  
The moral obligation to respect.  
The various consistencies as friend,  
Distill from swollen hearts this lonely ache,  
With passion starts yet may abruptly end  
So rarely people risk their hearts to break.  
A lover's walk is not fatality,  
Creating life two intimately share.  
If nurtured, loved, and taught respectfully  
Prosperity so gratefully will care.  
Of all relations listed here above  
Why is it people suffer feeling love?

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True Love Waits Patiently

Come in sit down relieve your soul awhile
And let me help bring peace back to your mind
I’m sure for you there is an extra smile
My heart as always trying to be kind

You know how much I really care for you
Your happiness is all I care about
For you I do the things that I go through
To be your haven free from worldly doubt

I’m sorry please forgive the tears you see
It hurts to see new bruises that you bring
Sometimes our love and reason disagree
Be patient and perhaps your love will sing

For now just close you eye and drift to sleep
I’ll sing some songs sweet memories I keep

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Fr. Christ said “I am the living bread that came down from heaven...

If anyone eats this bread

He will live forever

Who eats my flesh and drinks my blood has eternal life, abides in Me and I in him"

Essential signs of Eucharistic Sacrament are wheat bread and grape wine

Communion with the Body and Blood of Fr. Christ increases the communicant’s union 
with the Lord God.

Receiving this sacrament strengthens the bonds of charity between the communicant and Fr. Christ

It also reinforces the unity of the Church as the mystical Body of Fr. Christ

The Church recommends the faithful to receive the Holy Communion at least once a year.

Fr. Christ Himself is present in the sacrament of the altar

He is to be honored with the worship adoration

To visit the Blessed Sacrament is a proof of gratitude

Expression of love

Duty of adoration toward Fr. Christ, Jesus our Lord

Written 09182012

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The Lament of a Penniless Bloke


For want of avocation, I became a poet
To bleed my misery on paper calling for an eye,
To see me in my tattered footwear and backless shirt,
But no hear have I got even with my wildest cries.
I sought for love but that eluded me for lack of capacity,
To wine and dine in places only people in purple afford,
Ask me not to write to you as I cannot read later on write,
The tongue twisting speech style I have not learned
Of me they think I have no fashion sense.
How can I when dolce & Gabbana is a name I only see
In chanced movies with people that woo lovers and hunks.
Intelligence have I none; wisdom maybe
But that cannot lure a sensible Tiffany-ier
All I have is me; about me I cannot lie.

Copyright © July 2012. Nsamu Moonga. All right Reserved.

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She never truly sleeps for small ghosts keep

pulling their stars into the plastic bag tent,

and the raw wounds left by the Janjaweed*

creep into dreams like the lies she invents

for her three living children. Her father

whispers genocide from a place of peace,

as though his ashes had never smothered

a daughter’s screams, as though the unceasing

cries of the hungry had become silent.

Tomorrow, she will gather fire wood,

water and scraps, swallow a relentless

weight. Rape hollowed her, yet left her pregnant. 

Strange, this life inside, feels like her others,

a frail light kept in the darkness of Darfur. 

* The Janjaweed are gunmen who have systematically 
annihilated the African Muslims of an area of Sudan 
known as Darfur. Entire villages were wiped out. 

Gang rapes by the Janjaweed are done, 
in the hopes the 'ruined' woman will bear a pale coloured child; 
their goal is to wipe away every trace of a people, their culture. 
This is madness. This is genocide.  

The bones of children litter open graves. 
Nearly half a million people have been killed. 
Camps of makeshift huts provide little shelter 
for 2 million displaced people. 

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Each man in the sport bar sought his own cure, Some drank too much, some yelled at the big screen, Other’s eyed the server, a few were sure that they could score, those loud boasts got obscene. Her tee-shirt proved she was an ample lure, Long, tousled red locks and sharp eyes, so green, A tattoo worthy of applause, pose impure, Soft, jiggling joys to the long married scene. She smiled when she saw his tight wedding ring, “Handsome, I’m game. Do you like a good time?” She passed him her number, “Gimme a call.” He crumpled the note, “Let me tell you something, Gal, I’m no b’ass, and netting men is a crime. Your bait’s sweet, but I’ve learned cheating’s lethal.”
This is a mixed sonnet. It has a Sicilian octave and an Italian sestet.

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I wake up screaming, sometimes crying.
I simply can't tell which side is lying.
Is it me, or is it my brain? 
I can't deal with much more because it drives me insane.
I see visions of horrible, gruesome things.
Like people who've been chopped to bits, and little dead kids that sing.
I can hear the music playing and it scares me to death.
I try to run away, but I get sicker with every breath.
I see people I love and others that I've never seen before.
If I ever see those strangers when I'm awake, I'll freak out, I'm sure.
Why do I have these nightmares each and every time I sleep?
Have I not cried enough tears for people I'll never meet?
I'll never understand it, but I guess I'll have to deal.
It only gets to me this bad because it all seems so real.

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The silence you note does not represent 
drought. It is frozen words under his pen.
Witness his Greatness tapping thoughts
surfing the sea, sailing on heights that us mere
mortals imagine unreal.  The ceaseless tapping 
goes on and on.

The tap-tapping goes on into silence
broken by a pause – Saturday calls
Maestro, it is time to play.  Words don’t play;
note the form, a line must be perfect. 
Is this a sonnet?  No no! This is an elegy.
That look.  Stare death in his face,
Damn him and write.  A line must be true

To the form.  Those words won't die.   

(For Wayne Brown, Caribbean poet)

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USA Marriage Justice Today

Oh, my sweet girl, come and shack up, with me.
We shall live on welfare and space out to see.
How many food stamp cards, we can arrange,
We shall visit for meds and beg for change.
Upon the riverbanks, we shall catch a cold.
Then we shall collect our oxy-cotton gold.
I shall gather clothes from good wills chest.
You prepare to go visit relatives in the west.
My sweet girl I shall give you no gold.
However, get you, giving us babies to hold.
A bed of daisies, I shall have waiting for you.
For freshening up our pet hound, old blue.
Our cousin Joe has a house that is so big.
We shall move in, us all, even with our pig.

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The Only Breed

I smoked my pipe and I found some dreams stuck in a seam.
The ancients lifted me up and I saw through crystallize glass.
As I looked the seams popped and scattered into a great mass.
The dreams were set free from my light of a shiny bright beam.
Now I have flashing darts in my eyes that shine as I will deem.
Now I am looking at you and you and you as green as the grass.
But that’s okay because now my eyes can gloss you up as brass.
Eventually, I will find a light inside of you with a sparkly gleam.
My visions are set up forth,
Free and clear with a deed.
Look to the Star of the North,
You shall find my only breed.
Be this to you or be this to me,
Scattered dreams in you I see.
© Copyright: Ann Rich   2007

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Their death could have been prevented if rivarly, 
misunderstanding and hostility had not been there...
had Verona not become a battle ground for the gentry,
but unlikely comedy that makes us burst into laughter,
tragedy puts some sense into our  foolish heads shunning this  truth:
they didn't have to die uselessly in the prime of their youth!
O insensible people, mourn the young lovers from Verona with sympathy
to realize that love is unstoppable as the coming of dawn;
we can try to kill it with jealousy, envy, anger or even murder...
but what the outcome will be? Heartbreak and regret over 
a disastrous event such as the one Shakespeare wrote in his teary,
dramatic play to warn us that it shouldn't be disapproved with a frown.

Peacefully sleep, o young lovers from Verona! Even this saddened poet will not forget...
how courageous and desperate you were to end your vibrant lives with that insane thought!

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Lilac Dream

Thou have started a journey so serene.
One that shall take thee into spring,
Enjoying all of nature’s beauty unseen,
Feeling majestic powers, it will bring.

Imagine fragrances warmed by sunshine.
Feel cascading build of warmth around.
Mid day arrives, preparations combine.
As gentle fresh air moves without sound,

Brilliancy around thee captures your breath.
New birth engages your senses so deep.
Sweet visions revive thee, from sudden death.
Sounds caress thine ears, even in sleep.

Thou with thine eyes closed, awareness in smell.
Sensing lilacs, bidding winter farewell,

Written for

Sponsor Francine Roberts 
Contest Name Bring on Spring 

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Spite simmers, in a cauldron stirred by Hate,
Infecting those, past trials rend, inward blind.
Whose toxic thoughts spill forth, in verbal spate,
Some poisonous concoction of their mind.
Howbeit, they themselves are far from pure;
For all are prone to miss the mark, and groan.
Revenge, for deemed misdeed, ne’er proves a cure;
Nor can one be first up to cast a stone.
Thus, venomous and vicious comments stain
Whose quill or tongue seeks to, with words, malign;
Malevolence can never justly reign
Wherever friendship’s lanterns truly shine.
Beware you, who another’s name has smudged,
Lest ye, for hateful deeds, yourself, be judged.

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Vincent, how you refused to blur the world

with verse, themes were clear but never simple,

silky sonnets were spooled, rhymes freely curled

themselves around love, dreams and principles.

A heart light on hills turned heavy with ash*,

chambers where longings unfurled with soft beats,

lines stood firm, exposed a soul somewhat brash,

stanzas converged, mixed the sour with sweet.

Shadows give dimension, this you would say,

a beauty too bright plucks the tender eye,

night displays pearls, there’s a gloom to the day,

Some questions are yes, some answers are why.

 	Your poems live on, still kindle passion,

	for joy and pain are ever in fashion. 

*An allusion to the poems Afternoon on a Hill and Ashes of Life

**I consider Edna St Vincent Millay one of the best sonneteers of the twentieth century and I feel that her poetry is not given the respect that it is due.  She went by Vincent, named for the hospital where an uncle's life was saved shortly before her birth.

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One Seed

I planted a seed and it grew and grew.
It grew so high touching a cloudy sky.
With one main branch it sprouted high.
I cut it down telling myself I’m through.
But that main branch stayed so true.
I started watering daily at noon nigh.
And I would always wave good bye.
I can’t even tell you the birds it drew.
That branch was awesome.
Every day a new leaf to see.
Always a flowering blossom.
New blooms would always be.
It is amazing at what one seed can do.
Even those seeds lying inside of you.
© Copyright: Ann Rich   2006

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Tumbling, tumbling, maple’s chameleon leaves

swathe blonding grass that is longing to sleep,
A Mennonite farmer hand-bundles wheat sheaves,

Harvest won’t wait and his field will not keep.

Fumbling, fumbling with sodden dresses

clean from a washing on this windy day,

A Mennonite wife hangs laundry, blessing

God’s bounty, His gifts on lovely display. 

Crumbling, crumbling, pieces of pumpkin pie

warm from the oven and perfectly spiced,

Mennonite tots lick forks and watch geese fly,

Later they share wood toys, just a few suffice.

Humbling, humbling, these people of autumn

who toil endlessly, then Christmas welcome.

August 15, 2012

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Poet, once I envied your two faces, The pen you hold reveals a double life, Each flourish charms and kindness displaces all doubts, till my back succumbs to your knife. Oh, your ink is so quick to change colours, First it was clear blue and now it is puce, There may be a point, but it is duller than gutter wit, the trough of the obtuse. But then again, I now do what you’ve done, Written barbwire words, polished my sword, Expecting friendship, but finding deception, I lowered my standards, found no reward. Your heart is armored, mine bleeds on my sleeve, Keep your ways, I’ll stay honest and naïve.

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Silver Lining

Silk scarved words; silver lined apocalypse-
   A distant stars regret will not ever
Surmount rash amounts of emotion, this
   Disgusting leak of Heart, preyed on. Never
To match sunstroked day breaking; wint'ry
   Fragments protrude strangely from corpse smiles
Which speak speak drifting incantations with me,
   A deaf mute, caged by the shine of your eyes.
Traversing a circle of little Death,
   A cycle of red and blues: cardiac
Arrest of the sweetest sortings; now to mesh
   Touch with sultry glances that counteract 
Vocal chords on the offensive. Nothing
Beyond other's whispers, not worth hearing. 

"Silver Lining"
Jenna-Nichole Conrad

(Disclaimer: I could not find a correct, per-se, form to put this under. The rhyme scheme and syllable counting match Shakespearean Sonnets, but I would consider this more of a  'Free Verse' Sonnet. As there was no proper category for me to submit this under, and I do not want readers to believe I am submitting wrong or falsely promoting my work.)

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Living in Paris as un homme du monde*
searching for la belle dame* strolling
by the Seine dreaming of stars gliding...
when she starts her swift danse macabre*,
to forget she was a famous femme savante.*
In autres temps,* Marie was a beauty:
who conquered wealthy men in France and Italy...
her soprano's voice stunned them in each scene!
Ma belle Marie,* tout le monde*: from New York to Paris,
went wild applauding you in elegant Opera Houses!
Ma belle Marie,* you savored success and riches, hating the baby in your womb;
and not being satisfied, you attempted to mercilessly destroy two lives! 
Ma belle Marie,* get rid of that vile thought...replace it with thankful payers!
I came to Paris to be un homme du monde,* not to put flowers on your tomb!

un homme du monde: a sophisticated man
la belle dame: the beautiful lady
danse macabre: dance of death
femme savante: learned and cultured woman
autres temps: other times
ma belle Marie: my beautiful Marie
tout le monde: everybody

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For Herda & Wangugi

To become a man he has a difficult task:
he must be brave enough to kill a beast.
A tradition in his tribe, you may ask.
The boy is not fierce, strong, or fast in the least.

The boy has hardly a weapon, hand-made, and surely not a gun:
but a long stick with a sharpened tip, a spear.
This is the tradition, such hunting calls for a shun
from the village if the task is not complete, that is clear.

The lion is too fast, the boy cannot outrun it.
The boy must be silent; the lion is too strong,
and has spotted the boy, it picks up it's speed.
The boy was not careful; the lion too strong.

There is a stuggle, but the boy has killed the lion.
The boy is now a man in his village.

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Newly adopted toddlers mourN
Indemnity as locus  standI
Gold-crests laG
Event invites the employeE 
Rodeo on the wealthy riveR  
Irrevocable superminI
And the black gold run et ceterA 
Nobles with black gold gains remaiN

Spectacles of other specieS
Opener ramains incognitO
Ne'er-do-well holds the horN
No one remembers the mooN
Expatriate  the extra farE
Teach the gospel momenT

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Gone Too Far

That’s not my elephant, officer, though she is pink.
She is right in front of your vehicle sir, I think.
Not too big, but not too small, her name is Ella.
I would say she likes to carry her pink umbrella.
I bet those second graders can see her just fine.
Yes, officer, I bet that they never drank any wine.
So to say, she is not there, will start some fights.
So remember that my faith is in the bill of rights.
She dances so fine around, around over the lot.
Upon tips of her toes, she cannot smoke pot.
However, she can eat spaghetti, with meatballs hot,
She loves to slurp, and swing the noodles in trot.
Don’t you see her now, over on top of that car?
Well, sir, you’re under arrest, you’ve gone too far.

Written for

Sponsor Matt Caliri 
Contest Name That's Not My Elephant 

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Her Cultural Design

Feeling the thoughts that arise each passing day in life,
To be listened too, not to be chastised in given advice,
Wanting to be respected so real, not considered rife,
Affection daily, needing not much, desiring complete slice.

In love, I provide nurturing care when ailments occur.
In pain, I deliver daily chores wanting just sweet words.
In humor, I tell stories that may be enriched in a stir.
For these are feelings of my mind, not told for the birds.

I am not the only one belted in time by hormones alone.
However, my delivery of life challenges and stresses me.
I have intelligence, though many make me out, like a stone.
I have anger and strength, which I show in such deep degree.

I feel to be showed love, desire pleasantries from my other half.
I truly hate to be downtrodden, played as a joke in a laugh.

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We boomers, as our generation’s called,
have lived through two seasons, considered great,
during which our values were overhauled --
The Summer of Love and Autumn of Hate.
Both brought us together and gave us hope.
In the face of injustice, both were staged --
the first, a celebration with free dope,
the other a tragedy that enraged.
We were innocent in ‘Sixty-Seven;
we saw world violence and were appalled.
Our attitudes changed by Nine-Eleven;
we sought revenge, though we were shocked and galled.
While Winter of War passes, may we find
The Spring of Renewal and peace of mind.

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Comment of the verses commenting mine

I have happily walked through your poems`s spring:
And many times,a sensible heart sounded
Like a queen-violin;and many times,a king
Among the newest impetuous verse surely was crowned:
In the place with stalactites and stalagmites,the dreams` voice resounded;
And certainly yours keeps its face in the sunshine ready to be beyond the praise.
With air hands ,I touch the season white,with your name rebounded.
Unforgettable one in the lasting generous  heaven lays 
And the poets` realm with much honor you raise.
You know: the bits of heart ,the life`s syllogism disobeys;
Tender is the night in which,the candles are brought
For more light.To each I tell the same and especially to thee:
No sweetest rest,no pleasure work can be. 

(Especially to my first reader ,Peggy Bertrand this spontaneous attempt to fill 
these empty moments with myself and my gratitude.)

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Study Sonnet: Aseptic and August Become Family

Auspicious August was a king of old,
who used aspersion as if it were gold.
Baron Aseptic, he declared: filthy,
and his best virtue, his asperity.

The Baroness called the king audacious,
her husband was very assiduous.
“He austerely cleansed all crime from his land,
King August could not claim something so grand.”

Though true, most ascribe her words to her end.
August assailed the Baron to defend
Pride and Respect. The Baron was astute,
killed his wife to appease the royal brute.

His atonement acceptable, the king
made him Groom in the princess’s wedding.

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Housewives, secretaries, the odd pro willing to stoop,
All came, delinquents, child prodigies, derelict old men
“All welcome” – the Chair of the Writers’ Group
To those looking for support, with a love of the pen;

They were decent people bonding, scorning the pub
The roll call a hedge school of ancient fame
They read poems and stories like a literary club
And enjoyed playing the great writing game.

Anthology reviewed,  the twelve year old took accolade
From the shyest to the most arrogant, all were shook
He was savaged by the grande dame in an envious raid
She was terrified someone so young would produce a book!

Even the chair demurred, and went to The Times
Requesting deletion of “all welcome “– young souls are stilled  by such crimes.

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Written Love

Warmth of your touch wrapped around my bod,
Pressure smooth and sweet felt upon my waist.
You slip into thought and down I do nod,
When excited, I’m sent into great haste.

In slight slowing gyrations do you guide my tip,
And turn me off and on by simple thumb.
Sometimes, you’ll touch me bitter to your lip,
When your mind falters, for once becoming dumb.

And you whisper lines to me in frantic,
Cover me cool sultry with your fever,
Sweat runs greasy through my breast clip, panic
That I will slip from your grasp, word weaver.

Made out of metal I am what I am,
Just a small blue pen in the palm of  your hand.

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by rites

by rites we come into now
by rites we leave into then
by rites we mark the in between
by rites maybe we start again

by rites we say "I love you"
by rites we bring on progeny
by rites we launch into unknown
by rites we cleave dichotomy

by rites we celebrate today
by rites we mark contrast
by rites we are carried away
by rites we remember the past

by rites we reverently resolve
so, by rites kept, life revolves 

© Goode Guy 2013-01-04

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Dust and blood on an iPod that plays,
Hole, for love of country, for love,
Of the scope on a fine bolt action M-40  rifle.
Cupid was a sniper, for love of Psyche.
Like the marksman in the minaret that shot,
Lance Corporal Miller in the face,
He will have a thousand virgins at his feet.
As Corporal Nick Ziolkowski loved to kill,
Having taken three mortals in one day,
Was a badge of honor he would proclaim,
Now he lives under that shining city on the hill.
The world loves it’s patient heros,
How gently they lay in wait, divinely,
Saving humanity    from it’s dark Eros.

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Though I am a blank but still, 
I can smell their shallowness from twill,
How debunked shame and superficiality in them, 
But no cuss, ahem…
Because it ‘be questioned, frowned and fuss,
Hah…so this fallacy of twenty-first,
Disguised under flag of ‘coolness’,
Don’t abuse it with the with f n b in utter flatness,
Because, its today’s trend,
To be free in all the evils commend,
Which makes per worthy to the cool breed
That creed which is clad in obscene lee
What an awfully excruciating enlightenment I see,
 In which moral and respect bleed

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To the Glen's She Came

There will come a day, when a Maiden graces the Glens
Alba is where she'll stand amidst the land of Highland men
For her hand will be chosen to be at this clansman's side
And render her heart to he, forever she'll reside

To a place called Inverness, which will claim her heart
Leaving her hurt behind allowing her life to start
For in this tranquil city surrounded by hues of green
Many times we'll capture these views, oh! to be seen

Along the River Ness in whatever season one walks
It's beauty always abounds allowing us to talk
There's no better place to stop to share a loving kiss
In the background her waters flow, soothing, so bliss

Many years have passed, we still walk the riverside
To my Maiden who graces my heart, and leaves me full of pride

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All English men by God are straight and right

We English men are disciplined from birth
Our poker face with upper lips are stiff
We need not hug nor kiss to know our worth
God save the queen will often give us lift

Curries with chips, that is our national dish
We don’t eat rice and but love our family nan
In Birmingham we made the Balti fish
Vindaloo and larger maketh this man

For their green fields the Welsh we did attack
The Irish Sea it also lent a hand
Hadrian helped us keep the Scottish back
A United Kingdom on face we stand

Though beer with football sometimes make us fight
All English men by God are straight and right

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The Weight of What Is Given

Determine not the value of a gift
before the value of the giver's heart,
for if ill-will inside his sanctum drifts,
do bear in mind his bounty's worth departs.

But oh how complicated this can be,
for if the one bestowed upon is poor,
a feather can be weighed indef'nitely
and thus, to them, will seem like so much more.

But oh the opposite does too exist:
a pauper's present granted to a king.
The beggar's ton the haughty rich resist,
for they disdain the treasures that they bring.

Determine if a gift be false or true
by whom and why the gift is given to!

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Men are not moles and are not meant to be, Yet coal was needed, so below we went, A thin light on helmets just let us see small tunnels that weak fans barely could vent. Dust can stain the skin, sweat can drain a soul, And each miner knows death patiently waits, The company profits as workers toil while cave-ins or black lungs just obey fate. Aye, we’d mouths to feed, families we love, But we dreamt of sun, clean air to breath, For hope came along, wouldn't stay above, Yesterday is gone, tomorrow we’ll grieve. Deep down, decades under the ocean floor, Dead miners refuse to dig any more.
*Dedicated to my father in law, a former Cape Breton miner who became a miner though HIS father died in a mining accident when he was just a boy and to the Men of the Deeps, the only north American singing group of former miners. . For their song Working Man (

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Another World

Where do we go when we go away?
And why is it that we have to leave?
What happened to Adam and to Eve?
Where is the greatest scale to weigh?
Where do we go when we want to stay?
What about this great big world weave?
What about you what do you believe?
So what dues do we have left to pay?
Why me?
Why you?
I can see?
You do to!
I think we’ve all been twirled,
All the way into another world!
© Copyright: Ann Rich   2006

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je ne sais

you ask what the future will bring - 
you ask if you'll find happiness - 
you ask where does contentment lie - 
you ask who knows these questions asked - 

you want the roads end to be seen - 
you want the curves of path envisioned -
you want full knowing of in between - 
you want to know your human condition - 

je ne sais - je ne sais, 
is all i can utter in reply
i do not know - i just don't know
we'll get answers maybe by-and-by

we will not treasure lifes' portends
if we know just how the story ends

© Goode Guy 2013-01-08

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My fears dissipate while you're here on shore.
I wish I could show you who I am now,
All the progress I've made, but you want more.
No longer haunted, yearning need, oh how
I'm still learning about who I can be,
What do I want to do with my life now?
Now you're gone, I wasn't good enough, see?
I don't try hard enough, who are you, BOW!
Not my friend, no one I know's acting Bree.
A queen, princess, no just another figure.
Getting by in a rough world, so nice, see?
Gard down for a second, look see the picture?
No water, no food, gona a moment later.
Live now, tommorow is a second too late.

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We strive to live as though we’re in heaven –
a state of continuous joy and bliss –
complaining about news at eleven
that tells us about things that are amiss.
We don’t concern ourselves with others’ plights,
except through seasonal contribution.
We don’t want to be troubled by their fights;
we’ll wring our hands only in ablution.
And even the causes that we support
We back by giving our voice to a blog
or following, like a favorite sport,
convictions of our chosen demagogue.
Nothing on Earth can change the opinions
we hold onto like contented minions.

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Hope is More than a Word

Hope is wonderful, it's a word I have come to appreciate
It appears in my life presently, hope knows I can wait
For in the coming months freedom will open my door
To a new life I'll lead and rid my past of sores

Music will be my capture, whilst my art will re-awake
To be more free in years to come, I need to for my sake
Whether I'll be alone in life, only time can tell
Inside my soul I'm reborn again to rid my saddened hell

To concerts I will go, many bands I have still to see
Buggles, Asia & Bryan Ferry, thrall their sounds in me
Maybe Queen will tour again, pasts efforts I should have made
Fingers crossed I won't be alone to share my Gigs cascade

Hope is a wonderful word it can open up future doors
To cross that threshold with open eyes, new horizons to explore

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I am Man

When those words are spoken, written, to be a man or not,
Buzz says the bee, to discover what is he?
When the vortex of brains come calling all to reveal plots,
On dripping lips with open mouths that are caves of echoes, opened with skeleton 
The makeup of a man with gray and white matter speaking to him,
Seats of consciousness much more grandeur than the largest auditorium,
Fleshy pods of minds, bodies, and souls, that are glass snakes with broken penis 
Regeneration of anger, hate, sorrow, despair, and love trapped in the hearts 
sunless atrium,
Driving on streets with war bonnets making exchanges with Julius Cesear in the 
passenger seat,
Boxing wrongs reminding us that we are men, and men we are,
Love letters from Sappho, slapping vulnerability, and veneered with eroticized heat,
Ermine men with life lessons spitting out the memories of nightmares,
Graveyards of bones with worm infested skulls, and dreams at rest,
 To be a man in life, to be a man in death, here, and there, he must live or die the 

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friction match

fourteen lines make a love sonnet
for both ancient and youthful alike
passionate love lines gushing upon it
putting feeling to page, like tonight

by the time that the fifth comes up
the flush of hot lust reigns full
yet already arched at its apogee
by eighth line fire starts to cool

love's fireworks blaze so beautifully
duly perfect in its dual dueling flight
yet fourth from last line seeks immunity 
as ardent passions come crashin' to dislike

yet who among would not strike that match
to fire that work skyward for Eros' catch

© Goode Guy 2013-01-12

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Natural Glitter

Swallowed up into false nothingness around,
Captured only by my thoughts with no sound,
My mind wondering throughout the land,
No music to spare, not even a marching band,
Swiftness of stream, within walking distance,
Captures my thoughts, breaking my stance,
I break away and chase after calming echo.
Not knowing what I would find or know.
My soul relates to natures swishing flow.
Heart beating softly, in rhythm as I go,
As if, my spirit is writing music so sweet.
Picturing the notes, expressions of the beat,
Welcoming environments of musical twitter,
Spread outward in view, of natural glitter.

Written for

Sponsor Paula Swanson 
Contest Name Breathe in the silence 

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I Can Say It Now To Myself

I apologize for all mistrust.
Forgiveness your nature, it is so.
Hear thine words of tragedy and must.
Awaiting answer, before I go,

Those equations that I speak silent,
Prepare thou for our sweet departure.
Those quiet and distinct moments lent.
We both indignant, so immature,

Now we can share our differences.
Masks never hidden to each other,
Our inner heart shared references.
We could not deceive ourselves brother.

We are; I accept apology.
Now no more, combined, you are now me.

Written for
Sponsor Paula Swanson 
Contest Name You Can Say It Now 

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Partition of the Day

The dawn makes fools of us all.
It fills us half full like open barrel drums
left out in the rain. There's no excuse,
except to say: we stand
among crystalline mist, the yawning light
teasing us to immortality. We prune angels
with gravel and future memories in our pockets,
like poltergeist stars. Midday reaks of sweat to us.
Dinner--an inextricable film of causality.
At night our dreams exist as double entendres.
Only in the stretching illumination, the ensemble
of spectral waves and negation, are we
forever beings of suspension, beings of bent light,
constantly unable to know inelasticity, and here is where we live.

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Though her true name was Opal Boniface, Most knew the songstress as the Midnight Pearl, A Creole whose crinoline voice could trace frissons on the heart till that muscle would curl. Jazz shone from her eyes, blues shadowed her lips, She silenced a room with each naked note, Women closed their eyes, men eyed her full hips as she reached the rapt with the gems she wrote. Words of loss stunned the crowd, laughter was hushed, The spotlight wept and the clock stilled its hands, moved by her lyrics of love’s gritty touch... A N’Orleans girl making luster from sand. How luminous this queen of melody, Glowing on a stage called the Big Easy.
By Cyndi MacMillan, April 18, 2012 For Russel Sivey's Midnight Pearl Contest About this Poem This is a work of fiction. However, the photo is that of Leighla Whipper, singer, songwriter and restaurateur, who was bestowed the title Creole Belle.

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Aire Kingdom

The way stretches forward, the infinity path
Every shape well defined, by the certainty of math
Great ferns surround, curved in huge Fibonacci arcs
While trees, gods of forest, are discontinuities in bark

The air is still and it's gentle touch oddly cool
And a visiting writer would lie about a pool
And a nymph.  Or a vast Aire kingdom on high:
Beauty's present as the trees, though concealed from the sky

I followed her here, for where else would she dwell
Not hidden away in some black and white cell
The most perfect line, shaping me and my soul
Once my love now my breath, my quest takes a great toll

This cool jungle is our home as I try to define her:
I'm a textbook on the harm of obsession's spur.

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Muslim Srebrenica

Look into the lawless psyche and tell -
  Tell of those darkest kept dwellings recessed:
Where once Barbarians on horseback fell
  New assassins hide new sin unconfessed!
Alas, Serbs march and invaders have trod
  On Muslim Srebrenica in blood thirst:
But where, O tell, is their merciful God
  When the lords of genocide do their worst?
Will mortar shells discern installation
  From infant flesh in the stone cobbled street?
Might violent feud cease in escalation
  Where ancient homeland and battlefield meet?
Or before more die in the snow and mud
Might rule repulse partisan flags of blood!

Wrote this many years ago but still relevant today.

April 1993

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Sarah Kendricks

Sarah a name that means a princess in noble birth,
Along with biblical experiences of religious worth,
Reading her work one can tell of her tenderness.
A real poetess that has such natural cleverness,
Here and now I dedicate this for her gentleness.

Kindness she has shared with all so generous.
Each word I write without ever meeting her.
Never speaking to her, I know many concur.
Dedicating a sonnet is more then she expects.
Reality is, this will never show what she reflects.
I saw her sonnet was waiting to be written true.
Carefully I read her words, to get honest clue.
Kindness, blessed imagination her poetry thru,
Sincerely, I hope she enjoys this poetry I do.

written for
Sponsor Brian Strand 
Contest Name 1-14 any theme /form max 14 LINES  

Dedicated to Sara Kendrick

sorry somehow my writing software changed your name and I did not notice until after I wrote it in an Acrostic Sonnet poem as well....

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conversion – sonnet

they say that pearls are gemstones, and it's true:
their beauty often takes our dreams away,
we string them into shiny ropes of dew
and pride ourselves with what the others say
when they are charmed by bracelets, circlets, rings,
and any other pearly jewel we flaunt...
the heart in front of their pure beauty sings,
and we enjoy the outcome of our vaunt...
but never do we take the time to learn
the cruelty of the price one oyster pays
to bring to life ONE pearl, the pain, the yearn,
the agony in which the oyster lays...
if WE could turn to pearls our inner throes,
would we be just as proud to flourish those?...

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December of that Year - Act 1

I travelled to New York in December of that year
Flying over the Atlantic as the world began to fear
Panic was in abundance as religions declared their all
About the Mayans and 2012 for their writings depict our fall

I flew into JFK, just a Highlander holidaying loon
Booking into my hotel, unknowing of tomorrows strewn
I settled into the night, turning on the news
The channels were reporting the possible, leaving me confused

I awaken very early, it's now December the 21st
The sky appears to be yellow, like the sun has finally burst
I'm seventy stories up, and the hotels in violent shake
I hear loud drones above so it cannot be a quake

Dark shadows pass my window, although it's early morn
I start to think back to the news last night, is this earths forewarn

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To see fully

A glowing angel ascended from the skies:
came down, stepping slowly towards him
she touched his face looking into his eyes -
a view of heaven, galleries of a dream
something beyond beauty is seen:
through the eyes of the soul viewed
like the touch of God from within
our hearts... each other imbued
everything is seen more beautifully
leaving him to painfully and compassionately ponder:
leaving him weeping for those who cannot see fully
wishing they could have this magnificent wonder
he then wishes this for all the living: -
for most of the seeing are more blind.

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The Just of Me

The just of me is a special magic seed you see.
It has long drawn out roots branching off fruit.
The more you eat the more you will follow suit.
The just of me is why my life was meant to be.

I can steal a moment and shiver on your knee.
I can laugh or I can cry and sustain the mute.
I am loaded I tell you my seed carries the loot.
I’ll sprinkle maybe a dash up to a shining key.

I am counted in and out at the very same time.
Early in the morning or late at night, time I am.
Genres unfold whistling through my wind chime,
So, it's just the just of me being slain by a lamb.

Greetings I say to you, and welcome to your every bit of who!
The just of me swears something deep inside us always knew.

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All you people around!
Now your excitement will grow!
All I’m welcoming you on my puppet show!
Here’s me and my crew,
Now we will entertain – 
So you, honorable crowd, never will complain!
All you people out there!
Come sit! Enjoy the play!
If you’re not bored enough – no one make you stay!

Shadows dancing on the wall – 
Story that will make you cry;
And all these puppets are mine,
They’re all made for peoples delight,
But I play it day after day,
It brings hell in joys despite…

While the planet goes it round,
Our play you’ll hear the sound!
This puppet is holy, that puppet is damned,
That one is a wolf, this one is a lamb.
Here are the clowns and kings in their darkest hour,
Making them live – how sweet is the power!
I can move them and kill them – 
The joy is so true;
If some becomes boring, I’ll find something new. 
The curtain rises up and music’s getting loud;
It look’s like shiny trap,
And I can’t make a sound.
I’m blinded by the light – still show is never stops.
I start forgetting lines,
And scream:” Enough! Enough!”
But organ-grinder smiles
And turns a handle rough…
You all will now applause,
You all be screaming: “Wow!”
The curtain’s falling down,
And we come take a bow.
But all that you can see – 
To stop is forbidden for me;
And that is a question no more – 
Who’s really a puppet inhere…

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The Contra Dance

With lightened heart and care-loosed feet
setting out hand-in-hand
to Celtic tune and callers bleat
of "hay," "gypsy," "allemand."

All that satin, cotton and silk
a'twirl in twos and fours,
topped by smiles white as milk
on dancers by the score.

Away sad thoughts, can you not see?
The dance is on, it's time for glee!

Consider the dance in contrast to
and not as to oppose,
this instant poised, then threading through
a line, and then who knows?

Tumbl' out your hair, O lady dear.
What need have you for care?
This dizziness will soon make clear,
so lose yourself in ayre.

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The Masks of Man

How conspicuous are the lives we lead?
One mask removed begets yet another
The other fitting a different voice, a different creed.
And still, we choose this other 
Knowing in our hearts minds 
That it is that which we have no control over 
That we choose to relish in our hearts confines
Yet this is what makes our hearts older,
Wiser and strong enough to know the difference
Between lifes many inconspicuous faces
Whilst they engrave their deep footprints
Within our souls leaving us to ponder our own flawed graces.
And yet, we cannot live without these substitutes of face
For if we did, the world would realize who we are without religion or race.

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She is a butterfly amongst crickets, The summer breeze catches her long sari of cyan blue, glinting with gold trinkets. Her dark hair shines like Amritsar City at night, reflecting old, golden temples, and skin radiates like the dunes of Thar, Beauty in brow and cheek, but those Bengal eyes are much deeper than India’s star. Dazzled, I am aware of my drabness, My casual, beige shorts, sensible hair, This winterized skin, my outer coldness must seem foreign to her. Is she aware of her loveliness, this new immigrant, and that her hues are so omnipotent?
*Please click on the about this poem link for more information.

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Dementia in ADD minor

Give me some methylphenidate
So I can concentrate
Electrical impulses and chemicals mixed into one
All of that is called memories for some

Random people without faces
Roaming around in my mind
Leaving their muddy foot print traces
Like souvenirs behind

This dementia is a blessing
So people shouldn’t be stressing
For my train of thought
Can’t be caught 

For rational irrationality
Is no longer part of me

Details | Sonnet | |

Randomly Selected

I randomly selected you for a treat.
A delightful surprise for the meek.
It is my breaths of large you seek.
You discovered your fate of feat.
I brought you to a judgment seat.
And books of life you took a peek.
Then in heaven you found the leak.
Then the drums rolled and they beat.
You were in awe to say the least.
So was I in looking at your face.
It is to the west as it is to the east.
But definitely a different place.
Many were absolutely ejected and rejected,
But you my dear were randomly selected.
© Copyright: Ann Rich   2006

Details | Sonnet | |

December of that Year - Act 2

Slowly I walk to the window as I am attracted by the light
What could cause such brightness before my day becomes bright
I step out on the balcony, my eyes lured towards the sky
Spaceships of various sizes, is this our world in nigh

In the sky above Central Park, appears the daddy of them all
Whilst all around are smaller ones in deliberate hover fall
Just off to my right I hear explosions and screaming cries
Then suddenly down below, one hovers and catches my eye

Inscriptions on it's side, remind me of 2nd century glyphs
Can it be that they have been here before, and banish alien myth
The writings that I see are similar to the Mayan race
From the site at Naranjo, yes, Guatemala being the place

My mind in wheels of confusion as to why today has arrived
Leads me to think that this happening is genius in contrive

Details | Sonnet | |



He waved at us
Such a good fellow
Or so we thought
Now the eclipse is gone

And faces now brighter
We saw trails
He was the one
He that took our position

And drank our portion
Of the libation
Given to us all
Yet he calls himself a brother

If such is brotherhood
Shall I stay brother less?

Details | Sonnet | |

the Astronaut

As certain as I see the world below
some things I'd overlooked, within my haste
come to my mind, and in it now, I know
we can't allow what time remains to waste.

 What God's become, because we've let it be,
would change if only you'd see what I do,
spread out below, right here in front of me
a fragile sight--most delicate a view.

To see the whole thing, as it is complete,
the total world, big pictures only show,
is recognizing what's beneath our feet
was made by One who knows more than we know.  

 My question's not to ponder as to how
   God made the world--but how to save it now.

Details | Sonnet | |

Lost Love

The words of a heart felt letter "I love you I didn’t do it", fading into ashes.
The flames of the hostile words "I know you did it, admit it slut" devouring and edging the pain.
I stand, broken in shattered bits, my heart washed away by the rain.
Words of love actions of hate, "Drew don’t you see that it clashes?"
It is done it is over, turn by turn a wave of relief then despair over me crashes.
Mine, yours, ours, words of love, amore’ it is now my bane.
This heart of mine traveling a one way street in reverse, in the wrong lane.
Togetherness taken for granted in its death throes our relationship thrashes.
The wrath within loosed on a dying soul.
Eternity of blackness snuffs out loves last flicker.
This barrage is not you speaking but the words of your mistress Meth.
Venom of anger and distrust conjured by your other love has taken its toll.
Seething eyes burn me, his stinging tongue whips me with one last snicker.
My affection crumpled my heart empty, descending, and falling, fading, death.
                                                                                                           Summer Gratias

Details | Sonnet | |

A beggar's Diary

In deep sigh, a flashback
To experiences observed
Again he sighed in rage
As to the kind of person he be

His face as frowned as folded fries
Like that of a night soil man
His hard harmful hand
Like that of a still standing status

He looked and nearly yelled
At my poor pleading palm
Yet, I saw his overloaded pockets
Along he dragged on

Under the weight of plenty
Under the weight of poverty

Details | Sonnet | |

At Least We're Not Letting Our Pheromones Go To Waste

Twist around the rim, a drunken ballerina
   Of unsorts, elbow deep in catastrophic
Breakings-perfected works of fiction shatter a
   Curtain call. Lasting shards of what I can't stop; it
Burrows into my flesh, becoming hybred with
   Misery. I would choose such over infamy
Though difficult to resist omnipotent kiss
   It's comfortable the way it is: Destroying me.
A badly broken code of strangled DNA
   Foxtrots with weighty pheromones boxed in a high
And void of selfless speakings, whispers yet to say-
   The music stopped some time ago to hear deep sighs
Or heartfelt hymns by the nonbelievers;
Symphonies strangled into the night, far deeper

"At Least We're Not Letting Our Pheromones Go To Waste"
Jenna-Nichole Conrad

Details | Sonnet | |

Diamond and Coal

I watch her through windows, so close.
Captivated, by her beautiful long hair,
Looking cautiously, with fearful pose,
She with a glowing face, strong and fair,

Fear of her catching me standing there.
Fascinated by beauty, my eyes observe.
Eagerly anticipating, the moment dear,
That we share one moment, I‘ll preserve.

My pulse races, upon entering her room.
Her eyes and pouting lips, gleam to me.
Heart secures excitement, before the loom.
Recent words told that she is indeed free.

Secretly, she quietly tries to entice my soul.
Dishearteningly aware, she is diamond, I am coal.

Details | Sonnet | |

Natural Beauty

Sparkling rivers on a moonlit night
The starry sky covers them with its light
Softly signing songbirds adding romance
Nature's song so sweet, it creates a trance

The scent of roses suspended in the air
Exotic floral fragrances drawing them so near
The silky feeling of soft breeze on smooth skin
The touch of cool grass warming them within

They kiss.....
She tastes like caffeine
He tastes like cigarettes
They get up, walk away
Thinking disgustedly to themselves

Details | Sonnet | |

Thy Eyes In Which False Beauty Lies

Thy eyes in which false beauty lies
And restricts the sight till it's range,
Seeks beauty in what appears nice
And soothe in what dies with age.
Thy eyes that sees what ancestors told,
Builds a fence in thy mind;
Believes in what those old books hold
And kills the length till moon's height.
Thy eyes that pour hate in innocent heart
So make it dull with black'st flow,
And sees around with envious thought
For joy, thee never let come to thou.
Thy eyes that complain with sleek'st sigh
The one who blooms their only life. 

Details | Sonnet | |

Minnesota Nice

The great upper mid west
Minnesota put to the test
Ten thousand lakes and streams
Reality for many who like to dream

From Itasca state park
To the Louisiaina's wooden bark
The mighty Mississippi flows
Gently down the outcrop she goes

Crime rates are always's on the rise
But really does it come as such a surprise
Everyone seems to like to hug
Except when its a mosquito bug

So many call us Minnesota Nice
But some still say were Cold as Ice

Details | Sonnet | |

Love at first sight

Love at first sight they all say without thoughts
Now a days people use the word love easily
Some think that love is an item and can just be bought
I think that love is natural just like a lily
Like a lily it blooms and hopes to be sought
When people really fall in love they feel silly
Sad they wish that hearts can be easily caught
But to think about it, hearts can be moved so easily
Things like feelings from someone have hearts been bought
Just like everyone I said Love so regularly 
Love is a meaningful without doubt	
I know that love too can be treat you harshly
Even trust comes but without trouble will come through
But through the hardships you hear love so clearly

Details | Sonnet | |


I must call everything into question
now that you’ve smugly done your one-eighty,
mistrust your most innocent suggestion,
and find your lightest of motives weighty.

I see in a new and much harsher light
that what I took for truth was just an act,
and I must review with improved hindsight
what once I blindly accepted as fact.

I don’t blame myself for naiveté.
In fact, I’m proud of my guileless trust.
I wouldn’t have it any other way.
I don’t expect you to feel guilt.  It’s just

my measure of you needn’t be reversed,
if you’d been honest with me from the first.

Details | Sonnet | |

Dorm Room 2011

So what would you do
if you woke up one morning to
a sign on your dorm room door
saying in no uncertain terms this is for 

warning you that the reek in the halls
has exceeded the tolerance levels
our policy calls for?  C'mon y'all!
We know we accept brilliant devils

but we expect you to at least 
bat your eyelashes to the fact
that there's a pretty dang dangerous beast
out there.  We hope you can call on your tact

and moderate your in-your-faceness
enough to where it deserves its effectiveness.


actually, this is sorta a semi-sonnet, but i went with the closest could think of

Details | Sonnet | |


The younger I was, the quicker and kinder 
I responded to love, and believing in sharing,
I spread that kindness to anyone fonder
of my perception that all were deserving.
I gave all and kept nothing to shelter me from fear;
everybody thought I didn't need up-lifting words,
and being left without the courage to ask, I sank deeper
into loneliness being caught up in loveless thoughts.
I yearned for their friendship, but none came...
and by putting on an alluding smile, it didn't help indeed,
because they assumed I wasn't in need;
if only they had known me better, I wouldn't bear this blame!

Even now, being lonely and caught up in loveless thoughts,
desire for happiness doesn't seem stronger than it was!

Details | Sonnet | |

Variety of Wisdom

They set aside views sometimes avoiding conflict real.
Voicing their concerns to no-one that matters truly,
Ones that stir the pot, while time is what they steal,
These voices in shadows sustain all that’s unruly.
Riding the severity, ripping others minds cruelly.
They have no servitude, just societies recklessness.
Hidden behind the true wealth, fading unduly,
They do not fight for reality, existing in weakness.

Those who ultimately rise for all have great consciousness.
These are the thinkers, poets, philosopher’s existing free.
Each of these set aside and speaks driving from darkness.
Creativity from mind, allows them to speak, others to see.
Humankind has vast distinct differences, of what is freedom.
Unfortunately very few times, do rulers have true wisdom?

Written for

Sponsor Dr.Ram Mehta 
Contest Name The Spenserian Sonnet 

Details | Sonnet | |

The Bridge

Sometimes,Destiny is in the bridge we build.
innocence fade and the past will always remain.
It's where we get the knowledge we gain.
It's in the bridge, the promise that was sealed.

It's in those process wherein I was healed.
we build the bridge,to free ourselves from the chain.
we forgive,love and trust even though there was pain.
In my faith, those worries and fears were killed.

Maybe it's really important to build a bridge to people we love.
It takes time to grow and i don't have to remold destiny.
All i need is to keep this bridge strong,
It's one way to value the things I have.
The challenges will remain as a mystery.
And the symphony in this bridge will stay as a song.

Details | Sonnet | |

Spread the Seed

We look for sharing within humankind. Instead, greed and hunger is what we find. An example of inequality throughout this planet is easy to see. It is time we all start spreading the seed. There are many who hunger in dire need. Those are the ones we should nourish and feed. To all who reap the harvest, say “Godspeed”. Food treasures can sprout from within the earth. Bountiful supplies increase our net worth. An overflowing cornucopia, food can be produced in a plethora. When producing more in order to give, everyone is given a chance to live.

Details | Sonnet | |

decaffeinated sin

I went and signed up for a course to
make sin a whole lot more banal
and a lot less fun to be in, 
to make my retentiveness more anal

now chocolate is not as dark and rich 
those stolen kisses aren't as sweet 
hearing juicy gossip's just a snitch
and pride feels like it's only conceit

five miles over the state's limit
seems like murdering my innocent child
to show up at the free clinic's illicit
I've taken all joy from being free and wild

I'm thinking now of forgetting the damn course
life's no fun since I'm filled with remorse

© Goode Guy 2012-04-07

Details | Sonnet | |

Death Comes

The time of life has come to halt
for the grim reaper owns my soul.
His timing and acuteness never fault.
To take my life is his goal.
The shortness of a love once known.
The greatness of my internal fear.
While as he enters i sit all alone
and i begin to shed a tear.
My fate with chess betrayed me
through the hourglass i stare
the time has come for me to leave
my body and soul no longer an even pair.
My body still lies where it fell
my soul for eternity will burn in hell.

Details | Sonnet | |


There was a time when people fought due to the color of skin.
In this war, none could ever win.
Blood was spilled and fields turned red
All kinds of people were lying dead.
Looking back on these horrific wars,
We learn that we need to see people at their cores.
Judging someone at first sight
Will only provoke another fight.
Differences will rip our world apart
If we can’t erase the past and get a new start.
A person shouldn’t be ashamed of who they are
Because someone kicked dirt and dulled their star.
We should raise up others and help them feel strong,
It will push everyone towards getting along.
If our world breaks because we were fools,
Nothing could fix it except the strongest tools.
Show love for all and stand tall side-by-side
And no one will have to be prepared far a destructive ride.
We should have friends of all religions and races
And not judge people just by their faces.

Details | Sonnet | |

What passion wins when saught

What love is too fragile, that shatters without any notice.
If one is raged in time, never was there passion.
To so many birds happens frail edges in their nests,
but once lost are wingless, and do fall to rodents.
Pinned with swords to the walls that bleed their regret,
is what the impassioned experience, when they fail to grow.
Rather than deploy trials through stress, they breath what is.
Unressted heads beat steadily among those that seak most control.
Unless heads compete for control, for then, sacrifice proves passion.
Only to those that pursue engraved traces of fate, continue.
Balance life in an order that's prior to our motions,
helps the world of after shine better through Karma's tests.
Proving worth comes purely from passion, convincing death to except.
No one should ponder the life that's yet to come.

Details | Sonnet | |


 I do not care about your life,
You are just pathetic,
In my back, You put a knife,
And you want me too be empathetic?
Your voice just winds me up these days,
You don't deserve what you've got,
And no one cares what you say,
Sometimes I wish, Six feet under, You'd rot,
You're all fake my love, Nothing's real about you,
I will wreck your little dream land, Burst your little bubble, 
And pretty soon everyone will join in too,
You'll fall too the ground, like a load of heavy rubble,
You're just a worthless piece of nothing,
So don't ever think that you'll ever be something.

Details | Sonnet | |

Reality onto a Bright Sunshine

Like the bright sun in the heavenly sky,
Thy presence enlights mine everyday path.
Eyes of angels and smile that makes shy
He who fall onto its trap like a strath.
I dare'd not look beyond thy dainty eyes
For I fear seeing them for the last time.
Yet, I am feeling the near broken ties
Which hold us together for a lifetime.
Perhaps 'tis the last time I'll hold you close
Enough to feel our harmonized heart.
I Refuse to make the same gaffe and chose
To touch thy lips with mine before we part.
Only to open my eyes to bright beam
Of the morning sun from a lucid dream

Details | Sonnet | |


I should have resisted that deceiving voice
that entrapped me and made me quickly fall...
when silence dominated to conceal noise;
and however sorry I am, I felt tall. 
Devil, why did you choose someone so meak...
to do horrible deeds unthought by this mind?
Devil, you hide in dense shadows and peak,
hiding in caves more afraid than a child.
As beautiful things so charming and grand...
temptation led all to wrongdoing,
but without real compassion and feeling,
thoughts clustered together to offend.

That deceiving voice kept on coming back...
alienating friends who looked to me for help.

Details | Sonnet | |

Oh Great Courtesan of Ancient Athens (Phryne)

Oh great courtesan of ancient Athens
Remove your cloths and step into the sea.
Astound the hearts of men and women,
A divine answer to all prayer and plea.

The King of Lydia sought out your grace,
But for all his wealth you found him loathsome.
He enslaved his people to pay your price,
Yet to Diogenes' mind: You succumb!

The great mysteries did you dare profane,
Disrobing yourself you gained acquittal. 
You rebuilt the walls and attached your name.
Sculptors, thinkers, all found you sensual.

Oh great paramour! Were you around today.
I now wonder what I would have to pay.

Details | Sonnet | |

Classic Lullaby

Close your eyes go to sleep, listen to this lullaby.
Rest your mind; release your woes, to justify.
As you lay so warm and delighted tonight,
Secure in your thoughts, without any fright.
The hours ahead shall be quiet and serene.
Dream of gold, diamonds clear, so pristine,
Close your eyes go to sleep, rest mortal soul.
Dream a dream of how to master your goal.
Night goes quick, but you are so very calm.
Rest all your bones, a mind of little qualm.
Pray that your woes are gone and forgiven.
That no nightmares arrive, or would be riven,
Wake your eyes, mornings come, do not stultify.
Sing again what has been sung, classy lullaby.

written for
Sponsor Tracie ~*~ A solitary sonnetist 
Contest Name Lullabies... 

Details | Sonnet | |

Our Queen

She is the queen, the queen of lies!
She sits on her throne, masked in disguise.
Manipulation and dishonor she solemnly seeks,
from her loyal servants and those who are weak!

She basks in the scent of deceitfulness,
as you foolishly believe, you will progress!
Bearing the fruits of her followers labor,
portraying her façade as though it’s a favor!

Her mission is simple to all who can see,
her lust in life, is to promote only "me"!
You sit in suffrage, as she commences to excel,
stating there’s a mission too important to tell.

The queen has spoken, we all must abide,
a wonderful queen who has never lied!
She sits on her throne surrounded my many,
graceful and wise, with a look so canny! 

But her guidance has failed, along with her lies,
she has set the precedent of a dying enterprise!
A queen so beautiful, who used her charm,
to prey on the weak and cause much harm!

Exiled from a throne, for your lies of deceit!
Lack in leadership skills has caused your defeat!
Had you been caring, and not thought of only you,
we would still honor the grace, of our queen of taboo!

Quotation- "Lies are like jokes, the more you tell, the better they get."

Details | Sonnet | |

We Can

Where, are we now, is the question at hand.
How are we to feel, upon this lifetime?
Are we to sit, now do nothing or stand?
Up against evil, as well simple crime,

This country became great, not from money.
From doing the right thing, when needed now,
American life not always sunny,
We have become, to greedy for endow.

Our wants, desires, out grew natural needs.
Things have become more important to all.
We have grown much waste, harvested no seeds.
Forgot about love, betrayed natures call.

March forward; bring back our ancestors plan.
Building country stronger, you know we can.

Written for
Sponsor Paula Swanson 
Contest Name Just poetry 

Details | Sonnet | |

Lights Out

Unknown to me these people in this room
Attempted murders, drug dealers and thieves, is what I presume...
I have never known to have such fear,
and being in this predicament is rather queer.

God has always been so lenient with his heart
But this last crime, I think I lit his anger with a spark
My thoughts in conference confirmed, I was being greedy
Now I'm stuck in a confinement for the meek  and needy

Fear has settled deep inside my chest
Cut up women screams her mind to rest
I ask the corrections: "How much longer, 'till I'm spared?"
He walks away, for my voice just wasn't glared

Please I whisper, as my hopes fill up with doubt
He just stares at me then yells: "LIGHTS OUT!!"

Details | Sonnet | |


Isn't New York City the leading global city? 
Wait...why is it called The Big Apple?
And for those who don't's the aswer:
it was named after the poor street vendors,
selling apples during the Depression.
And despite all the traffic jams and noises,
New York City is still a great city!
Manhattan's avenues are quite at night...
illuminated by those skyscrapers!  
See the Brooklyn Bridge cross the East river,
such wonders are The Whitestone, the Throgs Neck, 
the Washington and the Manhattan Bridges!

Yes, Queens is the melting part of the world;
where would you find such a diversity?

Entered in Brian Strand's contest, " Sonnet Me "

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Sonnet IV

The gazing silence in my eyes serves purpose;
Comprehend the plot ~ read between the lines;
My exodus has reason ~ your equivocal course;
Aphrodite calls me...allow this to nobly die;
Each day with you is coveted by darkness;
As I rest near the black brook, no tears remain;
Another has moved me, so I must depart;
I fancy he is waiting at seduction's gate;
Uninhibited, I am free within his warm thighs;
Explorers beneath a crimson blanket ~ deep;
My wings spread as I feel his life inside;
I taste the sweetness of unbridled desire;
     For you are winter ~ my heart you slain;
     He is summer...sophistication I gain.

Details | Sonnet | |


I saw the Sun and the Moon take a stance in the universe.
And an unknown Star placed over them was put in charge.
The whole entire inhabitants scattered themselves at large.
And all the lands and seas became separated by a diverse.
The Sun Shined brightly in the west never to set in a curse.
The Moon gleamed fully bright to the east as the surcharge.
The door had been widely opened and many came by barge.
The stress was great because the world went into a reverse.
Fate and destiny was being dished out like a deck of cards.
Skies lit up and the Stars came back out like never before.
And the palm trees took up to the seas like standing guards.
And from this stemmed growth from that one opened door.
The Sun and Moon are exalted above and beyond you all,
And so is the Star in charge of those that flaw in its thrall.
® Registered: Ann Rich 2008

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Whose Mad

I am tattered in misery
Dirty; unkept but harmless
Though drained mentally
Begging but forceless

untattered thou in hummer
Oiled and scenty but Abacharical 
Though unscrupulously richer
Neocolonizing thy own clan

Starving the represented
Looting and exploiting them
High blood pressure thy means
But thou call me mad

If that is madness
Heaven make me king of madness

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The Indian Harmonious Chords

Based on the great Indian soil,
Great rhythms created you from your toil-
Like the morning star made you shine,
The 'Rhythms' made you absolutely fine.

Of late youths seem oblivious to you beauty,
More prone to rock music's name-
What a sorrow ,what a shame-
And none interested to return thee thy fame.

The ancient 'Rhythms' gave you a grand place,
Making you full of beauty and grace,
Like an incense stick you engross the midst of the face,
You are much noble than any music of this race.

Let's have a humble try to revive its glory!
Surely will it protect from being stabbed by a gully.

Details | Sonnet | |


Why for we seem so wise
yet act so foolishly;
Why so we create laws
for others to follow
saying,look I know best
forb those other fellows;
It's for your greater good
shape up,hera what I say,
It's much the better way;
I've given this some thought
(but not as much as I ought);
What about me, you say?
What I do privately
is,not for you to see;

Why for we seem so wise
yet act so foolishly;

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Gentle Streams of Tears

Today I sat down to right a poem.
It filled my heart with thoughts of home.
I put my hand on my cheek.
I never felt so sad and bleak.
I saw the pain of the world today.
Hoping to see things okay.
But the wind gently made me sway.
It made me think far away.
Knowing there is trouble time.
And now things are worth slime.
My eyes filled with water.
My heart goes out to the world slaughter.
I felt the stream of sadness.
With things that has badness.
Gently I wipe that sadness dry.
Tears that show hope with no deny.
I now see with no fear.
Futures gentle streams of tears.

Details | Sonnet | |

Rhoda's Twin Moons Birthday (Kyrielle Sonnet)

Two moons shine in the morning sky
Join each other as time goes by
Providing light to guide the night
Like Rhoda’s birthday shining bright

From a place so nice it’s named twice
Like birthday cake with blending spice   
The Big Apple has sparkling lights
Like Rhoda’s birthday shining bright

Happy birthday to you Rhoda
Drink lemonade and not soda
Celebrate your day as you write
Like Rhoda’s birthday shining bright

Two moons shine in the morning sky
Like Rhoda’s birthday shining bright

© Joseph, 8/20/2007
© All Rights Reserved

This is for our New York Poetess, Rhoda.

The Kyrielle Sonnet is a French form from the Middle Ages. It has 14 lines (three 
rhyming quatrains and a non-rhyming couplet). It has a repeating line or phrase 
as a refrain in the last line of each stanza.  Each line within the Kyrielle Sonnet 
has eight syllables.  There are times when a French poem links back to the 
poem’s beginning; therefore, a common practice is to combine the first line of 
the first quatrain and the refrain in each quatrain as the ending couplet for the 

Details | Sonnet | |


Abba the father my heart cries out to you.
I am corner stoned with all I will ever be.
I reach high and climb the skies just to see.
I am in a world so confused it is hard to do.
Abba the father my soul just passes through.
I come to you and I am down on bended knee.
I have a soul begging for justice to be set free.
I am in a world where corruptions make new.
I am searching the distance,
Documenting my presence,
Absorbing life’s existence,
Developing omnipresence!
As this world shatters and shakes,
The Earth begins to violently quake.

Details | Sonnet | |

Five Hours In The No Go Zone

In forty kilometers squared
They’re killing livestock in Japan.
Atomic refugees, though scared,
return just to grab what they can
in the five hours they’re allowed
before leaving their homes for good,
look sadly at the farms they’ve plowed
and mourn their poisoned neighborhood.
Still searching for family lost
at the funeral homes each day,
they haven’t realized the cost
or the price that they still must pay.
Fukushima’s apology
means little while they sort debris.

Details | Sonnet | |

The Blocks Been Torn Apart

Seen my brothers locked away in a cage
strugglin tryin not to get life doubled
and excuse me but we got rational rage
on the block our only hope is to bubble
rantings in pen no one thinks that I'm sane
seen brothers pass away and do you feel
look at the pavements shade, thats from blood stains
we gettin peeled can't we see the streets is real
now we deny I'm tryna figure why,
no one care when our lost souls go
we rationalize we all gotta die
but he's just sixteen 'that's how the blood flow'
we all in pain if we don't heed the heart
and it seems the blocks been torn apart

Details | Sonnet | |

thoughtful damnation

the hard truth of the Sisyphus stone
was not his never-ending futile toil
but merely his doing it all alone
that left his soul in eternal turmoil

it's the difference in the distance
of the incline he continues to climb
between giving up and having persistence
to a hellish useless labor unresigned

we're less willing to do it without another
wanting mostly to be offered a gladdened hand
than to turn around to only discover
we're the only damned soul walking this land

so on we toil to climb the mountain higher
seeing a view shared is our push to aspire

© Goode Guy 2012-06-20

Details | Sonnet | |

Desert Moon

Created, desolated, resurrected and even in reverse, 

You are a transformation under a Sun drenched day. 

Beckoned or heralded you climb above a beaming ray, 

Bristles of your hair shall glow and many are perverse. 


Shuffled, hurdled, corner-stoned and even immerse, 

You are a salvation upon a Mountain leading a way. 

Stripped or naked you run below an endless cache, 

Light inside of you shall outpour so all will disperse. 


The collectors shall find, 

Lost on a course in time, 

Many stranded or behind, 

Many with no unjust crime! 


Jacked up, a ripped off, a maniac or just downright a true blue loon, 

Still remaining is a red flaming shield up under a sacred desert Moon. 


Details | Sonnet | |


Each morning before I go to work, I take few minutes
Of my time to stand in front of you, though I am bored!
But, I need to do it, for I want to hear your comment;
As I predicted, you started your nagging argument
By teasingly, spreading both of your arms into the air;
While I almost burst in paroxysm of disappointment,
As I repetitiously asked, what is wrong with my look?
Silent pause is all you got, giving me the impression
That I will never learn to dress, like a fashion icon!
I am late, but just can not leave because you bother me;
If, I could stop your negativity with confidence;
So, I wouldn't be spending more minutes on your silence;
Oh! I really should be grateful, 'cos you made me listen
To inner self, for I look great now, than I thought I was!

Details | Sonnet | |


Middle age men, look in this clear mirror
and spot those gray strands of hair:
they may seem ugly, but they bring wisdom;
look again, you are still vibrant,
and accomplish more than those who won't dare:
tell them to live as you have... 

Lines on these foreheads are the furrows that
make us so conscious of our existence,
and death is not far from life's painful truth;
we think of the future as a time yet to come,
but we live it this very moment...not realizing it:  
and with spirit and courage, we race to stay alive...

Each year another gray hair is added to our increasing age;
can we accept mortality, and not reject discontent and rage? 

Copyright 2009 by Andrew Crisci

Details | Sonnet | |

Streets Of London

In the City Of London lights shine bright
People passing the streets as we walk by
Looking at the lights shining yellow light
We grab lover’s hand and look at the sky

The fear of the eerie wind chills the skin
We move through the night, we feel sanctify
Our lonely thoughts of dread, we feel within
Our bodies sweating our minds justify

Listen, hear the Horrific Ripper Word?
The forbidden tail of the somber night
Haunting as a faint Ghost our speech was slurred
We compare our emotions like a Knight.

Shadows of the forbidden truth come out
Elusive,Jack the Ripper,there's no doubt.

Details | Sonnet | |


Through the graceful cones of your loud speakers,
Prayers go out to Alla al Akhbar.
And like a flag waving in a prophetic breeze,
You are a blindfolded hostage weeping on your knees.
In your fair root neighborhood of Shudada,
Stryker vehicles crackle past your ancient walls,
As tanks smash through deserted homes. 
And the endless stockpiles of artillery shells,		     
The mortar rounds, rocket-propelled grenades, 
Electronics for making bombs, were simply small caches,
Left by nomadic insurgents, cells long slipped away.
But you, sweet holy city of Falluja, you will live on,
For when the foreign snipers on your roofs are gone,
You will live on as the city of mosques, city of graves.

Details | Sonnet | |

Twist of Fate

I am remembering you when it was all so good.
Simply because you will never lose your shine!
On top of your head is a radiating golden shrine.
One by one and row by row is where we all stood.

If you wouldn’t and they didn’t, then I could.
Embedded in these visions is a sight so divine.
Looking back at you or me is where I do twine.
Leaps in faith bound following us as it should.

Midnight skies speak so clearly to me,
And every Star I know and you know,
In every granule of sand it is you I see.
That’s why the Sun and Moon still glow.

It is not certain if time runs too late for anybody to wait.
If vision still serves me well I’m looking at a twist of fate.

® Registered: Ann Rich   2009 

Details | Sonnet | |


The lords who lords but none
Who have the elephant and Ahab’s for the crab?
Snake that does not like longness
Proving themselves lords only when ulcer belly cries

They are the lords who slaughter us alive
Like cannibals to their victims
As good as earthquake to the land
Keeping their pledge anti-clock wisely.

They are the lords who bite their mothers’ nipples
The lords who exploit not steal their siblings’ share
Oh! The lords who bear I and only I in their minds
Are thy not the lords who completed that road in their records

Change I plea you oh! Lords
In order to become the lords thou claim. 

Details | Sonnet | |

Shakespeare's Birthday

Today’s the day we celebrate
The birthday of the Bard.
His authorship has caused debate,
Which I just disregard.

For William Shakespeare’s poems and plays
Will never find an equal.
His way with words and turn of phrase
Leave no room for a sequel.

It’s centuries since Shakespeare died
Yet all his words are living.
His brilliance let him still provide
The pleasure he keeps giving.

So on this day I’ve penned this sonnet
Just so we could think upon it.

Details | Sonnet | |

A Mother's Call to Arms

Who defends us, hollow husks?
Whose body shields our start?
Whose open womb gestates heart?
Are Mother’s, Natures tarts?

What mortal faith denies our grace,
Our tenacity, our verve?
What mortal or immortal Man? defines us?
What progeny has SUCH nerve?

When did Mankind , not Ma kind begin?
When were these false thoughts bred?
When was it decided a vacuum filled OUR head?
When was the pivotal moment, the primary prick?

Why second rate the kinder face vilify and disgrace
Why deny Motherhood an equality of grace?

Details | Sonnet | |

My Fame

Is it possible to say?
I love you!
Really I do!
Each and every day!
Would you stray?
In lieu!
Or out of the blue!
Each and every day for you I’d pray!
Inside you I came,
You went,
I stayed the same,
For you I was sent!
Each and every day I was meant,
Each and every day I gain My Fame!

Details | Sonnet | |


papered dipstick of today's measure
will words be too acidic or too base
budding our tongues to sour or pleasure
a tinge of breath exhaled paper chase

our empathy in hues of blues, our anger
bright crimson of hot-blooded emotion
hypothalamic firings line up with danger
counterbalancing truer feelings of devotion

emotions of one or all together as a whole
governed by what lies deep in our brains
unable for our free will to take control
so logically, we're helpless to abstain

both in-the-pink and pie-in-the-blue-skies
measure of our civility, as always, applies

© Goode Guy 2011-11-04

Details | Sonnet | |

Labyrinthine Simplicities

Don’t misconceive my mercy for weakness
Exponent to impuissance that bestows
Ascertain verity of Uniqueness
Appreciate my pose of apropos

Strength my forte led by capriciousness
I once shattered and left to be consumed
Thy inner voice pierces my graciousness
Amidst the flightiness presence presumed 

I am semblance of authenticity
Your erroneous conclusions expressed
Trapped in mirrors of your duplicity
It is not I who is too dispossessed 

My force is life, full of joys and treasures
Multiplied faithfully, basked in pleasures

Details | Sonnet | |

Above All You Loved, Heaven is Above--Seventh Shadow Sonnet Challenge

~~Above All You Loved, Heaven is Above~~

Man made in the image of God, pray man
Woman, a rib of man your love woman
Can your love plan every thought, if you can?
Humans can pray for the lives of humans

Prime vigor, your heart felt life in your prime
Compassion understands, sweet compassion
Time ends days, life is wanting every time
Passions warm affection, loving passions

Life is living right, do you live like life?
Pride's deadly sins; love was not ever pride
Strife disputes harmony; bitter is strife
Brides don't cry, you're a rare most lovely brides

Love your man it's his life; you are his love 
Above all you loved, heaven is above. 

© 2015 DiLinda A. Adams, All Rights Reserved.

Seventh Shadow Sonnet Challenge! – Please join me. Poems should rhyme, and have an 10 syllable count and 14 lines to meet the challenge. However, if you just want to be creative please do so.





Details | Sonnet | |

Shed Thy Snakeskin

Move into the future with a true presence.
There is more to see and way more to do.
It is a life with everything you ever knew.
Shed thy snakeskin with your own essence.
Way up high sits the purest quintessence.
Up above each Star lights a way for you,
Even these skies are a creamier baby blue.
Nonsense is ordained by its only innocence.
There is always a better way.
It is always for you and me.
It is always by night and day.
Where we should already be!
Imagine you did shed every bit of that snakeskin you carry around.
You will lose or you will win, either or I’m aptly located as found!

Details | Sonnet | |

Nigeria 1

Nigeria is this you the golden eagle
Feeding on dried vegetation with wings in black
Once like Isaac in sight of Abraham
A rose in the hands of jezebel thou are

Could that be you so lean as if HIV positive
Infected by unfaithful partners of yours
That prefer thy quality to that of leprosy hands
Oh! What a paradoxical life

Can you ever grow Inspite of all this 
Like the great Iroko tree in my village
But if the red cap, the talking drum 
And the great amara eaters will come toge’er with one voice

And say like the biblical Jesus, “stand and walk”
I know that thy bone shall rise again.

Details | Sonnet | |

Greater Man

They say you're nobody
They talk lies behind your back
They speak of an insignificant soul
A heart worth no attention
I say -
It's the prominence of my walk
The strength of my stance
The graize of my speech to the intelligence beyond glance
I'm a man that's greater
A Greater Man - that's me

A lot try to say you're ugly
Change your appearence - your style
Try to make you conform
Be coll, Be "in," whatever that may mean
I say -
It's the brown of my skin
The scar on my hand
The rareness of my style to the bareness of my ends
I'm a man that's greater
A Greater Man - that's me

They despise your real talk
Call you weak - Call you a punk
They turn the world against you
Your friends - Your loved ones
I say -
It's the abundance of my knowledge
The credit of my character
The uniqeness of my name
An undisputed fame - I'm a man that's greater
A Greater Man - that's me

So when they give you lip
And they torture your stature
When they come across your self-esteem
And say you're not anything
I say -
It's the flare of my actions
The perseverance of my smile
The integrity of my measure
The courage of my style - I'm a man that's greater
A Greater Man
That's me

Details | Sonnet | |

Trapped Infatuation

My darling you are my lover divine
Swimming in our desires, we thrive.
Capturing affection in all, we are alive.
Our passion glows in dark so fine.
With lights out, candles lit, and wine.
We finish our passion; just before five.
For afterward, we shall not survive.
We have both traveled, across the line.
Both trapped in previous engagements apart.
Each other married to another, but not in love.
Our infatuation will end this night forever more.
This adventure ends; our ecstasy shall depart.
All recollection of our dreams to be disposed of,
I shall never forget, our first night at the shore.

Details | Sonnet | |

Forget Me Nots

I had to figure all of you out you know.
I grabbed a shaded glimpse here and I got one there.
I saw this and I saw that and nothing was fair.
But now it was time for me to go.

Glimpses of shade and sparks of light,
Together we made a blazing baffling trail.
Night became day and day became night.
It was an endless circle making me way too frail.

But I journeyed on because I just had to figure you all out.
There were clues everywhere, even in the breeziest air.
I danced the nights away and left the Stars succumbed in doubt.
I stood on top of the Moon and was left stranded in the Sun’s care.

I floated inside of clouds and kissed the lightning shot by shots.
One by one, I gathered a million handfuls of your many forget me nots.

®Registered: Ann Rich  2006

Details | Sonnet | |

Firelight glinted off the dark metal

The glass of those large blue eyes cooled the spirit
The morning light streamed  through  stained glass
Windows streamed  golden rays glittered  with dust
She  coccooned  like  a  precious  jewel  in a casket
Eloquent  flute  love  songs leaking  from the woods
Enchanting hedge of mist Sweet smoke of bonfires 
Feasting dancing God and Godess sacrifice of love
Hair in braids picking  blueberries playing in  woods
Moss-covered  trees  roots  sunk  deep  in  the  earth
Wind through leaves whispered of ancient mysteries
The solemn towering circle of  huge standing stones
Midsummer  jewelled cup of  life  and  harvest  cheer
Spearshaft  carved  with runes  Hoofbeats  on  stone
The setting sun imbued his skin with a red coral hue

Details | Sonnet | |

Consoling arm recovered dignity

 Villa  tapestries  gave  the  space a hushed quality
Baskets of bread fruit cold chicken  and some wine
Books some paper  some quills and a  bottle of ink
White horse fair haired rider in crispy  white uniform
The leaping deer almost invisible in the far distance
Dozens of lithe  greyhounds darted in the dark glade
Fair pretty delicate her even gaze tinged with sorrow
Series of quick sketches A finished study A painting 
Of a renaissance angel Liquid shining ceramic dish
Air rich  with the scent baking roasting  pastymaking
Beautiful  silver gown long  lace veil  spring  flowers
Immense  old  oaks  and chestnuts  branch canopy
Enjoy helping hunt and  collect  plants of  the forest
Taking  his arm  affectionately  gathered  her  cloak

Details | Sonnet | |

Early spring first green

Months  passed Absence He  had gone to war
Polished bronze bowled rapidly along the road
Walking  along  a  path  through  a pine  forest
Spots  of mud drips of  rain  pressing  buttons
House design  exquisite in  classic symmetry
Red  stone glow  warm contrast to a  grey  sky
Outlined  within  framework of  their silhuettes
Subtle familiar rose perfumes meet and greet  
Loving  glazed eyes warm smiles kisses hugs
Exchange of presents  wrapped  and ribboned
Tears  fell  tracking  a course down her cheeks
Dancing  muse  darling   Aunt   wonderful cook
Lamplight  struck  red highlights silken tresses
Kettle  whistled on stove  Pot of tea on the table

Details | Sonnet | |

The Last Pharoah

Hail Cleopatra, Princess of the Nile
Cunning lies within your devious plan 
Secrets cleverly hidden in a smile 
Silent Cobra coiled, striking heart of man 
Your body a temple, your sacred shrine 
Bathed in duplicity and sweet beguile 
Taste Ceasar, Antony, on lips of wine 
Life lived in beauty and splendid denial 
Rome laying siege to your glistening crown 
Stinging bite of asp, a fitting demise 
Egypt cried rivers in sorrow and drowned 
The world left to ponder in truth or lies
  Surface beauty of face and form so rare 
  Masks sinister ugliness hidden there 

Details | Sonnet | |

Children of the Sky

A day with no Sun, no Stars and no wind,
A lifetime of lifetimes is in the womb you grow.
You are the children of the sky with the seeds I sow.
You are enriched and fertile in the lands I tend.

A night with no Moon no day and no end,
A world of worlds of knowledge you all know.
You are the children of the sky and to the winds you shall blow.
In the seeds your sown is your mother and your best friend.

You are of the sky,
You are perfect today,
Boundless and high,
And you know the way.

Reach up and look to see,
The wind blowing inside of me!

® Registered: Ann Rich   2004

Details | Sonnet | |

New Year Tag - Spenserian Sonnet

T’is the season of jolly and such fun
Ending a year and starting out brand new
Others will be looking to the long run
Uplifting many with words from a few
Celebrating the new binding like glue
Moving together with tag poetry
Pot on the stove with Epulaeryu brew
This stew is filled with great artistry
T’is is just like cosmetic dentistry
Brings a smile to celebrating faces
The time is now for a royal entry
Like playing cards with faces of aces
Hello Lynn Marie go put on your clogs
Look out the window you have just been tagged!

Comment:  I was tagged by Katherine Stella.  Hello Lynn, this is especially for 
you.  Happy New Year!  Now you will have to find someone whose poetry you 
enjoy to tag.  NOTE: The Spenserian sonnet rhymes as follows: 
ABABBCBCCDCDEE.  The second four lines are linked by rhymes to the first four 
and the follow four, and a couplet concludes the poem by reemphasizing the 
main idea or proposing an alternative view.  Isn’t this fun!!!

Details | Sonnet | |

Life and Death

Life, has a hard future; to travel,
Ups and downs; we try to unravel.
I like many, learned many things
As in happiness and sorrow brings.

Things I learned in life are mine.
Some are sour; some are sweet.
Some full of freedom, some confine.
Some I share; others I keep discreet.

Each day comes along, with new creations,
Each night seems shorter in abbreviations.
Each month steadily passes quicker somehow,
Each year passes; as quick as just one bow.

Each belief; has its basis in one eternal place.
We are all the same, but with a different face.

Details | Sonnet | |

The Blocks Been Torn Apart

Seen my brothers locked away in a cage
strugglin tryin not to get life doubled
and excuse me but we got rational rage
on the block our only hope is to bubble
rantings in pen no one thinks that I'm sane
seen brothers pass away and do you feel
look at the pavements shade, thats from blood stains
we gettin peeled can't we see the streets is real
now we deny I'm tryna figure why,
no one care when our lost souls go
we rationalize we all gotta die
but he's just sixteen 'that's how the blood flow'
we all in pain if we don't heed the heart
and it seems the blocks been torn apart

Details | Sonnet | |

Come Back

Why are you going away?
My turmoils are holding sway!
What shall I do so that you may come.
Come back ,Oh! dear make my depressed life gay.

I am not wrong my feelings say,
Miserable are the passing days,
My haps are passing away,
Come back ,Oh! dear make my depressed life gay.

Your murmur that I used to quitely hear,
Still it rings in my ears -
Your sorrow that I used to share,
Does occupy my feels major.

Remember dear -it was love alone--
That made king Lear leave the throne.

Details | Sonnet | |

For Susan

Lady, whose heart warms
As does the sun,
You mirror the best of us
Back upon ourselves.
Lady of cats and crowded shelves
Your home is sweet haven
When the day is run;
Reviving the souls of wearied ones.
A heat in your smile
A mind that delves
Within emotion's turbulent swells
Gifts given and witheld from none.
Dreams and desires grow like flowers
From the care you show for all.
A brightness fills the passing hours
Spent within your welcoming walls.
The spirit soars 'round its highest towers
When the fortunate guest upon you calls.

Details | Sonnet | |

The Gap

So many empty spaces with cracked dimensions as stardust flew by.
So I counted to ten and held my breath knowing this would just never end.
At every angle there was a gap so I tagged them all with messages to send.
I stepped through portals leading me to places orbiting way too high.

I passed through broken dreams and landed where the Sun never shined.
No Moon, no Stars, and no galaxies were straight, much less aligned.
The Earth had gone completely berserk and the seasons were sudden to change.
It was the gap warping time and even the people looked far beyond strange.

I listened to faint vibrations and watched galaxies as they all weakened.
Time was lost and gone forever, for they had all been forewarned and told.
I found a spot and planted the last starlight and watched closely as it strengthened.
It grew and grew even withering through the hot and cold.

Shooting through portals I spread my light and left it a sparkling trail.
Ray by ray a beam filled the gap and lit it up by my new starlight’s flaming tail.

®Registered: Ann Rich  2005

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Jesus was the man

I think Jesus was the man, weather he existed or not, to me he stood as a symbol, begging the world to stop. Stop all the oppression's, heart ache and pain, there is a better life out there if you just followed his name. He taught people how to live, in the most simplistic way, separating wants from needs, living humbly day by day. Love thy follow man, for they not know what they do, only when you love there wrongs can you truly love you. Healing many hearts, bringing them from darkness to the light, through his beliefs and convictions he gave people back there sight. But I don't believe Jesus was religious, from it he would flee, for religion only trapped people where Jesus set them free Religion corrupted Jesus, it's corrupted his Holy name. they preach holy words for the good of man for it's own personal gain.
M.Mahauariki © 2012

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Suicide Escape

Sitting here listening to voices unclear,
Not knowing why she does what they say,
She sits down and listens in fear,
Holding herself, she will try wishing them away.

She tries to reason with the voices,
She says they’re not really there,
They say she has two choices,
She argues that’s not fair.

Her parents think she’s crazy, they worry that she’s lost it,
It causes too much pain for her to see the tears in their eyes,
They fear that one day her wrists she will slit,
She knows now that they see through her smiling disguise.

Her mind the Devil will rape,
As she plans her sweet suicide escape.

Details | Sonnet | |

Young Love

June 17, 2006
How sweet, how serene,
Delicate inside a core,
A flower I have bore.
Such a magnificent scene!
Blossoms in bloom are what you bring.
I couldn’t ask of you for much more,
I even find you shining on the Seashore.
You make my heart dance and sing!
The Sun shines down on me,
And the Moon leads my way.
The Stars shine and I can see,
A beautiful Sun shiny day!
You come from somewhere up above,
Tender in my heart is a Young Love!
® Registered: Ann Rich   2006

Details | Sonnet | |


I’ll add you to my safe keeps.
And put you with my collections.
I’ll sit back with my own reflections.
After, I’ve taken hundreds of peeps.
I’ll put you under my pillow where I sleep.
And then there will be no exceptions.
It’s where delusion versus deceptions.
You and I will never weep.
Until your heart is free to run,
I’ll be collecting ashes and dust.
I’ll never be done!
And I’ll never rust.
My collections of restorations appeal.
Piece by piece many of you will heal.
®Registered: Ann Rich   2006

Details | Sonnet | |

The Handy Man

The handy man is always available by my night or day.
I’m being stringent to say my very least to his very best.
All potential clergymen are put through his trickery test
Oh my God at these odds and ends his mind dare weigh.
He is intricately susceptible in light seeking a pardoned way,
He overcomes the homeliest just by his daily authentic quest.
In about a day or two will come his much timely needed rest!
Estranged in a time of several times where his mind did stray.
Caught up in clouds he drifts yet further away slicing thin.
Pondering many thoughts per milliseconds flood his gates.
Consuming ideas overwhelm his deep words drawn within.
He forms heaps of potential until he himself smears slates.
Single handedly he comes with his charts already mapped with my plan!
After all, he is quite elaborate when I exclusively need my Handy Man!

Details | Sonnet | |


I am a capstone to a brilliant plan.
Before your time I came into play.
I was morning night breaking day.
I was before during and after man.
Before person place and time span,
After the mixture of stone and clay,
During foundations faltering away,
I’m the capstone where you began.
Cornered by time to live again,
I am rushing waters in the sand.
I am the beginning and the end.
I’m reserved throughout the land.
You are never ever really alone,
For, I capped every single stone.
®Registered: Ann Rich   2006

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Hard Knock U

Wrinkles and twinkles 
Wind colored cheeks
Callused old feelings  well hidden
His awareness of life is a tangible thing
brittle as slow tempered glass
The song of a startled starling awing
Or the croak of a frog in a midden
nothing is missed in the tense or the sense
But the knowledge that this too will pass
From life as a boy
He has learned to enjoy
Each moment as if it were last
To treat sorrow as if it were past
and fate however tis cast

Details | Sonnet | |

Sincere Civility

“Good morning! May I hold the door for you?”
I looked into her pleasant youthful face
Smiled and thought to myself while walking through
The opened doorway with dignified grace.
What is it about me that she proffered
This deed? Could it be because of my age
Or just a kindly gesture she offers
Anyone? Perhaps my bequeathed peerage?
Hardly, but I must admit it’s refreshing
Instead of the usual parvenus:
Fawning, feigned, insincere social climbing
Hypocrites I encounter as a rule.
I turned and held the door and stood aside
Nodded and smiled again as she passed by.

Details | Sonnet | |

Sleepless Neon

The nightlife thrives on sound and sweet deceit;
its shadows march a midnight second-line.
Hypnotic beats drag souls throughout the streets:
a slew of drunken sinners drenched in wine.

The luminescent words of gaseous lights,
embedded soundly within brick-house sides,
instill their will in us from lofty heights,
suggesting that our minds are theirs to guide.

A plug-in portrait smeared with revelry
is but a wound inflicted by the moon.
Those colored lacerations violently
descend on us, and likely won't seal soon.

When traces of the sinless sun grow faint,
the sleepless cities bleed electric paint.

Details | Sonnet | |

The Blocks Been Torn Apart

Seen my brothers locked away in a cage
strugglin tryin not to get life doubled
and excuse me but we got rational rage
on the block our only hope is to bubble
rantings in pen no one thinks that I'm sane
seen brothers pass away and do you feel
look at the pavements shade, thats from blood stains
we gettin peeled can't we see the streets is real
now we deny I'm tryna figure why,
no one care when our lost souls go
we rationalize we all gotta die
but he's just sixteen 'that's how the blood flow'
we all in pain if we don't heed the heart
and it seems the blocks been torn apart

Details | Sonnet | |

Happy Birthday Mary Duhart (Kyrielle Sonnet)

Happy Birthday Mary Duhart
Enjoy a great day from the start
Celebrate your day on the go
Upon reaching the Big Five 0

As you blow out all the candles
Raise you hands and shake your bangles
This is your day to make a show
Upon reaching the Big Five 0

Family and friends by your side
Bright smiling faces all in stride
To the heavens praises shall go
Upon reaching the Big Five 0

Happy Birthday Mary Duhart
Upon reaching the Big Five 0

© Joseph, 8/20/2007
© All Rights Reserved

The Kyrielle Sonnet has 14 lines (three rhyming quatrain and a non-rhyming 
couplet). It has a repeating line or phrase as a refrain in the last line of each 
stanza.  Each line within the Kyrielle Sonnet has eight syllables.

Details | Sonnet | |

My Times, My Times, How Art Thou O My Times--Third Shadow Sonnet Challenge

~~~My Times! My Times! How Art Thou O’ My Times!~~~

You made those asinine oaths that bind you
Law made good ways; you broke all of man’s law
Drew first blood, soul of time that belly drew
Raw material, rare flesh cold and raw

Slaves’ labor fueled the Earth, with lost slaves’
Box of secrets, received Pandora’s Box
Pave are the eastern roads, they made and pave
Talks of conspires theories, no truth for talks

Wood burning fire, smelling that old rose-wood
Doves flew far, wide and high, woes of white doves
Could fear help you see; fear did what it could
Love left your home; no one knew, your seeds love

How successful you are, great peace is how
Plow what made great love in the harvested plow.

© 2014 DiLinda Adams, All Rights Reserved.

Third Shadow Sonnet  Challenge – Please join me. It has to rhyme, 10 syllable count and 14 lines meets the challenge. However, if you just want to be creative please do. I cannot wait to see what you all are going to write about





Details | Sonnet | |

Shasta Daisies

Slowly progressing in its rise to a view to see,
Sea green leaves ascend, viewed by humankind.
Spreading outward sprouts flow upwardly free,
Roots dive down into paces of refuge to bind.
Perennial form defying nature’s fearsome cold 
Designed to be reborn again, reporting in spring.
Preparing its tall stature, created to be so bold,
Leaf petals seem the only creation it will bring.
Suddenly a bud appears a tranquility presenter.
Opening, dispersing white petals circling prime,
Milk whitened bloom with a yellowish center.
One named a Shasta daisy, chosen for this rhyme.
I adore this plant, truly an extraordinary adventure.
Enjoy my beautiful explosion, of artful contexture.

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A Misfortune

In a special way, I search my every day.
I’m all cried out by justice I now scream.
I have much to say with my words I pray.
From reality to delusion, but yet a dream!
I tell you I am surely the crop of that cream.
Now I can stay or I can go on about my way.
You may reject me or accept me as supreme.
Every single day generates my hands at play.
Bottomed out or just plain downright silly,
I could care the least towards the very best.
Or, I can sit here and say OMG! Oh Really?
Maybe I should armor up in a cast-iron vest.
If only everyone already knew about their one golden frowned upon rule.
Perhaps a misfortune will shear a few jewels stopping the two timing dual.

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I love the songs of working people played 
In cabins and at dances, and along 
Highways where the vagabonds wander by,
Unchanged since days of early English song.
The English, Celtic minstrelsy can never die
As long as mandolins and fiddles cry
The ancient ballads of true love turned wrong—
Of God—and ghosts—and deaths and birth,
Wherever people and their folklore throng.
Out on the sea (or prairies) where the songs are made
Of people close to water, dust and earth:
Elements that give music its true worth
As folk song singers ply their timeless trade.

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My Grace is sufficient.
Come in a time of need.
There is only one seed.
My Grace is omniscient.
My Grace is proficient.
If a soul dare to bleed,
My Grace takes heed.
My Grace is beneficent.
My Grace is sufficient for thee,
Come boldly unto this throne,
Seek me and ye shall find me.
All in my Grace ye have grown.
By Grace ye are saved through faith,
Clearly you must make no mistake.

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Happy Thanks

Happy thanks for happy people doing happy work to live;
With my glass of wine saluting, happy thanks to them I give.
Cheery thanks to cheery thinkers who produce the most they can,
Building up the world around them for the majesty of man;
Gleeful thanks for gleeful cities with their shops of sparkling light,
And my thanks for slender towers winking thoughtfully through the night;
Hearty thanks for heavy tables full of turkies, stuffing, pies,
And for looks of proudest loving in a mother's smiling eyes;
Thanks in earnest for the farmers who have beautified the earth
With their measured rows of science flowing musically in worth;
Thanks of praise for true philosophers, whose principles lead on
All the men whose mighty industry bestows a brighter dawn.
Happy thanks for happy people doing happy work top live;
With my flowintg glass saluting, hapy thanks to them I give.

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Sonnet: The Secret of Success: Love

(English Sonnet)

You can’t really succeed without love
Love or its lack will make you weak or strong
Love is the key to success from God above
And its power is a victorious song!

With love we can overcome all kind of evil
God give us all a heart and soul to love
With an option to be kind forgive ill
And we can do it walking in His love.

Sometimes you may think that you can’t do this
But let me tell you in Jesus name you will
Cause walking in His Word/ Light is the key
Think hard, you decide! God’s way or your will.

Just keep in mind that God/Love never, ever fails!
Do everything with love, heart with joy will fill!

Dorian Petersen Potter
aka ladydp2000


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Nurturing the Daydream Mandala

Daydreams need to be housed in a safe environment.
Whilst relaxing, meditating , bathing and pottering about....
A daydream raises and floats out like a thought cloud...
Comfortable, secure surroundings nurture these  bubbles
of dreams , hopes ,wishes  inspirations........ Designing
A protective animal border on the outer edge of the mandala
Concentric boundaries evelope the core like tree rings
Your labariynth mandala framed with flowers on the outside.
Then layered with precious stones and metals in the middle
More borders of flowers and herbs, inner borders of jewels
Your heart and soul cross centered with the sun sings songs.
Layer upon layer of protection the maze is refreshed with
a brilliant white light descending from the crown charkra to 
the center of the earth and back up from the earth to the crown.

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Yours is a loveliness in form,rarest;
No need to serve me,as I would serve you.
Your smile is a beauty at it's barest,
In fierce red shirt and jeans of faded blue.
With your look of such brisk nobility,
Finest impatience,no more should you wait
To carry plates with such agility,
Then ask of others for their thirst to sate.
Let me take you far and away from here,
Walk without a sign of your departure;
No more have you need for such gaudy gear,
To Hell with them all,show them by gesture.
   Oh,beautiful waitress,temptress of mine,
   Bring me yourself and no more of their wine.

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The Blocks Been Torn Apart

Seen my brothers locked away in a cage
strugglin tryin not to get life doubled
and excuse me but we got rational rage
on the block our only hope is to bubble
rantings in pen no one thinks that I'm sane
seen brothers pass away and do you feel
look at the pavements shade, thats from blood stains
we gettin peeled can't we see the streets is real
now we deny I'm tryna figure why,
no one care when our lost souls go
we rationalize we all gotta die
but he's just sixteen 'that's how the blood flow'
we all in pain if we don't heed the heart
and it seems the blocks been torn apart

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Comfort Zone

Nobody really knows the real you
They only see what you want them to
One of life’s perks is freedom of choice
Stay quietly hidden or raise your voice
Show just a glimpse to avoid heartache
No way to love fully, but your choice to make
Be careful so this does not become
A zone of comfort, a struggle for some
Protection of self, on top of your list
Shielding kindred from oblivious abyss
And fallen angels are scattered about
War casualties, alone in the wake of doubt
Forlorn and forgotten since long ago
Similar spirits see more than you know

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She moved like a powerful jungle cat
With violet eyes and coifed raven hair
Her ruby lips matching her silken hat
Fleeting the breathless hoards without a care

Flowing taffeta and stunning diamond
She ruled the crimson Hollywood carpet
Perfect skin of beautifully tanned almond
Luscious figure men could never forget

Oscars lined her marble fireplace mantle
No man could quench her passionate bonfire
Nor Caesar or Antony could handle
Her grand legend will forever inspire 

The most beautiful woman on the globe
She will always bear Cleopatra’s robe

Dedicate to Elizabeth Taylor

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Oh what superficial facades we build
So featureless in this menagerie filled
Oppressing humanitarians and the like
Hysterically mocking honesty divine
Brutally molesting innocence in kind
Blindly we follow fools gold
Materials we tower and uphold
Savagely flouting righteousness athrust
Unappreciating sincerities must
And pouncing on words so true
What unhappiness we must imbue
Alas I slowly bid morals adieu
Shedding all values true 
Realising the world anew

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Veiled in suspicion

I’m feared; I’m hated for my own belief
Have to contain all my hatred inside
Lacking in love and I’m living with grief 
Hope for redemption within me has died

You need me to blame me, as your scapegoat
You scorned me you made me, to hate your ways
And invented laws for cutting my throat
But you failed to see the end was ablaze

Hiding in public with eyes bowed to ground
Unseen and obscure, unknown and untrue
On tiptoes in darkness without a sound
Veiled in suspicion all movement in view

The wheel of destruction rolls down the hill,
How will it all stop, when will it be still?

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The old man has a breeding pair of emus now,
to go with the pig, the chickens and the ducks,
three sheep, a goat (all edible), a dairy cow,
a livestock trailer and two rusty pickup trucks.
Quite the country gentleman, since he’s left
the city’s worries far behind. Two big hounds
on chains protect his property from theft.
He’s got a six-foot fence around the grounds.
He talks of self-reliance, and he’s got a gun,
a hatchet, and a boning knife. The emus will
hatch baby emus, and be eaten; and the sheep,
the pig, each to its fated purpose under Sun.
It’s simply home economy, not sport, to kill.
He’ll clear the table and go upstairs to sleep.

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Celestial Me

I stare intently at the moonlit sky,
a spatial quilt held fast by dappled dusk.
The stars seem happiest from where I lie,
their silver smiles adorned with twinkling blush.

These burning diamonds rain their ivory flares
on distant hearts from silent seas of coal.
To share the tender essence that they bear,
these jewels cry out to their respective souls.

In every life, there thrives a tiny star;
that's why the boundless night proceeds to shine.
These luminescent flowers dance afar;
despite the gap, I reach for what is mine.

Though numerous these sparkling specks may be,
my heart knows well the true celestial me.

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Who’s got your soul, dear friend?
You want so bad,
to have the times you had.
A chapter comes to an end,
another broken heart you’re forced to mend.
But with your wits ironclad,
you’ll soon see it’s not so bad.
Stick to the rules you often bend.

So tight she grips the magazine,
tears rolling down her face.
That time at her place,
it wasn’t her you’d seen;
society had set the pace,
and she was just another case.

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All over

All over the world I see harried faces
All over the world there's political races
All over the world there is trouble and tyranny
All over the worrld I see gruesome anarchy

To see some placitude I look over yonder
Where fair hearts roam and natures wonder
Alas how poignant life has varied
So mundane and joyless it carries

Adieu to titallating conversation and swell humour
Farewell to unhurried waltzes and superb natter
Sayonara to long leisurely strolls and gentle laughs
Goodbye to dawdling days and dreamy naughts

A race against time is what so often endure
Where idle times and soft chatter seems so obscure

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Child Soldier

Yesterday, I saw my buddy, he was with his daddy
On their yard, together happily playing, the rugby
While I stood near at the iron gate, I heard his father
Telling him, of his love and belief, that he should gather

My admiration goes for his father, in him, he’s laid
Brave boys, don’t cry, it is only a girlish thing, he said
I envy my friend of his time with his father, they talked
And having great time, of being together, so I walked

Out, from the scene, without disturbing their family time
While inside me, hate’s mustering, for my own has no rhyme 
Today, when I saw my friend, like dried meat, in his coffin
I thought his father have lived with conscience, for his own teen

My old buddy had an intriguing hole, on his forehead
He was only 12 years old, and now, tears for him I shed

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Hearts Apart

Exhausted now, she lays her head
Upon the pillow soft and white
To close her eyes, where tears were shed
While whisp’ring soft, “My love, goodnight”

Her heart, it pined, it ached despite
The words he said, when last they spoke
For more than words, her need this night
To feel his love; on passion, choke

For naught, her pillow drenched with tears
As distance wedges lover’s bliss
This way, too long, too many years
She wants him here, to place a kiss

Will distant love one day prevail
Or, will their love so destined, fail?

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First in the Shower

My love, she welcomes each day with a smile, wide
Shamelessly stretching, breathing in the morning air
Exposing her beauty, innocently; nothing ever to hide
With beauty of the angels, the only way to compare
Her smile broadens as she sees her lover pass
Leaving doubt to this one, what is on her mind
She has a look of love, my heart now beating fast
Her eyes now wander, seeming wanting to find
She speaks, with a voice of a singer, singing out loud
Calling out to the one, the lover, there, in her favor
I, knowing my place, am about to climb on her cloud
To be her morning selection, that which she savors
But she, just smiles as she rises and runs to the shower
Laughing, because I am now second, I lost to her power.

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Upon the ledge where sits the sparrow,
I ventured there to climb and crawl.
Though it got so very narrow
I had no fear that I would fall.

I looked upon the world below me.
I saw them all as tiny ants.
If they looked up, would they see,
would they notice, should they glance?

I feel alone upon this ledge,
Forever pushing toward the edge.

(I call this a baby sonnet)

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Why do we continue to lie? Why do we makeup a story? Why do we have to be so 
gory? Just tell the truth, just be honest! We all need to be very modest. We 
continue to keep telling several lies. We also have to worry that people will want 
to cut the ties with us! no one knows why we continue to tell stories all day long.

The truth is the most precious gift. Do not let is cause a rift! With honesty, people 
can be closer together. To stay with each other forever.People decide 
themselves if they want to be the same. To find other people to blame for their 

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My Message

O’ Wind, O’ Wind, Could you convey my message to God?
Why do you produce these all if you can’t maintain?
Everyone wants to live in peace but n’t a human brain,
Only innocent are beating clever man has a power rod.
Although a person is hungry but carrying on a load,
A poor person has no life and no sources for gain,
Everyone seems opportunist nobody is honest fan,
A man is only so mad he has disturbance mod.

Mercy and forgiveness only a tale of weapons,
Religion is present chapter how to kill innocent?
Tears and sorrows are only innocent happens,
Nobody can speak truth it is my main hint,
God is truth and whole truth seems only fear burdens.
Could you ask to God please repair human dent?

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Be Not So Gentle

O lovely woman,be not so gentle
On my neck's nape,your caress still lingers;
Intentions of mysterious mantle
Play down my spine,as did your fair fingers.
Pressed close,only your voice above the din,
Asked me purpose in the rhyme of a song,
Truth,like your beauty,held long from within;
Your measured meaning,whether right or wrong.
Be noble,be proud,walk with your full height;
Though fine of waist,true weight's of your spirit.
Others want only to behold your sight,
I yearn your embrace,to be held in it.
   Though you require none else from here after,
   I'd forsake all to share in your laughter.

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Would you believe me?

If I were to say to you,
"I can see things not everybody can see."
You would probably mock and say, " I can do that too."
If I said that to you, would you believe me?
I've seen people who would wreck their lives,
Quit their jobs, get arrested
All because they were high.
I don;t just see them as people that shant be tested.
I see people for who they are!
I see where they are going
Not only their past scars.
Don't think I'm wrong if these are things you're not knowing.
   If I told you, "I can see deeper than you can see."
   Would you believe me?