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Sonnet Philosophy Poems | Sonnet Poems About Philosophy

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

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What playground does not hold the magic lure
Of see-saws firmly braced upon their stands?
What child resists excitement, felt for sure
In ups and downs: the hard thump when he lands
And surging thrill of bouncing up again—
To know that when he's hit that lowest low,
It's followed by a swing to new heights when
He'll know once more the joy of that plateau?

In contrast of the see-saw truth is found,
For truly, were it stable, it would bore
The simplest mind; for only from the ground
Does grandeur of the heavens make its score.
     And only in imbalances we feel
     The balance that keeps life on even keel.

© Sandra M. Haight 2014
    All Rights Reserved

Contest: Teeter-Totter: Balance the Load
Sponsor: Sheri Fresonke Harper - Judged 10/7/2014
~4th Place~

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A Poetic Composition

I hear lonely songs call from a poet
And feel their anguished emptiness of years
Colored pictures painted without regret
With fluid yearnings from inner fears
Deep within harmonic strings play a tune
And vibrate cluttered walls to passion's heart
Shaking shadowed spirits to last commune
And clutching imagined words to now impart
Oh, That this beautiful connection stay
Fill our outer world with purest thought
Allow words of wonder to still convey
Truth from poet's spirit that's always sought

Dare a poet share their sanctuary
Even when words pure are imaginary

 contest...poems about poetry

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If Love Does Not Live (Sonnet for Celene Crescent)

If love does not live so that love may live,
Wrecked on rugged rock like a pirate ship;
Tiresias speaks to hearts—no love to give,
Darkness and void with no inspired lips;

If love is quashed short of its golden prime,
Like dinosaurs smashed by a meteorite;
Crushed from its age of blossoming on time,
Like breath strangled from life not to unite!

Then O’ love, send me Pegasus to ride,
Spread your wings—lift us to Zeus in the sky;
Touching constellations with them abide,
Creating cherished crescendos for weepy eye:

Lightning life beaming love from golden clouds
Descending passion upon earth erasing shrouds!

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To Touch a God

The earth is heaving its last sigh. Birds twitter in the growing chill. I wait for wind to sweep the sky. Like Icarus, though I may fail, from this green summit, I now spill myself onto blue heaven’s trail. . . I am flying higher than high! Wings carry me to that gold sphere I wish to touch before I die. Beneath - beasts cower in the grass. Soon everything will disappear and earth become like smooth cold glass. The earth is heaving its last sigh; I am flying higher than high. A Cornish Sonnet

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We are stuff as dreams are made on

A bird in hand is worth two in the woods
Teaches us to take care not to be greedy
In the air, quite very easy to build castles
The water and the image are not a reality.

The image of sky and pool, even the wood
This material world is, philosophically, illusion.
We know the way to create imaginary world
We humans can not dispense with illusion.

Now slowly taking the hands apart or aside
The water, the image will disappear soon
It was just an illusion in one’s mind created
We live immersed in dreams and illusion.

“We are stuff as dreams are made on and
Our little life is, with a sleep, surrounded”*

Dr. Ram Mehta
Contest : Pick a line any line      
6th place win

This sonnet was written earlier by me (The Universe is Maya "Illusion") but
I revised and changed the title of the poem)

 *A quote from William Shakespeare

* Maya means illusion in Indian languages.


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Final Act and Epilogue

Here we bow down to the Lord of the flies,
making way for elegant hissing gowns,
bejeweled in glittering serpentine eyes,
balancing the luster of crooked crowns.

Alas! We have lost our morality,
so blindly do we serve this filthy swine;
this vile beast bathes in our depravity,
turning our wretched sins back into wine.

At this drunk-fest, the swine ruefully grins,
watching us bow down to our own demise.
Why sit back and watch as the evil wins,
darkness can be vanquished, please realize!

United, we can make our final stand,
and banish this beast from our rightful land.

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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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Beauty always lies, 
where fixed are our eyes.
It is with the world outside.
It is with our thoughts inside.
For the hungry, it's in bread.
Great thinkers see it in head.

For the lonely, it's in someone's company.
All the wealthy feel it in money.
Blooming lovers weigh their beauties in lovely cards and flowers.
And every Child all the day, 
sees beauty only in his play.
How wonderfully GOD has created beauty!

Some treasure it as possession,
Others take it as obsession.

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Oblivion mind,
wandering in thoughts.
Idiotic smile,
promises and hopes.
Hand in hand,
tumbling on slopes.
This is love

Running away from this world.
Warm bodies sliding in sheets,
to find another world.
Burning in cold flames.
No fear ... no shame ... no games
This is love

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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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'God's Good Earth': a condensed sonnet

The fierce, graceful tiger
(a fearsome, wild beast)
is not meant as dinner
for someone's lavish feast.
The giant, harmless whale
(a great, ocean mammal)
won't survive or prevail
against ruthless people.
All Earth's feral creatures,
of land, the sky, and sea,
are here as our teachers
and life's diversity.
   Save man's endangered worth
   and restore God's good Earth.

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A lowly blossom, striving to sustain 
her beauty in the early morning mist, 
the crocus, craving moisture to maintain 
her stoic fight 'gainst winter's iron fist. 
A lowly mollusc slithers 'neath his shell, 
he slowly weaves, and leaves a silver trail, 
antennae primed and ready for the knell, 
when sparrows poke and peck his coat of mail. 
Creatures and plants in the midst of the fray, 
searching for sustenance, dying of thirst, 
staving off hunger, say, is there a way 
to count ourselves blessed, not feeble and cursed? 
   Predator, prey, both the fittest, the weakest; 
   who will prevail? I would bet on the shrewdest! 

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Your Love, My Every Thought

Your Love, My Every Thought

Send me to the pastures ripe, lush and green
 nestled nearby a stand of mighty Oaks
In sight of placid shimmering lake scene
 never been disturbed by boat splashing strokes

There I may soon see the wonderous sky
 feel the breeze settle my tormented mind
All about feathered creatures sing and fly
 embrace all woodland glory I may find

Beauty brings soft memories of you
 flowers rivaling your soft flowing hair
Fresh newborne leaves sprouting out so new
 my mind soon rested and without a care

I wonder how the hell all came to nought!
When your love races in my every thought

Robert Lindley, 11-16-2014

Syllables Per Line:  10 10 10 10 0 10 10 10 10 0 10 10 10 10 0 10 10  
Total # Syllables:  140  
Total # Lines:  17  (Including empty lines)  
Words with (syllables) counted programmatically:   N/A  
Total # Words:  103

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Goodbye to Goodbye 1

Goodbye to goodbye

Ageing, diseases and the dreaded death
All should be happy saying goodbye to.
Focused on this goal moves research on health
Progress they make which rises our hopes too.
Certain people through religion do this search
Immortality being its stated aim
“Dissecting nature like they do in research
Will lead us nowhere”, some of them do claim.

Yoga and meditation some prescribe
Citing rare instances of its success
Practices they painstakingly describe
Which makes one doubt if it’s not in excess.

Here’s hoping for a breakthrough of merit
Who cares if it’s through science or spirit. 

@ 24/Nov/12

For Harry Horsman’s “ Goodbye” contest.

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Imagine a world where nothing matters
Think about it for a second, really
No questions like, was it worth it anymore
Not seeing the point of a world in tatters

Consider; if no one felt any fear
And people with confidence and no doubt
If they carried their dreams above themselves
Knowing how useless, all that they hold dear

Envision this world of variety
A kaleidoscope that creates a self
Picture each individual lonely
But deep inside there is homogeny

Day after day the cosmos continues
Then a final day where nothing matters

©david byrne jan 2013 

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The End (atypical English sonnet with abba rhyme scheme)

For months our sun has hovered overhead
To crack the barren earth across its land.
The streams run dry, no summer buds expand,
No desert death has ever been so dead.

No haven safe as place where souls can run
Since truth, in brutal slumber, woke and found
A final fury tightly wound around
Each ember edifice of dying sun.

Malignant flaws turn light on human fears
and consequential truth replaces lies
as man forms memories with last goodbyes
remorseful eyes pour out torrential tears.

The final surge of heat falls harsh upon
The raw reflection of an amber dawn.

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Love Disappoints, Hope Lives

When I was innocent I dreamt of love,
a kind of love most worthy of virgins--
for whom a simple kiss admits no sins
or shame, or betrays the appearance of 
disgrace; But I, blessed not as from above 
by heaven or by God, quit, as life wins; 
losing all hope and faith till my head spins 
with the winds of lust that blew the white dove 
of my innocence away. Then a whore
and slut took away my virginity;
she then revealed that there were fifty more
besides me, I recall most bitterly.
      But so long as there is breath and hope lives,
      love will come; and when it comes, it forgives. 

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On Conspiracy Theories

Does technology give society
Unlimited sources of expertise
As though possessing advanced degrees
Or does it feed irrationality
Confirming only what we wish to see
And accepting the wildest hypotheses
While ignoring the facts that will displease
Our unquestioned conceits of certainty?
Complex explanations are suspicious
To filter the truth from the baloney
Unneeded entities are best cut out
Simpler answers are more auspicious
They call it the law of parsimony
Occam's Razor is what it's all about

* "The explanation requiring the fewest assumptions is most likely to be correct."

May 1, 2014

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The Death of Socrates

    The Death Of Socrates
What reasoning has brought you to this place
where death destroys your gift of sanctity?
Before the fall of night, and in disgrace
yes, all those hating you, shall make it be;

they'll label you confused right to your end
corrupter of all teachers of the truth
convincing all the world, you have no friend,
and die for untold sins against our youth.

Your good and bad has brought you to despair;
all indecisiveness in what you think,
the crown upon your head, where once was hair
outshines the goblet from which you now drink.

     How can you bear the hemlock in such style,
      almost as if the world can see you smile?    
© ron wilson aka vee bdosa the doylestown poet

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Life's Sonnet

Life's Sonnet Sometimes the road gets weary Sometimes the road seems long. Sometimes the steps are righteous. Sometimes, I’m sure, they’re wrong. Sometimes my steps are hastened By actions meant to slow. Other times they seem to be Aimed higher….. From below. So, every time I take a step Toward destiny or fate, I try my best to guarantee It’s love I seek, not hate. This is not meant to be a creed It comes from some inherent need.

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Ghost orchid

what makes the heart feel for something it can't touch?
his tears caused contractions for his heart to pulse
floundered, looking for loves heartache to clutch
whimsical solace of her essence startles his impulse 

 shouldering the bane of a kiss that foreshadowed trifles
kooky huh? how time unleashes emotions restrained behind pride
 losing his beloved inamorata to an admirer she mollycoddles
his heart became friable to the echo of her suicide

It was the absence of a note that left his worries unverified
what makes the heart feel for something it can't touch?
Now alone and without; a lovers heart is mummified
he will never love another as much

the “ghost orchid” has become her epithet
the rules of this game have changed, misère ouverte.

 I chose Bonnie Raitt “I can't make you love me” because when I listened to it it brought 
back memories of my childhood feeling second to my fathers work. His physical presence was 
always their, but his heart belonged to his work and still is. After listening to the song  5 or 6 
times I thought of the question, what makes the heart feel for something that it can't 
touch----like love, and went from there.

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The universe is MAYA-illusion-w

A bird in hand is worth two in the woods
Teaches us to take care not to be greedy
In the air, quite very easy to build castles
The water and the image are not a reality.

The image of sky and pool, even the wood
This material world is, philosophically, illusion.
We know the way to create imaginary world
We humans can not dispense with illusion.

Now slowly taking the hands apart or aside
The water, the image will disappear soon
It was just an illusion in one’s mind created
We live immersed in dreams and illusion.

“We are stuff as dreams are made on and
Our little life is, with a sleep, surrounded”*


 *A quote from William Shakespeare

* Maya means illusion in Indian languages.

First Placement
For the contest : The power in your hands by Carolyn Devonshire

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What is Man

What is man, his flesh got without assent,
Or the broad brushstrokes of his star filled mind.
Neither will sit for another's judgement.
One is chance, the other of boundless kind.
Perhaps man is his actions, though so oft
They go wrong or are unintended acts.
And desires remain surfeit or un-soft
Propel rash deeds, dark thoughts and sordid pacts.
If action alone can not define man
For marred by accident; then is intent
The mark to judge.  But intent is more wan
Than acts, for can only be guessed at bent.
What is man, neither flesh nor mind, if not
Whom he loves and for whom his hate is hot.

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What time are we living in


It’s not if but since the future can be told

   To a broadly verifiable degree

What time are we living in: present old

   Future or has it all gone past already

Don’t tell it for honours to politicos

   They hanker after two-bit history lines

Don’t even whisper it to military macros

   Lest generals decorate brows with vines  

Don’t spill the truth to those who slaughter

   With God on their bloody bleeding minds

For they will leave none alive hereafter

   And lease Heaven out to kith and kinds

Time is but a ruse of passing moments 

The more it unfurls the more the laments.



© T. Wignesan – Paris, 2005-2012. (From the collection:

    Poems Omega Plus, 2005-2012) 

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If I only had one day to live on earth's fragile dimension
I would pass by all fears that kept me standing like rock,
Dismissing stodgy impulses to win in a concrete contention
For my instincts to release, as new Gates arise and unlock.
Oh!The unfair world would carry on it's endless course 
And Time's vanity would sell promises still to human mind,
Yet, I would weep not for my Fate's erring horse,
Even if my ticket was expired, a Golden path would be defined.
Maybe I would send letters of love to lovers I craved all those years,
Or I would spend last moments with faces familiar and close,
Or even maybe I would find the one to die with me and plan our steers,
The beauty of this land I walked to leave and expiate near windy blows.
My soul ready for return would seek redemption upon the starry sky,
Reaching my Home I will wave to earth's wisdom, hearing it's long ''bye-bye''.

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''To love or not to love a woman--Which'' revised

To love or not to love a woman? Which
is better? To love and love well is good
so long they who love love without falsehood
as their twain hearts so compel and make rich
love's treasures. As friend, she's best: never switch
a lady-friend into a lover, should 
her all precious friendship and lady-hood 
be injured and make her a hateful witch. 
But, alas, to love God is best! Not I,
but the aims of this life and Destiny
make it so that men like me must decry
love's ambit for a life of poverty.
     But if I could choose, I'd be more content  
     as love's disciple and caged exponent.

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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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As i traverse, never know when my sun will retire wholly
  As its gaze bump on whole, to split out my knight errant shadow,
Dusty and encrusted sole of mine, wild creatures hum their pitying elegy like a widow  While colourful grasses rest on their sandy and muddy couch delightfully.

The cloud coming with veiled complexion, my sun must go into bed, 
 The moon surfacing, the exact time for shadowy walkers,
Might stop in your hut to taps your wood like woodpeckers,  
Chide me not, don't let your eyes go red.

For, that which comes to a man goes to another man 
Maybe whirl whirl like wind or yours drizzle drizzle like rain, 
Which thou cannot trick upon, as thou lives among human
For, mankind race is a journey to the same terrain.

For traveller am i since birth put me on 
 Chide me not away, nor my time sit upon.

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Kiss This

<                              master of disguise menacing havoc
                                I fear not your pronged fork and wooden stick
                                but one illuminates from presents sight
                                tis I carries master key whom ends plight

                               brushstroke if must with your evilness twist
                               for I stand strong from an Hevenly bliss 
                               poke and probe away with your woven schemes
                               tis I'll be the one laughing though it seems 

                               your inferno fire from gates of hell
                               diminished by just one shake from this bell
                               so bring on your barriers and good grief's
                               tonight I'll be the one with good night's sleep 

                               sowing not fear of satin's smitten grasp
                               but turning check telling to kiss thy ass

Entry For
Thvia Shetley's
The Devil Made Me Do It
Sonnets Only Contest
G.L. All

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I Frame

I Frame 

As sure as I stand in the mixed of this garden, 
Glimmering gold falls to the earth by my call. 
Many are great and then some are a bit small. 
I release magnets clutching an obscene pardon. 

It is like balancing a beam that only I will harden. 
I wrap myself into a silver plated resilient shawl. 
Person place and time steadily climb up to maul. 
It’s a give or take rejection expected to turn on. 

One day ye shall see, 
My Moon half drawn, 
Ye see it was all of me. 
Your Sun will be gone. 

Only one Star shall rise up above my name. 
It’s a special place inside my heart I frame! 

®Registered: Ann Rich 2007 

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Petrarchan Sonnet: If no one else breathed in this wide, wide world

Petrarchan Sonnet: If no one else breathed in this wide, wide world

If no one else breathed in this wide, wide world
   Will one know one exists under this sun
Or how will he guess he’s the only one
   If none thought of him in some other world

Will he then climb upon some hill all bold
   To announce: Where is there another son
Not just the wayward scowling wind undone
   By thunder – great tyrant out to scold

Alone bears this man the pain of mankind
   Left to look for answers in porous sky
None else around to guide his erring hand

If he but an instant shut his lone mind
   Even an attosecond long gone by
Will earth and sky stay true not second hand.

© T. Wignesan – Paris,  2013

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As i breathe, in my conquered castle left with no rusty dime
   I might be of no value than a stinking body
Lying with no memory in its jagged skull staring moody
 Alas! Am still one of em pillar, that holds to kill time.

If you doubt, let the sudden whirlwind sweep me farther
  Whether imbalance wouldn't consume my position wither,
Thus if i lag with my friendly mug of palm wine,rolling my kiff-kiff laughter
  Do not deposit your tank of lank spit on my face nor my spirit with your tongue, 

For, i know, must buy wrapper for the ranting and panting woman, and loaf for the 
yelling children
  And send kolanut to the neighbouring brethren
 But Man must not trespass those gods' barricade
  For the stamp of Hierarchy cannot from our Being fade.

Till one is gone, and another rebuilds the fallen Jerusalem
  For, creator baked all for a purpose and must not bear castigation emblem.

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Ulterior Song

Expanding lead, the songs to dome and lands unknown,
where ancient schemes and mysteries denote the search,
the foliage leaves announcers are and shadows grown
transmit to find the final ports where souls converge.

Along the cause, the reasons change on saddened dawn,
foretelling prophetess from skies implements lies,
about the souls' ulterior  route - of dark drapes drawn,
beside the will of the cold winds that spell demise.

The ghosts define with howling songs the nightly dark,
souls hark the calls inviting them where feelings flare,
and angels confer skyward trip where they embark,
while blurry visions of the tears reside in glare.

Along the sorrow of souls gone, serene and calm,
spreads up the chapels' knell salute to skies' realm.

© 03-11-2013, All Rights Reserved
(A hexameter sonnet)

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A Look Into Forever

A Look Into Forever I look upon the face of one Whose beauty defies aging And feel the anxious moment Like a wild beast before caging. The things I feel about The one who stands before me Will last a thousand lifetimes – As long as she adores me. And who can count the moments Or add one single day To a lifetime spent in praising The One who leads the way. This bond we cannot sever Unless we gaze into forever. Written by John Posey

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The Seasons of Man

Four seasons fill the measure of a man,
  Of each portion drinks he from its fat gourd:
O fair flower of Spring does fleeting span
  Brier and thorn, and laurels of youth endured!
And golden Summer - so brightly spangled,
  From whence his labours the swollen vine strips,
Lest it not plucked lays withered and tangled -
  Only to bear a dearth upon his lips:
For the reach of time rings the barest tree 
  When Autumn its rich harvest off has cast;
So begins the end - a fading glory
  In the long shadows of tender days past.
Winter too - when the cold hoary bark wets,
And the pale mortal sun upon him sets.


Inspired by John Keats

May 2011

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World, if ever come again the frosty night
When jewelled dawn’s head advanced too late
And summer was cut short as a blight
On love turned suddenly to hate!

Asking what goodness, you must answer
As if  jealousy, the  weapon of the porter
Made you fill his questionnaire for cancer
And then have you declared the morning’s daughter -

Real talent can be virtuous because
A certainty is the bottom line -
Mediocrity is his rallying cause,
As if being clever, the world could turn you into swine.

Such fools are shocking, but keep the news discreet
When the queen is made a beggar in the street.

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Times Three

You are but a noun do you know?
Inside of you lie me, myself, and I.
Residing in light of your naked eye,
This is how divine seeds sow a row.
Sown high or low,
So do not be shy.
And do not sigh.
And never, let go.
Orient yourself times three,
To person place and time!
You are rooted like a tree,
And it is secured to climb!
Who is that light form living inside of you?
And who is that silent one that you talk to?
®Registered: Ann Rich   2006

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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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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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Nature's Eyes

As white smoke rises on black water glass
And skies lay still on horizon's line
I'll sit here in peace, watch the morning pass
To seek reasoned questions for man's design
This scene cares not for any tomorrow
Nor feels conflict if a storm seeks a reply
Tranquility brings death without sorrow
Only man has the potential to cry
Does nature understand its own beauty?
And are we nothing more than nature's eyes?
Born to fulfill this singular duty
Another creature waiting for demise

The skies have changed on horizon's line
While I found no answers for man's design

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Fallen Angels

Angels, descending from above,
Echoes of mercy, whispers of love
Angels, weavers of dreams,
Harbingers of nightmares, they bring screams
When fallen they become, lost is this world
For the heavens become hells, fiery and all curled!

Angels, fallen they may be,
Yet, they shall not remain so for eternity
The ONE above is full of pity
For his children lost in absurdity,
Feeling like crazy beings in a reality
Where Time is Fool's stupidity!

Angels, descending from above, shall try with all their might
To bring harmony to the land of the dove, where lost is the light!

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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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Women are always right

Furiously giving into a man
is the worse thing that a woman can do
when she knows she's right. He will think he can
get away with anything. Telling you
he's the boss and makes the rules from now on.
Last time I checked women had their own mind
thoughts and opinions. They don’t need, "I'm gone,
because your not my sweet old mama" kind
of speech. They need you to admit your wrong,
and tell them no matter how hard you try
that you will never be right. Sing a song
if you have to, just don’t make your girl cry.
Just remember that when you think your right,
your not. The woman always wins the fight.

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I do not know how big they are,
But I can see them twinkle from afar.
Their shape to me is yet unknown,
Still I can see them where ever I go.

Way high up there in the night sky,
Farther than any bird could ever fly.
"How did they get so far away,?"or
"Will they fall down to earth someday?"

When I look through my window late at night,
I stare at those stars,so beautiful and bright.
One day I know there won't be any cars,
But when I look up there will always be stars 

Quentin Alexander Sands

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If we should view life as a shadow on 
a wall of the cave we might have hidden
ourselves in and with no light from sun,
then woe betide the person who’s bidden
us; who tries to drag us into the light
of knowledge and thereby, enlightenment:
And trying to shape our secular plight,
assuming it is for our betterment.
The answer is not written in hard stone,
or blowing in the wind across the planes.
Salvation, if we could our senses hone – 
In silence lays the answer and our gains.
Our ignorance is a cocoon of charm,
protecting us from a perceived harm.


The earlier philosophers had all written their scientific and other theses in the form of poems, eg the following is an extract from a poem by Pindar (518 – 438 BCE) :

Creatures of a day! What is a man?
What is he not? A dream of a shadow
Is our mortal being. But when there comes to men
A gleam of splendour given of Heaven,
Then rests on them a light of glory
And blessed are their days.

The Allegory of the Cave, also entitled Analogy of the Cave, Plato's Cave or Parable of the Cave is presented by the Ancient Greek philosopher Plato in the Republic to compare "...the effect of education (pa?de?a) and the lack of it on our nature". It is written as a dialogue between Plato's brother Glaucon and his mentor Socrates, narrated by the latter. The Allegory of the Cave is presented after the Analogy of the Sun and the Analogy of the Divided Line. All three are characterized in relation todialectic (d???e?t??) at the end of books VII and VIII.
Plato has Socrates describe a gathering of people who have lived chained to the wall of a cave all of their lives, facing a blank wall. The people watch shadows projected on the wall by things passing in front of a fire behind them, and begin to designate names to these shadows. The shadows are as close as the prisoners get to viewing reality. He then explains how the philosopher is like a prisoner who is freed from the cave and comes to understand that the shadows on the wall do not make up reality at all, as he can perceive the true form of reality rather than the mere shadows seen by the prisoners.
“If the doors of perception were cleansed everything would appear to man as it is, Infinite. For man has closed himself up, till he sees all things thro' narrow chinks of his cavern.” ? William Blake, The Marriage of Heaven and Hell.

In my poem, I explore our blinkered "reality":

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Reborn Princess?

Take it! Take my bones, eat my flesh: eat it!
I don´t need falsified recognition
Down Materialism: not a whit!
Soul goes on from every Planet´s station

There´s nothing to see: still Rebirth in you
I try the same Artistic Lie again
So for my Bodily Verse there is woe
My outer ugliness can be Blood´s stain

I see a stake where you leave your shadow
Yes, still I see a man throwing dices
In that shadow I search to find a glow
If you came down Myth, I was born Princess

So for once take back all you left behind
Then I may see if you´re Soul or pure Mind

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Gone Are The Youthful Days

Gone Are The Youthful Days

Gone are the youthful days of being a cat about town
beautiful young wife and family settled this man down
Yes,  memories of wild times , hell raising most nights
the many new loves, sweet makeup loving after fights

Gone are the glory days of wild songs and Rock n' Roll
living too hard, too fast was great fun that took a toll
Chasing the pretty gals and not knowing we had been caught
they set such pretty traps, "we won them" or so we thought

Gone are the many sweet things we foolhardy took for granted
we fought life, the dangerous world , with feet unsoundly planted
Each victory was a celebration of dodging shameful defeat
so many of us would rather fight, gamble and love, than eat

Now that the future has turned such to memories of the past
we must face the cold brutal truth, it all went too damn fast


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Grief Reactions

Grief has many faces, many aspects of life’s demeanor displayed.
Real grief swells the soul, buries the mind, and stones the heart.
I have both seen and felt, especially when death plays a part.
Everyone has felt grief in life, felt overwhelmingly dismayed.
Feelings are real and take control of everything to be remade.
Reactions are what persons do right from your heartaches start.
Even if compassion is the first thing painted in teary art.
Anguish shared together, sorrow between two; do aid.
Completion of misfortunes with shared guidance with all.
Taking their mind from undercover, slowly rising it up,
Invoking the soul to heal, crumbling heartfelt stones.
Only time will heal, whatever action caused the fall.
No one can predict or project the time of peaceful cup.

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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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Soonn Un

Emirabitur- Shall Admire

There you are the wind of my lone chamber
When I set to keep all mine from ember
And drop where constructs are most eminent,
Where meditativeness is prominent.
Long lost be me, if not for lunar moon
Descend light that fights random hours of groan.
I will for sure unveil silence abode
Where monstrous would have forsaken off-board. 
Let’s believe I have found and learnt the muse
The muse which unimpaired and un-abuse;
And fetch, outstretch, inform and un-slumber,
That which eyes will see and bless good comment:
Less of déjà vu and more of neo-pan,
That the rooftops will sit and grant accord.

Friday February 28, 2014

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Yes, Eventually

Yes, Eventually

Eventually life sends a message clear
 embrace courage abandon your fear
Take big steps to lead a life of hope
 anything is possible given enough rope

Eventually a great storm will try to slay
 prepare faithfully for such a tragic day
Take all our evil vices into account
 upon a charging steed soundly mount

Eventually critics will call for your head
 by lying about things you never said
Take measure of the false steps they make
 shine a great light proving they are fake

Eventually the world will learn to respect you
Even then, fools and knaves will not have a clue

Robert J. Lindley, 07-27-2014 

Had to slam one more out .....

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Great Spirit here come I in humble prayer
child of your Bedonkohe blood and line.
I raise my hands to recognize you there
and plea you recognize this heart of mine.

I know you welcome all into your light
And let my way, as through this death I go, 
Be swift and sure, if bad or good or right
As certain as blood of Geronimo.

Look! Is my line not tied to what's his past?
And does this not bring us our only choice
To bide amongst the tribe from out our past?
To gather in your light, and raise one voice

Of this, our song, our voices unified
And handed down through time, where we have cried.
...............© Ron Wilson
Another very special Sonnet that just wrote itself through me...where do they come from? And how?

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Does not the glow of Heaven call to mind
The tears of ev'ry mother in her plight?
Such beauty was the love he'd never find,
Perhaps to lead him on, through wrong or right.

And so, this Alter Boy, who loved to sing,
Swelled up her heart, and made her blue of eyes,
Much brighter than her chosen love could bring,
To guide her Alter Boy through truth or lies.

Always he'd feel his mother's tender glow.
Perhaps to make the wrong seem not so bad, 
And if she wept alone, he'd never know,
Because his mother's love is all he had.

And all the pain of knowing, truth, it dies,
changed not the color  of his Mother's eyes.
        © Ron Wilson 2012

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The Embracing

I cut through tedious chit-chat,
Null knick-knacks!
Zap Idiotic whacks!
I tip toe tapping atop pitters pat.
I’m your best bet seated where you once sat.
Smearing out your tad-bit lacks,
Running them out by the packs,
I tip my hat fancying you purr like my fat-cat.

Up and away my hands shall uplift weights like you.
In and out of reality I’ll take you with me everywhere.
If only you knew how well I’m too do getting through.
Do you think one day to obtain me to be eh unaware?

Personally, I’d charge a big fat whacked out idiotic fee for the likes of thee,
I’m declared as freely expressing many pleasures for the embracing of me.

® Registered: 2010 Ann Rich

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Preys Postmodernism

Postmodernism’s the fashion ne’er manque.
We must study Foucault and his scribes.
Get reason trapped and do not court  delay.
You need to find your intellectual tribe.

Where is the goose which laid the golden egg..
Invented meta-talk and fairy tales?
Which narrative is balanced on a peg?
Which philosopher gets re-homed by a whale?

Where is the whole truth and the nothing but?
Whose ‘ the eye which sees reality?
Who ‘s the judge who makes the final cut?
Where is the God to whom we owed fealty?

Now nothing is what anyone can say.
I understand it’s meaningless to pray

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I'm not the man I thought I was
I'm but a shadow seen because
A soulless light from somewhere shines
Lit by thieves in looted shrines
And kept alive by evil deeds
Done by men with evil needs
So who am I if not this me
What other self could myself be
If lit by light shone from within
Unsullied by this world I'm in
Perhaps a man born of free will
Who did not have the need to kill
In order to maintain the lie
That a shadow does not die

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Only The Strong Will Survive

God gives not peace, it's only dreamt by man,
in all the world ,brought from catastrophe,
all things are made, since time was first began
by things upheaved so new life comes to be.

The weak must fail, be eaten by the strong,
and losers die the death along the way,
so new life grows, even if it is wrong,
there is no time the poor will have to play.

The lion who will lay down with the lamb,
will have a feast before the day is done,
and all the world will never give a damn,
nor care about the giants and their fun.

        The hunter takes his aim and fells the dove
          the weak in life are only dreaming of.

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My house is leaking; doors and walls are pale
With faded paint. The floor is full of stains
I asked the owner, “Mend the problems pal
I can’t live here in this dirty dungeon

He snubbed me cool, “It’s all at your expense
You do yourself or just vacate at once
I cobbled here and there and daubed some paint
Yet looks the old abode stupid and faint

Elapsed years this way and my relic
Is crumbling now beyond any repair
It’s time I look for some new hiding niche
In my locale here or someplace somewhere

Ready I’m now to move to my new home
A kind and beautiful mother’s snug womb

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Life, A Vanishing Mist

Life, A Vanishing Mist

It is so very late in my life
 a future pain awaiting my wife
A tragedy for my very young son
 years are short, life as yet so undone

Memories are signs that say very soon
 well past a shining three quarters moon
Pondering my demise and its effect
 hoping no duties do I ever neglect

What is a decade when it flies by
 or fears of no more future skies
A man can only pray to do his best
 ask God in Heaven to do the rest

Twilight now awaits its next hardened stone
 mortal man , sacrifice of flesh and bone!

Robert J. Lindley, 08-16-2014

note:  Pondering the future for my family when
 I am no more. I write my thoughts, glimpse my fear
and draw my sword in anticipation for a great battle.
A day, a month , a decade..? 
Ten years or so , to a soul desiring another 60 is a
bitter pill. Yet swallow I must...
 Not abitchin' at all, just a ponderin'.. lol

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Sail On

(A Tale of Fifty years)

It was a dreary cold teenage wedding
all the old folk gave us absolute hell,
organ player plays “Where are you heading?” 
Only the bloody dog wished us well.

Knaresborough, a freezing December night
gave us a hellish chilly reception,
the caravan gas stove refused to light
gone the illusion of rampant conception.

Fifty years on, a love of  heart and soul
here in our terrace home in “Kitty Fold”
Played our part in life’s perpetual scroll  
now yearn to the young our story told.
All around us an institution fails
this dreary teenage wedding onwards sails!

© Harry J Horsman 2012 

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You lived a king but died a slave;
May your body be food for fish;
May the Libyans dance on your grave;
May your soul be the devil's dish.

You showed no remorse to your victims;
May we give you undue respect;
May we forgive your atrocious whims;
May we use this moment to reflect.

Your removal may be no beauty;
May we rejoice in your demise;
May we not forget your cruelty;
May we see Libya on the rise.

The life of a dictator;
Is the death of a traitor.

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Uplifting Thoughts

Uplifting Thoughts

A warm smile always beats a cold hard frown.
 Gather in that joy bring sweetness on down.
Give a positive thought to your worries and cares.
 Imagine a billion dollar company you have shares.

When distress rears it's massively ugly head.
 Pull those silk covers up and sleep late in bed!
Wake at noon to lay about in comfort all day.
 Imagine a boom and your stock so sweetly pays.

A warm smile always beats the chill of despair.
 Be a million dollar baby without a single care.
Travel the world over in your huge new yacht.
 Rejoicing in the massive, massive wealth you got!

A frown spoils the heart and slashes at love.
Keep your soul bright and your spirit soaring above!


Sponsor, Elly 
Encore - 
anonymous positive new sonnet 1 original, for this contest,  new 
written poem about something beautiful..... Only the poetry 
form sonnet is acceptable.

Share "something beautiful" for this contest. Tell us all(!) about it.

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Waking up

Whispers all around me, but I don't see a soul
Feelings of dread and regret consumes my being
Is there some dark spirit around that I'm not seeing?
Maybe I'm crazy, but am I the one who's supposed to be playing this role?
Dreaming this reality up, yet it seems so real
Lucidity is ever so fluent; smooth as can be
Pretend time becoming a concrete fantasy
Regardless of where I end up, this is surreal

They say the white light is prevalent, but I disagree
A multitude of shapes and colors are profuse
With all of this around me, how could I not exist?
Reality is what you make it, I still am the real me
Time to make new and to really let loose
Haunting the past will be tough to resist

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The art of such intention is fatigue
At living lies outside the scope of death,

To wear in the last blitzkrieg
A shroud meaning artist, a wreath

Of columbine in the hair, but the kitchen eyes,
Carbuncled knees betray the giver’s art.

Down on the doorstep,  she’ll scrub your lies:
To her gift of total self she’ll add a part - 

Your own tongue sliced and severed on her plate
Of 20th century design –  taste

The dust of pointillism, the cubist fate
Of newspaper and cello here embraced –

The emptiness filched from the master’s past:
Mankind’s death wishes, home to roost at last.

published IN MEMORY OF HER, Dublin, 2008

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Faith is often blind, and that seems tragic.
It drops to its knees, humble and devout. 
Science’s problem is lack of magic. 
It can’t accept the mystical throughout.

Each sees light stream
through a prism of glass. 
The pious think of stained-glass 
and God’s bliss, and all but simplicity they let pass. 
They have no need for a hypothesis. 

The logical need to know how light’s bent, 
and measure photon wavelength to decide 
if particle-waves end the argument 
or there are more dimensions to divide. 

The first has all the answers that it needs. 
The other must seek before it accedes.

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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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We Have The Knowledge Of All These And Still

Wherefore the pride in being proud?
Whence the deciduos beauty once to be moulded by a shroud.
Wherefore the exhilarition and glory in war ?
Whence these vain citadels brim out only harrowing tears.
Wherefore the joy in bamboozling others?
Whence from sin can't we run or escape neither.
Wherefore the pleasure in speaking irony?
Whence pronouncing the sweet can act as sweet as honey.
Wherefore the divide between richness and poverty?
Whence one notion stands before God and thats equality.
Wherefore the grief in the death of nears and dears one's?
Whence no tears brims while passes away others.
We have the knowledge of all these and still;
Mind will be in its own place till enlightment in our mind gets filled.  

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Smile as you style your message here;
Treat people well in words that surge;
Etch thoughts worthwhile to serve good cheer;
Ask to just dwell on pleasant urge;
Do what feels good in all seasons;
You know you can agree to see.
Attempt each mood with sure reason;
Test each new plan that comes to be;
Truth wears a face without deceit;
Insight can show just what is right;
Trust your own space without conceit;
Use what you know to guide your light;
Dance with sure grace with happy heart;
End where you trace a cheery start.

Leon Enriquez
09 June 2014

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Another Scene

A black small bird
With her head held high
And long ‘V’- shaped tail,
Balancing on a grazing cow;
The solitary one
Leisurely mowing on
Upon a field of tiny
Green gleaming grass.
They are mutually proud
And delighted at realizing
Unconditional obligations of 
Nature’s unwritten decree!
Man with the best of contracts
Often gets humiliatingly snared.

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Abyss at 6am

I met a homeless man in Mc Donald’s,
Dark bereft, legs of stone instead of flesh,
Asleep inside the door, who in his dreams,
Immersed me in Gamma Rays and declared:

‘Let me be known as Black Hole, King of Stars, 
Look on my works ye mighty and despair. 
Nothing beside remains, boundless and bare, 
The lone abyss stretches to you this day’.

Round the decay of this colossal wreck,
This sleeping heart mocked by living streets,
The one of many with nowhere else to go,
I thought of massive things, cosmic events.

The lonely suck our souls, infinitely,
Ripping us asunder, like spaghetti.

©dbyrne dec 2013

I should add that Percy Shelley’s wonderful sonnet Ozymandias was 
my corner stone inspiration in writing this version of mine. 
His poem is one of my all time favourites :)

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no good deed goes unpunished
no bad deed unrewarded
just deciding which is what
the altruistic and the sordid

depends upon the angle of view
what an act is deemed to better
and who it might be bettered to
gain advantage, and who's the debtor

gray is life's chromatic scale
certainty colored by present perception
think our discernment to no avail
that may be our own self-deception

clarity is the provenance of youth
blurrier is wizened maturity's truth

© Goode Guy 2012-11-14

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Fight Back

Life was never like this,swinging up and down,
making a fool of me,as if i am the only clown.

Touching the sky always had been a dream,
though a distant one as it may seem.

But never did I lose ,the hope of reaching there,
inspite if the failures,which came to me so near.

Love the way , life plays games with me,
trying to beat me hard but never could, You see.

The challenges of life making me strong as ever
and a determination to fight with it forever.

Despite being knocked out,so many times in past 
I've emerged out again and make my words last.

Now again its time to show that I don't lack
than anyone or anybody and to go and fight back!!

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Brass That Masquerades

Brass that masquerades as gold,
Fit for any photo-fit, a counterfeit concealed.
I know, I know you,
Hiding naive amber under the Sun,
When you need not be devalued.

Glass that tries a diamond life
Won't shine the same despite its cut.
Not fit for their crowns-
The product of sand and not finer science-
But you don't need to be.

Gold is silent; brass can sing,
Your panes aren't made from diamond rings.
To change the way you were when born
Defames the way I love your form.

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A Will

The birds fly free up in the sky.
Why oh why can it not be me?
Why can’t I just soar and be.
Why can’t I fly above so high?
My spirit guides me as I sigh.
My soul wills me to be free.
Where is this highest decree?
This is why I hear doves cry.
I open a seal,
Carry a smile.
All is so real.
I last a mile.
Inside of me there is a will.
This is why I can’t sit still.
© Copyright: Ann Rich   2006

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Truth, Falsehood, Translation of Carlos Bousono's sonnet: Verdad, Mentira

Truth, Falsehood, Translation of Carlos Bousono’s poem : Verdad, Mentira

Note: I've tried in vain to upload, since November 2, 2013, the following poem: "Words uttered in a subdued voice in order to constitute a dedication, Translation of Carlos Bousono's poem: Palabras dichas en voz baja para formar una dedicatoria", so if Soupers wish to check on it, go to;, or Many thanks. T. Wignesan
(Quotation : « …sino esencia real que al tacto obliga », excerpted from Lope de Vega’s sonnet, « A un secreto muy secreto », 1634 in Bousono’s collection : Invasion de la realidad. Madrid : Espasa-Calpe, 1962. I’m not quite sure who the persona addresses : Lope de Vega, the most prolific playwright and sonneteer the world has known, some one else, the poet himself or the persona unto itself. Not that it matters, really ! T. Wignesan)

With your truth, with your falsehood, left alone,
with your incredible reality experienced,
your invented reason, your consumed
yet inexhaustible faith you raise high in the open ;

with the sadness in which you perhaps roll on
towards a haven you never felt attracted
with those enormous hopes destroyed,
the re-constructed like the sea its waves mend ;

with your dreams of love which never become
so really true like the sea suspired
with your over-charged heart which is born

dies and is re-born, resuscitates and dies, look
at the immensity of reality because there lies open
the source of all your truth and of all your falsehood.

© T. Wignesan – Paris, 2013 

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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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All Bits Are Off

             ALL BITS
The world we have today is built upon
what no one in our time has even seen
much like the faith some think is dead and gone
it make's the world go round, just like it's been.

it's in a time that's neither night nor day
the very basis of simplicity
it's on or off, there is no other way,
it's black or white, there are no shades to see.

It's something or it's nothing, naught or one,
and lives in it's own time, of cyberspace;
the distance in between what's going on,
and what we're coming to, the hyper-race.
There are no limits to what we will be
      until all bits are off, and then we'll see.
© ron wilson aka vee bdosa the doylestown poet

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Granted and Given

It is all in the Stars if you look hard enough.
There is always the morning Star twinkling.
And then there is the evening Star blinking.
And then there are layered clouds in a fluff.
Then there is the Sun and Moon and stuff.
Sometimes it looks like the Moons winking.
Sometimes it looks like the Sun is thinking.
Makes me wonder if their day can be rough!
What a wondrous world I live in.
What balance I live by every day.
My life must be granted and given.
So no wonder I take time to pray.
It is granted and given each day just to be me.
Just look up once a day and this you can see.
© Copyright: Ann Rich   2006

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Leadership through trust

The smile of a child,trying to climb on his foot,
trusts the mother to hold on ,and that builds his youth.

the child as a youth moves on every possibility
trusting on his teacher and his reliability

Then the life takes the youth to the next level,
challenging his credibility and making him face hell.

Along with experience he learns the legacy,
that trust is more when there is intimacy.

Slowly by pace the trust grows cent by cent
with gradual involvement and engagement.

Then there's a task and a timeline to keep,
and he finds trust works very well in a partnership

And finally the task is achieved and a smile on his lips,
The glory is great ,and such simple is the skill of leadership.

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The Real Experience

Pornography was thou bred in Venus? 
I know not, my life pump disagrees, 
Oh yes, Oh...cmon my mind states, 
Further and further I find we sail, 
Slowly away from our islands shores, 
Into the unknown so promising from here
Are you still a person
Or an existence without any essence
the most delightful has turned to work, 
Please be true!
Let us dance to our own rhythms--
He pornography has us in his jail
cmon slow down, relax, there you go
Finally free, I think...I mean feel

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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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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 

Details | Sonnet | |

The edge of frustration

Joys of the day,seems to be limited,
with sun going down,leaving me frustrated.

Dunno what makes me so ,trying to figure it out
whether its the horrible climate or the little ones shout

But again,I've tolerated climates worse than present
and the presence of kids ,happiness was all it meant 

then what could be the reason for my present state
that my very lovable things are now an object of hate

Irritation seems to be ready for anything that comes across
Be it either a friend or family with everyone I'm cross

Find me a place where I can get a moment of peace
along the blue high skies or in the lovely green trees

As i need to get away from this reality of irritation
killing me every moment at the edge of frustration.

Details | Sonnet | |

God Hates Critics

Once God had rested from His creation,
He wanted to get Adam’s opinion
of creatures that were Earth’s population. 
To God, Adam was more than His minion.

“Whatever you call each will be its name,”
He said, “and you will have full dominion
and freedom to go naked without shame,
and do what you will; I will not pinion.
But do not touch the garden’s centerpiece --
your life will be the penalty for this.
It violates the one term of your lease.
I can’t stress this with too much emphasis,
because, once you can tell good from evil,
you’ll throw the whole thing into upheaval."

Details | Sonnet | |

CAUSE AND EFFECT Death of Socrates - Fall of Athens

    The Death Of Socrates
What reasoning has brought you to this place
where death destroys your gift of sanctity?
Before the fall of night, and in disgrace
yes, all those hating you, shall make it be;

they'll label you confused right to your end
corrupter of all teachers of the truth
convincing all the world, you have no friend,
and die for untold sins against our youth.

Your good and bad has brought you to despair;
all indecisiveness in what you think,
the crown upon your head, where once was hair
outshines the goblet from which you now drink.

     How can you bear the hemlock in such style,
      almost as if the world can see you smile?
Let all the wrath, unmercifully divine,
we have to muster, lead us in our quest,
and bring Athenian rule to be in line,
as sure the gods provide they fail the test,
all in our time, for Lacedaemon rules,
have we not made of man the equal to
the sight of death, upon the plights of fools
resisting all the means that we can do?
Their setting sun has risen in the east,
before the dark, those left will have to burn,
their knowledge is their fat, and only feast,
for all they know, they've yet to ever learn!
     Now let the blood to flow down from the hill,
      as if the flood has come and made the kill.
                       © ron wilson aka veebdosa the doylestown poet

Details | Sonnet | |

''A genius is a lofty kind indeed''

A genius is a lofty kind indeed:
he or she is a creature of the mind
that goes where breaths of inspiration lead
like a mythic muse on a Grecian wind;
some have the gift of poesy like Keats
and some the gift of music like Mozart;
one limns a lush, green field where blithe sheep bleat
and one writes airs that lull the soul and heart.
The gift of genius is but an instrument,
a golden talent to be invested,
used, multiplied, shared, for the betterment
of humanity and thus wisely exploited.
      But, if your genius be absent from this rhyme,
      then share the greater genius of your time.

Details | Sonnet | |



Listen to what I am saying,
Take to heart every word. 
You need to hear what I’m saying
And not what you think you heard.

It isn’t that, I can’t take this anymore.
I’m strong, I know I could.
But, I had  to listen to the answer
When I ask me if I should.

Choices made through a lifetimes, 
Be they right or wrong,
Need to be considered carefully
They are the ones you’ll always own.

Details | Sonnet | |

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.

Details | Sonnet | |

i feed on it

When I knew what triggers writing
Quite relieved, I fed on it, like twitching
To keep this tormenting treasure alive,
It‘d healed but still in it, I dive,
Ran over it again n again,
My blood sheds like the rain
But stared on it like a blind,
This catastrophe doesn’t need to remind,
An old melody is enough for me to be blown,
But now, yes these dried eyes don’t moan
This treasure of gone needs not to be awaken,
When mocked on lost charm, like bitten,
I just wear that smile, yes memory of compliments still fumbles,
Though dead, but not forgotten, it in my heart rumbles!

Details | Sonnet | |

Earths Face

Swaying upon a world long gone
In the eyes of a loving God
The sun beaming upon my brow
and on the softest earth to trod
to ponder our existence long
as days seem ever fade away
turned into an ill-fated haze
and men to evening stars they pray
Forgetting of the noble birth
by lord the God all men were made
and as  such we ourselves our lord
of a lesser power to aid
the evil in the hearts of men
residing in a state of sin.

Details | Sonnet | |

Spiritual Peace

I find my place of spiritual peace

Again, just when I feel I never will.

There is a sense of freedom and release.

I can’t know all the answers, but am still


In touch with The Divine, and that is real.

We’re all connected.  Life is precious, and

Life doesn’t end with death.  Sometimes we feel

A presence, and we come to understand


That nobody who’s ever been has gone.

The spirits of those who we’ve loved remain.

They will protect us – help us to go on.

There is almost a beauty in the pain.


Although sometimes I find it hard to trust,

Truth’s constant.  Feel the patterns in the rust.

Details | Sonnet | |


When they seek out God, they open a book.
There is no further that they need to look.
By the contradictions they are not vexed.
They meet in groups to memorize the text.
Discrepancies don’t enter their held minds. 
They don’t look deeply enough for new finds.
They think that they are friends of the divine,
while, with doctrine and dogma, they confine
their deity like sycophantic fans
who swarm backstage for laying on of hands.
They hope to touch their god, not understand --
just feel connected, hanging with the band.
They reckon, through their blind adulation,
they’ll receive special manifestation.

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 | |


A time shall come
When our tongues shall die
And our issue
Shall speak no more

A time is yet to come
When they shall become fugitives
Not of warfare
But of Origo

A time is to come
When they shall all be masked
In another character’s costume
Forgetting the role to be played
A time when we shall all cry
In our private bosom

Details | Sonnet | |



To illuminate the extraordinary goings-on 		
in our so tense and deeply twilit terrestrial sphere, 
it is necessary to take a long and unhurried		
celestial view, one stemming from the stars as it were.	
As a bare minimum, observers should note the presence	
of a perhaps quite small number of shakers and stirrers,	
mixers maybe, groups of men whose secret and sole purpose	
is to seed chaos, stymying able mens’ best efforts.
Man is imaginative, a mover and creator,		
one who sees a problem, then a myriad solutions,	
who sees mud as an opportunity, never a mire;	
someone willing, who can and does shape his own destiny.
Good men, who see much, are also blind, for they find it hard	
to ascribe destructive motives to the bad of their kind.			

(Challenge words : illuminate extraordinary tense 
terrestrial twilight celestial stars minimum presence)

Details | Sonnet | |


A person’s life is all about choices.
Some are regrettable, others just fine.
Yet the one’s we choose rarely suffices
Our needs and refashioned minds.
Take a man with a chance for promotion
He’ll embrace it without further ado
Deciding on a capricious notion
Winds up regretting on Monday’s debut.
The same can be said of a high school belle
Forgoing the occasion for college.
Marries instead she's unhappy as hell
Missing out on a world of vast knowledge.
When faced with a choice choose not just any
Right choices are few, the wrong ones many.

Details | Sonnet | |


Every second passes by me unseen But I can feel the weight of one minute After each hour my mind becomes keen: That these days are adding up bit by bit. Each week my personality alters A year goes by and my mind starts to twist Decades pass and it seems as time falters, My mentality gets lost in time’s mist. Yet when I am with you the clock stands still If only I could exploit these feelings I could stop the sands of time at my will But I’m not capable of these dealings Time now steals what I already forgot My mind starts to fade but our love will not

Details | Sonnet | |

Wholly God

I know existence is eternity;
that it is fleeting is but a facade.
I know that life is more than what we see.
I know that altogether we are God.
I know that part cannot contain the whole: 
In literal terms, one small grain of sand
cannot convey the Earth’s entire soul,
but still it’s true constituent of land.
The prayers inside my head I know are heard
but not by Someone hidden in a cloud;
a God outside myself just seems absurd.
We all are with Divinity endowed.
I don’t mean Deity’s just in our heads,
but God is like the Fabric; we’re the threads.

Details | Sonnet | |

MONSIEUR L'VAMPYRE - the foggy night

     MONSIEUR L'VAMPYRE - the foggy night
As dark a night that's hidden Paris streets
from prying eyes, fell on the city cold,
there came I to the setting fog, that greets
the cobble stones layed in the days of old.

With naught to fear from gendarmes in the night,
I wandered through the dark, just searching for
someone who's lost at life and love, and might
be ready for what this night has in store.

And there just walking by the River Seine
face turned into her hands, to hide her tears,
a beauty bound to stop the hearts of men,
in days of youth or getting on in years;

  I knew at once that love was drawing nigh
  so set my path to where she met mine eye.

A welcome sigh from deep within her breast
breathed from her lips and begged my company,
so strolled we through the fog, and made a quest
of finding what was love, what could it be?

And reasoned she, that love was just a game
that men have made the rules and set to stone
and my requital was, that love's a flame
that burns as much as any fire that's known.

So as the fog hid ev'ry thing from sight
we set about to find what love might show
then loved we through the cold Parisienne night
down by the Seine, where only lovers go;

   and when I sank my teeth, I heard her sigh,
   that love must be the only way to die.

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 | |

Angels' Loss

Out of the original chaos storm
where even light and dark were not yet split,
angels were God’s first sentient life-form
to see Creation and make sense of it.

These beings that can look into God’s Face,
unfettered creatures, noble, true and pure --
an entirely spiritual race --
do share His omnipresence and endure,
prevailingly exuberant and glad,
so radiant they make mortal eyes sting,
imbued with joy, in exultation clad,
so full of grace that when they speak, they sing;
and yet they lack what God gave to mankind:
a sense of humor and creative mind.

Details | Sonnet | |


Teal titans stretch above the fray,
so sure they won't be swept away.
Like Aesops' ant, they don't prepare
for chilling end in winters' stare.
Their colors burst and start to run.
It hits them hard that life is done.
As drill-bit winds and fading light
Force feathered song to hasty flight.
Brisk crimson billows blot the street,
Then clot in brown piles at their feet.
The snap of bark, slim tendrils flail
as veins gone cold begin to fail.
Numb fingers scrape the windowpanes
to snatch what little heat remains.
From frosted windows' golden glows,
we cowards peek as each one goes.
They plea for help in eerie moans.
We can not help. They die alone.
Such public death, not for the proud,
White winds will wrap their silver shroud.

Their lesson stands for all to see-
Might we die too, with dignity?
But even more, they seem to say-
Be ready when it comes our way.

Details | Sonnet | |

Awake Up To Thee

Up to thee in what your spirit will see.
Between you and me, it’s all that it can be.
Your heart and mind must be bound true.
For your soul to be given and saved too,

Each day that passes depends on what you say.
Depends on the faithful way that you display,
To be forgiven is design, forgiving divine.
Preparing for a sign, trying not to define,

Break not any sacred vow, though live for the now.
Take heed of what you plow, though watch your bow.
Humankind is so very frail, seek you own Holy Grail.
Remember that you may fail, but take up a new trail.

Golden bliss is what no one on earth wants to miss.
Awake and do not dismiss, or your destiny you shall remiss.

written for
Sponsor Brian Strand 
Contest Name UP TO THEE max 14 lines 

Details | Sonnet | |

My Spiritual Will

My worldly possessions, I leave to whoever is alive.
My words, I leave to who shall ever care to read.
My prayers of hope, I give for all that do survive.
My thoughts, I have shared orally to fix a need.

I shall leave this world with no blood heirs.
However, I have loved many children with heart.
I leave no challenges undone, with only a few tears.
I leave this world, without regrets from the start.

I leave my soul to those who are in need.
My remains, I renounce to natures desire.
Thoughts, I have inspired to spread as seed.
Love of the simplistic ideals to fly higher.

A belief, humanity will continue to great heights.
A prayer, there will be no more un-humane plights.

Details | Sonnet | |

A Cautionary Tale

Great is the battle, small the victory
  When much that we have is lost to mankind!
In this war of worlds its great casualty
  Is the fallen consciousness in our mind!
From arrowhead to smart bomb's grisly death -
  Galileo to Hubble looking glass,
Or wheel to Apollo and Mars far breadth:
  Methinks in time it will all come to pass!
Primeval footprint, genetic blueprint,
  Sandstone, limestone, under canyons of steel:
Gone are the Aztecs and Maya extinct -
  And there's a cautionary tale so real.
Civilisations that don't change or act
Fall a ruin, a remnant, an artifact.

August 2004

Details | Sonnet | |

The Fall Of Jerusalem

The grace of all He is be with us all,
as surely as the end, the promised love,
comes quickly as a thief, to bring the fall
of what the world's become, and dying of.

Behold how quickly comes, from Alpha's flame;
as naught can end unless it has begun;
the light of one who's called a holy name,
'twill light Jerusalem without the sun.

These words were said--to write--Omega's near.
And all who can will find the narrow way,
as prophesied for all the world to hear,
and then the bride says, come, this is your day.

Those hearing then, will come, from near and far,
to David's own, the bright and morning star.

Details | Sonnet | |

Black Death Lies

Recalling the days not so far away,
Hearing experts speaking to say,
We had not enough oil today.
There was not five million to sway.
No, no, we had not enough oil here.
We depend on foreign oil so clear.
What do I see plastered in the news.
Millions and millions per day we lose.
What, we did not have is ruining, life.
Millions of dollars spent in strife.
Sea life, peoples lives in peril.
By what we did not have by the barrel,
Now we know; we were lied too, big.
Black Death, we had not, flows from rig.

Details | Sonnet | |

When silence left

Several levels engulf me within
Something I call Dimensions, to be true
I talk of belief and I talk of sin
Everything in the world can me imbue

Love can be a feeling, can be a Thought
Lord, in every Act I search for substance
Sometimes though I cry and say there is nought
If I hear Lie I come there with my lance

Perhaps I am not up-to-date or hip
I´m not a darling to the Fashion Trend
Moral, when it´s sweet I want its sip
Am I wrong to go down the atoms to rend?

When I see stars shining in the sky
Hush! I look up, silent is every why

Details | Sonnet | |


Rainbows are made of droplets of water Refracting and reflecting the sun's light. Anything more depends on the spotter, In how one perceives this natural sight. They arc through the waves of every shoreline, And bend with the mist of a waterfall. Some call them bridges to kingdoms divine, But rainbows are not supernatural. How does one see such a fanciful sight, In colorful crescents crossing the sky? Why so much wonder in refracted light? What is this whimsy effecting the eye? Answers are found in the inspiration. Rainbows are made of imagination.

Details | Sonnet | |

A Lasting Star

I gaze upon the vast night sky
And I saw a star that caught my eye
I watched the star as it twinkled bright
And wondered about its ancient light

Obeying only the universal laws
Unconcerned by the effect and cause
Destruction and creation are sublime
And exist in the very same moment in time

I wondered if it had ceased to be
And only its past is to be shown to me
From a  million eons long ago
I am blessed tonight by a brilliant glow

But I know if it ever seems to be gone 
It is only evolving and ready to move on

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 | |

Negating duality

Were there but two, perhaps then I could choose,
the first and second having equal chance;
for one to win, the other surely lose,
could free me from the truth of circumstance.
Reality is choices multiplied – 
no black nor white, but ever-shifting grey;
select a shade when all are amplified
and set the most appealing on display.
If truth be told, we are but wandering
through mazes where the turns are never clean
to left or right, but leave us pondering
each small degree and option in between.

I did not choose you, love, but I decide
to stay, to fight, to know I truly tried.

Details | Sonnet | |

Closing In

walls are closing in coming closer and closer suffocating me till I draw my last breath my wings are cramped and are needing to be stretched tight in their span.... it hurts to yell when i have to it hurts to scream into the softest pillow the wall hurts too much when it's hit with my fist what can I do to stop these walls from closing in? I am suffocating, inside I'm dying.... fading away... I call for help but have naught to say so I bend my knees clasp my hands together close my eyes tight and pray

Details | Sonnet | |

Our Promise

Dear Judy Konos,
          OUR PROMISE    
Don't think We're down--You're country, tis of thee
For which our Flags been woven and unfurled,
this very thread, it binds us constantly,
becoming still the envy of the world.

In fifty states we grew to all we are,
and though some think God's guidance is not there,
this truth comes shining through in every Star;
Our Liberty of life shows ever'rywhere.

To tell the world, Come you, and learn our way,
there is no secret to how we have grown,
and in God's light, God's light is where we stay,
to guide you to what we have only known.

between each line, God's word is meant to share,
and "We the People..." is what keeps it there.
    by veebdosa 04/16/2011 (Dedicated to my friend Judy Konos in New Orleans)

Details | Sonnet | |

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 | |


Far from the west came a man,
And me in the Indian Sands',
Making a friendship tight - 
It was freddy who met me in the night.

The month of October, the weeks of November,
The bond flew more slender -
Thou left in the month of January;
Thy memories make me sorry!

Oh thy gossips cheered me all;
Like the beauty of an ever lasting waterfall,
Thy music rings in my ears
Resulting in hot brimming tears .
your memory is as fresh in my mind - 
Giving me hope to remember thine!!

Details | Sonnet | |


            VAMPYRE WEDDING                               
I make you mine tonight, to have and hold,         
   to lie forever in this love I feel,                         
I bring an end to ever growing old,                         
   and close your eyes, to all that is not real.               
I give you love, that others never know!        
   The joy of life found only in its end!                     
And dressed in love, we go, as we must go,                  
   into the dark! The night! The only friend!                  
I give you death! Then take you ev'rywhere!                
   To know all things; and answer to no-one!               
To have it all! To do as you would dare!
    within the dark, where life has surely gone!                
        I make you mine! I sink my teeth into          
        your waiting flesh, and drink the love of you!

Details | Sonnet | |


Many lifetimes, within a single life,
past memories, of how it used to be.
Continuous change, be it bliss or strife,
folding in on you, turning out on me.

It’s not just time, or how it passes on,
it’s an ever-changing universal plan.
A twist of fate the coming of new dawn,
your spirit knew before it all began.

The loss of a loved one, the birth of a child,
feel it in your soul, know it causes change.
It’s always been there, be it strong or mild,
It’s another lifetime, it’s not really strange.

It can be beautiful; it can be pain to some,
I’ve given it a name; I call it, Blendrome.

Details | Sonnet | |

The Tritest Song

“Renewal…Easter,,,April love…rebirth”
Are easy, archetypal terms for when
Fresh shoots begin to green the thawing Earth
And fill with sweet clichés this poet’s pen.
At least I know what Spring is not—
The “cruelest” month’s not April, no,
In spite of Mister T. S. Elliot
Whose Spring and soul were both of snow.
But he was young.  Age brings surcease,
And Spring, forsythia and daffodils,
As flowered sonnets sprout, increase,
And decorate the rain-swelled rills.
Thus, in the landscape of my autumn brain
The hues of yellow and of green remain.

Details | Sonnet | |


I love you death, and welcome all you're not;
no love, no hate, no failing and no gain.
No fighting for the things we haven't got,
nor wondering about our latest pain.

Your mercy is a thing I surely bless;
anticipating you, my only friend,
who brings conclusion to all wretchedness,
the only one who knows us in the end.

So come you now as I help you along,
you know you've tried to get me in the past,
but now I know your timing is not wrong,
and so I live and breathe for you at last.

Your nothingness is what I hunger for,
and in your end, I pray there's nothing more.

Details | Sonnet | |

Tea Pot

I believe a tea pot circles the solar system.
And within that tea pot is my genie God.
The God that hears all our petty prayers.
The God the made the birds, bees and frogs.

My genie God spit into clay and made you
from the potter’s clay that made His tea pot.
He formed humankind, all the animals,
the plants, His light makes the sun hot.

I believe everyone should pray to my genie God.
He simply made us just like He made His pot.
He made you because He loves you and created
you. He listens to your every thought. 

And if you fail to believe in my genie God,
you will burn in Hell or live life as a frog.

Details | Sonnet | |


On your coming scholars run helter-skelter
How powerful thy stings permeate
Some got sick before the date
Naughty good scholars escape thy stings.

On your coming candles melt, die and part.
Like mosquitoes they become to stand
Browsing and researching into papers not blood.
Your bark far worse than, I think your bite.

On your coming tears run out of the intelligence
Why didn’t I meditate before you start
When mouth crows or whistles start
Pen writes and rulers measure

On your coming, scholars play with caution
On your coming, scholars embrace tension.

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 | |


A wave that grows from deep inside of me
to bring me down--I feel it start to grow;
its only name--is called--anxiety,
where it comes from--no one could ever know.

As tiny needles prick my skin--I feel
sensation of a drifting tenderness-- 
that goes from here to there--and so un-real--
it leads my mind to only second guess

at what's invading to the soul of me,
and tingles from my fingers, to my toes--
abducted from my world of sanity,
I fall into a dark that no one knows.

And shaken to an end I can't embrace--
I feel its kiss--but never see its face.

Details | Sonnet | |


How sweet the night, my love you came to me
   from out of dreams I'd dreamt within my past.
They weaved the spell and made my life to be
   in need of you, before I breathed my last;

and all my days of feeling less than whole
   were counted in my life of passing years,
though discontent, I guessed a restless soul
   was but the price I pay, with all the tears,

for being borned and being let to stay,
   and little did I guess, or even feel
that all I've been's existing day to day,
   and incomplete, but never really real.

        And how complete you've made my life to be,
        as if you've found the heart and breath of me.

Details | Sonnet | |


The heat of battle's what manhood is for
when struggle for the right comes to a head
erupting to a world in need of war
and needing change to how we've made our bed!

We cannot sleep in this, it's much too soft,
mistakes brought on by politicians greed,
and so the winds of war come from aloft
aloosening the horsemen and their steed!

The preachers of dead faith wail at the wall
protesting ev'ry battle cry and truth,
though freezing in the night, they heed the call
of cardless, nameless cowards lost in youth.

      But when the battle comes they'll take their leave
       not caring who is left to ever grieve.

Too late, there's not a one to even pray,
there at the wall, submission is the rule,
they give too much, and play no keep-away,
not holding out, lest they are thought a fool.

while Netanyahu, leader of his quest,
the first so born in bounderies of their State
and made prime minister, whom God has blest,
and given all the keys to seal their fate.

But still the blind stand wailing to the wall,
and ready to lie down, pretending dead,
unwilling to be part of this, the call,
to arm, but give up everything, instead.

From Benjamin their fate is all too clear,
And losing is the only thing to fear.

Details | Sonnet | |

Winter in the Garden

Each winter the Ladder Backed Woodpecker
taps at the barked notches of apple trees.
The leaves have fallen and frost plasters the
limbs brittle enough to break by wind or weight.

This is when the Ladder Backed attacks.
Digs its beak deep into the trunk and pries
out her secret. This is when the woodpecker
sees itself exposed, the strange chagrin,

a grownups mind, ashamed of knowledge.
This is the same season our sad aged parents
were thrown out of the garden. This is when
the thought of good and evil broke bones,

limbs fell off, birds ripped through to the core, 
and a jealous God made us stewards of the world.

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 | |

About Me

Well you have picked a subject; I do not like to talk about anytime.
However, here goes what I think about and try to live by, in my days.
I was not liked well and I was shy, a real loner in my prime.
I know I think way to much, all the time, every minute, in many ways.
I am quiet, except when I get to know you, my secrets I never tell.
My feelings I keep to myself, only letting them out in poetry accounts.
My life mostly, made up of work, whether on the job, or home as well.
I am a complicated man; so deep, my split personality mounts.
I feel my heart is pure, though I know I am a sinner, I try my best.
I have had many friends, but never any best friends, that have been forever.
However if you are a close friend to me, I will give you all my total zest.
All my poetic words I recognize, they flow from my muse, who is clever.
I love the simple things in life, and live to love my mate with all my might.
I hate laziness, deceitful people; I believe the New Testament is the only right.

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Just a Day

Today is just a day; I cannot ever change.
In the midst of change, so out of range.
Today has no affect upon days of past.
It may only effect tomorrows forecast.

I always say, I am just having a day,
No expectations in any way,
No disappointments come in to play.
That is why tomorrow, is just another day.

I handle obstacles, when they arrive in life,
I try not to allow them, to deliver strife.
Yes, I get lost in entanglements that dismay.
Though, I look to figure out, how to defray,

My life is simple, I have been lucky I suppose.
Simply said, tomorrow is another day to close.

Details | Sonnet | |

Unending Patience

 The desert lies beneath the sun.
The sand dunes sculpted by the wind
 semi permanent but each one
 moves stealthily as you will find.

They move on imperceptibly
 and change the contours of the land
You can’t be sure where they will be.
This travellers must understand.

If not then they will surely die.
The desert is a hostile place
 but sadly foolish men still try
They disappear and leave no trace.

The desert keeps its secrets well
 it knows their fate but will not tell.

They say whole armies have been lost.
Who’s bones still lie beneath the sand, 
their families left to bear the cost
The toll the desert can demand.

And travellers still die today
 despite their high technology.
They cannot always find their way
 amidst the ever changing sea

of sand dunes moving fluidly
The desert still demands its dues.
 As it has done historically
 the desert wins it cannot lose.

Beneath the sun the desert lies
 accepting each new sacrifice.


Details | Sonnet | |


We were three, though unequal but warriors
Like the herdsmen we were
A glance tells of Our Genesis
All bound in one future

On our way came ghosts white
Scepter they posed  
Extorting and painting us white
Suddenly we woke, we the warriors

In extricate we intricate
Till they went as they came
Our dreams climaxed in one faith
Far not from there, one said to another

Thou are a ghost
What I heard was groans, our fate I know not. 

Details | Sonnet | |

Wasted On The Young

The past can be something for which we long
because it’s the joys that we remember
from back when we were young, healthy and strong,
romance in blaze (that now seems more ember).
Friends, easily won, were true companions
who partied with us in celebration,
while now our path is all mountains and canyons –
hard journey taken in isolation.
We fool ourselves with such comparison. 
Our recollection’s illusion.   Although
the best of them may already be gone,
these are the good-old-days we’ll come to know.
Let’s hope we won’t feel sorry once again
that we didn’t appreciate them then.

Details | Sonnet | |


These very sad moments I'm living today,
will rapidly slip into yesterday:
like beautiful memories cought in a snap-shot...
only to be erased by the passing of time;
like a toddler playing into magical snow...
trying to catch as many snow-flakes as possible!

Existence can be short or long,
fully or uselessly lived;
life can reward us or punish us...
strange how fate interferes
to bring us little consolation and joy,
but life battling against death
is a continuous struggle leading to mystery...
and all that we have left is this conscience!

Strange how destiny interferes
when everything is in full swing...
making wishes for a brighter tomorrow,
and intertwining them with stependous dreams; 
strange how destiny interferes
to prevent us from reaching happiness,
and somehow we are to blame 
for letting it distort our minds...
by taking another road
that promises nothing but doubts!

Strange,how fate interferes
at the height of our joy and success;
bringing us tons of grief,
to teach us the lessons
we always thought were worthless...
not realizing they could have been
a warning if promptly heeded:
not to ever struggle with pain and life!

Details | Sonnet | |


So quickly pass connections formed for lack
of will or faith, though power in the void;
temptation now prohibits turning back,
concealing this - a mind elsewhere employed.
Not two words spoken since, today the first,
a hand placed carelessly upon the skin
that knows too well the hunger and the thirst
for what it sought so desperately within
your eyes - and finding nothing, then withdrew;
your soul - and found it equally as bare;
desire - perhaps the one thing that was true,
(though only words, rekindled with your stare…)

I gave my dignity and pleading grace
for this, the emptiness now in its place.

Details | Sonnet | |

Birth of the Dying

We exist in the primordial dark,
While those in the light, our being debate. 
When we the speechless speak out who can hark
To save us from impending deadly fate?
To think is to be and to commence life;
That mortal journey of pain and pleasure;
Gaining strength from adversity and strife.
Which catalyst is the one to measure,
The initial product; a mere cell?
But proponents say it is the first breath
And the absence of flaws when all is well;
Anything else is better put to death.
If the measure of a being is thought;
We think our battles are lost before fought.

Details | Sonnet | |



Fabled proud towers across the Aegean
Sheer walls never breached;
From far-off  Hellas rarely seen
Till by the angry Greeks full-reached.

Burnt and humbled, a culture erased.
After ten years the city strong-walled
Was obliterated, washed away, effaced  -
And history was appalled.

So also  the Atlantis, Cumorah,and  Inca delirium
Drowned in the flow of time,
Killed in their flowering, like Illium :
Such cultural perfection sublime.

        The tide  of history washes and cleans 
        Leaving no trace of stillborn might-have-beens 

Details | Sonnet | |

That's That

The Sun is on my horizon approaching this brand new day.
Ripples in the sea shatter my shimmering ultra-violet light.
Birds sing in the air and many more are on this same flight.
Rising high, the Sun makes rounds in its sweet special way.
Puffy white clouds are on the trail until they begin to stray.
Blue skies follow suite running off the wet darkened night.
Green grassy grounds are visions of a true God given sight.
Branches of trees wave at the Sun as if bitterly bent or fray.
Rising with the Sun and busy as a bee,
Up and on it I always rise just to shine!
It is all amazing just like being me!
That’s that and poof I’m all in line!

No really, I am telling you that’s that!
Now honestly who are you looking at?
®Registered: Ann Rich   2006

Details | Sonnet | |



Nigeria is this you the mighty?
The diamond in sought by moon faced ladies
From world of tale where value values
Discovered and polished by civilized dignities.

Nigeria is this you crumbled by hatred?
Pure gold covered with dust by the miners
Curtain call is for Cain 
A land blessed than the biblical Eden

In the hands of greedy Rehoboam
Who swore to break your back with horsewhip
Children who delight in kill’ their mother on Birth stole.
Desperate ritualists who choose to Sacrif’e the oval.

When shall you rise in the hands of your enslavers?
Like Joseph of the coat of many colours.

Details | Sonnet | |

A Poem

Its emotion itself moulded in pens hue,
The feelings in it are from vast ocean to tiny dew;
whence it hath filled minds shallowest lakes,
It flows down from heart as through snow flakes.

Proud and great are those creation--
Whose thought consist of truth along with imagination;
Those creation without truth are fake--
Passes to past,these new pieces,floating upon time's lake.

It has the majesty higher than Everest,
It covers within itself from lions den to tiny nests, 
It has the beauty brighter than pearl,
Deep message doth around it curl.

Lssons of academics--do they continue in life in general?
Message in poetry --they do run with life till funeral.

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 | |


A being bent on plunder stalks the land
Death is his name and death is what he wields;
Rebirth no rational mind could understand,
Our living flesh to cataclysm yields.

Our future he convincingly destroys;
The cold earth beckons as our future home.
The end for all those golden girls and boys
Is to be one with decomposing loam.

A million atoms back to earth decay;
Our resurrection’s in the gentle rain.
The grass, the leaves, the pleasant light of day,
In breezes and in dew we’ll live again.

Here is our one true home, our mother Earth,
So will we die and so attain rebirth.

Details | Sonnet | |

Star Stuff

“The fate of individual human beings may not now be connected in a deep way with the rest
of the universe, but the matter out of which each of us is made is intimately tied to the
processes that occurred immense intervals of time and enormous distances in space away
from us. Our Sun is a second- or third-generation star. All of the rocky and metallic
materials we stand on, the iron in our blood, the calcium in our teeth, and the carbon in
our genes were produced billions of years ago in the interiors of a red giant star. We are
made of star-stuff.”

I am a scion of the Milky Way
Wholly unique to the highest degree.
My soul is as old as light-years away
My provenance stems from cosmic debris.
I need not religion to guide my life
My quintessence antedates mankind’s creeds.
The brief time walking beneath starlit nights
Imbue my soul more than mankind’s prayer beads.
Every thought, all that I am is akin
To these heavenly designers birthplace
The very essence, my soul within
Began eons in interstellar space.
Knowing who I am and where I came from
Is a greater joy than what I’ve become.

Details | Sonnet | |

Land of the Free

Staring on with empty sight,
our eyes can See, but they are blind.
We praise the Virtues of our Might,
and end the Freedom of our Mind.
Our hippocritic creed
gives in to Vanity.
Are we really truly Freed?
Descending to Insanity.
Giving in to Avarice,
Driving forward empty Lies,
Fueling Flames of Hate and Vice,
the Flaming, falling deadly skies.
Our mind implodes until we see
past superficiality.

Details | Sonnet | |


Curtal Sonnet Sequence

A woman should be gentle, always kind
Yet he held her down to rape her again
Removing the smile that once seemed to glow
The joy of love had long since left behind
A fragile doll that knew only of pain
Who couldn’t see a way or place to go
At his hands her body crumbled to dust;
Inside her voice was calling, soft and low 
It kept her mind from going past insane
And she knew she could and she knew she must
Say No!

They say the battle is won; we can rest
The girls of tomorrow have greater clout
They’ll live their lives in freedom’s liberty.
We can do no more, we have done our best
The flags of pride have been slowly rolled out
So they can love with true equality.
But while one woman remains hurt, abused
We must all remain strong not turnabout
No woman should be left to man’s slav’ry
We must not let her be tortured and used
Shout out!
Inside a woman beats a goddess heart
A hidden voice that often calls aloud
But we only hear her when we need her most
And she holds us when our lives fall apart
Or if we choose to walk against the crowd
The presence we feel when all else is lost.
And as we nurture our own children through
To fly as freely as a summer cloud
She nurtures us the same at greater cost
So in all we say and all things we do
Be proud!

Details | Sonnet | |


To dare to write a poem is a thrill.
The world of words all things can symbolize.
A wordsmith has to ever hone his skill,
And greater grow his gift to empathize.

To break the bonds of esoteric terms
Will free the coded secrets they convey.
By sharing truth, a poet truth confirms.
To hear their words can clear our thoughts away.

These words must spark a meaning of our own.
A special nuance to their true intent.
They speak to us and we are not alone.
A deeper guidance deepens our content.

When poets share the feelings in their hearts,
Then grateful readers flourish by their arts.

Details | Sonnet | |


The fjiord so blue and cold and deeper than
all time can ever measure in a day
there on the cliff she's stood, since time began
just hoping that her lover finds his way

she's cried ten thousand tears to let him know
she'll watch for him no matter how the sky,
and if the freezing north winds have to blow
between the narrows of the cliffs she'd die

her lamp is lighted every night for him
but this night's bitter cold and made it's mark
although her love is great, the light is dim
and time has turned it to a tiny spark.

   her ancient bones have frozen to the cold
    but love kept her from ever dying old.

Details | Sonnet | |

A Matter of Global Priorities: a condensed sonnet

Man explores outer space
with probes and rocket ships,
while here the human race 
falls from the flimsy tips
of balance; wars, famine,
poverty, waste, disease 
and man's greed have worsen
this world's deadly crises.
Why not spend the money
on this Earth where there's need
first, then chase outer space
at light-speed once we're freed
     from what afflicts our race:
     if we don't, we'll be replaced.

Details | Sonnet | |

From Green To Brown

I see the fields before me being turned from green to brown
And the trees which lie with each leaf with a frown,
'What sin have we committed' as if they speak
Along with the left ones standing like thin sticks.

Like deep cuts- the deep reels as if they seem -
Like slicing off from a cake it's cream.
In heaps they lie resembling the slaughter
And it hath tirned wry the earth's laughter.

What's the colour of earth,it doth appear from moon,
Whatever it be its into change eftsoons,
Bellows are riding above the land -
Without the greenness the land is nothing but sand.

With the wind thee wrap us in thy lap;Oh!Nature massive -
I regret on part of those who make the process passive.

Details | Sonnet | |


I believe in the idea of which I'm a part:
A sacrosanct speck in a magnificent Whole!
Not a despicable fiend, a spendable soul,
dumped into this world without a guiding chart.

Because, without me there would be no mind !
No thinking matter capable of my feat !
It will be a world of wood and instinctual meat,
a wretched old planet, mute and blind.

So, go ahead my friend and look for the seat
of the dark prince who ruled the past ;
you'll find the place empty: the man just quit !

Can't you sense in you your highest kind ?
The peak where all mountain came to a blast
that gave birth to a miracle: the human mind !

Details | Sonnet | |



Oh! Death, a mystery thy still remains
A fearless murderer that forgets justice
A thief not of night but of time
A stealer of worthless items

Oh! Death, how happy you-make the bereaved 	
Thou are too real to be true
A professional in a career carnage
Too sophisticated to loss a battle started

Oh! Death, you tame the proud and the tough
A body made of air and a movement in gesture
So helpless thy victims always are
Like Israel in front of goliath

A friend to the deceased, but an enemy to the living
(Sighs) Oh!  Death, Spare me not.

Details | Sonnet | |


Philosophy, ancient grandfather of Grand Knowledge!
Who changes all minds with lashing tongues?
Why bury desire with learned garbage,
Preacher, with sick, scorched lungs
He would not speak the truth, when lies sound poetic,
Who would understand the naked soul?
To discover the pearls within the rhetoric,
He followed false dreams to a false goal.
Have you not stolen the Muse from creativity,
And transformed her into the star of Hollywood
To insure an illusion of eternity?
Have you not rescued Aristotle from the poisonous flood?
The ferry from frothy oceans and from me
The Golden Image drowned in a lost sea?

Details | Sonnet | |

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.

Details | Sonnet | |

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


Details | Sonnet | |

Tall Sea Grass

When I am gone and have ceased to be
On Kansas plain and green Missouri hill,
Just scatter ashes on the tall grass sea,
Where winds are strong and evening air is chill.

Don't take the time to sing those songs too grim,
Just sling my soul up high toward one last God--
Think back and say: "I do remember him"--
Like dust I'll blend softly into the sod.

Yet when there's no remembrance of this life
In those we touched so many years from now,
That knowing will cut deep as any knife--
Immortality becomes us somehow.

And if we wish our words to swiftly pass,
We'll write on wind and rain in tall sea grass.

Details | Sonnet | |


As the storm clouds roll in
     on the darkest of skies,
     and windiest of days-
don't shield me from this awesome sight
     or turn and run away.

Stay with me through the storm
     with its electric flashes,
     and roaring clatter-
don't take control of the ships helm
     or guide me from the weather.

For I have come this far
     on the deepest of seas,
     and most turbulent spills-
have faith in me to find the way
     the journey is my thrill.

It's not shelter from the storm I seek,
rather deliverance from a life too bleak!

Details | Sonnet | |

Catch 22

Well, there is a loophole right there.
And by golly gee there’s one here.
Easy to step into those cracks,
Losing balance and be all out of whack.

Step by step and baby ones at that,
Tiptoeing and being mighty slow.
But I bet you have all come to know,
A catch 22 has a knack.

Nothing is glued,
Too many corner stones,
How lewd!
Fragile are my bones.

Peeping through,
Seeing route 44’s for those catch 22’s.

®Registered: Ann Rich   2005

Details | Sonnet | |

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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Struggle for Rights

O’ Father, O’ dear Father, What do you know about God?
Please explain to me why do you have or I need my faith?
Where he lives in a hell or heaven why human has a myth?
Is he a Merciful, forgiveness or a kind-hearted Lord?
You have blessings and prayer, you know worshiping method,
Please explain me, why we need worshipping in what image?
A portrait, statue, wind, light, fire or a planet what range?
Is he a human, bird, animal or insect what colour of blood?

Why do I born human, why I having a struggle for rights?
Why am I against dictatorship if God is only superb?
Why human has different nature and fight for high heights.
Why is only human controlling why n’t animal deserve?
Hell is better or heaven, why is earth suffering for fights?
When I fall sick, what is a meaning of a best herb?

Details | Sonnet | |

My Shadow

My shadow, dark and scary.
I just want to leave it behind.	
I can't get rid of it fully,
It is staying in my mind.

I'm inspired to move further, 
As my hopes always show me light.
I,m optimistic for future 
But, my shadow is stuck tight.

The more I forward to the light,
The bigger does it appear.
Memories of my past does melt
And burst out from eyes in tears.

I want to brush my past aside 
And make my future my true pride.

Details | Sonnet | |

A Business

A business is clever, handsome and polite.
Linguistic, apologetic but tactics are behind.
Mathematically and politically he is honest mind,
Dramatics, gymnastics and generatic bright.
Pleasant, tranquil, psyche psychometrics bite,
The bourgeoisie possessive and proletarian prodigal,
Lucrative, ludicrous, resumable heroics skill,
Personable, arguable and a desirable diet.

Forcible, flexible and fund raiser responsible,
Likeable, sizeable and an unshakeable height,
Referable, preferable and transferable mongrel,
Credible, reproducible and decisionable slight. 
Expressible, risible and a sensible detail.
Challengeable, achievable and demonstrable kite.

Details | Sonnet | |

food for thought

Wisdom's pearls uncultured grow
In oysters tightly closed
Knowledged colleged cultured speakers
Display them polished highly lighted
Proud of what they know
Diving into Nature's secrets
Armed with open eyes
Wisdom seekers searching find
Oyster shells upon the beaches
Pearls of wisdom left behind
By gulls with different values
Miserly oysters  fly so high
Dying richly feeding
Feasts for poet eyes

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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?

Details | Sonnet | |

Random Views From the Saddle Horn

Raw-boned trees scratch a dark hazy gray sky—
Far mountains gleam white with winter’s solutions.
Seems it’s this time of year we wonder why,
We even pause to make new resolutions.

In these random views from the saddle horn,
We creak worn leather with our restless spirit—
Like almost from the first day we were born,
We ride this life quickly, yet we still fear it.

And so we’ve lived to see this New Year dawn—
Vow again to do all those things that are right.
But we do not know what each day will spawn
Or if we will softly ride into the night.

So from this saddle horn we barely hold,
We ride on toward what a New Year will unfold.