Oh my darling the news is so bleak
I saw the consultant only last week
Think we better start making plans
See the vicar; hear the wedding banns
All I’ve ever wanted was to be your wife
For better for worse, through trouble and strife
The consultant confirmed I’ll not last the year
Oh kiss me my darling; just hold me so near
Wedding plans float around in my head
My dying wish is that we should wed
Time is running out so we mustn’t linger
I want your wedding ring upon my finger
A simple ceremony, just as quiet as can be
All I ask my darling is that you stand by me
Submitted to my favourite old poem contest - Shadow Hamilton
Angelic words she places in lines with care.
Never heard a discouraging word, she did share.
Deeper emotions she does write so clear.
Reality is her concern, realism so sincere.
Excitement sometimes rules her lines.
A woman of deep and emotional designs,
Deeply passionate about so many things in life,
I never met her though read her poetic rife.
Each time she visits others words she reads.
Telling others so sweetly she plants seeds,
Respectfully she instills poetic writings in another.
I saw onetime she felt like a sonnet unwritten.
Carefully I wrote this for her, an earth mother.
Having friendship in mind never was smitten.
I have a sort of gift that allows me to sense certain feelings about people without even meeting them....and usually my first intuition if you want to call it that is perfectly correct.
....no matter what it is about or who it is about I have to write it or my soul is clouded and pain grows within...Blessings..Cecil
To The Dreamer Within...
Line after line flow as touch and feel surge;
Ink stains galore ply in emotive fire;
Voice whispers a show that caresses urge;
Evermore strains vie in sensuous conspire.
Linger in echoes that play thoughts floral;
Open your sure heart beyond mind games here;
Vouch music galore in word sense aural;
Embrace lovely start that charm now endears.
Lively this sweet choice in happy trickle;
Indulge rhyme and verse in urgent passion;
Set muse to clear voice in fragrant mingle;
Tinge inner core terse with words that fashion.
Enjoy each moment that affords jingle;
No need to lament that fearful juggle.
27 Apr 2014
(Note: This poem is an Acrostic Sonnet.)
Teacher, shall I write a sonnet? Must I?
When I’m not so sure of my poetry…
Shall I write a poem of fourteen lines?
In iambic pentameter –by me?
What shall I write about? What can I say?
In this sonnet which I must jot down now?
My sonnet should be about what today?
To write a great sonnet I’m not sure how…
Teacher, can I write this sonnet later
For I’m not sure of what to write about?
The teacher then takes my simple paper
And “you already did.” my teacher shouts.
‘Detention’ my teacher says, ‘for lying,’
‘But thank you,’ she adds, ‘for at least trying.’
© Mariam Mababaya.
Dating a beautiful redhead girl will be the greatest moment of my life. She’s like an Irish princess, even better. Her hair is so red, it’s as if she’s on fire. Her beautiful eyes are like a pair of emerald gems when I look at them. And her pale skin is as beautiful as pure, white snow. It seems to me that all attractive redheads are amazing, and most of all, they’re down to Earth. This redhead is also like a beautiful, Irish Princess, even from the Emerald Isle (Ireland). I never dated an attractive redheaded girl before, but it’s about time that I did. Plus, there are other beautiful redheads who are famous, like Kay and Danielle Panabaker, Emma Stone, Hayley Williams, Lindsay Lohan, Lily Cole, and others. Not to mention Julienne Moore, even though she’s happily married. I wouldn’t mind dating a beautiful redhead, but she has to be from the U.S. or Ireland. She’s like that redheaded warrior from Brave. She’ll be my Irish Princess one day (Irish girlfriend), and I’ll be her American prince (American beau). I say, if I were to get into a serious relationship with this attractive redhead, I won’t break her heart; I’d also be honest and truthful to her. I know that female redheads are sensitive and I also know that she doesn’t want to be brokenhearted. All I know is that if I fall in love with a redhead girl and I become infatuated with her, there’s just no telling.
Twelve was the number Roger Staubach worn.
Eight was the number Carl Yastrzemski wore.
When they played I needed lots of popcorn
Watching them play was something to adore
They were yesterday’s players which I miss
Today there is so much coverage to watch
I watch sports instead of trading a kiss
Its poetry and sports I’m out of scotch
Baseball has always been my favorite
Next comes football and then there’s basketball
If the Red Sox are on in front I’ll sit
I’ll watch all sports played with a ball
Poetry and sports those are my pastimes
I’m involved with them instead of hard crimes
growing up in a female family
and having a severe stutter was tough
but those stories came to me easily
back in high school I never wrote enough
as a veteran I’m writing again
and I’m learning so much more being here
I’m a poet after an injured brain
so many years ago nothing to fear
I even enjoy reading poetry
and Poetry Soup has helped me with that
and I often write a contest entry
I know my poems are never somewhat
what motivates me answer is life does
and poetry does keep me on my toes
Luzerne County Community College
I further my education right there
Being there really increased my knowledge
W-S-F-X was on the air
I was the promotion director there
and I hosted Campus Talk a few times
Associate’s Decree without despair
and having a family more than dimes
back in High School college wasn’t in mind
Working out at sea college wasn’t bad
college did get me ready for the grind
and for a moment my mother was glad
but most of all I learn more poetry
and my writing makes me feel truly free
Oh, now with the morning sun’s arrival
A new dawn, and the sparkling green grass
Upon the sun, rest the earth’s survival
A poet praising through wet window glass
Birds chirping, wind slowly blowing away
Sun silently rises above, the skies
Bright rays of light, indicating the day
Hungry little ones weep, the mother flies
The sky is filled with beautiful blue cloud
It’s as lively as it could have ever been
The beauty speaks to me, almost loud
And splendor is like few have ever seen
I stay away, but praising her to the best
I’ll write it down, and just leave her to rest
I got a sonnet streak going strong here
not just Super Bowl weekend sonnets too
I’m writing more sonnets instead of beer
I’m writing this now other day wrote two
the Half Time Show is on in other room
I’m glad Baltimore is winning right now
Poe’s spirit may be giving Niners doom
after the game coaches be asking how?
this is how I am spending this weekend
to be honest writing more joy than game
poetry to me always been a trend
whatever I’m writing I don’t have shame
its been more sonnets than the Super Bowl
I can’t help it poetry calms my soul
To banish my violent games
Is to banish your writing pens
I may fantasize in gunfire flames
As you've written of now and then's
I have killed a billion bytes and bits
You have made a billion many bored
But the bytes and bits are not life lists
And the pen is mightier than the sword
Actual time of occurrence is killed
Not the people of angry games or rhyme
Complete devastation when drinks are spilled
Satisfaction from both fulfilling time
Unlikeness of a poem I'll leave it be
Unlikeness of a game you leave it be
(I'm not sure if this is a true sonnet poem, I am not a poet, I just started getting into poetry (reading mostly)so I can enhance my ability to write lyrics to my music ... feel free to critique,this is my 1st poem I have ever attempted to write properly.. (Im gonna need all the help I can get ! )
when it comes to stress I grin and bear it
love I will welcome with arms wide open
patience in waiting rooms I often sit
always hoping for knowledge be sharpen
living with all these emotions is hard
and each one of us has a bunch of these
for hate and anger I always discard
keeping emotions in check is no breeze
serenity is the ultimate goal
negative emotions may prevent it
and they tend to darken are very soul
peace of mind wouldn’t even cost a bit
for me poetry helps me keep it straight
my future is always my to create
They assigned me me to write a sonnet about the life of a drunken writer
whose dream wouldn't shatter, but his foolishness wasn't in the past tense;
he spent endless hours reading blogs of people who didn't make sense...
in chat rooms he found geeks, charlatans and a casual liar.
These are the ones who can text all day as kids do for fun...
what's the excuse for being late and perform with a brainless head?
Here's proof of his laziness: he didn't write anything to earn him bread.
" Wake up, your work is piling up...you snore as pigs in a barn! "
the co-worker in the next booth sneered as the boss approached Fred
who stuttered and tried to explain why he couldn't get the work done...
while his breath stunk and couldn't stand him looking awfully mad.
" I need that article by tomorrow, or you'll get a pink slip and are gone! "
" Sir, the last article was a hit...you liked that sex-pot with those boobs! "
" Why can't I write about today's generation who have the speed of raccoons? "
When you pick a pen and paper to write
A line or two, or poem you feel just right
In your heart you feel, in your mind you think
The best you will give, your heart and soul’s link.
So you let the feelings flow from your heart
Use all the words to form a work of art
You write down and smile, when it’s one of joy
Cry when it is sad, still words you employ.
So you write and write, till you feel it’s right
Then you stop and read, now it’s taken flight
The words you have written have formed a life
It can heal or kill, start or quash a strife.
Be mindful then, your heart and soul is right
When you pick a pen and paper to write.
KIM PATRICE NUNEZ
31 March 2015
What Shakespeare didn’t write he left to me
In this, a brand new world and century
The English language lives and breathes, alive
A poet’s job is helping it survive
The Muses use us, soul and body, mind
To write of things that can not be defined
The subject matter always stays the same
It’s love and hate, it’s greed and fear and fame
New words evolve to name the things we see
But subject matter stays through history
Our hands the only instruments of worth
To help the Muses speak and then give birth
Their words are bridges crossing deep divides
That bring to man the peace that truth provides
Hither I stand, at crossroads,
And then I gaze, at the yonder end-
The vague horizon from where I began;
And all that I may ever deem
Is that- my days
Have been a waken dream.
Hither I stand, at the edge of my dream;
Then I wonder, at the depth of my trance-
An adventurous journey through the wondrous woods;
An idyllic stroll through the vicissitudinous meadow;
And from the final station as I depart,
All that I can ever say, is that
Perpetuation has been a rouge
Of fleeting phases of my life.
St. Stephen’s College.
In nineteen-ninety-nine I found haikus
and love of poetry was beginning
I admit none of this is front page news
I was writing more with love life thinning
In nineteen-eighty-five I wrote something
I showed it to a friend and he liked it
instead of moving on I did nothing
two years later I knew writing was it
Yes my life has been a somewhat rough road
but I also know it can be much worse
and right now my life is in pleasant mode
I even ended up living with nurse
I never thought I would love writing this
now I know pleasure in life does exists
With great fervor they write without end
Pretty words that could not even be read
Though he tried, he had no will to lend
The voice inside expiring, left for dead
There was some pleasure even concern
Pondering the loss of the bonds formed
The thought he could not even discern
His own demons, now left him scorned
No more adventure left in his lost soul
What could they truly understand in him
No more desire, he tried to form a goal
A pursuit also that left him without whim
What more can I do, but write these things I feel
What more can I say, I have nothing left to reveal
who’d ever thought I would love writing this
I never thought of myself as writer
I blame Robert Carson for doing this
Sometimes writing can be an all-nighter
it helped me through some adjustments through life
Mister Carson taught me more poetry
at times it led me to finding a wife
my life is good and I love this country
lately I’ve been writing some more sonnets
at first I thought they were too much for me
and writing one doesn’t take much minutes
whenever I am writing I am free
I’ll have a cup of poetry today
I’ve worked plenty who says writing is play?
"Wheels of goodby to summer's winding" way
Left such a bit of wonder on my mind.
These gems are some of Nette's grand phrases,
Amazingly unique and left behind.
It's not our place to ask where she has gone.
We only know we'll miss her on this site.
So few of us can write such words divine
That fill her pages for reader's delight.
Is this a true goodby or hiatus,
We all hope she has taken holiday.
Month of November her last posting here,
Though we know Nette has lots more to say.
Although sometimes we can't divine intent.
We read her flowing words with sweet content.
Inspired by Nette's sonnet "Wheels of Goodby"
I have used her phrases in the first line of my poem.
Dear Nette we miss you and hope you will be coming back.
I have always wondered
if you have a special dictionay in which you
find such unfamiliar words.
I would like to have one of those.
Whatever your plans, may they work out beautifully for you.
Ever since I met that one being
I have been lost in a world of his own
So charming he is, so elevating
That by his side, to sorrow I am no more prone
Though I know not his form, or his name
Though I feel him not physically
He makes feel like I am a real dame
All sweet, pampered and so sexy
He allowed my dreams to come true
Writing and making my verses come alive
Writing and leaving behind my steps in black and blue
Why such is the reason why I took birth, I believe
O Muse, never, oh never do leave my side
Only your charms can fill up my emptiness with pride!
For contest I must write; it’s plain to see
My older writes ignored; so hear my plea
If this, my write, gets picked, here is the deal
With post upon this rhyme, we’ll set the seal
Read not just contest wins, read others too
It tears my heart when I don’t hear from you
The incense of my soul released in rhyme
Yet only winning lines seduce your time
And so I brave this challenge that I face
I try to write a poem laced with grace
The thoughts are stilted and the words belie
A spirit bound to rules, longing to fly
I’ve bared my heart and soul; will it suffice?
Please see pre-contest me; I’ve paid the price!
September 3, 2014
For Georgio V’s Iambic Forms Contest
Ever as many I try to write for thee,
All the words like a soft sand slip away,
My soul, my heart, my dreams... All flee
And all the words, therefore cannot say.
I seek an answer from thyself...
How much with thee I fall in love?
He says as a brave knight compelled a triumph,
Carried it along the earth, and to the sky above,
As a rose and magic always dwelt together,
Circle beneath a circle, flow like waves
As a velvet passion that burns forever,
Tenderly wrap our bodies with praise
I love thee dearly, since before life has begun
I love thee deeply, as night whispers are done
Floating black ink drifts away in my mind
Thin strands caught in trembling winds of thought
Winding through realms my body will not find
Climbing like vines on words my mind forgot
Within its blackness, dreams are surveyed
Rendering thought with a weathered disguise
Reason daunting, illusion conveyed
Imagination flows from formless dark eyes
Hiding in caverns deep in the mind's cave
This black ink rushes through, covering me
Exposing my soul, whose eyes I'm a slave
And captures the truth, before it can flee
Can I find a word to light my soul's wall?
Will I lay silent, with withering scrawl?
I never write you poems anymore?
Not expressed in words how you I adore?
A fallacy, a falsehood, a terrible mistake,
And no never ever will I this take.
The poems I write of you for you
On paper put them? No, I not always do,
But I write them looking into your green-eyes
Or when I hear “I love you” in your warm good-byes.
Verse, meter and stanza are scribbled on my heart
As I think of you to one day’s end and another’s start.
I write you a poem when I hear you laugh
And ponder the beauty of love ever aft’.
Couplets and sonnets and villanelles and verse blank
Take form in my mind and I truly do thank
My Father in Heaven for His blessing to me;
You to have and to hold for all eternity.
~~~You Lost Your Heart and Soul, and Love Lost You!~~~
Seas called me back home to the Red Sea
Souls without a spirit, were the lost souls
Be their promise my soul don't let me be
Cold and alone underneath the dead cold
Hearts cried out a love-songs deep in my heart
Sand in my shoes, thoughts buried in the sand
Darts hit my heart; arrows of fiery darts
Can this be love in my heart, say it can?
Doves of peace and life, fly high my white doves
Life faded away no one saved my life
Love lost its will, lost all I did to love
Strife took derelict of duty was strife
Due process lost the law, with life's pain due
You lost your heart and soul, and love lost you.
©2015 DiLinda Adams, All rights reserved
Fifth Shadow Sonnet Challenge! – Please join in if you like; it has to rhyme, 10 syllable count and 14 lines, meets the challenge. However, if you just want to be creative please do so. I cannot wait to see what you all are going to write about.
A Sunday morning without any sun
A usual day here in the North East
With my wife not here today is no fun
It has been so long since I’ve seen a priest
A few times in life I would frequent church
Believe the last time was two-thousand-two
Haven’t even been married in a church
I know my answers will come tomorrow
I don’t mean Monday a little later
Then again they may never come to me
Sometimes my life feels like a big crater
Something's missing do I need to be free?
I’m writing a sonnet on this Sunday
I find it helpful some would rather pray
I’d rather read something for minutes eight
Than wait eight minutes for this site to load
For this slow net service I cannot wai
tI’d rather nap or simply stay at home
What makes this service too slow I wonder
Too many users online at this time?
Too many files on this old computer?
Way too many downloads? From many sites?
‘Tis time to stop wasting hours on the Net
‘Tis time to memorize from the Qur’an
Time to study for school, to be the best,
Seek knowledge offline as much as I can.
Farewell, Internet, I’ll come back later
When the net connection’s a lot faster :)
not just an apple a day sonnet too
trying to keep healthy mind body soul
if I’m lucky I may even write two
some have said my heart is as dark as coal
I’ve been labeled since the day I was born
they’ll still be cursing me when I’m long dead
even today I wait for unicorn
to take me to the land of the unsaid
I know it’s just a fantasy of mine
maybe that unicorn waits for my death
I plan on living long and doing fine
nothing on this earth will take my last breath
in the meantime I’ll write more poetry
I would rather poetry than laundry
Along the coasts and by the seas
There lived a man made of trees
His duty was of noble action
Protect the forest with great passion
His body was made of bark
Eyes so piercing and thoughts so dark
His realm of life was so sacred
But beings of flesh had invaded
Once so peaceful and now so angry
This guardian of life started to rampage
Killing men in their thousands
Disease and insects brought plague and famine