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
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.
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
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.
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
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? "
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
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
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.
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
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?
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
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
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
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!
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 :)
To write Shakespearean, sonnet of peer,
A tender write may bear him a story.
Though soul may roll over as spirit stirs,
As poets sit twain and shares much glory,
As pens do stir adding beauty a verse.
Write I may truly in renown fashion,
Thus pens unite as twain spirits rehearse.
Thus renown soul tells of renown’s passion.
Maybe in slumber, thus spell be broken,
Whence comes then, of renown a feather quill?
No scorn of renown was ever spoken,
In graceful discourse, nary of ink spill.
Thus dwells in heaven a renown true soul,
Love’s quill in hand , soul has perfect control!!
For: Even A Name can Be Poetry
In Honor of: Constance ~ A Rambling Poet~
How can you write what you cannot persieve
when your mind goes blank as if in a dream
how can you write what you do not believe
when you see two sides on one warring team
you cannot think of what you do not know
nothing on paper ever seems quite right
if you cannot think the words will not flow
you need an idea to show you the light
write all that you like and not what you hate
hold on to your fears your likes and dislikes
failling to do so would a mistake
your feelings will make your work seem lifelike
you cannot write about what you don't see
you'll know in your heart what the words should be
A thought that lingers longer than it should,
Then mingles with words to know just what could,
It’s then that lines appear if poets would
Permit the pen and paper to just meet.
If poet would put the old bum on seat,
And grasp the nib ‘til a sonnet’s complete.
O poet let your words on paper flow,
In ink let all your feelings come on show,
O poet, you know you cannot say no!
So write the words, perform this task at will,
Go on; pick up the pen let the words spill,
And soon the paper will begin to fill.
But it’s not so easy to write in verse
When the mind is naught but an empty purse.
Form: Lunatic Sonnet
I write this tribute to me,
with in my words I am free,
always alone left to explore,
every possible reality at my door.
In this world my backs always to the wall,
often I feel what's the point of it all,
the words I write help me to see,
the truths that often elude me.
My words give me strength to carry on,
they always show me where I've gone wrong,
snippets of my life caught in time,
left to dissect slowly in my mind.
Motionless and in front of me all my words lay,
all my life's answers I find this way.
Sponsor Francine Roberts
Contest Name tribute by Sonnet
at birth was diamond in mom and dad’s eyes
fourth grade through sixth grade I was a joker
it’s true in this life I have had some sighs
my time in the navy heavy smoker
all the women in my life should be queens
I know perfection can never be found
never shared my heart in my teens
after thirty years I made a rebound
my wife would sometimes call me an old maid
because of my slow off-balance movements
never saw action so I’m underpaid
today my life has many improvements
I love writing sonnets I’m no Shakespeare
in a way it makes my life pretty clear
Then carefully she pushed the den back door
And stepped into the messy strewn day room
Dog bones, plates, cracker crumbs slung on the floor
All it would take is a few sweeps of broom
But__she was tired just bone tired of cleaning
Picking up strewn this and that, folding clothes
It seemed to be a life of no meaning
Maybe I'll write some polyphonic prose
"She sells seashells by the summer seashore"
That's not mine but maybe I can write too
Chihuahua can't chew gum chewings a chore
Can you write one or don't you have a clue
Now my tireness is gone no memory
Of that worrying about backstory
Now your gone and all i can say is d4mn
Man imma miss all you and your antics
And the fun times we had, ahhh those were grand
Especially when we could just be dicks
I cant stop myself from reminiscing
Its like im broken, and stuck in rewind
But this helps, yea i mean writing
It feels like its getting me out a bind
I never pictured myself doing this
I mean writing these sappy love poems
But i think you changed me with our first time
Dont believe me? Find the letters, see 'em?
I dont write poems because i want to
I write 'cuz i cant stop thinkin' bout you
Wondrous Words From Gifted Pens
Wondrous words flow from gifted pen
beautiful gifts from poetic hearts
A dear wish for such to never end
generous blessings that such words impart
A moment, a prayer to cast forth joy
a great crusade to help one and all
A pen well inked and ready to employ
thoughts of the soul both big and small
Poets astound and live, live to write
a lazy pen they must so often fight
Such is the trials of generous offers
drawn from spirits in poetic coffers!
Inspiration , heart , reason and rhyme
Often fight the brevity of needed time!
Robert J. Lindley 06-29-2014
A humble tribute to wonderful poets here and everywhere!
I am very pleased to offer this tribute to all poets and dedicate it to
four very special friends I have made here that have so greatly helped and
inspired me here!
Elly Wouterse, Peter and Vera Duggan and Carolyn Devonshire..... a special thanks and gift.
Creation for love
When I write I write with soul
When I sing I sing of love
To finish a poem takes its toll
My vocals are for heaven above
I write of love I write of death
I write for life I write for relief
I write of romance but not for wealth
When I write I write for belief
When I draw I draw or war
When I create I feel at bliss
After I finish I say “no more”
After I finish I’m done with this
I write these poems to relieve the stress
I came to school to write all this
Box-tops, Napkins, Paper, and Old Mail…
One thing for sure, listen, will you please?
I do not write on tissue paper… sneeze!
But write upon most anything… Not walls!
My pen or pencil marks fulfilled flow falls.
And anyplace will do to write away.
In the moment inspiration comes to play,
Revealing ever-poignant thoughts, words spanned.
Whatever spark or flow falls to my hand.
I shall not allow fleeting words their loss.
Instead, must capture never-ending gloss.
Then, send a message to someone somewhere.
And dream, two hearts, shall wisdom share with flare.
Soon, Microsoft displays those words that streamed
Computer poet is what I am; oh, dream!
© Dane Ann Smith-Johnsen
January 13, 2010
I am bewildered as to how to carry on my write ups!
With my eyes all time into the bookish stuffs;
Teachers and proffessors praise me for my talents-
But still they scold me for studies making me silent.
I am bewildered as to how to think positive!
With all men in power stressingupon negatives;
They say us to be optimists-
But neither thet act nor allow us to be good artists.
I am bewildered as to how to invent new in life!
With mind in tension where I thrive;
They tell me you will do great-
But the same warns me perform or fret.
So much contradicts in this world of mine-
To write and find new please give me some time!!
Alas and alack, my fellow poets
For 't seems I hath not writ a sonnet yet
Unbeknownst, too short were such lines I penned
'twas said my syllables were not well met
Advice, I take thee well, accepting that
True knowledge is a path we all must seek
Applying wit, the ink doth flow again
To write these words my soul demands to speak
For, there is one, whose inspiration finds
A warm place in my heart in which to dwell
Though blossoming and yet within its youth
In knowing her, I long to know her well
This humble scribe will go to any length
To write such words as give her inner strength ~
I could write your name on the book of love... Your smile could be the
handwriting that I use when I write every single verse of my poetries.
Every stanza is a wonderful melody of every word you have spoken to me. So soft
and tender I could feel them.
When my heart is at night remembering your love, makes me feel my time going
slow... I could be forever suspended in time because of your kisses. My thoughts
are flowing like rivers that look for the sea... They are looking for you and they are
trying to reach you in every dream.
This is the way I love you my love... thinking of you, brings joy to my life... makes
me be more alive... and it would take my breath away if I could kiss you tonight...
Sweet dreams my baby, the moon is always watching your dreams... like a
secret guard that I send to your bedroom... to watch my baby while he is
sleeping, while I singing a lovely song in my loneliness.
Sweet dreams my sweetheart, I have sent a lot of angels to play a lovely melody
for you to think of me every night... while I am sleeping here so lonely, they
whisper on my ear how do you look like...
I love you so much Scott... and you inspire me to create all this beautiful poetry
just for you... The love of my life.