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Best Bio Poems

Below are the all-time best Bio poems written by Poets on PoetrySoup. These top poems in list format are the best examples of Bio poems written by PoetrySoup members

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New Bio Poems

Don't stop! The most popular and best Bio poems are below this new poems list.

For My Mom, ECC by Cheyney, Jolene
She is a Sensation by Moraba, Connie
Anticipation by Harvey, Aa
I am virgin by De Yecouba, Sabbath
Him by Harvey, Aa
This is mine by Harvey, Aa
We Belong by Vukeya, Warden
not about elephants by hansen, jan oskar

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The Best Bio Poems

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My life is like that of a commonplace horse
that stays where they’ve put her all day;
she lives very much like the others, of course,
accepting her fate, eating hay!

At times she is plowing ( for work is her lot);
at other times, giving a ride
to those who reward her with a smile. . . or not!
But seemingly, she’s satisfied.

For like many others, who graze in the field,
She’s needed and loved; she gets by.
Though life is not bad, to routine she must yield,
but her mind - which can’t rest - wants to fly!

You see, I’ve a soul not that of this mare.
I look through the fence and I see
pastures much greener, and far away there
are places much sweeter for me. . . 

I see myself frolicking in quietude
where the world has a rainbow hue.
With fanciful musings my mind is imbued
and the roses I’m sniffing are blue!

I’m gentle, romantic, yet wild and carefree,
and my coat is a glistening white.
Liltingly, I move like poetry.
And my essence is pure delight.

Yes, over that fence, I so want to go -
where creative thought is born;
where lyrical words with euphony flow,
for I am a unicorn!

Written around June 25, 2010

Copyright © Andrea Dietrich | Year Posted 2010

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Who am I

Who am I, that you should even care to know my name?
Who am I, that you want to know my story?
Who am I, that you want to share my journey?
Who are you, to sit there and judge?
You only see a smile, not what is deep inside.

You are just passengers, on a temporary ride,
like others, will be gone soon.
I am a flower that is fading with weak foundations,
but still I am strong enough to cultivate for others.

How can you possibly comprehend my pain,
for I do not want you to shed any tears.
I am just a wave lost in the ocean,
a tepid vapour in the wind.

I am emotionally challenged, so I can't explain.
I was a child that no one cared about,
so I used my voice to make sure I was heard.
I have fought battles, that have made the strongest fall,
defeated demons that cavorted with my sanity.

I am not a fighter though, just a lover,
like you, I am love.
With compassion, I will reach out and listen,
remain silent, as you speak from your heart.
I give without expectation,
when you expect; that is when you get hurt.

A life of being misunderstood, led me to pretend,
I was never lost, but misplaced my identity.
My goal is to inspire and promote positivity,
to others, I am what they want me to be.

4 April 2016
Who ARE you? - Poetry Contest by Catie Lindsey
For this contest, I want you to tell me a little about whom you are, on the inside, and whom you present yourself to be to the outside world.

Copyright © Silent One | Year Posted 2016

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My eyes,
you traced the beauty of nature.
The starry sky and inky ocean,
smile of winter in the heavenly garden,
dancing of waterfall on the lap of hill
and kissing of butterfly with lips of lily.
You painted the alluring nature
in the canvas of my memory.
It refreshes my soul
and revives my heart.
My eyes,
you are lovely, you are smart.

My eyes,
You traced my childhood
with your experienced hand.
Sacrifice of my mother
and hardship of my dad.
Depth of their love
and length of their sorrow,
thickness of their sympathy
and width of their care.
My eyes,
You are cute, you are fair.

My eyes,
you age out books stepping with time.
My career holds what I need.
You created hopes
and enhanced expectations.
You make my avenue successful and vivid.
My dreams slept on rose petal bed.
I know, a good book is equal to 100 friends,
but a good friend is a complete library.
My eyes,
you are my friend, you are my diary.

My eyes,
you traced a queen
in a marriage party.
Now, she is my darling
she is my sweety.
I never forget that wonderful  night.
When you traced her sensation
and her jumping heart,
her tender lips
and her undressed beauty.
I was clean bold
with extreme delight.
My eyes,
you are spicy, you are naughty.

My eyes,
you are very clever.
You can speak more than tongue.
I know, you can't be wrong.
My anger is apple red,
my love is pearl white
and my pleasure is crystal bright.
When I am confused
you fly kingfisher flight.
My eyes,
you are my teacher, you are my guide.

Copyright © Manmath Dalei | Year Posted 2016

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The Late Blooming Iris

Lately I have paused, pondering death
But I'm not fit for it's journey yet.

It's not that I loathe meeting death's kind
It will be, for me, an experience of a lifetime.

I've had one stupendous, lovely, awesome gift
A second chance at life I could not resist.

So tell me this... who's thinking of dying?
I am the rainbow. Rain falls, next, I'm smiling.

Lately I have paused, pondering death
But it's out of my hands, my stem's length and breath.

All I have been, isn't all that I am
I've taken a stand to let The Source guide my hands.

I can claim to be a calico, carved by nine lives
Again, and again, I rise with clearer eyes.

I'd assume any form my Maker shapes me to use
Would I be excused, if in your haven I refuse?

I am a flower, even in winter
Even in winter, I am a flower.


Copyright © Iris Elizabeth Sankey-Lewis | Year Posted 2016

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The Unknown

-"x+2 = 4"-

Enigmas of the soul
Do you know how it feels?

Never tasted before
Invisible Sun


Copyright © Poet Destroyer A | Year Posted 2014

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A Poem of Ruth

The tears well up, and scarce could she not moan
When father, brother, husband, all have died.
She now has no possessions, neither home,
But travels to a distant, unknown land:
Once so secure, yet now compelled to roam;
Once rich in love, she treads through foreign sands.
Her weary feet move forward but by faith;
For all left to her name is mere belief:
Mind, heart so far away she seems a wraith-
Love, happiness- all taken by a thief.

When, sometime since, her heart had broke in two,
The path of life, once single, parted way;
Forsake she could, but this she would not do-
All else was gone- with mother she would stay:
"Intreat me not to leave thee," was her plea,
"For whither thou wilt go, there will I; pray
Forbid me not to follow after thee,
For where thou lodgest I would also stay:
"Thy people shall be mine, thy God my God;
And where thou liest, I will gladly lie
Beside thee, overhead the selfsame sod;
That even then thou mightest be closeby.

"And so they twain walk on, hand clasped in hand;
Both hold the only thing they yet possess:
The younger but a stranger in the land,
An enemy, a widow in distress.

She rose before the sun to find a place
Where she might gather barley ears and wheat;
A field where she might find some needed grace
To gather for their winter store of meat:
Then Boaz comes from Bethlehem, and see,
He tarries with the reapers of the wheat:
He comes to Ruth and says, "Hear'st not thou me?
Remain until the harvest is complete:
"Go not from hence, but in my fields abide,
And let thine eyes be on the field they reap;
Behold, these maidens thou may'st work beside,
And near the reapers thou may'st ever keep."
Then to her face she fell, and wond'ringly
Asked why to her, a stranger, was so kind;
And he replied that she unfailingly
Had cleaved unto her mother with one mind,
And left her father, mother, and the soil
Of her nativity, and kissed the dust
Of some strange land wherein she meant to toil;
Forsaking gods of Moab God to trust:
"The Lord," said he, "reward thee for thy deeds,
 And recompense thy labour and thy love:
The God of Israel answer all thy needs,
And make his wings a shelter from above."
 Then said the maid, "My lord, please let me find
Some grace and favour in thy blessed sight,
For that thou hast been friendly, spoken kind,
And I am but a stranger in the night."
Then Boaz said, "At mealtime here abide;
Rest in the shade, come, sit with us and dine:
So down she sat, a reaper on each side;
She ate her wheat and dipped her bread in wine.
Then Ruth arose, and to her work she leaves:
The master thus commands his servant men,
"Let this young maid glean e'en among the sheaves;
Rebuke her not, for she shall come again;
And let some handfuls fall onto the ground,
There let them lie for my sake and for hers
That she may glean and plenty may be found;
For reasons she has need of it are pure."
And as she worked, Ruth knew not what a sight
Of beauty and of diligence she made,
As in the golden field in sunset's light
She bowed her head and knelt as if she prayed.

It came to pass that in his fields she stayed
Until the end of barley harvest came,
When mother told the lovely little maid
To seek for his provision and his name.
She washed and dripped an oil filled with sweet
Perfumes of wild roses on her face:
She had not much; her beauty was complete
With but her finest clothes to seek his grace.
Her braided hair shone brighter than the gem
That never graced her soft and shapely form;
Her eyes, they sparkled brighter than the hem
Of gold and pearls that she had never worn:
Thus Ruth went down unto the threshing floor
Where Boaz winnowed barley till the night,
And peeked at him so shyly 'round the door;
She never let him leave her searching sight.
His workday done, the master ate and drank;
With happiness his heart was full when fed:
Then by a heap of wheat he went and sank
Into the furry robes that made his bed;
And Ruth, a while watching till he sleep
Kept vigil from a stone used as a seat,
Till when his eyes had closed and sleep was deep
She lifted up the cover from his feet
And softly laid her down and dreamed of brides
Until the watchman struck a dozen beats,
And being startled, Boaz woke and spied
A woman sleeping at his very feet:
"Who art thou?" queried he in sleepy voice;
"Thine handmaid, Ruth," was her unsure reply;
Then blessed he her for wise and kindly choice,
For passing poor and rich young fellows by.
"And now, my daughter, gladly shall I do
According to thy wishes, for all here
Consider thee as virtuous and true;
Howbeit, there is one to thee more near,
A kinsman who must duly have his say:
If he decline, then rest assured I will
Perform the part of kinsman." So she lay
Down at his feet, and both were quiet, still.

In grey of early morning she arose,
Before a face could be discernéd there;
To keep from what some people might suppose
And who might stand along the road to stare:
Then Boaz said, "Bring here the vail thou hast
Upon thy head and hold it in thy hand:
Six times the barley measure filled and passed
From heap to vail as much as she could stand.
Then Boaz went up to the city gate
To find the nearer kinsman, whom he sought,
To see if he would purchase the estate
Of Ruth, and she herself, but he could not;
So Boaz purchased all the widows' land;
The houses, barns, and fields, though overgrown;
And bought what pleased him most, Ruth's comely hand
To cherish and to make his very own:
Then Boaz went to find the handmaid, Ruth
And lift her from a servant to a wife;
To love her in all tenderness and truth
In every day God blessed them both with life.

[By Isaiah Zerbst. Published 9/7/14. Parts of poem have been removed due to soup's limitations.]

Copyright © Isaiah Zerbst | Year Posted 2014

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I am from Great Britain – it’s not a rumour I always try to write with a sense of humour In 1996 we moved to live in the Isle of Man I can say with hand on heart that I’m Jan NOT Stan Work with youngsters who have ‘special needs’ Very rewarding occupation - but challenging indeed! I am short in stature – guess I have low ‘elf esteem’ Tall greying men I adore – I love to see them in my dream I love to eat plain chocolate – don’t need to watch my weight I’m really quite petite – my hubby thinks I’m great Met my husband Bob at Radio Lollipop Both were volunteers – he loved my low cut top! Love to listen to music and go to hear a live band Best gig ever was ‘Queen’ - the best band in the land I have a wonderful son he is my pride and joy He’s at university now – no longer my little boy Started to write poetry when my husband got cancer To get my thoughts on paper to me it was the answer My friend Jenny Brewer introduced me to poetry soup Took me a month to join but I’m so glad I joined this group Wrote thirty poems with Darren as Jadazzle United When Daz returns to good health I will be so delighted I am happy when with friends but like my solitude too Try to do my best in everything I do The past 14 months have been so challenging for me With writing I can escape and set my emotions free Now my dad has passed and mum is in a care home I am now ‘free’ and my self-confidence has grown 12th April 2015 Contest: Bio of a Poet Tammy Reams ~awarded 1st place~

Copyright © JAN ALLISON | Year Posted 2015

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I am a lady
In a white dress
My desire only to be softly caressed
So I take my paint brush, and delinquently paint
My face that pleads let love become quaint
I confess  to my brushes
Let a man stroke me 
With eloquence and grace
As he gazes into the love on my face
La fenêtre you see that I paint so clear
You have to climb in through it
To hold me so dear
Can you not see into my soft sad lonely eyes?
I desire myself
Wrapped inside of you
On canvas
I shall paint forever
That never existed

Copyright © arthur vaso | Year Posted 2015

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Carrie R

Brunette, of hair, my mother's face
I'm known to be a country girl
I like to wear blue denim jeans, 
but love to wear a dress of lace
I've made mistakes, to my disgrace
I'm small in eyes are blue
I'm not a prize, have no excuse
I'm the neighbor who will bring you soup
Good music fills my eyes with tears
Love  hula hoops. Loops in my ears
Can toss a ball, and whoop it up
I can ride a horse, and wear the boots
Don't wear a crown, I'm not a queen
But I am keen on my clean house

I'll lend an ear, I am a friend
My favorite food might be ice cream
A double scoop, I beg you please?
I'll bathe the dog, I give good hugs
I'll rub your back when you are ill
I'll judge you not...won't hold a grudge
A movie fan, read quite a lot
I thrive on love, I'll love you too
Can fix most things with Elmer's glue
Can stretch a dime, make old things new
I love antiques and have a few

My family ties are iron strong
And stronger as the days grow long
I hope to light my little world
With poetry, some bad, some good
I've paid my dues.....with ups and downs
A small town  girl, who gets around
I try to keep an open mind
I hope to God,  that I've been kind
And hope to find a friend in you

So that's scoop, ..... a double dip
I'll  say adieu' ....,  and finish it !

Submitted For "A Poet's Bio" 
Contest sponsored by Tammy Reams 

Copyright © Carrie Richards | Year Posted 2015

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Untying of a Love Knot

When I used to dream
I used to dream about him
Fantasizing about how it happened and how it could have been
Demons, chasing Nightmares, Happiness on Poles
Tied into a loveknot and dangled in front of me
No matter how I ran, how far, how fast
It seemed to sweetly Escape
Just when he was in my grasp

I tried it all
New haircuts
New styles
New boys
Sexy sexy skirts
With  new pairs of heels
Filling holes with things that
Really don’t mean anything 
Except to say

I’m doing just fine without you

Days go by, 
Months slip away
Years appear on doorsteps like unwanted infantile  
I beat my self up for loving

the way
He moved
Spoke, touched
Laughed, ached, cried
He could
Heal the burns on my fiery soul
He could handle
Dangerous curves
On roadways unknown

My first love

Today I no longer linger
On whispers in photographs
Or chain ball letters
I don’t chase after  white sports cars
Or sink when I hear his name
I see him sometimes and I feel his stare

Sting me on the places it hits
I’m with my own
And his with his other
But just to let him know
It’s okay
I smile
and let go

This cord
of discord

Love is forever
No matter the occasion
I forgive, i forget
and let him live
Without me

I appreciate
His gift, wrapped with 
For the benefit, of each other

He showed me with open eyes
That I did not need a man

                                       For me
                                        To love
He gave 
A bittersweet

Emotion. The Gift
Of Poetry.

Thank you…

Copyright © Bella Cardenas | Year Posted 2007

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Copyright © Frank Herrera | Year Posted 2016

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The Letter

"Dear Time"
Thank you for being patient, 
Thank you for understanding I'm human, after all.
Forgive me for all the mischievous prank calls. 
Much of what I said and done, was out of fun.
Now, I sit on this rocking chair getting old.
Reminiscing over the beauty and honor it has been 
   Passing this land we call "EARTH."
Reminiscing over the beauty and honor, ----- REMINISCING!
Sorry, if I repeat the same beat a thousand times....
You see, I sit here every day thinking this world is mine....
Trying to remember, who I AM.
Every moment there has ever been or ever will be, 
Is taking a toll on every single feeling and memory.
Time, Yes------------------ TIME!
The wrinkles on my face will never describe 
how many birthdays I celebrate.
The wrinkles on my face 
Tell stories reminding my readers,
 Where I've been and come from
How consistent, and fortunate I've been, 
Babbling about my past, present, and future; 
The only advantage of the word "TIME."
-- It helps fade hurting moments away--
You see, time is the essence of memories.
Dear Time,
"Growing from young to old, was not as easy as it sounds."
Please be patient with_____ Wait! I said that already....
Thank you for understanding what I’m going through.
Please listen, be patient with what's burning deep down inside.
It's almost dinner time -- once again, I mention the word "TIME!"
I'm not hungry, food just isn't the same when fed through a straw.
Besides, have you seen the garments ''they'' make me wear?
Never thought I'd live to see myself in old-fashioned nightgowns
Time keeps adding silver to what used to be pretty brownish red hair
Time what have you done to me?
Please excuse if I can't work a remote or function the TV properly.
What has happened to simple technology, 
   When everything came with "ON and OFF" buttons.
Time understand what I go through, my legs never felt this tired 
I can't seem to keep myself on the same path, 
I lose track of time when navigating my toes

Dear Time, 
Take my hand, lead the way and understand I can't see more
Time,  allow the joy to take its time when my end is near.
Thank you, Time, for all the loving moments we shared
Thank you, Time and please be kind and end my life with love.
End my life with love-----
End my life with love-----
Wait..... I said that already....

Dear Time, 
Thanks for having patience.

Sincerely Yours 
The Little Old Lady Across the Street

by: PD

Copyright © Poet Destroyer A | Year Posted 2013

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read this please

They hate you because your you
They make up lies and call it true
They're fake behind your back
Hoping someday that you'll crack.

They hate you because your real.
no matter what they say you always heal
They're surprised to see you rise,
That you're not affected by all these lies

They hate you because you smile at them
It shows them that your a real gem
You are always true and do your best :)
Sometimes these haters just cant test

They hate you for no reason
Despite it all, you smile
whatever the reason
At the end of the day
All i'm gonna say
All i plan to be 

-Sanderline Fleury :)

Copyright © Sanderline Fleury | Year Posted 2013

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Why, Momma, why?
Was I not deserving 
of you?
Was I not good?  
Was I too frail?
Did you send me away
Because your own life 

Why, Momma, why
Do I still secretly wail?
Asking myself what did I do so 
wrong? How did I fail?

What you called rebelliousness
Was the only way I knew how 
to stay strong sometimes, I'd 
stay up all night looking after you
Got banged and bruised so that 
he wouldn't hurt you

No one else did that
Isn't it true?
Did you ever think about my wounds
That was the only way I knew to
protect you

Instead of helping me 
You banished me through lies,
Stripped me from my home,
My siblings, my life

Withheld your love
Because I tried to take my own life
But did you ever stop and think that
Perhaps something in me wasn't right?

Why, momma, why?
Does your absence whisper in me
A forever sorrowful lullaby and
Although, I miss you I love you more 
each day that goes by

I forgive you wholeheartedly
Despite that yesterday, I cried
I wouldn't hesitate to wipe
The tears from your eyes if they 
ever again were to meet with mine

Copyright © Madelin Barton | Year Posted 2014

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I Am Not Afraid

      On the day the Lord calls me home I will not be 
afraid as I know He loves us one and all and to this
earth we are only on loan
      We have spent all our lives here with family and 
friends and so we leave this earth to go home to be 
with our Lord and our family and friends who have
gone home to Heaven before us
       And so our lives go full circle as the Lord sent us 
down from Heaven to accomplish the things He wants 
us to do here on earth and as we complete this we will 
be called back home to heaven to live forevermore
       I am not afraid as I patiently wait for my call to 
enter the Kingdom Of Heaven where I will wait for my 
family and friends to come home and be with our Lord

Poems Of Inspiration (OLD) Contest 
Sponsor: P.D.
7th Place Winner

Copyright © Carol Sunshine Brown | Year Posted 2010

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The Meaning Of Life

Through life...I've learned the meaning of love. Through love...I've felt the feeling of heartbreak. Through heartbreak...I've felt the feeling of pain. Through pain...I've learned the meaning of acceptance. Through acceptance...I've learned the meaning of forgiveness. Through forgiveness...I've learned the meaning of faith. Through faith...I've learned the meaning of life. We are all important in life... We all have a purpose in life... Now all we have to do is... Make every purpose count... ~Life~ Is a learning experience ~Life~ Is a state of existence that belongs to the soul ~Life~ Is the true meaning of meaning ~Life~ Is the state of something significant,and of great importance ~Life~ Is what is intended to be or is ~Life~ Has a beginning,a purpose, and an end...
Danny Boy:4-1-13 :o)

Copyright © Dan Kearley | Year Posted 2013

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Sandra M Haight - Bio

My Waltz With Life

The grand year of my birth was nineteen thirty nine
Dear first born of my mother and father so fine
Three years later my brother named Bob came along
We were four in our home; life was sweet as a song.

Later on in grade school my two talents emerged
There my teachers took time to encourage my urge
I enjoyed my young years while I painted and penned
Lots of canvas and paper used up without end.

At nineteen, I then married the love of my life
I enjoyed my new path of becoming a wife
To my US Marine, very handsome and true
Were so blessed the next year with a baby son too.

By the age twenty-five, I was mother of three
A fine son, two sweet girls, a complete family
We worked hard, and we played and our life was so good
I wrote poems and I painted whenever I could.

Later painting with oils was the pastime for me
I then studied six years at an art gallery
Varied art shows, displays, and a job filled my time
Soon I sold many pieces, and life was sublime.

Yet the years went by fast and at age thirty-nine
I enrolled in a college to study part-time
Six years passed, and I earned my prized English degree—
A BA—and a Minor in Business for me.

Then my pictures with words soon replaced those with art
For I soon published poems of life and of heart
Yet along in these times of this great writing spree
I worked hard every day as our business VP.

For a full twenty years, we worked so eagerly
After hubby retired as the Chief of FD
Selling our fire equipment, all types, big and small
To FD’s, factories, district schools and the malls.

Our dear children all married with families too
Are involved happily in whatever they do
Happy grandma of five—twenty-five to fifteen—
And one granddaughter married two thousand thirteen.

We retired, sold our business ten short years ago
Still so busy with life, with its ebb and its flow
We are proud and so blessed, we thank God up above
For our days and our life of good times filled with love.

© Sandra M. Haight 2015 
   All Rights Reserved

Anapestic Tetrameter

~2nd Place~
Contest: Bio of a Poet
Sponsor: Tammy Reams
Judged: 04/18/2015

Copyright © Sandra Haight | Year Posted 2015

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Broken English

I love my broken English

Am in love with my broken English

Am honored to have two other languages

The ability to think from language to language is one that many don't experience 
The ability to bring vibes from one language to another is one, that many envy

Sometimes it's like a train, English flows easily before it gets to a halt
Sometimes it's a bus with many stops, some harsh, some dash, some flash
And some mistakenly whether car or train, crash 
Some like aeroplane, are up there in the air
Building their own castles
Creating unfamiliar words

Whether writing from kikuyu to English 
Or kikuyu to Swahili and then to English 
Or just writing from the little dash of English that I learnt from my English classes,
With poetry,I can still escape 
Whether in the veiled grammatical errors
        Or just like a volatile chameleon

Copyright © njeri hunjeri | Year Posted 2015

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Who Am I - Take a Peek

Daughter of Mary and Louis (Named after my late grandmother ) My name is Charmaine a name originated from latin Charmaine means -a song Eldest of two siblings Wife and Mother Born and raised in the sun-kissed land of Malta (an island in the Mediterranean sea which is politically westernized yet geographically in the southern part of the European continent) Baptised as a roman catholic (with believes rooted in love and forgiveness) Friends describe my personality as amicable and funny (I love to laugh at myself to make others happy ) Till I get to know a person I might keep distant , even act timid and shy . Friends describe me as humble , yet I can be extremely stubborn. It is said that I'm affable, trustworthy, and good willed Honest, hardworking, warm and kind . I describe myself as a child trapped in a woman's mind A little girl who is extremely sensitive many a time. I trust only with my eyes wide open If ever deceived I erupt in a volcanic catastrophe which fades in a short time. I am a day dreamer, a night dreamer My shadow is lost in the moon's eclipse I float on cloud nine occasionally without a will to return (My X-mathematics teacher would obviously confirm this) I am a hopeless romantic ( Cold Unromantics may find me challenging or boring ). I am scared of rejection, and abhore prejudice . I hate hypocracy, medriocracy, and burocracy. I shed my blood for democracy. I believe in freedom of speech until that speech won't provoke the freedom of rights. I am against fundamentalizm, extremism and anything that suffocates 'the voice' . I condemn divisions between rich and poor. I love life, and all that is beautiful. I love birds, animals and flowers I love mountains, rivers,ocean , and all mother nature I love exploring the world , and all that is adventurous . . I am a loyal follower of Maldena Gandhi , Mother Theresa, and Martin Luther king. I love cooking, art , music, and words. I love reading a good book, watching a great movie (Preferably with tishoos in one hand, and chocolate in the other ). I love being away from concrete worlds, far from buzzling sounds of nightlife. I love all seasons, Spring with fresia's perfume, Summer with late walks Autumn with cinnamon spices, Winter with Christmas-lights and snow. (Ah yes,How I love Christmas ). I love all simple things , like a cup of English tea I love making my house a home. Be surrounded with those that I care for such as God , friends, family, or be in my own silence reading sweet poetry. Charmaine Chircop - nee: Brincat Born : 1st of May 1977 Star-Sign : Taurus Favourite Colour: Blue Favourite flower : Daisy Margarita Favourite author: God This is a revised repost, inspired to repost it by a running contest of Catie Lyndsey, and the wonderful bios I've read here, thanks. Not for the contest

Copyright © Charmaine Chircop | Year Posted 2016

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Mama Swore It'd Be Alright

 I grew up shooting pool and dancing on the bar
 Mama said with enough buise anyone could be a star
 Daddy was in the back room chasin' skirts
 Mama was in the parking lot dancin' with Mary Jane just to mask the hurt

 I've spent my life walkin' around in a cloudy haze
 I'm taunted by the memory of my early days

 Daddy spent alot of time drivng an eighteen wheeler
 Each night Mama brought home a new "sexual healer"
 I didn't usually get a chance to catch his name
 But it almost always ended the same

 I heard her scream as glass would break
 My heart would stop with each breath I was scared to take
 Sirens and lights flooded our streets as I approached another long night
 As I dried her tears and cleaned her blood Mama swore it'd be alright
 She forgot to mention that it'd happen again
 Both my brothers had thier own bed in the federal pen
 Cancer took Granny's last breath right about then
 My sisters and I weren't strangers to rape
 As we grew older we each seeked our o0wn escape

 I guess I chose the hardest road
 Somehow I thought drugs and men could ease my burdened load
 While hiding from myself I lived a life of crime
 I earned a reputation and did my time

 I heard her scream as glass would break
 My heart would stop with each breath I was scared to take
 Sirens and lights flooded our streets as I approached another long night
 As I dried her tears and cleaned her blood Mama swore it'd be alright
 She forgot to mention that it'd happen again

Copyright © Sara Beaderstadt | Year Posted 2011

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The Richard Enigma

I'm rather hard to figure out
Not many really get what I'm about
I'd rather sit quietly than shout
I keep it real I'm not prone to pout
You might think me passive
Still I will act 
when others are subdued by doubt

Somewhat serious
Yet prone to smile
Not ecstatic I have my own style
If you need comfort I'll stay with you a while
Don't expect much talking 
I'm a listener on the emoticom dial

As a poet
I know the power of the word
In the end I like to hear and be heard
Like you I too have been burned
Within adversity there were things I learned

I am a dancer
Stepping out on pages
Quiet paper oragami cages
Traveling on thoughts
Floating through all my stages

Fast forward rewinding 
Pausing at my distance
Like the Borg victims there is no resistance
I breathe my thoughts with a certain persistence

If you look at me 
I might reflect you
Searching for answers
Seeing beyond dark corridors 
To places bright blue
Perhaps you as well 
Like me
are an enigma too!

Written April 8th.

Copyright © Richard Lamoureux | Year Posted 2015

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Limerick for Sensitive community - a pd contest

I once knew a poet named Andrea.

Assaulted by someone’s hysteria,

she wouldn’t engage,

but feeling some rage,

she fought all night long with insomnia.

(It's kinda true!!!)

Copyright © Andrea Dietrich | Year Posted 2016

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I Was Me

First I was me,
Selfish as can be,
Wanting everything from A to Z
And wanting it all for me.

Then I became we,
A part of an us.
I learned to share, give and take
I learned how to trust.

Next I was you,
Believe me its true.
I would rather give than receive,
It was you I wanted to please.

Now I am them,
A family man.
Giving my children,
All that I can.

If you look real close,
It is easy to see,
I am older and wiser,
And no longer a me.

Copyright © Joe Flach | Year Posted 2010

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Let my Wish be Granted

In you alone my mind is rest
For from only you I seek comfort
In my back and front
You're the ultimate strength
And within my voicing
And all my day's doing
I glorify you
Why am I fill with gloomy gladness?
Since whoever believes in you
And dwells within your words
Shall swims in extremity of blissfulness
The low high door of progress
Which I all the time knock
Since you own the key to man's good luck
Let mine be opened wide as you spread soil
Since the truism is you own all
And you're but one
That dwells high above the horizon
And having vast eyes that see entire
Since you know of unspoken words
Beyond imagination of it thinker
Let all my wish be granted
Since you're a man and a woman
Although we predict you're a man
For all man is head or front
Since you're the oldest
That no one ever sees
Only know who you really are
Bless me with unending happiness
Since you're the world's ruler
That rule lives beneath the water
And lives upon the ground
And lives within the air
And lives high above the heaven
Rain upon me your grace
And drench me with goodness
Rain upon me your grace
And drench me with goodness

Copyright © Afolabi Muideen | Year Posted 2015

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Unwritten Conversations

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

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

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

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

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

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


Copyright © Bella Cardenas | Year Posted 2007