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Best Shape Poems

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

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New Shape Poems

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

morn's cuppa by Woo, San
heaven's throw by Woo, San
Pa Honks the Horn With a Tree for Christmas Morn by Roper, Eve
understanding women 181 by Lindsay, Bill
time travel it is, then by Lindsay, Bill
Silver and Gold Bells by Roper, Eve
Mummy Fixed Pancakes by Roper, Eve
shape of life by sharma, anurag
MY PINES by GRACE, JANET
- Sparkling In The Dark - by Smile, Sunshine

View all new Shape Poems

The Best Shape Poems

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A Tulip Grows Under An Evergreen - Inspired By The Poets At PoetrySoup


A
fine
Parrot Tulip
in vibrant intensities 
with unique undertones
of green acquirable only in a 
few forests. A ruby red swirls within 
its petals beckons awareness of those very 
strokes that live in the lustre of your shapely lips 
like fantasy realized. Mirthful yellows in all those lacquers 
barely ever seen as one would scorch their eyes to gaze lastingly 
directly at the Sun - though I have been fortunate to witness identical 
iridescence in strands of your hair you unintentionally flip and like dainty 
fingers wave me on to move closer to your flawless frame - memorized easily.
A 
special 
fuchsia sparingly 
paints the flower they
say exists only in certain 
singular gemstones yet l know
this tincture for I have seen it in your 
cheeks when we play and laugh. Oh your 
laugh how it fills me - replacing noise surfing
the waves of sound in the surrounding atmosphere.
How enchanting when your laughter there - dwells to
tickle molecules invisible to the eyes but felt by the human
heart. Parrot tulips with their soft myriad shades become stunning 
against a deep black backdrop which shimmers bright like your ebony eyes. 
Sparkle like your smile and I grin happily just thinking of you, just thinking of us.
A 
pearl
white that also 
adorns the flower a 
special light effect I have
found in your complexion - dazzles
my mind each and every time I see you.
Parrot tulips a miracle of nature, a special
breed I admit are as remarkable as any offering 
that grows in our gardens but rarer still - you the flower 
I share my life with. No one, no thing, no life compares to you,
your approach - for every time I even think of you, the joy it brings
completes the meaning of my existence full. If not for you no other delight 
would have that extra zest I feel from the sharing of your love and light always.
A
Parrot
tulip oh 
what joy it
brings. How the flower
draws these words from
me. Ironic how true allure felt
fills our glass so I thought I'd share
with you how it uplifts my days - knowing
confident in our love as one - you'd never resent
me speaking of an elegance other than yours. So you may 
know - understand what the fibres of ones constitution compels 
them to write. Now - about a mystique other than the one you sport with
humility. Finally I have written a poem on aesthetics that does not mention you.
A
closing
monologue.
Just above and 
beneath the dirt grows 
riches unimaginable. Made to 
be absorbed by senses recognizable 
only by a few. They are free for the taking.
An appreciation, a love of a natural essence.
A flower, a person, romance you breathe incomparable
to anything real or imagined.  It alone are the wings we humans 
seek...as real and as precious as all else consumable. How lucky I 
am the magic handed out daily on these pages. The people I could never
find anywhere else then here. I am in love with their words in love with them.


the   re    frain       
is a  par    r               a 
ot  tu lip                m
hid   d                a
en u                j
   n             e
   d           s
   e         t
   r      i 
   c    
   e
    v
     e
     r
    g
   r
 e
 e
n
earthearthearthearthearthearthearthearthearthearthearthearthearthearth
r  r r  r
 o   o   oo
o      o o   o
    t      tt     t 
  s      s   s      s
r r        r   r
o  o    o        o
o  o        o   o
t      t          t     t
s   s        s       s




April 27 2015
The Gardener





Copyright © Maurice Yvonne | Year Posted 2015

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H-E-A-R-T of L-O-V-E

               Oh how I love you.
             Cherishing each moment,
            for you have opened             
           my heart with your
           everlasting and precious 
            love. Yet so tender;                  .uoy evol I woh hO
            You place God                   ,tnemom hcae gnihsirehC
             first in your life. And                 denepo evah uoy rof
              I love you more for that.              ruoy htiw traeh ym
                Hold on to the other           suoicerp dna gnitsalreve
                  half of my heart,                   ;rednet os teY .evol
                    for one day we                           doG ecalp uoY
                      Shall put them                 dnA .efil ruoy ni tsrif
                        Together                .taht rof erom uoy evol I   
                          As one                     rehto eht ot no dloH   
                            With                          ,traeh ym fo flah
                               God.                        ew yad eno rof
                                                            meht tup llahS
                                                                  rehtegoT
                                                                   eno sA
                                                                    htiW
                                                                 .doG 

Pace, G
INK-U-SCRIPT

05-20-2012


Copyright © Pace INK-U-SCRIPT | Year Posted 2012

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I Knitted You A Scarf

Listen to poem:
                           
   
                            
                             t         e         t        e   
                               a        l          a         l    
                              s        s          s         s    
                             s          s        s          s   
                             l         a           l           a        
                            e         t          e           t  
                            IKNITTEDAWINTERSCARF
                            ALARGEINTRICATECASH
                            MEREFANCYPANTSGENT
                            LEMANJIMKINDOFNECKC
                            LOTHESPEOPLEWEARARO
                            UNDTHEIRPREVIOUSLYNA
                            KEDSKINBETWEENTHEIRH
                            EADSANDTHEIRSHOULDER
                            SWHICHREALLYCOUNTSIF
                            YOULIVEINABELOWZERO
                             WEATHERCITYWITHAFREE
                               ZINGCOLDATMOSPHERE
                              THATWILLMAKEYOURTE
                              ETHCLATTERANDCLINKMA
                              KINGSOUNDSTHATWOUL
                              DRATTLEEVENTHOSEWIT
                              HTHESTEADIESTOFNERVES
                              THETYPEWITHTHOSESTRO
                               NGJAWSTHATPOTRUDEBE
                               YONDTHEIRFACESANDDRI
                                VEFATBOYHARLEYMOTOR
                               CYCLESANDCOULDCRUSH
                                YOUWITHJUSTALOOKFROM
                                 WHERETHEIREYESSITONTH
                                EIRVISAGEWHICHISASTRANG
                                 EWORDTOUSEHERESINCEITH
                                 INK"VISAGE"ISONEOFTHOSE
                                 SOPHISTICATEDWORDSOFFR
                                ENCHORIGINWHICHISNOTARA
                                WCOUNTRYTYPESLANGKINDO
                                 FWORDWHICHWOULDBEMUCH
                                  MOREAPPROPRIATEFORBIKEM
                                  ANANAMEICOINEDMYSELFFOR
                                  MARKWHOTURNSOUTTOBEAN
                                 UNEXPECTEDLYKINDGUYWHO
                                  TURNSOUTSUITSTHEWORDVI
                                  SAGEINFACTONEWITHAGREATS
                                   MILETHATOCCASIONALLYPOPS
                                    UPONMARKSFACEIACTUALLYE
                                    VENGAVEHIMTHESCARFASAGIFT
                                     (PAUSE)(2)(3)(4)ASWELLASMYW
                                     ALLETMYCARKEYSMYCREDITCA
                                      RDSMYPINNUMBERSMYWATCH
                                      t              e           t              e     
                                       a            l              a            l    
                                      s            s              s            s        
                                     s            s                s              s
                                        l            a             l              a  
                                          e           t             e           t



THE CASHMERE WOOL I USED TO KNIT A SCARF I knitted a winter scarf, a large intricate Cashmere fancy pants, Gentleman Jim kind of neck clothes people wear around their previously naked skin between their heads and their shoulders which really counts if you live in a below zero weather city with a freezing cold atmosphere that will make your teeth clatter and clink making sounds that would rattle even those with the steadiest of nerves. The type with those strong jaws that protrude beyond their faces and drive FatBoy Harley motorcycles and could crush you with just a look from where their eyes sit on their visage which is a strange word to use here since I think "visage" is one of those sophisticated words of French origin which is not a raw country type slang kind of word which would be much more appropriate for bike man a name I coined myself for Mark who turns out to be an unexpectedly kind guy the type it turns out suits the word visage in fact one with a great smile that occasionally pops up on Marks face I actually even gave him the scarf as a gift (pause) (2)(3)(4), as well as my wallet my car keys, my credit cards, my pin numbers, my watch...


Copyright © Maurice Yvonne | Year Posted 2016

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Hidden Treasures

Listen to poem:
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * s * * * * * * * * * * * t * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * s t a r s * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * r * * * * * * * * s * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * A fine Parrot Tulip in vibrant intensities with unique undertones of green acquirable only in a few forests. A ruby red swirls within its petals beckons awareness of those very strokes that live in the luster of your shapely lips like fantasy realized. Mirthful yellows in all those lacquers barely ever seen as one would scorch their eyes to gaze lastingly directly at the Sun - though I have been fortunate to witness identical iridescence in strands of your hair you unintentionally flip and like dainty fingers wave me on to move closer to your flawless frame - memorized easily. A special fuchsia sparingly paints the flower they say exists only in certain singular gemstones yet l know this tincture for I have seen it in your cheeks when we play and laugh. Oh your laugh how it fills me - replacing noise surfing the waves of sound in the surrounding atmosphere. How enchanting when your laughter there - dwells to tickle molecules invisible to the eyes but felt by the human heart. Parrot tulips with their soft myriad shades become stunning against a deep black backdrop which shimmers bright like your ebony eyes. Sparkle like your smile and I grin happily just thinking of you, just thinking of us. A pearl white that also adorns the flower a special light effect I have found in your complexion - dazzles my mind each and every time I see you. Parrot tulips a miracle of nature, a special breed I admit are as remarkable as any offering that grows in our gardens but rarer still - you the flower I share my life with. No one, no thing, no life compares to you, your approach - for every time I even think of you, the joy it brings completes the meaning of my existence full. If not for you no other delight would have that extra zest I feel from the sharing of your love and light always. A Parrot tulip oh what joy it brings. How the flower draws these words from me. Ironic how true allure felt fills our glass so I thought I'd share with you how it uplifts my days - knowing confident in our love as one - you'd never resent me speaking of an elegance other than yours. So you may know - understand what the fibers of ones constitution compels them to write. Now - about a mystique other than the one you sport with humility. Finally I can not write a poem on aesthetics that does not mention you. A closing monologue. Just above and beneath the dirt grows riches unimaginable. Made to be absorbed by senses recognizable only by a few. They are free for the taking. An appreciation, a love of a natural essence. A flower, a person, romance you breathe incomparable to anything real or imagined. It alone are the wings we humans seek...as real and as precious as all else consumable. How lucky I am the magic handed out daily on these pages. The people I could never find anywhere else then here. I am in love with their words in love with them. barkbarkbarkbarkbark barkbarkbarkbarkbark barkbarkbarkbarkbark barkbarkbarkbarkbark barkbarkbarkbarkbark barkbarkbarkbarkbark barkbarkbarkbarkbark barkbarkbarkbarkbark earthearthearthearthearthearthearthearthearthearthearthearthearthearth the refrain is a parrot tulip hidden under f this majestic a evergreen e with a l dew f d a r e o l p s t e m earthearthearthearthearthearthearthearthearthearthearthearthearthearth r r r r o o o o o o o o t t t t s s s s


Copyright © Maurice Yvonne | Year Posted 2016

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H Stands For Human Resources


                                 The Scarlet Letter H



Two Windows                    The Bridge                           Thomas Gordon                                                       

You could tell,                                                                  He was an older man
You knew,                                                                        With a nice smile.
One beside the other.                                                        He was always
They were, dressed                                                           Impeccably dressed,
In sheer outfits...                                                              Impeccably groomed.
One beige, One tan                                                           So when it happened,
Both stripped                                                                   When everyone
identically.                                                                       Heard it happened,
They had,  they have,                                                       They were shocked.
Identical panes.                                                                His peers liked him,
Every moment                                                                  His peers respected 
Of every day                                                                     Him. His demeanour
They looked at,                                                                 Never changed.
The same identical                                                            The company was 
Outdoor scene.                                                                 Downsizing.
Every moment                                                                  Thomas Gordon was 
Of every day                                                                     Deemed redundant.
They looked at,                                                                 He gathered
The same identical                                                            His belongings
Indoor scene.                                                                   Left  immediately, 
I suppose                                                                         Without a word to
one could say                                                                   Anyone. thirty five 
At least one was,                                                              Years of his life
                 It takes a clear thought - a 360% forensic inspection
                 A battle well fought, to get to an accurate conclusion 
At least one is,                                                                  Ended abruptly. The
Redundant. But,                                                                Next day everyone
If you looked deeper                                                          Read about him on
These two identical                                                            The front page of the
Windows                                                                           Newspaper. He was
Were, are far from,                                                            Trending on the 
Redundant.                                                                       Internet. so when it 
When you opened                                                              Happened when
Both windows                                                                    Everyone heard...
And only when                                                                   He did not go 
BOTH were opened                                                             Directly home.
An amazing                                                                        On that fateful day
phenomenon occurred                                                        Thomas Gordon ran 
A natural, soothing,                                                            Into a burning home.
Refreshing, necessary,                                                        He saved two lives
Breeze, filled the room.                                                       Without a thought 
Oxygen to breathe                                                              For his own welfare.
They were, They are                                                           Apparently
Two windows.                                                                     Mr. Gordon
Identical?- Yes!                                                                   Was anything
But redundant?...,                                                               BUT redundant.

 

September 4 2015
Armand


Copyright © Maurice Yvonne | Year Posted 2015

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Spring Bud

                                
                                 
                                  
                                 
                                
                                 My 
                               breath
                          shivers under  
                       a rug of loneliness,
                    a sleepy heart huddles
                   against such memories 
                 of togetherness and not of 
               goodbyes, hating to disperse 
               the fiery rhymes of your lips, 
                as well as the warmth of its 
                 sweat...tastes like red wine, 
                   then it beats...and beats
                     gently, as it envisions
                          you, in an early
                                misty
                                   s
                                  p
                                r
                               i
                              n
                            g







Copyright © Ernesto P. Santiago | Year Posted 2007

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The Magic Hourglass

April's come and gone. Now May is here; the grains in the hourglass have already started sifting down. Dew is on the roses. Days of linking daisies will soon begin. Transparent skies of night will show constellations when the fire-breathing dragon comes to freckle school-sprung children, who baring skin, will run with glee through sprinklers. Soon enough the kids will be tumbling in leaves fallen from the trees of their back yards, and then following bright autumn's demise, the filtering of seasons' sand quickens till every grain has drifted like snow, burying another year. May is on her way; again the hourglass, like magic, is turned over. For the Show, Don't Tell Poetry contest of Thomas Martin


Copyright © Andrea Dietrich | Year Posted 2015

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Like A Moth To A Flame

Listen to poem:
================================================== u m b i l i c a l c o r d Is This Nature's Glory As a quarry? Alone and at peace A life, a new lease I pull up a piece of land Take a little time to mend This rainforest trembles An open window in shambles Sitting on my own made porch I fire up a configured torch Then lay under, should I say What is like a porch light ray And I wait for that one moth Amongst butterflies sought An unwanted reject Like me ready to eject Take me now in this lush With the roar of death; a hush And I will go, amongst this gift Gods Eden unquestioned; my lift My life to stop the bleeding of the land So I protect this marvel, hold her hand In sincere motion - there is a fusion I can do I can do Never say can't So I must chant Let my body meld With this forest held tight Me alone a window into the future slightly opened Maybe we are all like moths to a flame - penned ==================================================


Copyright © Maurice Yvonne | Year Posted 2016

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Our Glass

.






Through the same glass another sand sags dragging excuses thick extensions unwelcome going on going by going down constant ripples without reflections that engulf this soul Somebody find me, Anybody
.


Copyright © Ruben O. | Year Posted 2009

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Battling Addiction

               You  told
               me  once  
               about the
               R e l i e f:
               the  f o g,
               that haze
               of apathy
               that  veils
               the  mind,
               b l urri n g
               the  edges
              of your pain. 
             Can  you  feel
          anything  at all? I  
        watch you drink your 
      life  away, far too many 
     moments  lost,  forgotten
    in that  h a z e. I watch as
   you   f e e d   your  disease, 
   suck yourself dry before you
   suck  me  dry,  draining  me 
   like  one of  your bottles, till
   I'm empty inside. But I can't
   wait around for you to  snap,
   to throw me against the wall.
   I won't  shatter  like a bottle. 
   I won't  burst  in a mosaic of 
   glass  and  light.  You cannot 
   b r e a k   someone   who  is
   already b r o k e n. You can't 
   fix someone with  s l u r r ed 
   apologies  or  promises  that 
   smell  like  stale   alcohol.  I
   can't  be  there  to  drown at 
   the  bottom  of  your   bottle. 
   I’m done  with  rock  bottom.


  For Anne's "Battling Addiction" contest
  Placed: 1st


Copyright © Heather Ober | Year Posted 2013

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- Love Letter -


            ____________________________________
            I                                                                    
            I                                                                   
            I             *  *       *  *    To my darling !            
            I           *       * *       *                                      
            I            *       *       *                                          
            I              *           *                                           
            I                *       *                                             
            I                  *   *                                               
            I                   * *                                                      
            I                    *                                                    
            I                                                                          
            I                I just want to say: I LOVE YOU!             
            I______________________________________   



30.04.2013
A-L  Andresen :)
Copyright © All Rights Reserved       


Copyright © Sunshine Smile | Year Posted 2013

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My Timeless Bike - To Joann

Inspired by Joann Grisetti drawing





                                                                                  edall
                                                                               P         i
                                           Rolling                                      n
                                               +                                           g
                                                t  bike. I was seven and 1 / 2.  f
                                             s   *                                           a 
                            e:  w       r           Y                                  s.   s    a    s
                     c                 i                  e          _                l         t                w
                  a                 f      n                 l         \          e       s     e                  i
                 f               y            d                   l       \     e        e          r                 t
                y            M              *                      o     h            i           *   *            h
                m          *   Dad took away the training w  \            s            *             s
                  n                          *                                \_          e                        u
                      o                   A                                                   h                  n
                              d     n                                                              T   *    *

... since Dad took away its training wheels
my sun, my wind, my bike, and I
a freewheeling spirit riding up and down
irresponsibly fast
cruising the air, climbing the joy, defeating the siestas
my childhood in a constant odyssey
around and inside 
                          those infinite afternoons.


.


Copyright © Ruben O. | Year Posted 2012

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- We Light Our Candles -

    
      


                        )(          )(           )(        )(
                        @          @          @        @

                         X          X           X        X
                         X          X           X        X
                         X          X           X        X
                         X          X           X        X
                         X          X           X        X
                         X          X           X        X
                         X          X           X        X
                    XHOPEXXXXHOPEXXXHOPEXX
                      XXXXLOVEXXXXXXLOVEXXX
                         XXXJOYXXXXXXXJOYXXX
                            XXXPEACEXXPEACEX
                                          X
                                          X     
                                          X
                                          X  
                                        XXX
                                      XXXXX
                                    XXXXXXX




The First Candle
The first purple candle, on the first Sunday of Advent
It is the candle of HOPE

The Second Candle
The second purple candle, on the second Sunday of Advent
It is the candle of LOVE

The Third Candle
The third purpel candle lit on the third Sunday of Advent
It is the candle of JOY

The Fourth Candle
The fourth purple candle is lit on the fourth Sunday of Advent
It is the candle of PEACE
                                                                                                                  
                                                                                                                        
   * * * * * *                                                                                                                                                            
                                                                                                                          
A Fifth light                                                                                                       
A white candle - It symbolizes Purity and Hope                                                
The Christ candle is lit on Christmas Eve or Christmas Day









28.11.2014
Sun:) - A-L Andresen :) 
Copyright © All Rights Reserved                     
                                                                                                                         
                                                                                                                    


Copyright © Sunshine Smile | Year Posted 2014

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Jesus, Our Savior

.              
                 Jesus-Savior
                 Jesus-Messiah
                 Jesus-Son of God
                                    Your final sacrifice
                                    Your love
                                    Your promises
                                    Your victory
                                    The complete
                                    Verification 
                                    Of all
                                    You have preached 
                                    And taught
                                    The final and irrefutable proof
                                                                        to die on the cross for us
                                                                        to shed your blood for us
                                                                        to be brought back 
                                                                        into relationship with our Father
                                                                        Jesus, our savior
                                     Resurrected, risen from the dead
                                     Our sins have been forgiven 
                                     washed away
                                     to a new life 
                                     in You
                                     Your resurrection 
                                     for all
                                     who believe 
                                     in you
                                     The eternal 
                                     life 
                                     that is granted
                                     to all
                                     who believe 
                                     in You
                                     Jesus
                                     Savior
                                     Messiah
                                     Son of God
                                     The glorious light
                                     In us.






Ruben Ortellao


Copyright © Ruben O. | Year Posted 2012

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- Do Not Hide Your Tears -



                                                          *
                                                          *
                                                        One
                                                       shiny
                                                        tear
                                                       rolling
                                                       down
                                                         on
                                                          a
                                                       cheek
                                                     Life's first
                                                     character
                                                      is crying
                                                     and tears
                                                   A new angel
                                                 is born to earth
                                                Tears are a strong
                                              emotional expression
                                         cry of fear, pain, frustration,
                                       disappointment, relief and joy
                                      Weeping Angels .... angel tears
                                     Statue of Virgin Mary in Limburg
                                            Crying Tears and Blood 
                                            Do not deny your tears
                                               accept your tears
                                                   as a part of
                                                     yourself
                                                        ooo                                                      
                                                          o
                                                          o








17.10.2013
Sun :) - A-L  Andresen :)
Copyright © All Rights Reserved


Copyright © Sunshine Smile | Year Posted 2013

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Cats! Cats! Cats!

...                                                     Oh!                  Oh!
                                                       What?              What?
                                                       Do you think of cats?
                                                     We have too many cats.
                                                   At least, they feast on rats.
                                                 Cats. (*) Cats! Cats! (*) Cats.
                                                 What do you think of that?  I
                                                 have seen them with a mole.
                                                 Dead, pulled out of his hole. 
                                                  A delicacy I once was told.
                                                       My cats are: Meow.
                                                 Some big fat- Meow!
                                       Rat-eating cats.  Meow!
                               I never see them eat a bat.
                        I guess at night, they sleep or chat.
                  Cats do not have wings.  They cannot fly!  
               My, oh my, will they wish someday to fly?
            At early dawn it is time to prowl.  Not for owls.
        Meow!   They hunt for snakes, insects, some fowl.
      Silently, sneakily, stealthy, spying, they P-o-u-n-c-e-!
     It’s survival of the fittest, kitty cat style.  Buy a bell.
    You may see them on the ground or in a tree looking
      down. Meow!   Sometimes they will play in the sand.
      Rolling, flipping around on every inch of ground.
       Or you might find them upside down flexing,
         Anticipating their morning prowl.  Meow.
              By and by, success is found.  
                  In their kitty bowl...  Meow. 
                   Smiles!  Meow, Meow, Smiles! 
                        © (© Dane Smith-Johnsen) January 27, 2010


Copyright © Dane Ann Smith-Johnsen | Year Posted 2010

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She - Is Like a Bubble

.                                                            she
                                                     is like a bubble
                                                a gentle floating kiss
                                             blown from an angels lips
                                          made from melting rainbows
                                        beads of heavens morning mist
                                        a floating ball of color schemes 
                                         and constant changing themes
                                         bursting into a twinkling down 
                                          scattering her joy all around 
                                              oh how I love the magic
                                                      of her sound




                                  For : my dear friend  (Johnette)- my inspiration


Copyright © Elaine George | Year Posted 2006

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- 100 - CTO - 100 -

                                            o  
                                                 o
                                            o       o
                                         o    o    o
                                                  o
                                            o  o    o    o
                                                    o  o
                                                We can say more
                                         than 100 words in a poem.
                                            The word one hundred
                                                   it can be said
                                         in many ways on our earth.
                                                A word, a number:
                                                      Njeqind 
                                                        100
                                                        Cto
                                                        Sto
                                                        Cen
                                                        Cent
                                                        Sata
                                                        Cien
                                                       Ciento
                                                       Hundre
                                                       Tisuca
                                                      Seratus
                                                      Honderd
                                                      Centum
                                                   Isang doang
                                          I'll send you 100 red roses 
                                              because you've read 
                                                      all my
                                                   100 poems
                                                    
                                                      
                                                 
                                                      
                                                        
                                                    


12.10.2012
A-L  Andresen :)
Copyright © All Rights Reserved


Copyright © Sunshine Smile | Year Posted 2012

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- All You Need And Must Have -



                                                     Need
                                                  Must have
                                           You are like a flower
                                          Beautiful and Elegant
                                          You must have water
                                                Need shelter
                                         from the wind and cold
                                           Are you going to be
                                           strong and beautiful
                                            You will need Love
                                              by gentle hands
                                                        *
                                                        *
                                                        *
                                                        *
                                               <@> *
                                                        *   
                                                        *<@>
                                                        *
                                                     



24.07.2012
A-L Andresen :)
Copyright © All Rights Reserved


Copyright © Sunshine Smile | Year Posted 2012

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The Toilet

                                     At times my words feel like turds
                                      In a forever flushing toilet of life
                                      Some days after releasing them
                                      My mind still  doesn't  feel  right
                                      Butt  wiped onto  paper they go
                                      Then typed into this toilet of life
                                      As  they spin  around  the  bowl
                                  I notice something doesn't smell right
                                           It must be time to clean
                                             This forever flushing
                                                  Toilet of life 
                                                   Allowing me
                                                     Words of
                                                     Freshness 
                                                 And new turds 
                                              To flow with delight



Copyright © Dan Kearley | Year Posted 2011

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Poets

I am able to move one’s spirit to the pinnacle of joy or drive it to depths of despair.
Not a chore to evoke passionate emotion--convey love, hate, life, and death.
Within those four small words lies our meek human existence all told.
To omnipresent Alpha and Omega, of what core lies between?
Now I sit with pen in hand to ponder many words of wit.
Gift to paint, not I, yet may cast an image to mind.
Bright lavender fields coax the amorous duo
to mingle with its deep, heady scent.
Amidst wet sewage soaked dirt
a filthy small child lays
weeping for mother
a bloody heap
close by.
See?
My!
The glee
holding words
Make them express.
Giving wide literate detail.
Understand to hold a soft heart.
Else never will you touch one’s soul.
So this is merely the lone reason I compose.
Excitement and warm sympathy and fiery passion,
within many a sorrow and tears and friendly persuasion,
in absolute care I do write and lay my psyche upon each page,
then wonder at length the primary purpose of such artistic endeavors.
Who among the world’s populace might gain an insight from what I scribe?
Does this really matter at all; since rarely, if ever, is it what one says… but how.


Copyright © Michael Santner | Year Posted 2005

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FASCINATION

It was him, and immediately I felt the very moment he too, saw me as I entered the room. I averted my eyes, seemingly not magnetized, yet his form continued to caress the corner of my eyes. My entire body was so attuned to his every movement, I sighed. Suffused with such warmth was I, knowing he was looking at me…alone. I tried to turn away, but felt the searing heat where his eyes touched my skin. I realized I was hypnotized, mesmerized by the power of intense attraction. Minutes passed by, I would catch again his eyes, staring, brooding. Overwhelmed by his presence, I felt such effervescence. Senses wired to all that was him, I was exulted to know that his eyes were as glued to me as mine were to him. Nobody, no one else. Him and only him. He moved, the second I floated to him. I stopped, time to catch my breath. Him whose strides came quickly to my side. Such panther’s grace, eyes holding my stare, he smiled. The wineglass in my hand trembled, serene not I, far from calm. Suffused with much warmth was I, knowing he was looking at me…alone. I turned away, and felt the searing heat where his eyes just touched my skin. Hand on my elbow, he silently led me to where the crowds were, to dance . Such arrogance, I thought I’ve had enough as a child, of dominance. Yet I, surprised, felt the rush of liquid fire through my veins with his large hand, warm and steady on my bare back. Alive were all nerve ending, as we went dancing through the night, I heard the loud sound of the wild beating of my heart. Suddenly…I was jarred, and from a dream, woke up I.
Kim Patrice Nunez DREAMS CONTEST - 10 th Place SPONSOR: ROB CARMACK 23 April 2015


Copyright © KP Nunez | Year Posted 2015

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I Am The Rain

Sky High on the clouds of lust. One touch of your love and I am gone forever. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .Wet . . . like . . . the . . .. . rain. . . . . .Don't. . . . stop . . . . . . . . me . . . . .. .from . . . . .falling . . . . . . . . . __________vVv_`_____________`_____________vVv______________________ just splash in my broken drops when I crash on the unforgiving ground


Copyright © Casarah Nance | Year Posted 2016

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A Midsummer Dream

Elusive sÓft whispers on lavender breeze “cÓme with me, follÓw me, set yÓur heart free” In sun-dappled shade, ‘neath the Óld apple tree, drinking liquor Óf gÓld as it d r i p s through the leaves.
** original colours are green and gold, but it doesn't appear I can do that here. No worries, just hope it doesn't lose too much effect by being black & white :)


Copyright © Sharon Tideswell | Year Posted 2010

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(Multitudinous) Silence

There are many sounds of

                   S
                     I
                       L
                         E
                          N
                            C
                              E

   Arrayed with 
                    multi hues

             The Silence of 
             contemplation
                  when
you ponder words of brilliance
       that have a multi faceted 
               meaning

        The sound of Silence 
             can be heard 
echoing the corners of your mind,
                 when 

            S
               P
                   I
                 R
               A
                  L
                    L
                      I
                        N
                          G

                within, 
             are words
         spoken in anger,
         best taken back, 
    that cannot be retracted. 

        The sound of Silence 
               stretches
       when tension floats 
         with heavy hands
      to choke and claw you 
             from within.
How to break that glaciers ice?
 
         Silence reverberates 
             inside a room,
       when romance dwindles,
        and their spoken word
          interests no longer.
  Broken hearts, wounded souls
          A sadness in this one

  The sounds of a fabulous Silence, 
                that follows
          the end of a song, 
      that reminds you of a time
    when you heart was not bruised. 
              The sound of 
               NOSTALGIA

           The sound of Silence
     that occupies space inside a mind
   with no thought, 
                 no feelings, 
                              no curiosity.
                   But
       the best sound of Silence,
         is that poetic refrain, 
                inside of us
As we stand, bathing within words
           written by friends.
Together, united, a poetry world.
            
               That Silence 
                speaks so
                L
                  O
                    U
                      D
                         L
                           Y


Copyright © Christie Moses | Year Posted 2008