Poem | |
"A Near-Death Experience of A Sweetheart"
Floating through a corridor between two different Worlds
among white fluffy clouds and shimmering stars awhile wind unfurls
racing into darkness: destination to death's door
living in a heavenly kingdom ... forevermore ...
Traveling through deep tunnel as cold fingers touch
walls of blackened essence creating thoughts to clutch
quickly toward a bright white light of peace
my soul and spirit being experienced soft release ...
Rushing to a Paradise, landing on streets of gold
seeing the Face of God so clearly to behold
longing to embrace my dear departed family
loved ones who had gone before to their final destiny ...
Their captivating smiles excited my soul
sharing love once more as was in their earthly roll
but a huge white Angel stood between my track
he spoke mentally "child of God you must go back.
And yet, I was not sad but happy to have seen
my precious treasured relatives cuddled by Supreme Being
why? I questioned must I return to Planet Earth?
Angel responed not your time to stay
your purpose unfulfilled for God to cherish every day ...
Suddenly transported through the tunnel smelling flowers
a jorney taking minutes but feeling like hours
and soon the sights and sounds ignited quiet hospital room
while my loved ones endured possibility of doom ...
My husband was squeezing my hand so tight I felt his love
as my children sobbed so loud praying to above
my eyes opened wide as I inhaled a breath
escaping to my body while I avoided Death ...
This near-death experience was an inspiration
for another realm exists in utter fascination
for now the message lives to enjoy both love and life
have no fear for death is harmless and erases strife ...
Hover close to God and always give Him thankxxx
through trials and tribulations He relieves all angst
Treasure every moment and anticipate the end
a beutiful place is waiting reuniting family and friends ...
Kisses and hugs replaced those solitary tears
knowing what lies ahead extinguishes all fears
please celebrate the gift of life in grateful attitude
Eternity is awesome with unending interlude ...
More great poems below...
Poem | |
You can't make someone love you all you can do
is be someone who can be loved.The rest is up to them.
No matter how much I care, some people just don't care back.
It takes years to build up trust, and only seconds to destroy it.
You can do something in an instant
will give you heartache for life.
It's not what you have in your life but
who you have in your life that counts.
You can get by on charm for about fifteen minutes.
After that, you'd better know something.
It's not what happens to people that's important
it's what they do about it.
Always leave loved ones with loving words.
Either you control your attitude or it controls you.
Heroes are the people who do what has to be done when
it needs to be done, regardless of the consequences.
Money is a lousy way of keeping score.
Just because someone doesn't love you the way you want them to
doesn't mean they don't love you with all they have.
Regardless of how hot and steamy a relationship is at first, the passion
fades and there had better be something else to take its place.
Never tell a child their dreams are unlikely or outlandish.
Few things are more humiliating,
and what a tragedy it would be if they believed you.
You must be able to forgive.
No matter how good a friend is, they are going to hurt you
every once in a while - you must forgive them for that.
No matter how bad your heart is broken
the world doesn't stop for your grief.
Our background and circumstances may have influenced
who we are but we are responsible for who we become.
Just because two people argue, it doesn't mean
they don't love each other and just because
they don't argue, it doesn't mean they do.
Two people can look at the exact same thing
and see something totally different.
No matter how thin you slice it,
there are always two sides.
You can keep going long after you think you can't.
Even when you think you have no more to give,
when a friend cries out to you,
you will find the strength to help.
It is hard to determine where to draw the line
between being nice and not hurting
people's feelings and standing up
for what you believe.
Credentials on the wall do not
make you a decent human being.
Writing, as well as talking, can ease emotional pains.
The paradigm we live in is not all that is offered to us.
(This is my own personal rewrite or version if you will of a common
post on the internet with many contributors and credited to Anonymous)
Poem | |
Bah Bah Black Sheep I Am Slamming You Nathan D
I know you think you’re so tough with your words in the rough
You keep your poems tucked in underwear and you won’t share
Let me tell you Lil Bub my attitude is BIG, so here’s de rub,
I’m going to scratch you like a cat
When you come close for de pat;
And Yo! God got no ears,
For your small condensed tears;
Next time you lash your tongue and whip, you cum on wit no hip
Bah bah black sheep, you ain’t gonna pull de wool off me pip
I like to mentally infuriate you
And yes I like my milk fat free
Yeh I got you’re number you
And no I ain’t sniffin no glue
It is called “SLAM POETRY”
And as for keeping your poetry all to yourself, well go to hell
Where the devil will give you a pitchfork, dig what you can’t sell!
Cause I ain’t digging me no hole for empty air
So fork it out Nathan D, lay out bare,
Cuz I’m not muckin with you just for fun, I think you Rock
Like third rock from the sun
I like you’re quip, you son of a gun!
Poem | |
It was a lovely summer
the garden was filled with butterflies.
Whammy the caterpillar was full of joy.
He climbed the tallest stalk in the flower bed.
Maybe he could see the beautiful butterflies.
They might even play with him.
“Hello” he said
as he greeted a very colorful flutter by.
Poor Whammy was in for a huge disappointment.
She laughed at him,
called to all her butterfly friends.
She ridiculed Whammy
she actually called him an ugly crawly thing.
If it was anyone else but Whammy
this story may have had a disastrous ending.
Whammy just slid down
found his other caterpillar friends.
They all wanted to know about the butterflies.
Whammy told his friends that the flutter bys
were even more beautiful from close.
He said he was unfortunate
he met one who was mean and shallow inside.
That night Whammy prayed.
First he prayed that the flyer he met
would find the kindness
that was surely within her.
Then he prayed for other Caterpillars
who might have the same experience.
He knew that at first he felt bad
He felt bad for not being
as beautiful as the flyer.
Then Whammy remembered,
beauty is to be appreciated
"Besides" Whammy thought
"I'm quite dapper myself"
as he straightened his imaginary tie
He wished that no creature large or small
that no life form would ever feel like less.
“If I was a butterfly I would be kind to everyone,
imagine that me a flutter by” he said out loud.
As our story ends
Whammy falls asleep.
Laughing and content
Just to be happy.
Imagine that - a scary caterpillar
becoming a beautiful butterfly?
Moral Of the story: “Attitude is Everything”.
Sponsor: Carol Eastman
Contest Name: Fable to the Rescue
Poem | |
When I go out to dinner,
I do not want to share.
I don’t care what is on your plate;
I don’t want to compare.
I scan the menu up and down
And then make my selection.
When it arrives, it’s meant for me
And not for your inspection.
“You want to taste my fish?” I’m asked.
Some people never learn;
For then the expectation is
To taste mine in return.
And so the answer’s always No!
Yet comments never cease.
“Your fries look really good!” They are,
So let me eat in peace!
Each morsel on my dish is mine
And I intend to finish.
Perhaps my attitude will make
Your thoughts of me diminish.
I’m sorry if that is the case –
Dessert I’ll split just fine;
But when the meal’s delivered –
You eat yours and I’ll eat mine!
More great poems below...
Poem | |
She asked for a pic
I went through the rules
No this and that
Bust and above
My best features
No hips and no arms
those aren't my charms
I went through the drill
My students knew it well
She came and whispered in my ear,
"Teacher, I love your figure
You're SO sexy."
I burst out laughing
Was this a joke?
No, she was dead serious
She loved how I moved
She loved how I danced
They'd love a woman like you
Your fullness is proportionate and sexy."
It seems a silly thing
But I did pose for the pic
I flicked back my hair
Had a smile on my face...
No, I'm not who I was...
But I'll get there somehow
I have to enjoy the here and now
A simple compliment
I'd heard like it before
from both genders...
Hard to accept
When you feel bad about yourself
But I never tire of hearing it
Beautiful and sexy...
It's all in the attitude
In the way that you move
in your smile and your eyes
Even with thunder thighs
A move and a shake
Will keep them awake
I'm going to gain back my former glory
and watch out world....
That compliment is about to turn REAL!
Poem | |
Such a finely honed sword is this loneliness
Slicing through tenuous sinews of yesterday.
I search for obscure corridors of happiness
Knowing that somehow I forgot the way.
From gloomy clouds I harvest the sorrow
Dripping into the cupped hands of my heart.
For there is no optimistic promise of tomorrow
As I curse my ship and unintelligible chart.
How bitter sweet this gateaux of quiet solitude
I garnish it with sprinkles of immense silence.
For loneliness is but a mere shift of attitude
From peaceful design to destructive violence.
I gather the jigsaw pieces of empty conversation
Falling snippets swirling on the winds of sound.
A soliloquy of madness expressed in futile oration
In chilling isolation the laughter of my soul is bound.
I strain to catch the words swirling on the breeze
Yesterday was surely a symphony of chatter.
This finely honed sword cuts deeply with ease
And though I bleed... it surely doesn't matter.
Poem | |
We live in a world where sickness abounds,
Sometimes stumping the best of providers.
Symptoms and tests almost always expound,
While the emotional costs grow wider.
The travel and care and expenses we bare,
In dollars and tears for a healing.
Pale when compared, with the voluminous prayers,
Our reverence and humility kneeling.
Seeing through to the end, great strength we must take,
And the position that attitude matters.
A stiff upper lip and a smile sometimes fake,
Anything less, and fragile hope easily shatters.
Yet until we’re called home, to streets paved with gold,
Or abodes filled with love and affection,
Widely known in the hearts, of the young and the old,
Laughter remains, life's greatest healing medication!
(This poem is dedicated to my wonderful Sister Cindy, whose strength and positive attitude throughout her struggle, encourage all who cross her path)
User Name: Wedge
Poem | |
~Echoes Of The Heart.~
Yesterday she was carrying a void felt deep in her heart its echo
was begging someone to fill her needs to be free to love & venture
through society accept to socialize allow her heart to search for a
different attitude towards life to fill her emptiness. Its so hard
to keep up with those changes of feelings without finding solutions.
She prayed her consciousness to stop listening to voices
Fear obliged her soul to escape from being locked in an arena
with lions to mutilate her spirit due to feebleness.
She wept why she could not fly like a bird to the sky and land
on the sand stand and wave to thee unknown ask to be rescued .
She wished anyone could send a feather with the wind towards
her hearts echo, as a whisper of connecting.
The more time passed the more her heart felt deserted, she couldn't
walk as her feet were stuck in the cement.
The void was getting stronger she doesn't know why, maybe if she
rings a bell someone will come looking for her, she doesn't want to
know anymore why she feels confused in her own battle of survival.
Nobody knows why the echo inside her heart was far from listening,
refusing to respond to the same philosophy she had a few years ago,
she was strong, accepting, walking, breathing normal, but what is normal,
she seems to be very far away from changing to normal, she wants to
give up fighting and drown with all her feelings only to surface when
she understands and becomes normal.
Maybe the winter cold and snow are all over her body she must be
frozen as her breathing is waiting for a sign to pump some air into
her lungs, she tried but when she looked outside it was so somber,
her emotions begged to stop thinking, only exist for the moment.
When the night will surround her darkness she will be born again to
fill her own aloneness, she writes poetry and reads books, she
shares her thoughts with her own thoughts, and wonder how sad
just to survive because one has to, today her wish is to let go and
trigger her feelings to take an ugly turn by vanishing without even
leaving a note why? She needed desperately to listen to the echos
emerging from her heart telling her what to do, she will wait.
Because her wishes could not find someone to love and breath the
same air at that advanced age, that was the reason why existing was
not worth it anymore, she was ready to let go of her spirit and soul,
suddenly her hearts echo grew louder forbidding her not to run
towards her night table where she had all her medications, but reach
out to God befriend Him and sleep with the thought of waking up for
another tomorrow to remain alive and stay in love.
Tonight her echo was urging her to chatter with her thoughts
and listen to her echo echoing that her lover of 43 years will
come back, do not panic, he left to explore his own path and
listen to his own echo while flying away for an intermission
to feel what his heart wants him to do.
You must desire the same energy that your hearts echoes fly
together towards your doorsteps and place that outstanding
red rose a sign of love for your tomorrows.
Knowing your love is & was an everlasting love
time Is your witness, wait for him, he will be back.
Poem | |
To find the greatest joy,
Share your gifts, your time, your love -
be the smile others long to see!
To find your heart’s content,
Open your eyes and give thanks for life -
walk with a hopeful attitude!
To find desired love,
Love others with God’s eyes.
Search beyond the surface seen –
you may be quite surprised!
To find your Christmas spirit,
return to innocence.
Slow down, have fun, believe again –
remember the Lord’s presence!
for Regina Riddle's Didactic poem contest, 12/7/14
Poem | |
Seeds of sorrow lay scattered along our path
so oft intertwined with Nature's wrath
Yet till the fields of dreams we simply must
for soon , so very soon we turn to dust
Green is the color of majestic newborn fields
as man enjoys fruits of earthen harvested yields
The sweat and pain given is the simple cost
thus we survive so ALL humanity is not lost
Life requires our own ground be rightly prepared
ignorance is the calamity so many are ensnared
We eat the dust long before we bake the bread
when we seek ease oft great sorrow we get instead
We plant our own seeds to dream to reap anew
yet we all pay, life is not free, tis so very true!
Robert Lindley, 10-01- 2014
note: Inspired by this morn's reading of Debbie Guzzi's
super fine poem , a great sonnet -- The Sowing
I give thanks for this inspiration and the joy in reading
both her sonnets this great morn. Certainly brought me
out of a slump and crazy haze these last few days..
Amazing how sometimes another poet can blow one away and change
another's entire attitude.
Poem | |
Oh, nicker. Oh, nacker.
I broke my poor cracker
While putting it in my soup.
I just wanted a nibble,
But the soup had to quibble,
And thus all my plans turned to poop.
So now I'm here sittin'
A poor man quite smitten
With no other crackers to spare,
On soup that's unlawful,
So twisted and awful,
That it kills with no thought and no care.
Why can't it relate,
And learn not to hate,
My crunchy, crisp wafers of bread,
It would have much more fun
Not to mention for one,
My crackers won't all end up dead.
I suppose it’s too much
To ask soup for such
A commitment to love other food.
But till its attitude mends,
And it learns to make friends,
I believe that my crackers are screwed.
Poem | |
I need your ultra desperation
your ultra conflagration of love making exhilaration,
I want your ultra shout and pout
give me your slap attack
the amber of your abuse, the saffron of your emotions,
I crave the playful plenitude of your ultra uppidy attitude,
you let me experience hyperventilation at your disappearance
then inflation of euphoria in my Heart's utopia by your reappearance,
I want to know your ultra sadness
that song you share with the twilight of despair,
your ultra madness, your vortex of female complex,
I desire your hot and haunted psychology
your genius of ultra ingenuity, the pulp of your passion,
sometimes you love me most when you hurt me
a pathology of love cut sympathy that I can handle best,
earning the ultra soft surface of your pillowed chest
where I can rest the weight of iron soul, and slumber at your behest,
I want the whip of your hips and the sip of your lips,
I want the pleasure plethora of your ultra vulva
to access the pagoda of your sexual yoga
to concoct in you the froth of organic soda,
I want your Gospels and Revelations
the Path and the Wrath, your cross of ultra conquest
the morning of your ultimate ascendance
the midnight of your ravishing bite
the bounty of your breast and the burn of your brimstone
give me the lyric of your ultra breath,
your ultra love keeps me alive!
Poem | |
The world is filled with good people
But sometimes they just lose their way
As newborns, we all start out the same
With the same joy for life and enthusiastic outlook
THEN we grow up and think to ourselves
“WHAT THE HELL WAS I THINKING!
If I'd realized what the world would be like
I'd have yelled...
“ARE YOU NUTS... PUT ME BACK IN!”
Too late, guess I'll just have to make the best of it
So that's the crux of the matter, this whole thing called life
We can choose to grumble about
What we DON'T have, rather than appreciate what we DO have
It's the down side of human nature it seems
I choose, and everyone else can
To live life to the fullest with a zest for the simple joys
I hear ya yelling, “GET BACK IN YOUR CAGE!”
No problem, I'm convinced an upbeat and happy attitude
Is what's got me through these seventy-nine years
So when things seem like they can't get any worse
Remember, you can't put you back in
So try to be the best person you can be
And trust me, LIFE WILL BE A BLAST!
© Jack Ellison 2014
Poem | |
Positive and negative energy
Pulls you strongly either way
Which do you choose to flow with
To start you off each day
Each one has the power
To take you oh so far
Which of them do you choose
To show you who you are
You have the power in you
To stand up and be strong
You do not have to fall down
When everything goes wrong
Its just the way you think my dear
Its just the way you flow
Its oh so easy to go down
Stop now and just say no
Your thoughts are reality
Not always what you see
Good or bad, you have the choice
Which one will it be
The more you flow on upwards
The higher you will climb
Fill yourself with positive thoughts
And always you'll be fine
Such an interesting game to play
And will only take a while
And when you've mastered it well my friend
You'll have great confidence, and that is,
ATTITUDE WITH STYLE!!!!!
Word Play a writers forum, first issue.
Take a look at my poem and my TON UP! GREAT HABIT
You can even join in the fun,email- firstname.lastname@example.org
leave your email address, And receive your free issue every
Poem | |
I had received lots of love in years past
I have felt all joys and pitfalls of it
No pain seems to enter my simple life
Love entertains me, that wonderful hit
I know my life floats above tender hearts
That which brings love, but sometimes avoids me
I move quickly this way and that in air
I have “dance of the butterflies” simply
My life moves in all respects here and there
Highs and lows of dance are of gratitude
Love escapes my lips to my gracious love
My eyes have passion that brings attitude
Contest: Dance of the Butterflies
Sponsor: Gail Angel Doyle
I know it's a Quatrain...a Rhyming Poem (I hope it's acceptable)
Poem | |
There is a moment that stalks my solitude
the one where my soul breaks from your absence,
it lurks with the confidence of apocalyptic attitude,
from my fortitude a firecry of absolute need attacks resistance
revealing your fingerprints upon my heart, patterns in somatic multitude
making lust an onslaught of obsession, soul ignition, kiss cognition, partner permanence,
there will be no heart barter, no angle of defense, just you and me in beautiful exactitude,
I discover you everyday, the omnipresence of your love's mainstay
warm on the erection of my morning, leading me into creation,
I find your poetry in freddom's pain, where love and life play
and when pity drums a cold doubt I see your brave grin,
as the battles end with quiet fatigue you stay
strong and sweet, a promise pure within,
when night softens the body I lay
you take me to bliss again -
Poem | |
It's all about Me
Whatever bad you think they say about you,
can't it be people are being misconstrued ?
Your friends stood by in every thin and blue,
believe me hurting they never intended to do.
Sensitivity and emotions in you are a peak high,
even without medication soon will tranquillise,
Having caring and extremely emotive attitude,
Why not think positive, don't ever seclude ?
Depression is only one's subjective feel,
One of the weak spokes of life's wheel,
Travel along and go round and round,
Giggling with cheerful colours and voices around.
Creative with wit you have a perfect paint,
Fascination and magic of your words will never faint,
Catie my true friend if you could trust me,
Believe in Him and see sorrows of past flee !
Written November 17th, 2014
For contest ' It's all about me' by Catie Lindsey
Poem | |
He'd be typing away on his desk
with blueprints for the next big thing,
While I'd be staring off into the azure sky
appreciating the "insignificant" things
You really are a genius
in your field of technicalities,
with which you thoroughly water;
A wife, a place of your own,
and a destination in mind
You'll find me in the corner
(no not a corner... think rounded edges,
much more safe)
Half past ten, still in bed,
with rolls of cash in a Ziploc bed
(I'm not dealing and I'm sorry if I gave you that
impression... more likely
just a descendant of Scrooge)
Your perfectly organized life
(my just screw it attitude)
Well I must say you are on your way,
but where exactly too?
I solemnly wish
we had, but one thing
in common, dearest brother,
Even with the knowledge
that I wrote this for you
I'm sure deep down
you'd think this quite sappy
And being the person that I am
I'd immediately think of tree metaphors
(now what what rhymes with cedar?)
And being the person you are
you'd probably just go about your day
wondering about the latest Apple product
You live next door
and yet somehow
galaxies came between us,
Practical you gathered sticks and stones
for your shelter here on Earth
(I was too busy daydreaming
From the moment I opened my eyes
and peaked my little head out
from the pool in the backyard,
we were brothers, through and through
... so why do I have this nagging urge
to shake your hand and ask
"Have we met?"
Poem | |
Terror seizes you, and it isn't kind.
You try to go somewhere peaceful in your mind.
But the pain rips you right back to here and now.
Not wanting to give him the satisfaction of even saying "ow."
You try to be strong, but he tears from you, a scream.
Oh God, please let this be a terrible, terrible dream.
I thought he was supposed to be a friend of mine?
As the tears grow down my face like vine.
He tells me I wanted it, even though I screamed no.
He says my attitude and outfit told him so.
In the same breath, he threatens me never to tell.
If they ask why the tears, you better say you fell.
As I got out of the car he pulled me to him and hugged me tight.
He kissed my forehead and said Don't worry you'll be all right.
Just remember, if you open your mouth, no one will believe a dirty whore.
Now go inside before I take you for another ride and give you some more.
Into the house and straight into the shower.
I was in there for what felt like hours and hours.
My grandmother knew right from the start.
Please don't tell, it would break Daddy's heart.
Please, Grandma he's not worth Daddy going to jail.
For my sake and his, you can never, ever tell.
She kept her promise and never uttered a word.
At night, she told me, my cries she heard.
For six weeks I kept my secret and told not another soul.
For six weeks I sunk deeper and deeper into a hole.
Not until I heard that he raped a fourteen year old girl.
Knowing I could have prevented it, shattered my world.
I finally told my horror story to the cops and to my Dad.
I don't think I'd ever seen him so violently mad.
Mike was arrested, but in jail he would not stay.
He lived around the corner and we had to move away.
He got probation, but not for me, his word against mine.
I was sixteen, of legal age to consent, so for me he'd get no time.
His punishment, probation for only a couple of years.
Me and his other victim were left with our fears.
Would he find us and take revenge for what he said was a lie?
Would my father hunt him down, and go to prison for a rapist to die?
He got away, pretty much scot-free for his deplorable crime.
His victims were the ones who were serving the time.
This IS a true story, my story, but not my story alone. After 8 years and raping several
other women Mike was sentenced to 35 years in prison. As he pleaded his innocence, we were
all in some way vindicated. He never did a day for brutally raping me, NOT ONE DAMN DAY.
But he's doing plenty now. I hope he gets ALL that he deserves.
Poem | |
Attitude makes the difference
Lasting for the time you want
Orbiting your being as you need
Not lonely, not to haunt
Poem | |
As the ink touches my writing pad every letter seems to glow.
I feel I'm going mad watching sentences light so bright like a rainbow!
Each word seems to hypnotize and my mind begins to travel.
I watch through brown eyes as the poem begins to unravel!
Nouns and adjectives make up each dazzlingword.
The exclamation at the end of certain sentences compliment my verbs!
Yellow, red, and blue hues reflect my mood.
Each paragraph shows a little bit more attitude!
I wonder how so many colors can come together and still coexist?
The stanza's flutter light as a feather never tiring my wrist.
My rainbow of letters in my sentence3s never cease to amaze me.
A canvas of art within my heart is the color of poetry!!!
Darkness fell across my writing pad, putting my stanza's in gloom.
I just knew I would go mad as I looked around the pitch dark room.
In the darkness I felt the push of my pen, and went with the flow.
A premonition again, and looked down to see each letter begin to glow!
Even the punctuation seemed to have a bluish hue, that illuminated my eyes.
I had a huge sense of deja-vu and the color of poetry I begin to recognize!
Each letter stood out all alone, and brighter they seem to grow.
Sentences like different colors of gemstones looked like a horizontal rainbow!
My pen begin to dance, having an aura of a brilliant white.
The stanza's begin to tell of a romance that would soon under the moon ignite!
I couldn't believe it had to do with me, and my head started to spin.
A love I wanted to achieve begin with the color of poetry all over again!!
*See pixs of me and other poems @ PoetryPub.ning.com (Jimmy M. Anderson
Poem | |
Oh, no! It's happening again,
When I went to open my e-mail
So much garbage I found there,what a pain
And to my dismay knew I was getting nailed.
Everyday I get so much spam e-mail,
To give me a headache without fail,
They sneak on me, like a fatal disease,
And try to bring me, all the way down, to my knees.
Eh, Buster! What's this with your stupid e-mail?
You give me nightmares like some horror tale,
I erased it, but the next day three more copies came,
Eh! You better stop that now! that this is not a game.
Your whole attitude really sucks,
I can't believe the things you do for a buck.
Don't you have better things to do too?
Than pestering and screwing people, like you do.
Eh, buster! I know sometimes things are bad,
But, why,do you to make it worse by making me also mad?
And what's this about me helping you with some money,
Do you really think? that I am that dim or brained-dead?
All your e-mail tactics really amazed me,
You want me to… what did you say, again?
Eh, buster, I won't do that,not in a million years!
So I want you to know that all your trouble is in vain.
I am so happy when I see my friends' e-mails,
That's one of the best things that everyday I still get,
But, what's my horror when I see them buried by trash,
No! I don't need to lose any weight, because I am still fit.
Oh no!My server is telling me they've stopped my email,
Eh, you buster!is all your fault, for sending me trash,
And now I have to delete it all in the next hour or two,
Eh punk,! You better don't mess up with me anymore here.
What did you say about me? About getting some prozac,
Who says, I am depressed? And my liver is okay and I don't take pills,
What did you say now? That you have something for my boobs to grow
Eh Buster! I don't need that!or to grow anything in that "place” neither.
Eh, you! You're so lucky I can't really get you,
You're making my life online, sometimes a hell,
And I don't want to buy any of your blue,or pink pills,
As for "those pictures" you can show them to somebody else Mel.
I am so tired of getting spammed and jammed, and it's you to blame
I'd would like to get only emails from my friends,
My poor baby (my pc) is taking such a beat and gets sick too,
Eh, buster!Your behavior is a shame! And this's not a game.
I'm about to lose it with you, and you're making me sick too,
Stop sending me all those silly offers than don't work but just fail,
Eh, buster, you'll see, one of these days, I'll get rid of you,
Then, you won't get me anymore, or invade, ever my email.
Dorian Petersen Potter
Poem | |
With the break of a heart the soul bleeds from the body,
Rising to the heavens only to find a lock on the golden gates.
Pooled blood on the floor starts to hardened and stain,
A paradise for parasites the dying corrupt corpse creates.
No more housing for a sinner soaked soul, it is refused reentry,
Nothing for a wandering spirit to stick to leaves time to fates.
A ghost, translucent with an attitude of control mixed with fear,
Denied the destination promised by the men considered mates.
To go out with a bang, and burst and a bust of one's on will,
is like setting up an all you can eat buffet without providing plates.
Forgotten by failure, feasting on betrayed beliefs bound in a book,
He is a soul hardened to haunt the night with aggression and hates.
Lugging a backpack of bruises and a suitcase of emotional scars,
A vagabond visiting victims for another body to join, he watches and waits.
October 30, 2014
Poem | |
My name is a combination of Cassie and Sarah;
Sarah meaning Princess,
Cassie meaning Helper of Men.
Which really does sum up me.
I hide my lives in the lines of my poetry,
If you read my words you will know me.
But I disguise the truth as fiction at times,
Or play fiction to the truths to fit rhymes.
If you took me on a checklist of my personality,
You would find a complex emotional mystery.
Somethings to discover about my identity
I'll tell you, these are the basic facts of me....
I am a mother and a wife.
I am an licensed amateur radio operator.
I am a volunteer driver for Meal On Wheels.
I am not financially stable, or mentally stable at times.
I am a sex addict, I obsessively flirt and get my freak on.
I have only been writing poetry for five months.
I am in a lot of pain constantly, but I always do what needs to get done.
I am addicted to coffee, and poetrysoup.
There is nothing outstanding about the way I look.
I will expose my soul, I am an open book.
Did I mention sometimes I get a little crazy,
But most of the time I talk sh** but I'm just lazy.
I really have faith that I am strong enough to survive.
I may not have all that I want, but I am alive.
Happiness is not the goal I am trying to reach,
It is a lifestyle that I am trying to teach.
My spirit is giving, and I will pour my aura into you.
If you give me you hand, I will not say goodbye, I'm true.
No matter the obstacles that bring down my mood.
I am a reflection of this inner love, that is my attitude.
For Contest: Keep It Real