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Pirate Rock by Pratt, Mia A.S.
Ophelia's Mirage by barchettadrive, red
world war 3 by hansen, jan oskar
The Tragic Spiral by barchettadrive, red
Pearly Love by Dutta, Anisha
HISTORY WITHOUT PAGES by chizoba vincent, john
These by mystery , lone wolf
Disapproved Dismissed Denied by jimmy boom semtex, nick armbrister
We Have But One God by Spittal, Suzanne
leaves of fallen words by hansen, jan oskar

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The Best Blank Verse Poems

Details | Blank Verse Poem | |

- When words are not enough -


  When a heaven cracks and stars go to sleep 
  Morning so incredibly quiet - 
  A peaceful morning - the sun's rays meet my gaze 
  I listen to the peace - to its eternal rest - and I think 
  that this moment must forever be in my heart 

  My eyes filled with clear and clean blue sky 
  So beautiful quiet morning - a fjord bright as a mirror 
  . . . I'm missing my words 
  Happiness rustling through the blood 
  and awakens my senses 
  I float among the clouds and angels 
  picks diamonds like they were candy 
  The sun glows in all its glory 
  The words are no longer in my power

  A-L Andresen :)

Copyright © Anne Lise Andresen

More great poems below...

Details | Blank Verse Poem | |


What goes up must come down. 
No colors can define who you are. 
You may own a cart or limousine. 
We'll still reach the end when it is near. 
I may be poor today and eat from trash. 
Tomorrow, you can't tell. I'll earn some cash. 
The bed where you lie is soft and wide. 
I sleep at a sidewalk and the stars are my lamp. 
You wake up each morn' with a feast on your table 
While we are scavenging to fill stomachs when we're able. 
Our destiny isn't written in the stars. 
We work for a living to thrive in this life. 
Be thankful every morning you witness the sun 
And pray tonight that no one lives same as I. 
Wheels come in full circle,rolling round and round. 
Today you'll be on top, 
I am watching from the ground. 
Let us bear in our minds that we are better than birds. 
Our loving Father ensures each mouth is fed. 
Not even the smallest details can pass by His eyes. 
So plant a seed of kindness and reap a better life. 

sponsor:FRANK H.

name of 

*5th Place winner

Copyright © Aiyah de Torres

Details | Blank Verse Poem | |

To Dance With Mary Jane

I never got to dance with Mary Jane
although I heard she sure knows how to swing!
She has a twin, and he is masculine;
he doesn’t have his sister’s magic powers,
her mystic way of calming people down
or bringing sweet relief for those in pain.
His tall and sturdy body has been used
for textiles, ropes, and oil.  There’s so much more
that he could give us if we only would
allow the cultivation of his skills.
We might renew our plastics and we could
preserve our forests, for he is so good
when he replaces wood. Why is he shunned?

It’s simply for his ties with Mary Jane!
But why has she been banned across the globe?
She has abilities. Not psycho-active,
she helps the sick. Those undergoing chemo
can find relief with her; she’s antiemetic.
She’s anti many things that bring us woe.
Convulsions, inflammation, cancer and
depression are not all she fights against.
An anti-oxidant, she can relieve
disorders plaguing many on this earth.

They say she is the gateway to bad things,
yet she is safer than our cigarettes
that kill so many folks. I’ve never heard
that Mary Jane directly caused a death!
We let our people drink. Behind the wheel,
they drive and kill, yet those who take a drive
with Mary Jane are said to take things slow!
Of course she is misused by high school kids,
who should not dance with Mary Jane until
their brains are fully formed. Yes, she might cause
a temporary loss of memory,
but dancing with her should not be a crime.
We ought to focus on REAL criminals.
To lock her lovers up? A travesty!

Successful people cry for liberty
of Mary Jane. They’re smart and talented.
Jon Stewart, Andrew Sullivan, Phil Jackson,
and Angelie Jolie, to name a few.
Rush Limbaugh even needed Mary Jane
To get through all his shows (I threw that in
To show Republicans have loved her too,
Like Sarah Palin and George W!)
Ted Turner in his office dances with
sweet Mary Jane, and Michael Bloomberg is
quite proud to partner with her in a dance.
George Clooney is her advocate. He rocks!
And Morgan Freeman says he never will
give up “the ganja.” Neither will one guy
who danced with her since he was in his youth.
This guy, named Paul, has got by very well
with help from Mary Jane, his little friend!
Another famous man says Mary Jane
had helped him stay a human when in ‘Nam.
Maya Angelou danced “with abandon”
with her! Bill Gates, Rick Steve. . .the list goes on.

Who better to declare that she is safe
than Johnny Depp, who says that alcohol
is far more dangerous.  I must agree
with Aniston, who said of Mary Jane:
“All things in moderation.” Anything
can be abused. The very food we eat
leads to obesity when it’s misused.
I’ve never had the pleasure of a dance
with Mary Jane, but I’ll be first in line
when she is legal. I’ll conclude with this:
Dear Martha Stewart, I heard you could bake
one mean green brownie. Where can I get one?

for the "Global Poetry" Poetry Contest of Debbie Guzzi

Copyright © Andrea Dietrich

Details | Blank Verse Poem | |

Christmas Past

Christmas Past A time I still remember, Christmas day In 'fifty-three…I was age fourteen then… And I recall those very special hours At home, so cozy, warm, with family Of many generations, happily Around the sparkling tree, with old-time trim Of bubble lights, glass balls…and Christmas songs Playing softly on the record player. Extended family…my mom and dad Grandparents, brother, cousins, uncles, aunts… Spent happy hours…and such a blessed time Was shared as peace and love was felt by all. It was perhaps the only year we were Together in one place for Christmas day. I keep that time of family delight In memories that fill my heart…for some There on that day, so special in my thoughts, Are dearly missed, no longer here with us… They fly with angel wings, look down from high Above in Christmas past, with joy and love… As I…once the youngest, now the oldest Generation…carry on that spirit And make traditions last…to someday be My children and grandchildren’s Christmas past. © Sandra M. Haight 2014 All Rights Reserved --------------------------------------------------------------------- ~2nd Place~ Contest: My Last Contest Sponsor: Kelly Deschler Judged: 02/07/2015 ~1st Place~ Contest: Christmas Past, Present or Future Sponsor: Kelly Deschler Judged: 01/09/2015

Copyright © Sandra Haight

Details | Blank Verse Poem | |

Thirty-Eight, Cancer Poem: For Sharon

Thirty Eight ( Corny Cancer Poem) For Sharon

Hallmark has a million cards in their catalog
And not one of them says,
Life Sucks
American greetings had nothing that says
Thirty-eight and  Never coming home
So I hope it’s not too late to write this poem

After your eighth round of Chemo,
The Doctor says the best medicine is prayer
Any Pre-med drop out
Or High school Health student
Can interpret what this means
But it still just isn’t fair-

           Still who am I to be a pessimist?

And I apologize for screaming at your surgeons
(Telling  them to stop comparing 
your tumors to fruit)
For telling them you aren’t a damn fruit stand
Even for tossing those fruit diagrams 
In the Hazmat can

Sorry if I let things get out of hand

Tomorrow they get to pull out
Their zapper instruments
And shoot at your cells like you are
One of those Nintendo video games
Over and over again
And I get to sit in the waiting room
Hoping the red cells surrender
And the white ones win

And Tylenol has a zillion dollars
And can’t even find a cure for cancer
Bayer pharmaceuticals has no answer

And if you die at thirty-eight
I’ll probably boycott Tylenol
For the next twenty-three years
Advil for the next twenty-two
Blaming both of them
For not saving you

Forty calls to Bayer pharmaceuticals 
And not a single one returned
What kind of heroes are they
When they aren’t even concerned?

And I’m pissed off at Obama
And Dr. Phil and Oprah too
And all Nationally syndicated talk show host
Who are talking about who slept with who
When they should be talking about 

I’m also ticked at a thousand Nazis
And twenty millions gangbangers 
And eight-hundred serial killers
Who have working organs
When all you need is just one-

Still I know you wouldn’t even accept it
Even if there was a law that said you could
And you would say something corny like
God loves bad people as much
As he does the good

And i wish i could snatch 
half of my lymph nodes
And give them to you
But no Doctor would approve the surgery

So what else can i do
Except write this silly poem for you
except watch you lose weight and hair
And listen to doctors suggest prayer

And more chemo only means
More Hallmark moments at the hospital
And more crying, more dying
More doctors and chaplains lying

But mostly I’ll never get to figure out
How it took you thirty minutes
At Build-A-Yogurt in the mall
And they only had six flavors-
Even after I told you
Chocolate Coconut Sprinkle
 Was really the best of all

Tonight your children get to sleep in your bed
And pretend You’re coming home
And I get to cry for them and finish
This corny cancer poems

Copyright © Poet M.e.

Details | Blank Verse Poem | |


My hands and feet are numb
for I am cold and I have no
home to give me warmth.
A home and warmth are two
things I search for that is why
people call me a bum.
I have not eaten but I have
prayed and my prayers have
not yet been answer for I have
not eaten in days.
So I'll just lay in my place of 
sleep and pray once more as I
search for warmth,  for I have
found my home, The streets.

Copyright © THE POET 174

Details | Blank Verse Poem | |


Opened like a morning leaf
exposed beneath the moon,
Resting in the tentacles
of a clouded ink coccoon.
Wringing hands now rest at peace-
the solitude of night,
a lantern in the wilderness
the miracle of flight.
Dancing on the tabletops
or falling from a swing,
is noticing the networking
of every living thing.
Observation is the art
that shows a single frame,
experience will turn to stone
the given and the gained.

Copyright © Nykki Houtkooper

Details | Blank Verse Poem | |

I Want to Skinny Dip

I want to skinny dip in pools of your eyes
And dry myself on lashes bordering there
I want to slide on lush plush of your lips
Then fall asleep on pillowed warmth of cheek
I want to reach the hollow of your chest
And camp above the rumbling of your heart 
I want to flirt with fingers of your hand
Then cloistered be, wrapped safe inside your palm
I want to enter world of waiting mouth
Explore and ride the wet waves of your tongue
I want to dance along what makes you man
And tease and please and swirl around and round
I want to course through rapids of your veins  
And then set fire to sanctum of your heart
I want to glide and dip in every breath
And sail the glorious sea of dreams and thoughts
I want all this and then I want much more,
For, darling, you're the one whom I adore

Eileen Manassian

Copyright © Eileen Manassian

Details | Blank Verse Poem | |


The world is a heavy boulder,
both in bulk and severity...
We can lighten the burden -
it’s up to you, and up to me...

Let me be a beautiful balloon,
my string tied to the earth below.
Add each of you to help me pull us
upward and onward as our goal.

Each laugh, each smile of each day
makes the air grow fuller with love.
There may be sorrow below us,
but we can sigh and rise above...

Balloons, we can be, with our
strings tethered to a weary earth.
Rising skyward to a higher objective,
giving us each a new and brighter worth.

Copyright © Sherry Asbury

Details | Blank Verse Poem | |


I press my hand on a montage and dream about all Star War's plights when words flit along zones, alive and retrace memories enshrined. On peaceful isle of your hammock Bring me notes from an old guitar That I may share euphoric thoughts Embracing a geek in silence. Past Tolkien's edge, a rite I bless While on sweet trail, God's pentagram lights optical dreams to refine, This after-life’s soft artistry. Pour down on me, my brother Chan, and fire my breath with your warm torch; for an archaic rhymer glides To nurture joy, fresh on my mind. Cyndi Mac Millan's A Word Collage For Chan Hurst by nette onclaud

Copyright © nette onclaud

Details | Blank Verse Poem | |

Septembe Blues

September, you are a wistful song
Summer sheds a tear when you come along
Sunny summer melodies yield to your mellow song
Its melody fades while yours grow strong

Summer ends and a certain sadness ensues
Sunny days make way for winter blues
September gives us glimpses of summer
Though days be short and golden leaves slumber

The vibrant colors September brings
disguise the coming winter sting
As summer dies it makes one last sunny stand
But will return, for thats how it was planned

Until then we must endure a harsh season
All bundled up, keeping warm is the reason
When the first snow  falls
The pristine beauty leaves us enthralled

Soon summer will begin anew
Gray clouds make way for skies of blue
We awaken from our winter slumber
And welcome the butterflies of summer

For Joanne Grisetti's Copy Cat contest

:Inspired by the poem: September
Which was written by: Andrea Dietrich

Copyright © Joseph May

Details | Blank Verse Poem | |

A lady in a red dress

Her Red coloured dress resembled
a Venetian house
which lay besides the gondola
in an unrealized dream
as the Gondola retreated
through the hazy eyes of the canal
the house kept on getting bigger
painting one part of the lake 
with a mixed coating of 
the red
and the green accumulated piece
of the ubiquitous waters
but still red was the colour
green was the envy

she was herself
with the poets
while a poet
let one more dream die

Copyright © Sandeep Kulshrestha

Details | Blank Verse Poem | |


Ever wrote a sequel
To a poem about 
The road of dead bodies
that you drove upon?

I dont Think So^^

O. Yeah im laughing
At such a radical idea
Thats not registerd yet
Into naiive-Like brain cells

Yeah! Am laughing^^

Wish I could just throw
My smile on that kid
That lay stone cold
Hand over ears even in death

Died of the noises...

Not laughing anymore?
Thought so
I just laid there staring
Right ontop of him

Dead silence...

I panicked
shoved my fist in his jaw
I felt his bone crunch
Now he doesnt have a screaming face


You think thats deep?
The guy right next to the kid
Was his dad
They kept him alive to watch
As his son burned
then became death
and soon a fossil
And when they chunk this place again
He will be dust

...His father
    He was right there

...To watch

Now read those last three lines
In Slow Mo
Read it and weep
Maybe the tears could drown
A father who is still there to watch
And spare him of the "Madness"

"Well,if its what you want to call it.
I mean you can call it unfair
But its just Mad-ness"

Copyright © sajdah al-riyami

Details | Blank Verse Poem | |

Enough For Now

ENOUGH FOR NOW... And why? We often ask and wonder...why Does this small earth revolve through time and space… A microscopic speck diminished by Unfathomed vastness of the universe Unending and unknown? Why are we here? We go from birth to death upon a sphere We customized to fit our needs; caught up In galaxies of mini-worlds we made Of bustling cities, growing industries, Complexities of homes and families, Of governments, religions, schools, and those... Of our own selves. We ask what lies beyond The realm of joys and comforts or the woes These bring; beyond their cloudy atmospheres Of love and peace, of war, disease and crime? And what, we ask, what mammoth plan could this— This tiny particle of cosmic dust Encrusted with the scale of human strife Be part of? … Matter not the what or why— The unsolved heavens or eternal scheme… Enough...enough for now to deal with life And death and all those worlds that lie between— A complex, puzzling universe itself. © Sandra M. Haight 2014 All Rights Reserved ~2nd Place~ Contest: Structured Forms - Iambic Verse Sponsor: Giorgio A. V. Judged: November 6, 2014

Copyright © Sandra Haight

Details | Blank Verse Poem | |

Leaving Madrid

In mid-June's heat, we wait inside the bus, 
and everyone has said their last goodbyes.  
The Moorish boy I’ve come to know is sad.
 He says he knows I never will return.  

The bus pulls out (his face just fades away).
We pass through streets that now seem not the same
as those that we first rode down when we came
here six short months ago. It seemed so strange!

Madrid, my first impression of you was
how everything seemed  dingy and so grey.
But staying here, I found your treasures, and
enjoyed your many charms that I unearthed.

I’ve walked among your people, tasted foods:
paella, soups and pastries and much more.
I’ve visited Retiro Park, seen art
in sculptures on your streets and in museums.

I’ve visited your shops, your restaurants
where dancers of flamenco hypnotize, 
your ring for fighting bulls, your theaters;
your streets seem now familiar, almost sweet!

And now we leave to catch that big bird home.
I do not  know my future; I feel glum.
The group I came with,  now like family,
seem happy as they chat excitedly.

They’re speaking of their families back home
and what they’re going to do back in the States.
But I alone am missing you, Madrid,
before I even board that giant bird.

For Deb's  Somewhere Over the Rainbow Contest
(the way I remember my last day in Madrid in '74)

Copyright © Andrea Dietrich

Details | Blank Verse Poem | |

Harvest Homes

She says, you can tell America 
from the rest of the world 
by the color of the wallpaper, 
or lack thereof. 
That southern hospitality is refreshing 
after so many years in London. 

The stuffed animal in her grasp 
is named ‘Dog’. 
When asked why she says, 
"are you blind, it is a dog after all." 

When the aide handed her a night gown 
she asked if it was for sale. 
He told her it was a gift, 
but she could not accept it. 
However, if he wanted to lend it to her 
that would be “lovely”. 

The aide was actually a woman. 
When we told her so she replied, 
“Well, she was a man 
when he gave me the gown.” 

We laughed and she said, “Oh lovely then” 
and laughed with us
while clapping her hands. 

I can’t tell you how old she is; 
anything beyond 80 will do. 
I can’t tell you how crazy she is. 
I imagine more than a little. 

Needless to say, 
I liked her immediately.

Copyright © Jay Jenkins

Details | Blank Verse Poem | |

Another memory to keep-First May contest

May the first is traditionally the beginning of Spring
St Joseph is their patron saint this day to be 
the  only free day when no workers  joined
the throng of people shuffling looking already tired
to wherever they work, eyes down still shut tight
Make them work  long hours you will find
was their bosses right.

May Day the food was prepared with what money they had
try to find some newish clothes to wear, 
though second or third hand.
Their beautiful daughters would wash their hair 
then brush it until it gleamed 
a small flower was placed with utmost care

A maypole is  placed in the village square
With bright coloured  ribbons dangling there
The fiddler would play, soon up stepped the gents
follwed by the maidens, with no lover as yet
They weaved and they bobbed shouting with glee
Many a romance started when they danced happily

At the side the morris men would dance
Jiggling their bells sending you into a trance
All made for a happy day, set in your memory
making you smile for another year 
before a day free

The may queen was chosen some blushing young beauty
Crowned with a ring of flowers and a small bouquet
She would dance for the people in a small ring
waiting to see who wrote and would recite the winning madrigal

May first brings the spring and buds bursting into flowers
A trillion small petals like a shower would flutter down
the myriad it makes brings a smile to your eyes
Cheers everybody it's spring, 
our bodies need this time to relax and survive

Penned 10 April 2015


* madrigal. -  a short love poem 

Picture taken by an old friend Dave Chang who gave me permission to use it.


Details | Blank Verse Poem | |

Finding Contentment

Put God before all. 

Put family before friends.

Put people before things.

Put  others before self.

Give to those who can’t give back.

Make peace before sleep.

Copyright © Susan Palli

Details | Blank Verse Poem | |

Where the City Folk Live


At the confluence of the cultures 
Where the politics ebb and flow
The tide of humanity crashes
Against their collective soul

The spires of religions
And posters of beliefs
Crush against each other
Through the weave of city streets

Registered colours of commerce
And trade mark tags of youth
Line the valleys of glass and steel
On floor, and wall, and roof

The constant clangs of progress
Idle growls of restricted motion
Drift across the green spaces
Invading every moment

The scent of communal sweat
Wafts upon the breeze
From the fires of exotic dishes
And the fumes of commercial needs

Feel free to swim the city
Frolic in the human flow
But be aware of the waves that break
Against your precious soul

Copyright © scott thirtyseven

Details | Blank Verse Poem | |

- A Love So Great -


   May the sun always shine in your heart - melt away winter's ice
   Always look for beautiful colors - even if you never find the rainbow

   Nobody wants to experience the towering and storm high waves
   Adversity makes us strong - like sailing on the sea in storm

   Open up your heart - take a deep breath
   Dreams you will find among the stars - where peace prevails

   Let your thoughts dance between the clouds - without a worry in mind
   Bring your paint brush - paint the world in stunning colors

   Our world is so endlessly large
   A human so little, a love so great

A-L  Andresen :)

Copyright © Anne Lise Andresen

Details | Blank Verse Poem | |

The Ice Enchantress

As droplets freeze half-breathed
     From the mouth of Winter
          Howling winds, foreboding
               Bring gloom to pale landscape
                    Yet the Ice Enchantress 
                         Conjures sultriness:
                              Fluttering tree lashes
                                   Snow-covered ample breast
                                        Her crystal lips invite
                                             She burns  despite the chill
                                                  And dares adventurers
                                                       To succumb to her will
                                                            Despite the threat of death
                                                                 It's futile to resist
                                                                      The cool invitation
                                                                          Which glistens from her eyes
                                                                               As she entrances those
                                                                                    Who cannot look away
                                                                                          But step so willingly
                                                                                               Into a blissful fate

First place in Constance La France's "Let it Snow" contest

Copyright © Donna Golden

Details | Blank Verse Poem | |

America: A Rant with Attendant Anecdotes, Amplifications, Dogmas, Harangues and Digressions

This ain't my first rodeo, so knowing the score more than four
I declare in this manure-flinging system of elected despotism
we ain't got no permanent friends, just permanent interests.
America's a dazzling chupacabra of a conceit
conceived in liberty and dedicated to the proposition
that shades of equality increase the gross market share.
We supplant the visible etchings of the colonial lash
with the invisible ones of debt by procuring more *****we don't need.
Breathless canaries in a cultural coal-mine,
fascicled to Breaking Bad, Mad Men and the Simpsons,
shackled to Amazon 's 'Customers Who Bought This Item Also Bought'
we're driven out toward the oceans beneath Europa's baker's sugar crust
where freedom exists on a mono-cellular level
but knowing we 're not alone doesn't amount to manure 
cuz they ain't Christian microbes so they ain't gonna be no use to us.
Like wind before the thunder the supple susurrus of my heart 
sends frissons of pleasure jolting though my *****
bloated to such Brobdingnagian dimensions
as to feel at home in the hallowed aisles of Costco or Sam's Club.
Our finger wagging Uncle has overstayed his welcome,
So **** your tired, your poor -
you're taking away jobs from real Americans.
**** your huddled masses yearning to breathe free -
your emergency room doctor visits are costing taxpayers $2286 a pop.
**** the wretched refuse of your teeming shore -
we already have enough garbage to fill our landfills
Just gimme my VIZIO 80” Razor LED™ 3D Smart TV  for my eye candy
Gimme my  Google Nexus 8 cell phone cuz Steve Jobs can suck my dick
Gimme my Fidelio X1 headphones so I don't miss the subtle nuances in Willie Nelson's 
Gimme my Nestlé Crunch Girl Scout candy bars for my sweet tooth and latent pedophilia
Gimme my Dial Triple Moisture Body cuz my balls got a stank like 3 day old crawdads
Gimme my Quilted Northern Ultra Plush toilet tissue cuz my ass needs TLC and backdoor action
Gimme my Fruit Smoothie Shakers so I don't have to get gouged by some turban mofo at Jamba Juice
Gimme my Gillette Fusion ProGlide Power Razor so I don't look like Jesus-F-Christ or a sandnigger
Gimme my Lash Factor Eyelash Conditioner cuz flirtatious love winks should be unconditional

America's soul is shrinking and vanishing like glaciers.
Grackles ebonize the sky where once proud eagles soared.
With God's help, America will rise again like the body of Christ after a good whooping!
Come on y'all - don't let my patriotic rant spoil a perfectly good Klan rally.

Copyright © Beryl Dov

Details | Blank Verse Poem | |


Fall and
red yellowing 
leaves in the trees

an old man sitting 
on a bench
watches them 
and thinks of his youth

a youth 
sitting on a bench
looking into his iPhone
simulates the falling 
red yellowing leaves
and googles 
the future 
of trees


Details | Blank Verse Poem | |



It seems I always 
swim upstream 
against the current.
re-creating struggles 
of conflicting contradictions
and unsweetened scripts
at odds with others
in deeds and words
a emotional dissonance 
played out over a lifetime. 
banged and buffered hard
against the onflow;
prevailing opposites rush
to assail my efforts
intent on wearing me down
scraping, scarring, challenging
calling me out with
harsh ridicule and doubt
why must I cause stirred sediments 
to muddy, blind and bewilder me
blurring reason so that
what is seen as truth 
often becomes mixed
with drama and ambivalence? 
how righteous is the direction
of this timeless stream?
shall I swim with it or against it?
go one way or the other;
does it really matter?

I cannot give up
I cannot relent...
this is who I am
a person searching
for kindred spirits
to swim backward 
with me
against the current.
to find some direction,
some marker that guides
this hurrier to a another plane
of purposeful existence.


I think most people at some time are contrarian.
Some from the start; others in their teens.
Some all through their life.
I can't remember being otherwise.
In retrospect, am I really that different
or do I use it an excuse
to be noticed?  Perhaps both. 

CAK 10-13-12013

Copyright © Allan Koven

Details | Blank Verse Poem | |

Meeting The Soupers

"Your first poem was an 
excellent are 
welcome...." Commented 
skat on my first poem.
"Wonderful and deep are welcome 
to poetry soup..." That 
was Poet Destroyer.
"Wow you have touched 
my heart in a special way 
with your poem.....your 
new friend Leonora 
Galinta" said Galinta.
"Well penned" said 
kithinji and so many 
special poets.
Hearty words from these 
unique poets spurred me 
to write better poems.
Which they appreciate.
Poetry soup is safe haven 
where feelings and 
emotions are expressed 
in tangible forms.
An educational enclave 
where different forms of 
knowledge are 
exchanged like two 
hands washing eachother.
Am most humbled to 
meet these dazzling 
gems radiating warmth 
like the sun-a privilege it 
is connect to parts of the 
I believe we all will meet 
someday,not in the after 
Leonora Galinta is an 
angel to meet,whom I 
admire amongst others.
Love to set my eyes on 
her delicate and graceful 
nature. See her graceful 
carriage, feel her gentle 
hands and smiles as she 
exudes sweetness. I pray 
hand of time will 
backwards when that 
day appears as we walk 
in the woods leading to 
silent deep blue sea with 
gentle breeze 
whispering...... A prolific 
writer as well.
PD will I meet 
someday,love her 
amiable nature,full of 
grace and charm. A 
prolific poetess.
Skat is lovely with her 
immeasurable words of 
Kithinji will I love to 
behold,to learn from him.
Have drink with Robin,
Alian, shake akinyemi, 
stroll with Joe, hv a hike 
Sibanda, dine with Ralph 
and you.
Saying hi and hugs to 
Paz Samelo.
Meeting the soupers is 
making a happy family.
   Am gliding like the 
eagle,soaring higher as 
the day pass by.          
you soupers are my 

Name:Ifeanyi Bob 
(Baron Of Ebullion)

Copyright © Ifeanyi Bob Ekechukwu