Poem | |
Whisper's of October
Whispers in this soup bowl
20 minutes after its muse explodes,
Daylight, remains nothing more than a dream
Avoiding the howling sound in mid September's stream
Writing about a ginger light,
found in the depths of everything
Taking from the sitting twilight, numb, tranquilized
Exposing and expressing the emotions found inside
An attic lost in the Ancient sky ---awaits
A poetic hand is formed ---reaching out
In the hiss of darkness,
Listen-in, the echoes of October are calling
A halo, that reconciles a mysterious monarch moon
A mano grip in which summons a deep voice
of sweet serenity
Poets posting poems along the midnight page
Each poet can write a poem and mimic free fallen verses,
One might call it a creative craving curse,
Webmaster's whose words speak for themselves
They feel, and spills the will of idolized ink,
Blind-handed, splitting day from night
Warm whispers, needing no food to consume
Migraines of ink, feeding the soul
Burning Pages, over used pens
They've forgotten the pretty flowers
Living like lions, who never comes out of their dens
Murmuring and devouring, the enigmas of the unknown
Eyes behind a sieve, close tighter than before,
A globe created from every sky-scrape wall
Wanting to belong, a trick -or- treat*er in disguise
No friends, everything pretend
These poets can’t be described, can't be trusted
They are the best, at what they do
For all you know this poet might be me,
This poet might be you
More great poems below...
Poem | |
I cannot compete with something as painstakingly glorious as you
Envy is but a humbling tumble down a steep, rocky hill
I am crushed in your fits of glory—your screaming for passion
My approaches are absolutely wrong
Therefore my communication is a weak, ransomed victim
Your poison arrow frog skin rubs against my exposed body
I happily accept my fate
For your beauty surpasses the ephemeral pain of the infectious reign
My erroneous, inevitable downfall
I hold you up—I feel the need to keep you tall!
Michael the Archangel did not insult you once, Lucifer
How then will I?
How can I possibly be higher than you?-
Why would I want to?
I admire your freedom
I simply disregard your macrodomes of ever-worshiped flaw
If I could allow myself, I would share in your glory
Only to add to it further
But as I am poisoned with the truth
I can only be your grounded pedestal
And though you flee from humility in its wake upon my brow
I realize everyday you are living for the grounded now
And I merely look to the unknown future
A place I dread where you unwillingly hold me up
Bonded in the ground with Death and Hades
You become my pedestal, and the worms my vineyard
My parasitic feet seer your glory
I am ever so sorry
I never wanted this renown
There was a time I do recall
When you overtook me in my sleep
I cried aloud in helpless acceptance
But soon I was forced in a croak of laughter
I felt your bitter poison
I felt pride at last
I thank you for it
I thank you for showing me
What I will never be
Provoke me no longer to praise your eternal existence
Generations of Evening take a hold of me now
And the fruit must be shared
Poem | |
ALIEN -NOT- HUMAN
Alien life form--- ---Far from human toucH
Living among it self--- ---In the heavens like a gurU
Intelligence kept from civilization------Scientist call it a phantoM
Earth remains alone--- ---Like a secret ninjA
NASA's top secret--- ---You are not humanN
BY:SKAT . BY;PD
Poem | |
Swallowing nectar from a whiskey flower,
Raining inside me like a summer storm shower.
A fire in full bloom burning with every sip,
Unfolding the silk petals of my sun kissed lips.
Eyes sink shut against the jukeboxes serenade
Vibes in lyrics mesmerizingly played.
Slow the seasons of my soul become exposed.
Fruit from the garden of Eden readily grows.
With every drink of courage, I ready my will,
A ticket to heaven, yet my heart beats still.
Numbers on a napkin, wrote in lust colored ink,
Experience pleads from the bottom of my drink.
Stung by the thorns of a whiskey flower, I bleed.
Dark are the droplets of unquenchable need.
The voice of a clock tells me it is time to go.
Stumbling into a darkness, many will never know.
Poem | |
A beat of drums, a song of solitude.
A deep and timid red, so softly hued.
Majestic beauty, truth is deep like night.
I come to play, if playing Queen is right.
A love is tempting, lust is just a game.
I steal a kiss as fears do turn from shame.
A sigh, a tie, I twist in pleasures sting.
I close my eyes, it's worth remembering.
A song of sex, a dance, I need to hear.
The sound of rushing, breathing, near my ear.
I tie a rope around a willing wrist.
A tie so red it makes the roses twist.
A puppet, pawn, my game is chess, I win.
A check, my mate, be ready to begin.
I feast on pain and pleasure, giving more.
Enjoy the time behind the dark red door.
More great poems below...
Poem | |
She's got personality in her profile,
Golden eyes and a diamond smile.
If looks could kill, she'd be in a cell,
a genuine sweet southern belle.
She will wrench your heart away
It is a subtle game she will play
Rob you of your dignity and pride
She’ll take your heart for a ride
Your mind and money she will steal,
For this treasure wasn't real.
She clocked you when walked in the room
Made eye contact – this sealed your doom
She will wrench your heart away
It’s a subtle game she will play
Rob you of your dignity and pride
She’ll take your heart for a ride.
One more deal, the cards in line,
One more kiss the game is fine.
She walks away with a smile of stone,
You’ll ride away now all alone.
Jan Allison &
Poem | |
I THINK THEREFORE I AM
"An ounce of hypocrisy is worth
a pound of ambition" --Michael Korda
This everyone's want--
stretching an autonomy to unbuckle self-discovery
I got mites and bugs living in my head--
infesting my mind. They... daring a chance
to worm my guts and electrify my peace.
They adulterate seeking ways to emerge
from claws of doubts to grains of trust.
My veil of grace they bite and bite
devouring me 'til I set to pursue my act.
Should I repulse...
then spread my wings to fly?
or should I be a little puppet--
controlled, slave to strings attached to me?
or I'd rather choose a mask--
my gamble to earn sympathy or popularity;
my weapon sheltering my luck;
my fall or my win?
Cogito ergo sum.
I think, therefore I am.
The mites and bugs in my skull blown
from shocks infused by my firing drive.
My cavalry of Modesty, brave to rise
face the furnace of battlegrounds.
Insincerity. Malingering. Pretension
are artillaries luring hypocrisy
but love, honesty and bravery:
the bombs I defy to conquer the trades.
If God is with me, who can be against me?
Standing like a Molave
rooted evergreen, ever strong.
My face bulletproof
to those who I believe wrong.
A standing soldier ready to offer her life
to fraud and tyranny.
I refuse to be fed on standing lies.
The harpoons of verity, I battling dart,
raining towards the barbaric boxes as they...
They are my lioness roar, my freedom and my soar
piercing the pumping heart of those who eat innocence,
** I think therefore I am is said by Rene Descartes
Romans 8:31-- If God is with us, who can be against us?
O. E. Guillermo
10:43 pm, April 18, 2015
Poem | |
Lost in a poets convention,
I can't recall every poem, I've read through the years
50518, unique comments I 'validate'---
Thank You For Sharing Your Happy and Sad tears
Since March 24, 2010 In the mist of every line,
I'm sending special hugs, for he/she that favorite me through the years
A praise to all poets mentioned and not mentioned
I will miss, the sweetest girl on this block LEONORA G.,
She treats me with love, adores my words and twisted poetry.
I will start with the soups famous October, 7th babies,
Frank and Kash, Debbie D, and myself, these lines belong to us,
Our best characteristic has everything to do with the mind
In our poetic hearts you'll find the symbol of justice and balance
This is not a song, it is not a poem, it's a free falling memo written with style
Back in March 2013, I said it then, I'll say it again
Andrea, you and only you are the Poet Queen
By the Queen, sits the Poet King of rhymes, Robert L. Hinshaw
Thank you both for never stepping on your loyal subjects
Carol B., & Linda Marie, no one can replace the hole you left inside
I will miss all the little poetry pups, who came and sat by my side
MAHIMA and Saanvi, and Sabrina, thank you for the encouragement
Phyllis, Joyce, Francine, Rhonda, Betty, sweet Karen A., and Catie,
Clap your hands for the lovely quiet soup ladies.
Okay, maybe not Karen A., and Catie, these ladies love speaking their minds:)
SARA K., a mentor to some, a Fairy Godmother in my book
I will miss her "Magic Pen like Wand" dearly.
Gail, thank you for spreading your wings, and teaching us how to fly.
Hopefully --wings are a nice gesture, --waving--
"One day I'll see you again, my friend."
Daver Austin, "Go ahead, make my day" thank you for the show
Now, you know why I referred to you as, "The Clint Eastwood of Poetry."
Russell Survey, encouraged my days and moods with his kind words
Scribe ML., where are you my friend?
Don't you know your BIGGEST FAN misses you!!!
Dr Ram, Bindu V, Litan D., Donna J, Shadow, Sandra A., Peter Durgan,
Giorgio V., Mystic Rose, BL Devnath and of course our Nette.
Thank you for being kind and rewinding and replying to every note.
Joseph M., Caleb S., Vincent F., Juliet L., Lucy Carrillo, Scott 37, Johnny R.,
Kelly D., thank you for the honor in always honoring my words
Roger Horsch meets Eileen Ghali, your smile, her smile always made me smile,
No matter how many miles apart, our smiles always met on the same page.
Jenish, Don J., S.Z. Kamoonpuri, Gideon, Gary, Austin E., and Jody M.,
Fatima N., Mark N., Aiyah B., Ralph F., Kathryn C., Elly, Ayesha A.,
Clay W., Erich, Syam, MIKKI, John B., Olusegun, *Sukmawati* Gwen,
Delysia H., Frederic P., Richard L., Brenda L., Keith, Debbie G.,
Thank you for painting the best IMAGERY
Michale Clarke, Charma C., Wayland B., Jancarl C., Carrie, and Harry,
M&M, Abdulhafeez, Michael B., Maria P. S., CHAN and Mandy T.
You are only the beginning of what makes this a good community
Arlid A., Dinda M., Silly Billy, Tim Ryerson, we go way back.
Ravindra, Kim M., Richard S., Honestly JT., Wade A., Dom-X.
The ingredients in your poems, makes the best soup remix
Joe M., Jack H., James H., James P., Tim B., Jon A. C., Allan K., Matthew A.
Deb Wilson, David S., David William, Thomas S., Cecilia M.
Keep that pen flowing for tomorrow needs poets like you.
Justin B., Laura B., your words will continue to be a part of me.
Owen Y., and John L., your visits, your friendship I will never forget
Yasmin and Carl F., hanging out with you on the soup was the best.
Cherl Dunn, and Colleen Bono, SandyIvy, I will miss everything about you,
Mostly I will miss your friendship and the way you took care of me.
Poet and sister Skat, keep rocking what I can't....
Copy paste your love, welcome in the new.
Show Edwina, Robin, Sam B., and all the NEW POETS they belong
Last but not least-- Behind every mess, they are the best
--Craig Cornish and Cyndi McMillan
What have you done, I admit without you this place would have been no fun.
Thank you for the spin, making every penny worth our paid premium memberships
Before I forget,
I want to take this time to reminisce and add two old friends to my hot list.
Nikko and Chris A..... My first POETRY SOUP FRIENDS.
I will never forget you, and all the fun moments we had,
Back when the soup was not like this:)
Chris, can you ever forgive me, I never stepped up to say "I was Sorry!"
As you know my kindness is my weakness
Now it's time to be strong and move on
If one day I return, then you know, I fell off the wagon
And, into arms and luring fingers of Team Poetry Soup
The Poet Destroyer
Poem | |
Wilma cried, “We are going too slow!”
But poor Flintstone could no faster go.
Not because of a flat.
No, for nothing like that.
It was just Fred had stubbed his big toe!
Written Nov. 14, 2014
For the Limerick Clean and Clever Contest of Roy Jerden
Yabba Dabba DOO!!!! And Boo Hoo Hoo!!!
Poem | |
Santa hasn’t drunk cocoa tonight,
and he’s not dressed in red trimmed with white.
In blue denim so cool,
he is toasting the Yule
with a drink surely not mixed with Sprite!
Santa’s drink was a little too red,
and I think we have something to dread,
for he’s now in the sky
and he’s flying “too high”
as his sleigh widely veers overhead.
For the East Jesus Contest of Roy Jerden.
See picture above , which was my inspiration. Can anyone tell me what that green
Thing on the inside of the goblet might be??
* Slab City is a snowbird campsite in the Colorado Desert in southeastern California, used by recreational vehicle owners and squatters from across North America. East Jesus is part of its artistic community.
Poem | |
Tell me that this fear is just paranoia in my mind,
we're not straining, we're not struggling,
we're not sinking, we're just fine.
I'm not perfect my dearest, but damn have I tried,
and I'll try harder but I know I'll have the same results every time.
Do you want me all the ways that I am?
With all the struggles and the tears and the clinging to your hand.
I fear your getting further and Im left on the shore to stand,
watching you in the distance with a bullet in my hand.
Tell me all this worry, its just clutter in my mind,
tell me not to worry that we're doing just fine.
Cause Im scared to run you off and I feel Im falling deep.
And Im so frightened of these thoughts that its getting hard to sleep.
All I know is that the heart wants what it desires,
because of you the match inside has turned into a fire.
And I feel the broken glass thats sticking from my skin,
Wondering if you'll remove the pain or push it back in.
My hearts frantic wondering if you feel the same,
pleading and begging for more than just a saying,
but to feel and to see that im not alone,
with being in this love thats overwhelming.
Once I told you that we didnt have a spark,
but you were lighting up and I was sitting in the dark.
And this fire, this blaze its wrapped in desire.
Im terrified to lose you, I think I might die or,
maybe disappear from all the pieces falling out,
im going crazy but when i open my mouth, nothing comes out,
and I cant explain to you why I just need to hold you close,
why every time you leave Im scared to let you go,
why these tears are building up behind my eyes,
all I know is that the heart wants what it desires
and it desires to be your wife.
So tell me in my panic, that your words are true,
tell my my dearest what I mean to you,
tell me that this paranoia is all within my mind
we're not struggling, we're not sinking tell me we're just fine
Poem | |
Kevin the kid, Macaulay Culkin,
Alone at home he was left sulkin’
Challenged the robbers on the block
On Christmas day gave them a shock.
Contest: A Christmas Character Clerihew
Sponsor: Andrea Dietrich
Poem | |
Often wondering is it a steak upon Our Plates that is important...
Perhaps a Hot-dog instead and more Money for a healing deportment.
To feed a Child that is suffering or very ill and extremely sick.
We ask often comfortably what often makes the wealthy tick?
As We read on The Internet that there are Children out there just wanting Bread.
The Children eating grass is in an Article that was just as this is read...
My Heart torn open,wrenched,concerned and burning with anguish inside.
My Own Home stemless, poor, and uncomfortably We reside...
Wishing We could just reach threw a T.V. Set to give a helping hand...
Just to pass Our Dinner to a child in a taunted hemmed Land.
My passion so large, words so strong, and My Pocket very small.
Never standing in the right position in Life to answer as Children call.
There are Children in Our World that are just eating grass.
Under seemly so by My feelings of disrepair as I pass My Own grasp...
This stench of Many Self willed that preform as Our stanza has not surpassed.
To reach for You now is more then an unbearable weep to comprehend.
A World filling up with Starvation and Our Children in it left to descend.
To reach for You now is an unbearable decision not yet made.
The Children Eating Grass just wore Me thin and They paid.
Sometime wishing I could just rob and empty an entire vault.
That Decision would cost Me greatly so I resort to prayer that will never fault.
To Be trusted with just This Message where I sit and grieve.
When Encounters of Love yet to occur and never to beckon Evil that is deceived.
By Charlene L.Wilcox 09-29-2014
Poem | |
Now I ask you this
A more common name you will not find
Cities have thousands of them
Small towns have at least one
Why pretty much everywhere you go
You will find a Mr. Smith
Why once in china
In the middle of nowhere
This old Chinese man came out of his hut
Shook my hand
Said , Ni Hoa me Mr. Smith
I was truly and duly shocked
Being a Smith, he made me tea and served me lunch
Go to any hockey game and I will tell you this
In the stands
There will be 1000's and more
of Smiths, Mr. and Misses and all manner of Smiths
Why even the Montreal Canadians have one!!!
Now if you turn around, there will be a smith behind
The odds say this is true, and thankfully for all,
To hold a door open
To help an old lady across the street
The Smiths are gods angels
Lending a helping hand
Love and good cheer, you know a smith is near
Now you may ask me how I know all this to be true
The answer is quite simple you see
I know a Tim Smith
A kinder man you will not find
A family that loves him
Friends that appreciate him
A tavern that knows him by first name
Someone who always buys me a DRINK!!!!
A man of loyalty this is for sure
What else explains a Blackhawks fan?
So I tip my hat to my friend Tim
I raise a glass of good cheer and salute
To a family man of honor
With a heart of gold for those lucky enough
To know Him
Poem | |
Our dark founding father, of American literature,
A sinister beacon of darkness, lighting the way
Into the darkened abyss of mankind’s soul.
Within the galleria of madness, he is the
Grandmaster of the black ink, and it's
Written words of terror.
In thus the shadow realm, does his spirit
Still roam, on the cutting edge of fear,
A fine thin line, is drawn between reality,
And fictions illusionary world.
Life's a shunned, abandonment’s creation,
The lord's misbegotten son, embraced
The night's cloak, in it's power
His only salvation unto history's
Remembrance, is found a truth's
Justice and notability's respect.
Loves passionate compliant servant,
Dashed against the rocks of life itself,
Broken and damaged, he rose above
The waves of poverty, and the under
Current of tragedies broken
Some may say he wrote from the after
Effects that laid, at the bottom
Of the bottle.
Or afterfeeds drug endued comma, dulling
The emotional nerves concept between
Right and wrong, the social exceptionable
But we care not what others wish to believe,
For we honor him, those of us the dark poets,
As the father whom lead the way, between
Light and dark.
Dearest Edger Allen Poe, the legend, the man,
A spiritual dark representative, with pens quailed
Ink at his command.
BY: CHERYL ANNA DUNN
Poem | |
OMNIPOTENT: HE KNOWS ALL
I know today, at this time
You... my son(man), may not wholly know me.
but, may I ask you...
Have you taken one time to close your eyes in silence,
feel me in your midst... and somehow reflect why despite say:
your abounding richness still, you feel lost or empty?
your waterfall trials still, you find yourself standing?
your ten thousand sins still, you are given another day to live?
My eyes, My hands, My feet.
My heart, My breathe, My mind,
All of them are filled with unselfish love for You.
Before... I created the world complete and beautiful for you
that all you need and all you want is there
within your grasp. Within your reach.
No hunger. No thirst. No killing.
No stealing. No pain. No disease.
Nothing evil is there nor anything to cause a tear from your eyes.
I created you my son as like me
unto my image and likeness you are mold
yet above all these, how was I to know...
that with some lies of a devil
you will desire to be greater than I am.
but I have forgiven You and given You always chances
to change, to be better and once again look unto me as Your God alone.
Yet, You seem to be blind, deaf or seem to be high-pride
Hence, I have come to the point of sending you, my Only Begotten Son
Him, who I answered and empowered through His uttered prayers.
Him, whom I asked to fully demonstrate how it is to be human
and more to be God at the same time.
Him, who didn't consider status, gender, race or age.
Selflessly, He embraced all but overall still He wasn't accepted .
Him, who begged with blood of tears that I will take away the cup from Him
but later, surrendered and humbly said: MY WILL BE DONE.
so even His follower who was bribed-- became a traitor.
And so, He was condemned and put to death.
Again, my son, I ask you to ponder on this
Do you need me to every now and then be infront of you?
(when I am always here knocking at Your heart's door)
Will by seeing me in flesh and hearing my voice convince you?
(aren't my Creations: the sun, flowers, the waters, the air tell you am around?)
that I am Your God, who will never leave you nor forsake you.
(aren't my spirit, your friends, family, supporter,
or even a kind stranger tell you am present?)
Don't you recognize every single day that I am performing miracles for you?
(but sad. Sad. Sad that you don't notice them)
Have I not given you a heart and a mind to know and decide?
To name a few..
I am a builder. I am a teacher. I am a healer: the greatest physician.
I am a fisherman. The great carpenter. The great farmer. The great gardener.
Oh yes! yesterday, today and even tomorrow
you will hear or you will see so much about me from anyone
but have I not told you always to seek me by your heart
and that apart from me you can not do more
and that you need faith, hope and love to see me...
As strong as the wind, as quiet as the forest
As fearless as the fire, as immovable as the mountains
from east to west, from north to south
to the flying spell of the night, to the erupting swell of the sun
even borders and beyond...
I am the way, the truth and the life
I am the alpha and omega
I am the one and only God
I am who was, who is and yet to come
I am the God who knows all...
I so love you my son that above all this,
I gave you free will,
I am leaving you the choice...
to open your door for me or not.
Will you let me enter, my son?
10:03 pm, March 24, 2015
Poem | |
Bead, bangles and blush,
Lively, Lady is called a lush,
She's heard it before,
When she walks to the store,
It doesn't phase her anymore.
Eclectic and eccentric form,
She is far away from norm,
A character of charm is she,
Spirit wild with a heart free,
Letting the good time be.
Skirts, scarves and smiles,
Lady walks the main street miles,
Waves of style in her wake,
She is an island in a lake,
Giving, she does not take.
Personality and pride shine,
With age she is a fine wine.
Lady with the rose tint glasses,
A unique bud in a vase of the masses,
Teacher of living street classes.
Don't fear the characters, they bring variety,
Spices up this life, this eccentric lady is me.
for contest, eccentrize my eyes
Poem | |
I LOVE THEE
I am no voluptuous beauty nor do I live a life of purity
I can only say: I love wholeheartedly with all I am so truthfully
I keep my heart open though it gets hurt so often
I avoid to be irate as I know love changes the heart rate..
Guys tried to coo and woo, they say words as for "only you"
Yet, hard to believe it is true as I see some untrue
I give chances as my heart marks with tact entrances
I learned from various instances looking man in romances
In places where rules impede, two persons who wants to bid
Not of money but of affection, in them must be determination
I love thee not of what you have…
Not even of who you are but to how you are to me…
If I love you, don't tell me much what to do…
As me, myself will show you, I am that real and true..
Yes, I am liked by many but tell you what:
I don't like this honey nor am I proud of it in anyway
One is enough to make me stay
Stand with me through it all, I give my best not to fall
My name your sweetest call echoing in every wall..
Hold me firm yet dear; allow me to move closely
We'll make it anyhow, treading smoothly on flows...
We are strong, aren't we? No one moving alone
Together we'll face phases in tune, though there will dunes..
© OLIVE ELOISA D. GUILLERMO
3:25 pm, 07/13/2013
CONTEST: ANY POEM GOES #13
SPONSOR: POET DESTROYER
8TH PLACE (TO GOD BE THE GREATEST GLORY)
Poem | |
Rosette tapestries of unparalleled glamour
Embroided thoroughly by the wittiest clamor
Magnanimously amorous in grace and wonder
Bewitching and charming though so yonder
Rhetorically out bounding my frugal thoughts
To be "irresistible", my flawless pure cause
Starlight's amiss your ornate romantic spell
Driving me sweetly to madly deep to compel
Handful of metaphors and highfalutin words
Illuminating. Inspiring. Invigorating.
Incubating anyone with one unique style
Wonderful, beautiful, matchless, they foretell
Vividly inventive and bombastic with each stroke
To hardened hearts, you can surely start to stoke
Erratically tender enough to adagio break the silence
Drawing anyone for more and more to your essence
Revised April 24, 2014
CONTEST: ANY POEM #24
Sponsor: POET DESTROYER A
Poem | |
I am that merry wanderer of the night.
Puck, Midsummer’s Night Dream.
Rob ‘n Good fellow wears no simple guise
and I met him today on even ground,
he tipped a friendly hat, told not a lie,
kindly welcomed me, we spoke in the round.
Rob n’ Good fellow sees through flustered walls,
nudges a cagey fox, seeds the mad crow,
defends his deep woods where he tenders crowns,
brokers for peace, but readies quick arrows.
Rob n’ Good Fellow, the man about town,
Mischief-in-grin and plan-at-hand,
generous with his liberality,
yet keeps broken humans in his command ...
Still, Rob n’ Good Fellow, imp of affinity.
Poem | |
USE ALL OF ME
Kindly use all of me today...
Again, I say to You God---
use all of me today.
I am no preacher God
but allow every word that comes from my mouth
be a blessing to those who hear it.
Let it be a torch to light someone's hope.
Let it be a rainbow that kindles dreams.
or let it be a needle that pricks and awakens someone's thoughts.
I am no good singer God
but I thank You '
for permitting this voice be heard
among persons whom I lead to pray,
to worship and sing you some praise.
The lyrics I have sang
spoke to my very heart reminding me that
it's not actually how good or bad I am as a singer
but it's how clean and sincere my heart is.
Upon my nostrils You blow me the breath of life
enabling me to live in whatever form I am now.
You place me time to time on tests
or sometimes edge to edge situations
where there are times...
I fall on bended knees,
I cry and laugh to my ease.
Unto my small hands with it's slender fingers
I thank you for giving me the opportunity
to take part in relieving someone's pain;
to be a channel of your healing touch;
to be a path in extending Your gracious blessings.
I will never forget the smiles that shine
from every patient that passed under my care.
Father, their grin changed and humbled me.
I treasure my student's plea of I staying still then.
And their until now recognition of me when they see me
on my most casual simplest attire.
I am proud that my students before are now like me --
nightingales of tender loving care.
I don't know how long will you let me live
but I ask You Father God
to use all of me in every way.
I would love to know how will I serve you more.
Reveal unto me Your will in my life.
Days are passing by
and so since I renewed my relationship with You
deeper and deeper I am falling in love with You.
Hence, I want You more and more in my life.
I am so happy each time I have a date with You;
Each time I hear Your endearing words
Each time I read Your love letters
each time I meet a person who is like You:
loving, caring, understanding and more...
My shyness melts each time I am with You.
The accelerating freedom is undeniable when I am with You.
Endorphin and energy plunge into heights
that I can't control myself to dance and sing for You.
My thoughts and my heart is overflowing with gladness
each time I have this privilege to write something for You
as this gift I acknowledge is fully from You.
I just love You with all my heart
and so I trust everything to You.
Use all of me in every way to bring You back
all the glory, all the honor and all the praise
that above all belongs only to You, God.
©O. E. Guillermo
7:34 pm; December 02, 2014
Poem | |
THIS IS THE DAY THE LORD GAVE!
Looking out life’s window,
Trying to find out why I am so sad and down.
I don’t blame the Lord for my struggles.
I know strife in life is there.
If I did not live a meaningful existence, life would have no meaning at all.
So maybe I am stretched to the limit but I will never give-up.
Standing, I pillar because I am my self-worth.
To those that suggest a difference, my earthly work magnifies who I am.
Justifying my subsistence, my affluence is only a gen.
The knowledge this provides is of a greater acumen.
May I say that living is first and utmost privileged circumstance!
The Lord is my keeper and to him I give honor and respect.
In this solitary world, we seek companionship.
We go through situations in our relationships and may lose focus.
However, the Lord is there for us in our time of discontent.
Regime is formed and we mindset.
Our spirits are inner cored for fulfillment.
There is no greater cohort than the Lord’s intellect.
I know because this mountain I continue to peak.
Without question, I am profound in my belief.
That the Lord is the keeper of my faith and mankind is the persuader of a different way.
In joy, I laugh aloud.
I am not blind to the lies of mankind.
My footsteps are admin to the all-powerful.
This day is given by The Almighty God.
Do I hear an Amen?
Penned On January 11, 2015!
Poem | |
His daddy is fighting in Iraq.
His mommy is fighting tears.
His brother is fighting death.
He is fighting his desolation and fears.
Friends are but a dream
and companions are an illusion.
School is a concentration camp,
but he stands, though alone, in the midst of confusion.
His training school is loneliness.
His milestones are fears, thrust in lies.
His only weapon is faith
and his bullets are soft "hallelujah" cries.
Strength left his fragile body
and he lost the fight in life so coy,
yet on his knees he conquered agony
and I call him the little soldier boy.
Poem | |
Another layer of lavender scented lotion
Rubbed in vehement laughter
A quelling of sadness
Covered up in mascara insanity
Livid strokes of feathered paintbrushes
Hoping to see the big picture
She cried like oil paintings without a purpose.
A treasure hunter searching for rubbery remedies
Without heart’s sanctified atrium
To light the way
She bled from carnivorous pores
Bites against feeding palms
Struggling licks upon pacifier wounds
Stone’s lonely lyric
Thrown against fragile lighthouses
Beaming through unacceptable horizons
Investigation of deity’s hidden agenda,
She questions validation’s esophagus
Its vocal chords
Another squeeze from lavender bottle
Its exhales shedding infantile whisper
A bounced reality check
Declaring that it wasn’t a disease
That afflicted her bones
©Drake J. Eszes
Poem | |
$hawty Got $wag
Shawty got swag,
Shawty mad dope.
Face all cheesin’,
She real turned up.
Goin’ to da club,
She steppin' wit her peeps,
Lookin’ so ratchet,
She’s straight up hoochie.
No racks in her pocket,
No stacks in her wallet,
But she all into bubbly
Slurpin’ and burpin’.
Lookin for a big baller,
Who’ll give her wat she wants,
Wildin’ on the dance floor,
Tweakin’ an’ freakin’,
Shawty actin' so cra cra!
She just like da rest a dem,
But Shawty real fly,
Sure likes a lotta ice,
Bling bling, and Benjamins.
Shawty creepin’ to hook up
Coz she needs a boo wit finesse,
Who’ll give her Yves St. Laurent,
5-star hotels, and 5-star restaurants.
Shawty off the chain,
Shawty off the hook,
She got game and she’s aight!
Shawty da bomb - fuh real!!!
Entered in contest “Ebonics – Let’s Do Some Slang" sponsored by Verlena S.
Some Terms and Definitions:
shawty – a young attractive female; dope – cool, nice, awesome; swag – style;
turn up – excited; mad – really a lot; peeps – friends, close pals; baller – a
thug that made it in the big time; racks/stacks– lots of money; aight – alright;
wildin’– to go crazy, acting out of control; cra cra – crazy; tweakin’/freakin’ –
dancing provocatively and moving around out of control; cheesin’ – smiling;
finesse – man who has swag and can spend a huge amount of money; ratchet
– ghetto diva; creepin’ – sneaking about; bubbly – champagne; bling bling –
expensive flashy jewelry; Benjamins – hundred dollar bills; boo – one’s lover;
da bomb – the best of the best; game – skills; ice – expensive flashy jewelry
usually diamonds or jewelry with diamonds; off the chain/off the hook –
excellent, fantastic, awesome; fly – cool, in style; hook up – getting together
with someone romantically; hoochie – a female who dresses trashy; straight up
– absolutely, really.