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,
Wordmaster'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-scraped 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
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 | |
A beat of drums, a
song of solitude.
A deep and timid
red, so softly hued.
truth is deep like
I come to play, if
playing Queen is
A love is tempting,
lust is just a game.
I steal a kiss as
fears do turn from
A sigh, a tie, I
twist in pleasures
I close my eyes,
A song of sex, a
dance, I need to
The sound of
near my ear.
I tie a rope around
a willing wrist.
A tie so red it
makes the roses
A puppet, pawn, my
game is chess, I
A check, my mate, be
ready to begin.
I feast on pain and
Enjoy the time
behind the dark red
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 | |
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 | |
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 | |
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 | |
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 | |
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 | |
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 in an Article was just as this is read...
My Heart torn open,wrenched,and burning with anguish inside.
My Own Home hem less,poor,and uncomfortably We reside...
Wishing We could just reach threw a T.V. Set to give a 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 gas...
This stench of Many Self willed that preform as Our stanza has not grasped.
To reach for You now is more then an unbearable weep comprehend.
A World filling up with Starvation and Our Children in it left to descend.
To reach You now is an unwearable 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 | |
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 | |
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 | |
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 | |
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 | |
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 | |
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 | |
He paces steadily in the ash of evening
while a neck cranes to watch the darkness fall:
an armor on his back hardens amidst
the chatter of leaves at the far end
of a sea where danger waits.
Through a haze, a fearless turtle
stands guard against the rage of winds;
his beaded eyes cautiously
scanning predators as flowers bend
for comfort of night’s droning hum.
Displaying an ancient legacy, he traverses
the mossy dune with shell and flippers
kneading stealthily in cunning motion…
oh, bearer of water and earth
evolves like a mystical ninja turtle
carrying the load to find a jeweled star.
Cyndi MacMillan's Free Verse- Turtle Contest
by nette onclaud
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 | |
A cold lion roams, doctrinaire and sterile,
The expanse of Africa offers him no sanctuary, the Saringehti no salvation,
He can only smell the scent of his pride now, his cubs shun him,
Repelled by needless roars, the revolting rants,
Tail tattered, biten by jackels at will,
His nose bit and beaten from battles better avoided,
Soul tethered to a label, only a title, "King of the Jungle" ,
Fleas and insects of all sorts find haven in his muddy mane
once so puffed and wide like a thunderhead trampling over Tanzania,
I hear him in the twilight, lonely, unsated and undesired,
Paranoid about a life that does not seem to love him,
His heart became a desserted Athens, a broken, rigid column slumped on the earth,
He wanders near the Nile, nearsighted and nervous
As an Egyptian boy of ancient lineage stalks him sensitively
Putting the speartip to his temple saying,
I see your ribs, your broken paws, your futility,
I will now deliver your soul unto the cool night,
The spear is launched with a certain bloodlust
piercing behind the shoulder blade, his heart hollers
with the cry of scarred suprise, the lion stumbles and pants
vanity no allowing blame for lack of vigilance,
the boy trots to the spot, kneels in token reverence
telling him, sip the black puddle of your error, as eyes fold ever shallow,
let me feed you these apples of arrogance
so to quiet your grievence, to sooth your ego before final sight,
there is no shame in being slain by a Pharoah King, old lion,
I shall wear your teeth as a timeless trophy of tragedy,
Emblematical of Pride gone on too long,
may the spirit of Herodetous teach this lesson to a new breed -
Poem | |
"Your first poem was an
excellent poem....you are
skat on my first poem.
"Wonderful and deep
poem....you 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
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
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
whispering...... A prolific
writer as well.
PD will I meet
amiable nature,full of
grace and charm. A
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
Saying hi and hugs to
Meeting the soupers is
making a happy family.
Am gliding like the
eagle,soaring higher as
the day pass by.
you soupers are my
(Baron Of Ebullion)
Poem | |
From her eyes
Man’s heart melts
Knees are bent
Gives his best
(Form of this poem: Ellip)
Contest: Latest Poem
Sponsor: Poet Nathan
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 | |
$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.
Poem | |
A man with impeccable charm, sophistication and grace,
Fred Astaire was at once both marvelous and enchanting
As the twentieth century’s greatest dancer and master artist.
He made his sublime dancing (“hoofing”) seem effortless.
Capturing the American spirit with both panache and verve
Fred Astaire glided across some quite wonderful movie sets:
Top Hat (1935), Swing Time (1936), Shall We Dance (1937)
Done magnificently—all harken back to a different America.
This America tho’ more old fashioned was one of “can-do”
And boasted a gutsy bravado even in times great hardship.
Fred Astaire with others was a sturdy star symbol of the then
Greatest Generation that helped bring peace to a war torn world.
Fred Astaire was part of this Greatest Generation entertaining
Packed audiences and dazzling them with steps of joy and perfection.
Tho’ now gone Astaire’s past accomplishments serve as a prologue
For new generations to come and to seize opportunities for greatness.
Where are you Fred Astaire?
Gary Bateman, Copyright © All Rights Reserved, Schoeningen, Germany
(September 2, 2014)
Poem | |
Superman has always been a superhero of mine
One of my favorites of all and that with me is more than fine.
Superman he's so handsome and he's so very cool
He can fly!And he's so bright,smart,and he's never a fool.
Superman in his superhero outfit looks so sharp and good
And for truth and justice for anyone always proud stood
There's no one in the world like Christopher Reeves as Superman
Superman fights for everything that stands for good and that's his plan.
Superman,fight for the American way and has tons of die-hard devoted fans
He always comes shining thru for all,evil in all his films he bans
Superman in the world of superheroes is my number one and many of us agreed
No other superhero can ever beat him with all its unique attributes indeed.
Dorian Petersen Potter