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Best Easy Poems

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Not Easy Being Irish by Whalen O Haolin in ancient Celtic, David
Silly doesn't come easy by Babbit, DM
Let me make it easy for you by Elizab, Felicia
Five -Minus Three- Easy Pieces by Coyne, William
Easy To Be Arrogant by Crismond, Steve
be that easy by rocke, monty
Handling Anxiety in 10 Easy Steps by Larson, Brittany
School Should Make School Easy by Monihan, Rhoda
EASY DOES IT by Enriquez, Leon
THE BIG EASY by van Breda, Kim

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The Best Easy Poems

Details | Easy Poem | |

To all the heart breakers -a ZOMBIE's valentine

Wouldn't you rather~

Wouldn't you rather be dead?
Maybe shoot yourself in the head?
Over my dead heart, I'd never want to be a zombie like you.
The sight of your limbs are rotten all the time.
All synonyms say of you looks like a 3 legged swine.
Go ahead and do us all a favor, 
hide and stash yourself away from all your neighbor. 
I think I'd rather have my eyes stuck with glue
So I won't have to look at you
When it comes to family friends, you ain't got none.
You're always gonna be called the lonely retarded one.
Who could ever love a face like yours.
not even your mother see's pass your gores 
No need for privacy when you pee
Go ahead and take a leak and drown yourself in the sea.
Don't think for one second you are irresistible 
Love making with a zombie is impossible.

Wouldn't you rather be dead?
maybe shoot yourself in the head

The time to kill yourself is at hand.
Slicing your wrist is what we recommend.  
Cut your tongue off, don't want to hear you squeal.   
Blood all over, your face is no big deal
A sword or machete will only pick up the pace
I wanna see your guts pop out your mid-waist 
Contaminated objects is a must
Anything to remove your face of disgust.
The easy part is the best
Once you are gone we will all feel blessed,
The flaw of your existence  
Is what keeps us all in distance 

Wouldn't you rather be dead?
maybe shoot yourself in the head

Close your eyes and die
No one wants to hear you cry
You said you wanted to be loved
believe me~ you're better off unloved
I say do yourself off
Anyways you've always had it rough...
Go ahead and scream
This is not a dream
Now see how you make me feel
All I want is for you to end your ugly ordeal.
I will praise this day of course
Knowing soon you'll be a rotting corpse.

happy valentine ~ TO: All My DEADBEAT X-es from Texas.

Copyright © SKAT A

More great poems below...

Details | Easy Poem | |

Missing Mother

Bits of me are missing mother,
the bits of me which you placed.
Bits of me are missing Mother;
ah,         I see you in my face.

Trying to remember Mother’s days -
wine and roses - Sinatra songs 
beaches, pipe curls and crinolines -
Days, so far gone, so long ago,
replaced by bitter brew: by tears,
by fears, by little pills;
I remember you.

I see you in my face     Mother.
Years gone by and still I try,
no easy thing to do, I try to remember,
just a few   memories of happy days
with you - 

Was it when   I learned to read;
when you baked your pies? Ah, Mother, 
mother memories only come in sighs.

Still, in all, it’s very true, I spend 
each day missing,   missing all of you.

Copyright © Debbie Guzzi

Details | Easy Poem | |

Of Ink

   Partial Paper
 -A poet in heat-

Ink carries its own tale,
When moonshine intoxicates your pen
Bottles of ink fill your mind
Composing symphonies on every line
Drops of passion all over the mask you wear
Nothing compares to black stains and broken nails

This part of you 
The tough skin you'll ever live in
Fountain pens of split identities
Who Are You?
Sinking  words like no other
Poisoned ink piercing every rhyme
Inferior poet, making the heart pure
Anger plus anger "GIVE ME MORE!"

You have a desire to paint all day,
Breathing and beating in every way
Toxic lines, from which ink flows
Inhaling images from the world
Deep and cold sorrowed emotions 
True love is always easy to poetize
Dear Poet:  "Ink Never Lies."

Pretty pink acrostic ink when she's nearby
Sugar and salt, Epic taste of reality
Ballads sang under the full moon
Sunny Sonnets, on any rainy day
Ode's of rivers from your past
A dark smile jotting down memory lane
Monologue tears brought under pressure
Loading cartridges of fresh Senryu and Haiku"
Dramatic red runs through your veins when all is done
Unfolding old and new propaganda's
POET: You are my favorite verse in every stanza
((Only this, and nothing more))
Writing is like giving birth


Copyright © Poet Destroyer A

Details | Easy Poem | |

Memoirs of a cancer survivor

In life, I have faced many trial and tribulations,
but I knew this would be the hardest one.
I can still remember that fateful day,
after scans, biopsies and tests, it was finally confirmed.

I didn't smoke, drink or suffer from stress, so how could this be,
even my doctors were totally bemused, you see.
At the peak of my health, strong fit and able,
yet a lump on my throat was the only telling sign.

I still remember when it was confirmed, stage 4 aggressive cancer,
on the base of my tongue, spread to my neck, throat and voice box.
The doctor looked at me, waiting for me to break down,
I showed little emotion, my mind told me, don't worry be strong.

My voice is my talent and I might lose it forever,
as I sat in the car, a little numb, everything was still.
I looked up to the sky and wondered why me?
I thought to myself, God, you sure have a funny sense of humour.

A 50/50 chance of life, for a moment or two, I did feel sorry for myself,
but just for a moment, as I knew I needed to be strong.
Cancer can be such a confusing thing, a horrid disease,
but they say 50% is in the head and you have to defeat your demons.

I kept it a secret for so long, its not easy telling someone,
all those around me broke down with its discovery.
I didn't want to show them I am weak, so I remained strong,
being strong was what I had been all my life and this would be no different.

I had so much to live for and I constantly told myself, your not going to die,
I had so much support from family and friends, it pulled me through.
however, no one really understood, I guess its difficult if you've not had it,
but it made me feel so lonely, so I just didn't discuss it and suffered alone.

The chemotherapy poisoned my whole body and left me weak,
I felt so vulnerable, stricken to a bed with no appetite or thirst.
I just lay there motionless, no energy to get up or walk,
wasting away slowly, thinking how is this a cure?

Then came the radiotherapy, wow, now that's something!
Burning away at my neck and mouth, slowly becoming more painful.
You can see your whole face and body changing, unrecognisable,
I was the pieces of the man I used to be, but I was not broken.

I constantly reminded myself, it will all be over soon,
that all pain is temporary and I will be fine.
Others never had so much faith, I could see in their faces,
when they looked at me they saw death.

Even when admitted into hospital, as I couldn't eat anything now,
one whole month, a peg in my stomach, and both arms on drips.
Everyday seemed to get harder and harder, but my mind remained strong,
not once did my mind think I had cancer, just a temporary illness.

Through all this time, not once did I breakdown or cry, not me, no, not I,
there were times when I felt so miserable and low, I forgot how to smile.
Sometimes I felt like I was falling into depression, into a dark twisted world,
but my mind kept me sane and kept me strong and slowly I began to smile.

So here I am, still alive and almost 100% today,
I know cancer will return again one day, i've won the battle, but not the war.
Its hard and its difficult, especially when your whole world is falling apart,
but remember worry ends when faith begins and everything will be all right.

1 Aug 2015

Copyright © Silent One

Details | Easy Poem | |


Long before Horus' exposure on its trunk
and the nailing of Jesus upon its grain,
rings have been added within the Tree
while people proclaim to hold the key
of salvation, a continually borrowed mythology
swallowed; a powerful sleeping pill

pulling the masses into slumber,
away from the obvious truth
that such supposed salvation 
is a ticket far too easy to obtain,
a discriminatory damnation of souls
so blindingly righteous,
even the most vengeful, maniacal deity
would draw the line there.

So many people hand-out the easy tickets,
cut and light the tree --
a hypodermic injection of selfish memories
mixed into mortar for temples designated as sacred,
but the elements are desecrated by swirling sewers,
by shears amputating roots from the sky.

Too many people preach, judicate, proclamate,
hold signs pointing towards a cheap, polystyrene heaven,
while only a few walk the narrow path,
live the sacrifice because it feels right.

Again and again, 
the ticket isn't so easy,
we must put aside our slumber-crutches,
stop watching the few carry the rest
upon their backs until bones creak and groan
from the weight of people waiting for salvation
to be handed to them.

27 years, a branch in the road, 46664 etched into its bark.
The forked doors opened,
a living, breathing gospel
brought down fences,
and even then the wood was made into crutches
for people to say, 
"M will fix it, M will do this, M will do that,
M will save us, just wait and see."
But M is finally free, yes, he is free!
Free, but not lost to us,
always surviving as spirit-seeds.

We must no longer lean upon crutches,
instead purge the pill from our blood
and awaken into gardeners who water the seeds
within the soil of our souls,
before the vision withers completely,

and we remain only as husks
waiting to be hydrated by watering cans
held in hands too weak to lift the weight....

held in our own hands all along, 
held in our hands all along.

*Inspired by Madiba Mandela

December 7th/8th, 2013


Copyright © Chris D. Aechtner

Details | Easy Poem | |

Yesterday Love Was Such An Easy Game To Play

Yesterday, I went home for lunch, I never go home for lunch. When I got to our apartment  I don't know why but I didn't reach for my key.  Francine was at work and I always leave last in the morning.  I was sure I had locked the door but I didn't reach for my key. I reached for the door knob and turned. The door was open.  I don't know how I knew. The moment I entered I knew.  I froze. I could feel it, smell it, hell I could taste it. I started walking but my muscles wouldn't move,  my lungs were grasping for air  for some oxygen  some sweet, sweet oxygen but I could barely breathe. “Leave!” I told myself but I kept walking. Not really walking,  it was like moving through mud,  like a slow motion scene in a movie.  But this wasn't a movie.  This was my life and I could feel it slipping away  from my grasp. I heard noises! Francine.  I had heard those noises a hundred times before,  they were the sounds of an Angel  but this was no heaven  this was my own private nightmare. The moans traveled through the muck in the air  amplified like the hiss from a distorted speaker.  It mocked me over and over again. Climbing a mountain might have been easier  but I finally reached the bedroom, and there they were, and there she was. I knew, I knew the moment I entered the apartment.  Why hadn't I just turned back?  I could barely see, my eyes were blurry,  covered in layers of my own tears. I could see her  I knew I had never seen him before. They were naked and in our bed.  Naked in OUR BED! How do you that? How do you cross the line to that extreme? You'd think the green eyed monster  would control my actions from here on in.  I did see green! I was insanely jealous but I didn't want to end up the morning headline in the newspaper. That monster jealousy was by my side but I took charge.  I'd have to keep him at bay, at least for now. You'd think I would be mad, I wasn't. You'd think I'd curse and call her whore. I didn't! Being cut open alive must be lest painful than this.   This hacked away at my spirit,  tore away at my self worth. I felt like a pile of worthless shreds. I spoke I mean my lips moved and words came out... I think.  I think I said,  I'm not sure it all happened so fast, she never spoke. I could see the shame on her face  she didn't need to speak,  but, but I think I said 'Sorry... I said Sorry and I left. I wandered for what seemed hours,  it was minutes.  It wasn't like I was meandering to a different drummer;  there just wasn't any music anymore. I was moving to the rhythm of the beating of my own heart.  Like a broken record it was skipping, like a broken record it played  in a loop of repetitive monotony. I suffered in my circled steps  until I couldn't stand it any more. I found just enough strength  to return to the apartment. I knew she was gone  I already felt the emptiness in my whole. We'd never see each other again. We had been so much. She was a big part of my life. She was the love of my life. I would never love anyone like that again. So much of her was me. I thought she was my soul mate. We let go of all of it. There is a feeling of betrayal. A feeling of disgust. A jealousy that takes over. I'd never look at her the same again. Everything she ever did from that day on would always make me suspicious. Jealousy would rule me. Jealousy should never rule anyone. If you can't trust the people in your life, friend or lover, you need to remove that person from your life. You have to remove that person out of your life. Trust, is the only gift we can offer. Friend, lover or stranger! People can trust me. My word is my bond. I let her go,  I really didn't have a choice I would never be the same again. She was gone. She had left a note. It said Sorry! Sorry! We both were. Maurice Yvonne 11~30~2014 Sponsor: Verlena S. Walker Contest Name: The Green-Eyed Monster 

Copyright © Maurice Yvonne

Details | Easy Poem | |

This scar of mine

                        There is a scar
                          On my face
                            Small, steadfastly placed
                              One only notices if they are this close 
                                 To kissing my soul
                                   On my cheek
                                      Below the eyes and sideways
                                         Beside the bubble-gum sweet
                                           Mouth, vivacious story teller
                                            like an upside down
                                              sharp angled  half moon                    
                                               The endless emotions of my sky
                                                 So attractively rough
                                                   It attacks the delicate features of my face
                                                    Allowing my streetwise beautiful
                                                      To shine through, I don’t hide thetruth
                                                        It’s as plain as the scar on my face
                                                         Life isn’t ugly, you make it that way
                                                          Some days I wish it wasn’t there
                                                          But I always
                                                          Appreciate it’s presence  
                                                          I won’t ever forget
                                                        When I received 
                                                       The blow to my vanity
		            From a fight over youthful yearnings
                                                     Inside this 
                                                   Is my learning processes
                                                Scars hold history
                                             I shall carry with me
                                         Through tough times
                                        Soft and easy, peaceful
                                      To remind me
                                    Of me

Copyright © Bella Cardenas

Details | Easy Poem | |

I'm Vinyl Baby

i’m vinyl baby,
easy to scratch,
easy to gouge, 
prone to warping.

i’m a 45 rpm record, 
single and labelled,
still got track marks.

dot dot dot
from the seventies!

you know there’s
my black side,
my dark side.

i’m a 45 rpm record, 
single and labelled,
still got track marks.

you’re my diamond needle.
i'm your music,
you know me,
 you play me.

you’re my diamond needle.
gets under my skin
rides my 

even pass these years,
when my time comes,
pack me in my jacket
bury me in your closet.

you know i’m still
your song,
your tune,

dot dot dot

you make my life neat.

like a circle
i’m the black vinyl
on the roundabout

your still 
the only 
for me.

i’m a 45 rpm record, 
single and labelled,
still got track marks.

play me!

Maurice Yvonne

Copyright © Maurice Yvonne

Details | Easy Poem | |

- A One Way Ticket -

Hills come alive with sweet sounds of birds whistling tunes
Filled with harmonious peace, you sail within time
Gentle whispering winds through branches of trees call

When you dare to take the first step forward
Everything feels so easy embracing such beauty 
Mixing voices of nature talk deeply flowering 

Thrown into the unknown life is truly magical
A universe inside feelings explode in one gift
The soul eclipsing delight warmed with sunshine rays

Like a virgin being on guard of the tiger claws, lions, bears and snakes
Only when your starlight kisses clouds evaporate 
Time continues and the butterfly waltzes freely once more

Crossing paths in this journey new beginnings grow
Small wild strawberries threaded upon a stem beg to taste
Opening one gateway within thoughts 

Setting sail into another world beyond 
With you salt of the ocean waves rise and fall
Upon rocks kissing pillar of strength

A cool breeze says goodbye upon your cheek
Loving spices land this boat on paradise sands where gold sparkles warm beams
When we meet at Heaven's gate batting lashes close entering a doorway into a dream 

Written by L. Mcdaid & A-L Andresen :)  05.09.2015 
Copyright © All Rights Reserved

Copyright © Anne Lise Andresen

Details | Easy Poem | |

On Poetry Soup

A first day on Soup is filled with much awe The wonderful poems will make you smile Easy is it to fall for all Some enabled my mind, lingering a while Just the few Soupers I mention here Will blow you away with works of this year! Janet Cervenka almost made us lust When she penned a piece on Heavenly's bust Marvelous is the diversity of Jan Allison Such a dressed gem, and she's only blooming Nandita then tells us that she's no Jan Indeed her craft is paralleled by none Man! the lyrics never cease to flow for Dave So highly endowed with a skill many crave You see, my first day on Soup I was greeted by SKAT Who so humbly laid down the welcome mat And if there exist a bond no man can put asunder I have to say it's between SKAT and Linda O! How can I forget 'Half of A Heart' A Sara Kendrick special, such design and art! Who better to mend our Broken Wings Than the namesake with a quill in full swing Yes Soupers always brighten my days Place me in velds full of beautiful haze And there I spot a Mystic Rose Defined so uniquely like a Kim Nunez prose From a consummation a lover was denied To the hautiness of a lonely man's pride Whatever we plan to glimpse or scoop We tend to leave with more from Soup

Copyright © Wilfred Ani

Details | Easy Poem | |

If I Could

if i could,             

                         i'd  wish a magic wand.            

if i could,

              i would build dreams                

                                     brick by brick

                                                        the kind         

                                                                one could hang on to            

                                                                                                one could live in.

if i could,
               upside down 
                                            so the sky 
                                                            baby blue 
                                                                        would look as if 
                                                                                         it was smiling.
my bestest hope 
                                  wipe away the tears from
                                                                 the hungry
                                                                 the abused
                                                                  the sickly 
                                                                and elderly.            

                                             this first,
fore all else,       
                            yes the children and the elderly.

if i could,
                            replace every tear with a smile
                                                                              a hug
                                                                          a tickle

if i could,

snap my fingers make money obsolete,
                                                        plenty for everybody to share.

        clap my hands medical care everywhere would be there.

in my heart, live dried out tears.
there, i hear the pulse of our planet.
                                 so many good people,               
                                               people who care.

there's a black venom       
                       such a small dose
                                 affects the masses.    

if i could,
                    supply all with the antidote.

if i could,              
                   i would build an arc
                                sail 'till the world was cleansed 
                                                              move in with everyone           
                                                                                             on one land.

call it OURS.             
           yes definitely OURS.
                                           i like that name.
i can't.          
              i can't do all those things.

i can kiss where it hurts.         
                                 give hugs freely.
                                             give what possessions,                                       
                                                                    i can do without,
                                                                            share my physical wealth.

i fear nothing.
              least of all poverty
                              happy to share what i can.

i can offer you my love
                                       love comes easy to me.

it never feels like enough.        

                                        but i am here,     arms wide open.

tell me what is it you need,        how can i help.

i love you,


Maurice Yvonne

Copyright © Maurice Yvonne

Details | Easy Poem | |

The Color Of Our Blood

oh how i love the color red red is love and love is red. i painted a moment used a palate with every shade of red,  only red. that is the color of our love, of pain of lips of blood of skin all and more is our love. used a  palate of reds painted a moment painted you, and with depth of color i captured you. perfectly! i never spilled a drop, my brushes, my knives, my hands, my eyes, they all served me well. moments are not easy to create. how precious they are, difficult to inhale fully but even strained  i would always take you all in. the fullness of you all in. i would never spill a drop. me? i'm all in. my creation takes form stands and walks, i follow, paint, not a drop  do i spill. when you offer gifts they need to be special they need to be - well thought out. oh! how well thought out you are. oh! what moments we have shared. life, so kind to us, the time we've spent. if a philosophy teacher, if one asked me, "what's it all about" i would say "you" i would ace that test. nothing exists in its full majestic glory until i experience it with you. i would lift the sun every morn draw it down every eve illuminate the sky fantastic. every morn. every eve. a lover's night under the moon, part the clouds if like curtains they blocked our view, if like a wall they blocked our light. now, my moment painted i observe. my hand nowhere to be seen it was you guided this piece. you and me my love surrounded in red  against a red background  and not a detail unclear. our hands holding. our lips touching. you are my breath the beat of my heart neatly painted in red, perfect! it is us, our love is red every shade and every tone is we. 05~12~2014 Maurice Yvonne

Copyright © Maurice Yvonne

Details | Easy Poem | |

Another Man's Clothes

I wonder
Who I might become
If I wore another man's clothes
If I thought his thoughts
Dreamed his dreams
Lived his heartache
Felt his insanity
Walked along his razor's edge

Would I
Digest his pain
Rise above his circumstances
Would I realize how easy my own life has been

I could search through his pockets
Look for answers
Remove the tie from his neck that strangles
Rip off the clothes that make the man
Return his sanity
Free him from the labels sewn on yesterday's promises

Or I could walk
A bit longer
Search a bit deeper
Discard my own misconceptions
Feel his peace
Think different thoughts
For he is more and less than me
He has danced and loved in exceptional ways
And as I walk and wear his shoes
I hear the tapping of his soul
I become
It is not him
Not me
Not anyone
That can save us
From ourselves
Yet we are changed
In inexplicable ways
By wearing
Another man's clothes

I chose this one for your contest because I feel as 
a poet I put myself in other people's clothes all the time.
I like the premise of this contest and I hope this gives you
a glimpse of who I am. 

Richard Lamoureux
Submited December 20 2013
written in early December.

Copyright © Richard Lamoureux

Details | Easy Poem | |

The days that brought me here

I thought I would go backwards
Into my uncertain
My awkward
The days of my wondering
What will I be when I grow up?
Will I ever grow up?
Is everyone better than me?
Boy I wish I could be more like that
That guy
Yep him
The athletic confident one
Words come so easy to him
Jokes flow freely from his lips
And they laugh
They love being with him
What's it like to be that self assured?
He has so many friends
None of them would ever talk to me
What would it be like to hang out with the cool kids?
I try telling myself
It doesn't matter
I have a few friends
I want it to be enough
I think it's enough
With them
I imagine and pretend
To be funny
One smile
One chuckle at a time
I gradually become me
A better more confident self
A lover of words
I talk my way towards my future
While listening for clues 
Building myself two by twos
Real friends are the ones I choose 
Their words
Teach me about them and myself
I don't hide on lonely street
There are more people to meet
So I jump up off my seat
Rewrite myself on many a sheet
Until I can follow and hear my internal beat
Do what needs doing
Repeat and repeat 
Until I come to here and now
Breathless with WOW
Understanding HOW
That uncertain and awkward part
Changed everything 
It still is
Will be
An important part of me
Because it helped me see
There are many many 
Significant and individual
ways to be
So now I choose
Care Free!

Copyright © Richard Lamoureux

Details | Easy Poem | |

Thief of the sea

Being low class and living in poverty can sure be tough When life offers you little, the life of a pirate is an attraction Learning to deal with sea sickness was just the beginning There was no glamour living life as a thief of the sea Villainous activities are nothing like what you see in the movies The smell of death became a drug as did the greed for money But, there was never much treasure to share between us Rubbish food and poor health saw many a comrade die young Oh, it was no fun living life as a thief of the sea Most of the days were spent with menial sailing duties Life sailing upon the magnificent oceans was never easy Battling against the rage of the sea, an everyday battle I would be a liar if I said I took any joy in the killing, the savages amongst me took great pleasure in the rape of women The only think that really mattered to me was the promise of treasure Silver, gold, diamonds and pearls were all that mattered to me So, this life of a pirate was just me being a thief of the sea Now I sit here, too old and fragile for the sea, thinking about all those years living upon the ocean What has become of me? What have I achieved? I leave behind no legacy, no wife, no child, simply nothing All the treasure is gone, oh how I regret the day I became a thief of the sea A Pirate's Life For Me contest by Kelly Deschler 28 September 2015

Copyright © Silent One

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H is for happy

A, b, c, d, e, f, g
Won't you come and smile with me
Its so easy to be happy
So smile now, make it snappy!

Twinkle twinkle little star
Yummy, yummy chocolate bar
It will make you happy for a while
Its so sweet it makes you smile 

When the day is going bad
Little girl, please don't be sad
Being happy is the best est thing
So, be loud and sing, sing, sing

Mama is always there to give you a cuddle
To bring you joy, like jumping into a puddle

Casarah Nance E is for emotion contest
14 September 2015
Especially for her little girl :)

Copyright © Silent One

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A secret sacred place

There is a place that we all go, a secret place that nobody knows.
A place where we lose ourselves just like the joy of a mother's lullaby.
A place where we seek solace, peace, serenity and tranquillity,
an escape from the darkness of reality, a place of beautiful dreams.
A sacred place where only angels reside and demons are banished away,
a place millions of miles away with no tears, just love and addictive smiles.
In a world where confusion reigns supreme, we all need a secret place,
a place to hide away from the trials and turbulence they refer to as life.
A private playground of childhood dreams, where your imagination runs wild,
a place that can be anything you want it to be and no one questions why?
Crimson skies, white fluffy clouds and endless rainbows where curiosity ends,
at night the dark skies are full of golden stars and a moon that tastes like cheese.

So, won't you come and join me and escape from the dullness of life,
its easy, just close your eyes and release all your inhibitions and feel alive..

The Silent One. 18 August 2015.

Copyright © Silent One

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~Moon & Sea~

Hey boy won't you open that door?
Let's sing and walk by the shore

Come and spread out your eyes
Block looking for reasons, and whys?

The cosmos are more than a space to explore
Don't hide when I need.... Plus more.

Finish playing a master in disguise!
Lets find the perfect sunrise, sunset surprise. 

Put your arms around me
Allow your moon to reflect off my sea

Too much time has passed you by
Come outside with and view the horizon up high

I've got my eyes set upon you
There's no need to feel blue

Hey boy comes, climb up this tree!
I'm going to show you all the things you can't touch, you can't see.

Lets fit the luxury and beauty of this world into our play.
Don't say them words that will set me free to walk away.

Take this kiss and see how it feel deep within your heart.
Close your eyes in my garden, and draw with the fragrance of art

I want to take you into that space, astronomy love.
Making it easy to float with the clouds way up above.

Glide away from the blame of gravity and self destruct.  
Bounce of the dust of hurt when you fall and get cut.

Boy, let's hold in this perfect air together.
Leave the cold end of someone else's weather.

Follow me beyond the distance of chemistry.
I will expose your moon and explain the physics of my sea. 

Give it another chance and you will see!
Your moon, is skin deep, needing water from me. 

Turn on the tune in your heart, and listen to me. 
In every sunrise, the moon entwines with the sea. 

Copyright © Poet Destroyer A

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The Malkavian..Part 1

The Malkavian..Part 1

His mind has all the meaning of a madman that is screaming
Tortured and tormented, a life lived to be lamented 
His family, drained and defeated, finally retreated 
Leaving him believing that he was beyond redeeming 
The doctors sent in talked of hope and healing  
The drugs administered only made him more demented  
Cementing the feeling, that his life is just an echo 
Of the endless, timeless, all consuming screaming 

His best friend is a dis-proportioned bird appropriately named Buddy 
Who’s monotonous motion in drinking is somewhat soothing to his being 
Though not potent enough to stop the persistent pounding of the screaming 
Often he stared into the emptiness of nothingness contemplating the beauty of its 
Only to find his mind is drowning in a confounding conundrum he can’t quite define 
It's hard to be philosophical when your mental testicles haven’t dropped to the appropriate 
So sometimes he whispers tongue twisters until his brain blisters 
Madmen mask madness in mindless task of mass mayhem 

It was easy for him to pretend to be prim and proper 
Just a mask to don in order to dupe his doctor 
Circumventing the system that couldn't’t save him 
He was as he always had been and would be 
In constant pain and agony with no desire for sympathy 
Just in need of some freedom from his prisons and medications
Meditations and mantras had given him a sentiment of a design
On how to inhibit the screaming and maybe even end it
Four years preparing and plotting the perfect moment of promise 
A fire formed from a single flame fueled by an accelerant 
Raced through the halls up the walls and killed all the residents 
Eighty-eight inmates and staff burned alive in what seemed like and instant
Such little time to search through the bodies looking for a single person 
He found her on the fourth floor clinging to the bathroom faucet 
He lost his virginity to the burnt corpse of nurse Denise 
And to his amazed mind he was astonished to find the  screaming was silenced

Copyright © Nate D.

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The Absentee Student Takes His Test

He’s never heard one lesson of this class,
but has to get a grade in history.
So he’s shown up at last, sure he will pass
the test that prior students say is easy!

He feels no need to read the test’s directions.
It uses letter symbols; he can tell
he only needs to trust his recollections
about the fifty states. He should do well!

He feels assured that Md has to be 
for Maryland, and Missouri is Mo.
It’s very clear Nebraska is Ne.
But why No? Everyone should know that NO means NO!

Ca, Pa, In; a piece of cake!
Then he sees a few that are an utter
puzzlement or just a huge mistake!
Pb, he’s sure, is only peanut butter!

Sg might be Singapore, or else Saigon.
But how are those in U.S. History?
Fr for France? Just what is going on?
The cocky guy is feeling kind of queasy.

At last he thinks to go back to the start
and read the test’s instructions. . . O M G!
The test was on the periodic chart
of elements! Wrong class. It’s Chemistry!!!

*The correct answers of the test were really
Md for Mendelevium, Mo for Molybdenum,
Ne for Neon,  No for Nobelium, Ca for Calcium,
Pa for Protactinium, In for Indium, pb for Lead,
Sg for Seaborgium and Fr for Francium (he was close on that one!)

As for me, I would stay in the history class!!!

Copyright © Andrea Dietrich

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The Malkavian part 1 perfect version

His mind has all the meaning of a madman that is screaming
Tortured and tormented, a life lived to be lamented
Drained and defeated, his family finally retreated 
Leaving him believing that he was beyond redeeming 
The doctors sent in spoke of hope and healing 
The drugs they administered only made him more demented 
Cemented is the feeling that his life is just an echo 
Of an endless, timeless, all-consuming screaming 

His best friend is a disproportioned bird, appropriately named buddy 
Whose monotonous motion in drinking is somewhat soothing to his being 
Though not potent enough to stop, the persistent pounding of the screaming
Often he stares into the emptiness of nothingness, contemplating the beauty 
of its existence 
Only to find his mind is drowning in a confounding conundrum he can’t quite 
It’s hard to be philosophical when your mental testicles have fallen to the proper 
So sometimes he whispers tongue twisters until his brain blisters
Madmen mask madness in the meticulous mastery of mindless tasks

Buddy was telling a troubling tale, of a dragon drunk off of some dwarven ale 
Who through two days, threw up flames and burnt down the tavern and town 
When the door to his room opened with a plume of plum perfume 
In stepped an inept and unkempt nurse named Nancy
Her green eyes and fiery red hair caused his heart to flutter and flair with fancy
She had quite the quiet voice and was quick to trip over her own two feet 
A bit naïve, she would easily believe anything she had heard or seen
He knew he would make her his, no matter the time nor energy 

It was easy for him to pretend to be prim and proper 
Just a mask to don in order to dupe his doctor
Circumventing the system that couldn’t save him 
He was as he always had been and would be
In constant pain and agony with no desire for sympathy
Just in need of some freedom from his prison and medication
Meditation and mantras had given him the sentiment of a design
On how to inhibit the screaming, and maybe even end it

Four years plotting and planning the perfect moment of promise
A fire formed from a single flamed fueled from an accelerant 
It raced through the halls, up the walls, over the ceiling, killing all the residents
Eighty-eight inmates and staff burned alive in what felt like an instant 
Such little time to search through the bodies, looking for a single person
He found her on the fourth clinging to the bathroom faucet 
He lost his virginity to the burnt corpse of Nurse Nancy 
To his amazed mind, he was astonished to find, the screaming was silenced

just a note I cannot reduce the font so the lines fit without overlapping as they 
do in stanza two

Copyright © Nathan D.

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Stand By Me

Whether I'm right, whether I'm wrong,
You stand by me, so easy to find,
like the repeating words of a song,
always right here on my mind.

Daylight shines and again, I see your face,
night comes near and still you stand by,
forever, with arms awaiting an embrace,
even if stones were falling from the sky.

You're feet never tire, they never ache,
as you stand by me for endless years,
steady and strong, even if the ground should quake,
now I have a reason to never shed tears.

That ocean was deep, but you pulled me through,
and saved a life that was sinking fast,
you just stand by me and I'm no longer blue,
a feeling that I want to ever last.

Because, my friend, you are so ideal,
with promises that stay unbroken,
I often wonder, how can you be real?,
a question that will go unspoken.

Whether I'm right, whether I'm wrong,
you stand by me, so easy to find,
like the repeating words of a song,
always right here on my mind.

Copyright © Kelly Deschler

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Tangled Vines

I walk along the old familiar path in the wood of my childhood - the place that I willingly abandoned for the lure of new friends and activities that carried me ever farther from my simple carefree days. Nothing here is quite the same, and all that once was large to my child’s eyes has grown small. How can it be? The houses on the fringe of this old wood are the same houses we always came upon as children as we ran - exuberant wild Indians of our enchanted forest - away from our foes and into the safety of “clearings” - those back yards of neighbors whom we never really knew. Our small legs ran so quickly down that well-worn long-ago path in the days when we were soldiers hastening to secure our forts. Other times we searched for treasures in the wood's crevices, finding - one day - bed springs, metal pieces, and old mattresses and converting them into contraptions for jumping. I tread slowly, noticing how many spots along my way are now overrun with weeds and tangled vines. How did I ever not notice there were vines here at all? They must have been well hidden off our path. Perhaps a kindly neighbor kept the pathway clear of them out of consideration for all us kids. I cannot know. . . It was so long ago. I glimpse the raspberry bushes we used to happily discover each summer when fuzzy berries showed brightly red and plump. And there’s old man Miller’s house, whose fence we used to climb so we might quickly steal the juicy apples fallen from his tree. Sadness tugs at my heart. The tree has vanished, and in the place of old man Miller’s shed now sits a swing set looking barely used. I head toward the center of this miniature forest recalling how it used to hold such grandness in my young imagination. The pond where we used to skate in winter has disappeared as well. In its place is a broad high pile of dirt, and at the north outer edge in the distance I can see diverse machines used for excavation. Maybe soon the wood will be cut down. Though small, this place was once so wondrous! I think back to our Christmas vacations, looking for the perfect little hill to drag our sleds up- and the thrill of barely missing trees as we slid back down. Everything was magical, crisp and clean. Suddenly I trip on tangled vines I’ve failed to see. The vines are stumbling blocks that have blotted out the utter charm this locale once held for me. You’d think that being smaller to my grown-up eyes, the wood would seem even simpler now. But no, it’s lost the grace of my simple and easy childhood days; It’s become a labyrinth of too lush plant life. I think how - like my complicated life - this old familiar place is decaying and is overwhelmed with all these obnoxious vines and how one day - like the pond and Mr. Miller’s apple tree - this dear wood will have vanished. inspired by events of my childhood and the contest of Constance la France and now for Caleb Smith's In the Woods Poetry Contest

Copyright © Andrea Dietrich

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Pretty Flower in the Deep woods

VINEYARDS of HAPPINESS          ---------------------      GARDEN of SORROW

There is no greater Happiness,-----------when-----------Pulling away  sorrow
then being in my  lover's arms,-------letting go of----Broken memories 
Kissed by his  hungry lips,-------------------------------Rejecting all hunger, of love
spoiled by his sweetest charms.-----------------------The surface spoiled look in his face

There is no greater Happiness,------------------------Holding the depth of solitary sorrow
feeling my love's warm embrace,-----------------------Feelings of cold,no emotions on Gods grace
Meeting in our secret GARDEN,-----------------------Prolonging the visit to our VINEYARD
Opening dreams' golden gates.------------------------the door you open leads into dark woods

There is no greater Happiness,-------------------------Reviving every motion of sorrow
and there 'll never be ,for me,----------------------------trapped forever inside of me
till that far promised day,------------------------------------Broken promises day by day
My Honey  love s' here with me.------------------------a wound so fresh, damaged like a twig

            HAPPINESS  -------------------------to-------------------- SADNESS

Happiness to me,is as easy as can be,----------------Sadness triumphs over anything in me
a doughnut,a cup of English Tetley tea.------some nights----------A bucket of ice cream,a bottle of Jack Daniel
Lying on my beige leather sofa,------------some days-------------Slouching up against the wall
Covered by a Woolen red tartan rug,------------- tears fallen like a red river on the carpet
Hugging and Kissing,Fondling and snogging,--- some mornings ---Crying and Weeping,Wiping the Sobbing
Just watching T.V.------------------------------------------Just imaging you                                                                    

         THE  ROSE===============================WITHER

Love is a Pink Rose,--------------------------------------------A rose in the dark woods
with a crown of thick Grey thorns,--------------------------Like a cloud following you
delicate and strong.-----------------------------------------------Tilting till its gone
By ;Charma                                                        By : P.D.

inspired By : Charmaine Chircop            compose By : Poet Destroyer

~A Poet Destroyer Collaboration~

Copyright © Poet Destroyer A

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Message to the Lover of the Poet

To be in love with a poet
Is not an easy thing
Try as you might, you will never
Live up to his dream

For the poet isn’t content
With love’s status quo
You please and you tease him
But it’s not enough you know

For living there in his mind
Is a picture of the divine
You know that he longs for her
For it's shown in every line

The woman of perfection
Who is not of this world
With raven tresses of hair
A passion flower unfurled

The poet “sees” this woman
And his senses just take leave
For her love is deep, intense
Her body rivals that of Eve

She is tender and she’s giving
Never asking in return
She waits for him night and day
And for his love she burns

She nurtures his desire
Fulfills his every whim
For she is his possession
Remains faithful just to him

She sees in him embodied
Every single manly trait
Each and every need of his
She’s sure to satiate

Ah…mere mortal woman
Who must compete with this muse
You find that you fall short
And your love’s prone to abuse

For who can dare compare
With a poet’s romantic dream
The siren who sings to him
Who floats on clouds of cream

Poor lover of the poet
Sitting all alone at night
Waiting for him to see you
and your needs to ignite

Love him, my sweet, love him
For in the end...he’s just a man
That silly muse of his dreams
Can’t caress him, but you can

So win him at this love game
Make the fires really burn
Try to enchant his mind
So that for YOU it will yearn

Warn that charming seductress
That muse who tries hard to woo
That you have a jealous heart
And you've made him drink your brew

Your body, your soul, your desires
Bathe him in all of these
Not with words but your hands
Make him to do just what you please

For a poet is just a man
Just a simple man is he
Grant him all he desires
Only then he'll set you free!


Copyright © Eileen Manassian