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Best Failure Poems

Below are the all-time best Failure poems written by Poets on PoetrySoup. These top poems in list format are the best examples of failure poems written by PoetrySoup members

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New Failure Poems

Don't stop! The most popular and best Failure poems are below this new poems list.

Synaptic Failure by Pratt, Mia A.S.
Failure to be Perfect by Atkins, Jaquay
In Every Failure by Flores, Chuck
WHAT FAILURE MEANS by Strauss, Lei
RELATIONSHIP FAILURE by kanshamba, fred
Love beyond Failure by Frank, Mark
Satan's Failure by johnson, randy
Leaning on a Failure Mentality by Earnings, J. W.
A Big Failure by Crisci, Andrew
Poem A Total Failure by Horn, James

View all new Failure Poems

The Best Failure Poems

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Your Judas Like Tan

""Child's Play""

You go down like rain,
A wishing star in disguise, 
You scream bloody murder 
-the perfect two face disgrace
Your lips forever stain and reside with Benedict A 
Your eyes hide the truth, like a lost domain in space 

Darling, that will never cut what bleeds from a mother's heart
My precious doll, your feathers are mourning like a flightless dove
Is this to be love, standing there while I fall apart
Our younger years, display nothing but love,
Like the wonder years, you will remain more precious than a gem 
 
From one betrayal to another, a heart colder than winters zone
That never counts as failure, when it comes to unconditional love
Darling, the pain and secrets were never yours to absorb alone 

"My sweet darling, Let me hold you once more!"

My beautiful girl, the nights grow random like sin 
Your mind's fast at switching grapes on a vine 
Fault, from a mother to son, too much exposure from the sun
Insanity and sin remain, from a mother to her daughter 
Soaking in salt that protects me from a loaded gun
A shameful way to sunbathe your skin like a shooting star
My beautiful daughter, you put my heart behind bars

My dearest cry baby, you're all grown up these days
Sweetheart, I don't see you going home
These towels will not dry
The feeling of fresh flowers from the center core
Your man-made drama spreads through every walkway
Allowing darkness to reach the floor

-- Once again the sun, has revealed your Judas like tan
Your tears have flowed, one too many times
Here we are, covering every bruise
Raising every brow in hope everything's gone
Darling, no one will love you like I do
I whisper your name and wish life had nothing to misplace

Sweet darling, your eyes are rolling dice
A low roll of dominoes misleading everyone the wrong way
This time I can't cover your mistake with a blanket, 
My little darling, you have gone too far
Your paper dolls aren't cutting smiles from this frown
I've always known your the Iscariot, 
Selling your soul for a mere quarter

These tears were never yours to sell for at the end
Our sins will have more weight than a thousand pounds of amber
My beautiful darling, I forgive you every day, 
I want you to know, I'm Sorry about the things I had to enunciate
I don't understand how easily you trampled our bed of roses
Carrying over the moon in your treason white gown

Darling, Mommy wants you to understand
The voice of reason was for your own good
The knife in my back is rusted
The father clock continues to stand still
Sweet child, the allusion you left behind faded long ago
Contradicting your life with your infamous pretty face logo

My dearest cry baby!
Why the tan lotion, where's your sense of guilt?
Is this another game of child's play?
Darling, it's time to put them toys away

"My Sweet Darling, I need to hold you once more."

By: PD


Copyright © Poet Destroyer A | Year Posted 2014

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Frozen Noose

Anxiety    (The Worst Noose In Town)

-- like flooding waters, creeping in
I count 30, seconds, holding my breath again
Drowning in agitation, overwhelmed by fear
I try to hide the pressure in hopes I don't pass out
My pores are soaked, from all the perspiration
I feel the pins and needles pushing in
My skin is ruined from all the peeling
At this point, I can't seem to win

Washed out by dead hope and desire 
My soul is lost searching for a shore
leashing, grasping and ripping the chest wide
I count 40, seconds, once nausea can't be blocked
Everything about this moment is driving me mad,
I need to escape, however, my knees are too weak
I tremble while losing control to the emotional distress
My knuckles are pale, detached from reality,
wounds forced with further embarrassment.
Guaranteed failure surrounds my day
Numbness strikes my very essence - I can't move!

Lost in a room, 
Therapy - even so I feel singled out


HAPPY VALENTINES (it can get the best of us)  
---------------------------- love Linda


Copyright © Poet Destroyer A | Year Posted 2016

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Her Masterpiece Is Her Story

Her paintbrush is a razor,
Her canvas, her wrists,
"I deserve the pain."
She shrugs and insists.

One day the brush will push down,
And it will cut so deep,
That this girl will fall
into an eternal sleep.

She doesn't remember how she started
What brought her interest to this,
How do you discover,
that cutting is your form of bliss?

No one would have guessed that she does it.
No one would have considered this one.
This girl is forever fighting a battle,
that she thinks the demons have won.

Her artwork is all over her,
Her beauty is on her thighs,
and if you look in her old trash,
you'll find her letters of goodbye.

Her masterpiece is quite disturbing,
Her masterpiece is a little gory,
Her artwork is her escape.
Let me tell you her story.

She compares herself to every person,
She is compared to each girl.
She thinks she's hideous,
And there's this boy that is her world.

She was bullied and picked on,
She was teased from head to toe,
Hard to believe that her best friend,
was her one and only foe.

Then later she disliked every little thing,
Her body, face and even her mind,
Soon she saw she was a failure,
and it was just in due time...

That this girl couldn't take it anymore
She'd decided she was done living this,
So one day she went home
and decided to end it.

Everyday for multiple days,
This girl would try to drown,
Hard to believe this girl at school,
never ever wore a frown.

Sometimes she'd just fall asleep crying,
Praying that she'd be enough,
Because she didn't want to leave her family.
She knew about their sweet love.

This girl found hope in small things eventually,
She soon would see this beautiful light,
and find a REAL best friend,
that helped her put up a fight.

Her masterpiece soon was leaving,
Her artwork was almost faded,
and it gave her a sick feeling,
the feeling of being jaded.

She found a boy that actually loved her,
And showed her love exists,
And this boy too had a masterpiece,
placed close to his wrists.

He related to her and she related to him.
She kissed his artwork and said he's not alone,
When she cut herself it hurt him,
Her masterpiece now wasn't just her own.

Her masterpiece effected others,
Her artwork wasn't just for herself,
She now had people, 
who saw her cries for help.

And then her family found out,
So then they saw the art too,
to them they were just scars,
To her they were the truth.

She's trying to be okay now,
She thinks she might survive,
Even though they didn't think
to take away the knives.



Copyright © Madison Marie | Year Posted 2013

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Beneath the shattered

Test me
I am willing
To fail

Failure
Is not fatal
At all

All things
Are born to be
Broken

Break free
From the outer
Hard shell

Shells can
Hide the beauty
Within

With love
Flowing freely
We glow

Glowing
For all the world
To see

Seeing
All the beauty
They smile

Smiling
Brings them pleasure
As well

Welling
Up from their soul
A gift

Gifted
To all who are
Shattered


I decided to call this a  "Mussetle Train" try one out it is fun.
2 4 2 non rhyming take a word from the end of each stanza(car)
and use a derivative of it to form the premise of the next car in the train.


I am playing with a non rhyming vesion of the Musette form.
The last word of each stanza forms the premise of the next.


Copyright © Richard Lamoureux | Year Posted 2014

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The Tower rebuilt

I shall resolve to leave this
Place now...
And steadfastly search out,
Nestling between ridge and bluff
Amidst the folds of a foreign 
Land,
Several acres of unkempt ground
Fallow and rough;
Upon which stands...
Crumbled stone walls
With an exposed slate roof in
Some state of disrepair,
And a rounded brough
Complete with smooth, 
Well trodden steps
Twisting around a narrow stair.

An Inglenook, therein,
Will I construct,
With deep reveals to cheer me
In my idling days,
And wide spanning arch
To sit before and stay the onset
Of this old age...
And all its creeping ills;
While in all the subtle crafts
In which I was taught 
to be so ably Skilled:
Rebuild this castle
Inside the wistful echos
Of these deeply-spilling 
And far resounding hills.

Then, with mind well set,
complete with muscles willing
Sinew 
And perspirations honest sweat,
I shall toil upon this task;
For a little more precious time,
Coupled with fortitude and 
Diligence,
In truth, is all one my humbly
ask.
And by my will...
And by my command -
Raise up these fallen blocks
Once more
Upon this goodly land.

For could it happen that
Every night,
Before I gladly retire,
I glimpse a trace of those whose 
Face 
Haunt the hot flames of my steady 
Fire?
Disregarding manifested nightly 
Shadows,
That, in their lonely spectral 
Travels,
Creep across old squeaking boards...
Lain at right angles
Over the creaking joists
Hidden under ingrained, 
Dusty, oaken floors.

And placing down my thick and 
Heavy,
Red leather-bound book
I reach across for thread, 
Sharp needle and hook;
When picking up the threadbare  
Blue-velvet rags...
I stitch in the bright silvery stars
We once eagerly reached for,
But did not quite grasp,
In our younger days as lustier 
Lads;
Perhaps pausing in mid-motion,
With a rueful look,
To pensively consider of that
Weary road 
One lone stray drummer,
Still steadily drumming -
Steadfastly took.

Consider! Accession is but a 
Trifle -
The anointed destiny of all 
Royal Kings... 
And all earthly prizes pale asides 
Whatever riches accumulated
Wisdom gradually brings:
Born of labor,
Re-doubled effort,
Born of non-compromise...
And fated,
Gently resigned, nodding sighs.

Rising now on upright stiffening
Bones...
Listening to the dark hours 
Belated howls
Rise over the laments
Of the Lime-torched rafters 
Swelling moans;
And, plodding slowly upwards
Of my bell-less tower -
Seek out welcome sleep 
Within my shaking, wind swept
Bower!

Slung low under the eastern 
Point
Of a sharp crested Moon...
The radiant Dog-Star
Floods its rainbow colours through
Narrowed slits
Of the high turreted room.
Port-side lies my yawing bed
Rigged-out in white linen sheets;
Amidships my mattress spread -
Two firm pillows serve as cabin 
To plunge about my weary head!

Storm rages down...
And storm blows below -
Redoubtable little boat 
Swung back and fro!
Tossed and tipped from trough 
To pitch:
Resolute timbers - Lashed afloat 
This angry ditch!
Caught in the deep channel 
Of my chaotic bind...
To seek safe haven I do 
Endeavour to find:
A safe harbour on some newly
Formed virgin shore;
Along whose gentle currents  
My sturdy tiller swings...
And now steers for -
Upon the white spumes 
Of a steady bore.

Now...
Far, far, far above,
Past where Andromeda yields,
And Hercules, who upon the head
Of Draco kneels;
And far, far, far beyond 
Interstellar dust - 
Adorned the blazing Constellations 
Throng...
I walk between the milky-ways
Of sunlit nights and shinning
Eternal days...
Which relentlessly spiral
Aboard boundless rays.

For, it seems, that a man can 
voyage over the unfathomable 
Bars 
To chase his elusive dreams
Among the crowded stars;
Where, cutting the black voids
With heavens lights:
Hissing crystal tails of vaporous 
Comets -
Condense within the blazing trails
Of burning meteorites!

Indeed! Men may sail on celestial
Seas -
As they traverse the showering 
Heights:
Exploding forth in grandest 
Majesties 
In golden realms of the Gods 
Hurled smites!
Seek their solace upon Eternities 
Unending oceans -
Their fortunes blown by solar winds:
Mortal souls searching in perpetuity 
Until the dawning revelry then 
Rescinds.

Answering the call to old Gabriels 
Horn,
As dappling sunlight creeps across
My undaunted little tower,
I open my eyes to the new born
Morn -
When summoned to the beckoning
Hour.
Descending from my fortified
Might,
Reinforced with new found zeal,
I reflect upon this newly provoked
Insight -
As the happy chapel bell begins
To joyously peel!

So awaken, Herald! 
And usher in ennobled thoughts,
For enlightenment sought,
Inside where aspirations deem
To dwell.
Just as the planted seeds,
Of much great nourished deeds,
Do so germinate - all naysayers to 
Dispel;
As all lofty creeds, 
Must at some point,
Readily concede, in time,
To the bleak tolling 
Of the cruel fates final knell!

Therefore, put yourself to the 
Immediate task,
Against all obstacles however 
Mean or extreme,
Whilst upon the faithful handle 
Firmly grasp
Of worn tools whose blades are
Worthy and keen.
When bending your strong back 
To take the strain,
Denying any quarter or appeals 
To moderate refrain,
Over adversity you justifiably 
Deign:
Your laudable goals, 
Thus, to surely attain.

Hear me then!
Build tall your Broughs,
Withstanding fancies flight,
Disregarding all those
Who may well try:  
Seek to disparage, ridicule and
Slight.
Suffer not scoffers, knaves 
And braying fools 
But raise up your proud
Monuments
Wherever you should most joyfully
Choose!
For in among the ruins where
Failure steals:
So prevails triumph -
To forever chase his grim presence 
From your low-rubbled fields!




My gratitude to my good friend Mr George Dee Vuy for inspiring me to conceive these
last three verses with the beautiful word..."Ennobled"!! 
Many thanks, George!







Copyright © john fleming | Year Posted 2015

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CARMEN

Can a child ever forget, how deep a mother’s love abides

All those days since birth, till now I’m grown she guides

Remembering her smile, so tender, so warm as her embrace

More than soothes away my pain, my fear of failure and disgrace

Even in my dreams she comforts, her voice, her scent would stay

Never will her being mother stop, till when I’m old and gray.





26 March 2015
Contest : Acrostic on Mother's Day - 1st Place
Sponsor : TAMMY REAMS


Copyright © KP Nunez | Year Posted 2015

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Crack like fissures

  To The Brink For The Ink    Crack Like Fissures 


Another page scarred with ink.   Upon her page, I see red ink
branded by the thoughts I think.   Tattooed thoughts, that make me think
My mind imprisoned, feel the burn,   Within intricate patterns, my heart it learns
         past the point of no return.     As I slip off her ledge, my spirit churns
Faces bob like buoys in an ocean,   For her mind, it is an ocean             
I'm sea sick to societies motion.   I'm lost upon, her wave like motion
Clutter intoxicates my brain,     Intoxication, it fills my brain
filling me with failure and pain.   Strange impressions, as I view her pain
Forcing sleep deprivation muse,    bubbling from my mind, feelings break loose
cigarette, pot and coffee abuse.       I'm transported back, to my own abuse
Five A.M. and the pressure is strong   Crack like fissures, emotions strong
to make these words move along.     I feel I've known her all along
My audience awaits but I'm still     She grants me audience, within places still
writing rhymes against my will.   Her rhymes resonate, until I bow to her will
Blocked by need I'm suffocated,  lungs filled fully, never suffocated
my joy becomes what I've hated.   She is one transcended, never filled with hatred
I can't escape the vines I've grown,  a climbing flower, I've see how she's grown 
         notebook prison, I cry alone.  With her notebook open, she's never alone       
            All this angst and misery,   She transcends angst and misery
all for the love of writing poetry.    Within her glowing landscape of poetry



                    Casarah Nance     Richard Lamoureux    
           September 14, 2015    September 14, 2015

             Dedicated to the Artistry of Casarah nance


Copyright © Richard Lamoureux | Year Posted 2015

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DaRK CloUds - A collaboration with Liam Mc Daid

Grey clouds the innocent sky ambushing light turns dark 
stumbling over a tombstone opening up cold graves

When eyes become frozen behind scenes in hidden truth  
as a weight deadens upon the shoulders without hope 

A ghost from past experience consumes the present 
and golden sands blacken beneath your feet fallen one
  
Deep undercurrents strains awaken in the ocean 
Invisible cloaked dagger pierces without mercy

I pray waters calming find peace in this mortal frame
as the whirlpool of desires casts an ominous spell

Upon the sea of life Satanic storms enter Hell
and exudes within the malevolent clouds failure
 
Forgiveness stands at the crossroads beholden no more 
within promise of a dream transparent through the rain 

As yellow moonlight draws one pathway clearly cutting  
brings you safely home to love under a fragile roof   

Under black currents of loss when the heart returns beat 
in the last teardrop sorrow remained faithfully loved 


In collaboration with The Irish Poet Liam Mc Daid 
2016


Copyright © Red Fiery | Year Posted 2016

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The Ripping

You ripped me 
One word at a time
Shredded my smile
Pulled at my sensitivity
I was never strong enough 
To pull back my paper heart

You took the pieces of me
Arranged them in your perfect order
I prayed for the wind to come
Hoping I would be carried away
Flutter to a new more loving home
Instead, I endured your paper cuts 

I became your paper mâché 
Shaped into the image of you
Glued with your inconsistancies
Coated in your endless smoke
Sarcasm and beer
I marinated in your endless tears

You painted me with a retarded label
Your stupid failure of a son
Forced to endure that brush
It was with your eyes I learned to see
Everyone else was better than me
I was a failure times three

My inside empty
I became light as air
As time went on I ceased to care
It happend slowly you weren't aware
Until one day I floated past your stare
No longer raw and bare

I clawed and ripped
Rewrote my page
My renaissance 
coming of age
Not your puppet on a stage
Contorted by your rage

I have lost you to your death
The air much clearer, still I feel your breath
Within my doubts your lies still hide
Yet within me a new strength resides
Your image of me no longer applies
Doubt and fear reduced in size
No longer your "DUMMY" 
On faith I rise

For Charlotte's contest, heart and soul confessional.
Written, September 1st 2014.








Copyright © Richard Lamoureux | Year Posted 2014

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Tell It To The Rain

Like the cloud, I am collecting the moisture in memory,
Soaking up the solitude, I have been alone in misery.
Feeling full on failure, droplet wall builds on my skin,
Heavy with weight of the world, sadness is soaked in.

Like the cloud, I feel the lightening pulsing inside,
Anger and agony on a bolt of energy ride.
Thunder is my roar, ominous warnings shy
to the volcanic eruption that is my sky.

Like the cloud, I hear the air slice apart in broken fear,
And I collect all things wet and drip them in a tear.
Upon the world I release all my anxiety and pain,
Captured inside capsules, I tell it to the rain.

Like the cloud, I pour my soul from the height of hurt,
And you wear my teardrops there, saturated white t-shirt.
Parachute promises falling, raindrops from the cloud.
You hold no umbrella because crying is not allowed.


December 22, 2015
Photo credit: http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-FVAfrFweUPw/UBkRTKTR77I/AAAAAAAAEw8/6rbcUqH_Ic4/s1600/alone-girl-wet-rain-art.jpg


Copyright © Casarah Nance | Year Posted 2015

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I Did It My Way

I Did It My Way
I did it my way, not for the applause but because, failure was not an option and I became a rebel with a cause. I wanted higher education and was told I couldn’t have it all, so I had to prove them wrong even if I had to creep or crawl.
I was accused of having a stubborn streak, just because I wasn’t mild and meek. Challenging every obstacle placed in my way, and all the negative things that people had to say.
In spite of all the “You can’t do that,” that I was told, I stubbornly did it my way and confidently smashed the mold. Marching to a different drummer and dancing to my own tunes, I kept my eyes on the prize ignoring all the nay-saying buffoons.
To keep on track, I learned to juggle tasks knowing I wouldn’t be derailed. To keep my ducks in a row, I learned to haggle knowing I wouldn’t fail. With dedication and hard work, as sure as night follows day, success was mine because I certainly did it my way!
6-7-2014 - Submitted to contest “I Did It My Way” sponsored by Shadow Hamilton


Copyright © Pandita Sanchez | Year Posted 2014

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Look At Me

                             ~Look At Me~
Look at me,I will wait until you can overcome your shyness,
I will wait until you become positive.
Look at me,I will wait until you overcome your touchiness,
I will wait until you become fearless.
Look at me,I will wait until you overcome your stiffness,
I will wait until you become loving.
Look at me,I will wait until you overcome your emptiness,
I will wait until you become blameless.
Look at me,I will wait until you overcome your nervousness,
I will wait until you become indispensable for me.
                               ~I Will Not Wait~
Look at me,I will not wait because I felt you have a captivating 
charm hidden under what you show as your authority.
I will not wait,because I am eager to become part of your life, 
you gave me the impression that you have a gift of making me 
feel imperishable.
I will not wait,because you are generous with your time and friendship,
you are generous with your love so it becomes durable and loyal.
I will not wait,because you gave me the impression that your enormous 
sensitivity becomes your enormous strength to achieve your goals,and 
help your partner during a lifetime.
I will not wait,because you gave me the impression that you bring
strength and intensity to your surroundings,you encourage your spirit
& soul to remain persistent and ambitious.
I will not wait,because you gave me the impression you are so powerful 
and tenacious,nothing will stand in your way until you reach your
goals, as you do not like to be a failure.
I will not wait,because you gave me the impression that you can love me,
I will wait no more to manifest my love towards you beyond belief,
its unavoidable,its powerful,it needs no introduction anymore as my love
is instantaneous,endless,may I become your lover tonight. WOW,Yes. 

Therese Bacha
9/4/2013                                                               


Copyright © Therese Bacha | Year Posted 2013

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Speaking with a loud quiet voice

You speak into your child's life in whispers
With the strength of the four winds
No need for yelling
For your child has expectant ears

Wisdom
A fathered gift
Born out of pained understanding
Mistakes not needed to be repeated
Your love an inoculation to failure
Resilience will permeate a new generation

You smile with furrowed brow
For time passes much to quickly 
There is fear there is some lesson you have forgotten
Not what you want for your begotten 
Still you see this precious ones progression
He possess strength laughter and compassion
Humored moments and strong funny bones 
Will insure this child will never be alone
A tender heart and a will like a stone

One day 
You will have to let go
Time progresses it never slows
Deep inside your heart grows because you know
You have given your all
This child will rise up tall
Won't be afraid to fall
He heeds your Father's call
For he has learned at your loving feet
Wisdom has been his bountiful feast
Some day he'll be a father too
He'll bring blessings back to you
For you have been faithful 
and a father true


Inspired by Funom's poem, "Words of Wisdom to My Child".








Copyright © Richard Lamoureux | Year Posted 2015

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The Day We Met : a collab with EM

A lovely breeze blew from the sea
That autumn day was almost done;
Her thick and wavy raven hair 
Was boldly gleaming in the sun. 

She rode her mare with idle reins
Along the vast and sprawling sand,
Deserted beach that gleamed of gold.
The seagulls flew from sea to land.

I had no doubt that she could sense
My silent gaze. Her head held high
She made no move to pull the dress
That showed her leg right to the thigh.
 
She turned and gave a fleeting smile
Knowing full well what cards to deal
And next on impulse flicked the reins 
To urge her mare and dug each heel.

She was away; I followed suit
As hooves threw sand into the air.
The race was on, yet I held back
And watched the sight of flowing hair.

We neared the cove where water played
I licked my lips and tasted salt.
She pulled the reins, her mare obeyed;
I did the same, came to a halt.

Her face was radiant, breast that heaved;
I was a failure at disguise.
Appraising look gave me away
I saw the glimmer in her eyes.

Our eyes communed, there by the sea 
Before our lips dared utter speech 
I bade my time, while my heart beat 
And hoped the silence he would breach.

The sunbeams softly kissed my skin 
My dress, it danced within the breeze 
My eyes invited him to me 
My lips curled up in playful tease.

Dismounting from his feisty horse 
He slowly made his way to me 
I saw in stride and bearing he  
Was all a dream was meant to be.

His fingers slid in silky mane 
Caressing it with tender touch 
Yet in my mind, all I could see 
Was my long hair in ardent clutch. 

I dared not breathe, for he was close 
He might discern my wild desire 
And so demurely I did stroke 
My lovely mare to quell the fire.

He spoke to me, in mellow tones 
And asked of me, to take a walk 
Up to the cove where water splayed 
It offered us a place to talk. 

I acquiesced with faintest smile 
His brawny hands reached round my waist 
No sooner had I touched the ground 
Than to his body, mine he braced. 

Down in the cove, he touched my heart 
He lay me bare, my flesh and soul 
And love I felt, in every part 
For on that day, he made me whole. 

Down in the cove we two made love
She gave her all, her flesh and soul 
There on that day in twilight zone
She touched me so; my heart she stole.

-----------------------------------------------

A co-write: Paul Callus & Eileen Manassian




Copyright © Paul Callus | Year Posted 2015

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Bubbles And Blossoms

(Natural Prey) Vanilla blossom under the flesh hues, cradle the morning kiss of nightly dews. Spreading each petal, mystifying grace, fragile flower in a lovers embrace. Umbrella my palm, sheltered from the sun, fragrant intensities coming undone. Envious the bees that sting at the heart, patterns perfections, eccentricities start. Breaking free of restraints of branches hold, running in the wind toward the sun of gold. Escaping from my sight and unclenched fist, tears shed submission for my springtime tryst. The wind blown wild, my love went away, I search empty skies for silver and gray. And much to my surprise I find much fun, Dancing on the steps of air, a fair one. Form as the world, fragile as my failure, crystal clear rainbows I see not a blur. Complex control in chaos I witness, teasing my sight, I expect nothing less. This lone blown bubble, a treasure indeed, Guilty my breath, for I am in need. Urge overwhelming, that I cannot stop. I reach for innocence, and it went...pop. For Contest: Bubbles And Blossoms Date: April 2, 2015


Copyright © Casarah Nance | Year Posted 2015

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Justice in the Quest For Love

I saw how martyrs longed for love, and so began the play of my flitting heart
A strange girl had I become, with airs of fickle dream,
My heart an embodiment of wonder to all that dared to behold it
Closing my eyes, I would find myself knowing something new would shine my way
Had I known what was coming, the dawn would seem far less appealing...

As all journeys begin, a darkness began to veer its head
The plot of reality melted in dissonant chords... 
Dark blue fogs of doubt caked my mind and heart 
Though the longing for love never left... 
And had it left, no dawn would await me 

I saw there were rules setting a foundation for my intensely embarked mark 
I knew if I were to feel any twinge of fire, 
I must first be rid of the fog...or at the very least find my way through it 
How it stung as it hit my virgin skin, not like gentle clouds talking me through it, 
Caressing, surrounding and seducing. . . 
No, like a poison, the bleak thickness of the doubt choking me 
Reducing me to child's tears...I toiled through its torments, 
I rested upon rough rocks of rhetorics 
Admiring their vitality and honesty... 
At one point in time I had convinced myself that I was one of them 
A rock- cold, rough... hardened and overlooked...destined to crumble 
Though more demands surfaced on this quest for love's Justice 

Weakened by the blue fogs blackening,
 I cried out in the pit of my heart, surrendering before me 
Words...kept so long inside... 
I freed them from the strongholds of my darkest nights 
And soon there was a deep, hypnotizing reply... 

Justice, tall and proud, said from above the sinking pit, 
"True, I have seen you before, 
A token of adoration you have become, 
Crying night after night in melodious black, 
With little to take, and everything to give... 
My demands are simple, as your longing is profound, 
You, yes, you! Take my hand so I may hold you tightly..." 

My mouth agape, I stretched out my hand to meet the vines of his fingers 
Clutching in sparks, he breathed into me life... and promise of love 

"Surrender your heart to the hope of love 
When you find you are not alone, as none of you are, 
When you praise with your singsong words that passion has altered, 
Giving all to a soul you have yet to see, 
You shall feel my hand lift you as I do now... 
Soon once more, you shall learn- the dawn will always be dawn 
And the night will always be your velvet pathway to Beyond." 

This, Justice proclaimed in the voice of a thousand cries of birth 
The overtones spilling out in rainbows of rapture 

It was soon after his visit, I knew I must perform... 
Surrender, faith, and action Three keys to the same door... 
And they, golden and alight, were in my hands to use 

The time came when my heart grew roses, thorns and all 
And hearts smashed their way through, though I cherished the burn... 
Fogs still lingered in the alleyway of fear 
And now I knew not to inch my way near 

For the punishment he had whispered like darts in my ear, 
"If you, now seeing the truth, dismember your heart, 
I will crush your petals into black abyss, 
I will reduce you to dust, leaving the thorns, 
I am animal in the face of failure, 
My tolerance for hate is shorter than an ant beholding a mountain 
And if you so much as reject my call, 
Hate is exactly what I will allow, 
And it will destroy you, oh singing heart..." 

This I ask of Justice, on the day of my calling, and yet still today... - 
"Tell me, oh spirit, 
Phantom of Epiphany, 
When the love I so long for locks tightly upon me, 
Becoming me, 
Shall it be as I dreamed, 
Or shall I be wholly disappointed, 
Left in the agony of reality, 
Where roses grow, thorns and all... 
Only to wither...and die... 
?" 

He was so gentle...that he merely smiled and left me... 

It was right away, soon after his departure, 
That I felt he never would fully leave... 
He allowed me to weave my own dreams, 
Finding out for myself if reality was truly as magical as they write 
And as for an answer, as dull as this may sound... it is... 

I, like many tearful martyrs before me, 
Continue to long for a love that will fulfill me 
Often reality teases me, and I know not if she is demon or angel 
Though one day, I will see reality is on my side, ugly or not 
The play of my flitting heart still beating its rhythmic drums 
The rainbows of overtones lulling me into ecstasy, 
As I see words of wisdom thriving in the hands that save 

This, though little, I know- 
Love is justice of reward beyond our wildest dreams 
He sings to us every night, never making promises... 
He just smiles and allows us to live it 
He allows us to discover, and in turn give... 
To enlighten others still trapped in the ruts of fog 
Once we feel it, there is no turning back 
Please do not let him crush those roses you have made... 
Even their foundations were meant to reach the skies 
Touching the brightest dawn...and Beyond..

 -For Justin Bordner's "Love Justice" Contest 
Love you loads, and thank you immensely for inspiring me! 



Copyright © Laura Breidenthal | Year Posted 2015

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Trussed Duck Alouette

Another lame duck
That ran out of luck
Encountered financial loss
A failure at work
Now seen as a jerk
He happens to be the boss!

Employees revolt
His feathers will moult
His dignity has been plucked
He needs a new perk
Lost wife then his work
In more than one way he’s f***ed.

--------------------------------------------------
3rd September, 2014 
Collaboration ~ Paul Callus & Casarah Nance
Contest: A Lovely Alouette (revised)
Sponsor: Andrea Dietrich
Placing: 5th


Copyright © Paul Callus | Year Posted 2014

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Where echoes hide

Help me please... I need your HELP!
These voices in my head won't stop
You think I'm crazy - look at me like I'm mad!
Deranged echoes hammer against my head
ringing louder.. LOUDER... LOUDER!!!
Delusions, deranged, disturbed thoughts plague me
frequently telling me I will die if I don't listen to them
I don't want to cut myself, but they say I'm a failure
I don't want to shout in rage, but they say I'm worthless
but, sometimes they make a funny joke and I sit laughing
Sometimes.. They tell me they love me.. They care for me
But, then they tell me to do evil things
dark demonic voices plunge me into despair
driving me towards PARANOID PSYCHOTIC INSANITY!!!
I don't want to harm that child!!  GO AWAY!!!!
STOP TALKING!!!  STOP TALKING!!!!  STOP TALKING!!!!
SHUT UP!!!  SHUT UP!!! SHUT UP!! AAARRRRGHHHHH!!!!
Please... I beg you... Please, someone save me
from this repetition of imitations reverberating repeatedly
like percussion instruments echoing.. ECHOING..ECHOING 

Or maybe I should listen to them.. Maybe they are my only friend
Maybe they are right... You are all wrong.. At least they understand me

Where Echoes Hide - Poetry Contest by John Lawless
14 December 2015


Studies have found that between four and 10 per cent of people across the world hear voices.
Between 70 and 90 cent of people who hear voices do so following traumatic events.
Voices can be male, female, without gender, child, adult, human or non-human.
People may hear one voice or many. Some people report hearing hundreds, although in almost all reported cases, one dominates above the others.
Voices can be experienced in the head, in the ears, outside the head, in some other part of the body, or in the environment.
Voices often reflect important aspects of the hearer’s emotional state – emotions that are often unexpressed by the hearer.
The international hearing voices network


Copyright © Silent One | Year Posted 2015

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Happy Pill Plea Poem and a Story

I reach out for my happy pill
To make the raging pain be still
My day with pseudo cheer to fill
To live, I need to find the will

And so I gulp a higher dose
To try to get out of “morose”
To say goodbye to my remorse
This way myself I diagnose

When day is done, I go to bed
My little heart so full of dread
That something’s wrong inside my head
Perhaps it’s best if I were dead

When morning comes, feet hit the floor
And then I think, “Must I face more?”
I’ll stay behind my bedroom door
To live this life is just a chore

A happy pill is not for you
But still at times I wish you knew
The need for meds for me is true
So here is what you have to do

Compassion is my deepest need
It helps from sadness to be freed
It is the bandage when I bleed
So make kindness your daily creed

Eileen

The following story is from the internet. It is not my own creation. That is why I have it in quotation marks. 

“A water bearer in India had two large pots, each hung on each end of a pole which he carried across his neck. One of the pots had a crack in it, and while the other pot was perfect and always delivered a full portion of water at the end of the long walk from the stream to the master’s house, the cracked pot arrived only half full.

For a full two years this went on daily, with the bearer delivering only one and a half pots full of water in his master’s house. Of course, the perfect pot was proud of its accomplishments, perfect to the end for which it was made. But the poor cracked pot was ashamed of its own imperfection, and miserable that it was able to accomplish only half of what it had been made to do.

After two years of what it perceived to be a bitter failure, it spoke to the water bearer one day by the stream. “I am ashamed of myself, and I want to apologize to you. “Why?” asked the bearer. “What are you ashamed of?” “I have been able, for these past two years, to deliver only half my load because this crack in my side causes water to leak out all the way back to your master’s house. Because of my flaws, you have to do all of this work, and you don’t get full value from your efforts,” the pot said.

The water bearer felt sorry for the old cracked pot, and in his compassion he said, “As we return to the master’s house, I want you to notice the beautiful flowers along the path.” Indeed, as they went up the hill, the old cracked pot took notice of the sun warming the beautiful wild flowers on the side of the path, and this cheered it somewhat. But at the end of the trail, it still felt bad because it had leaked out half its load, and so again it apologized to the bearer for its failure.

The bearer said to the pot, “Did you notice that there were flowers only on your side of your path, but not on the other pot’s side? That’s because I have always known about your flaw, and I took advantage of it. I planted flower seeds on your side of the path, and every day while we walk back from the stream, you’ve watered them. For two years I have been able to pick these beautiful flowers to decorate my master’s table. Without you being just the way you are, he would not have this beauty to grace his house.”


Moral: Each of us has our own unique flaws.  We’re all cracked pots.  In this world, nothing goes to waste.  You may think like the cracked pot that you are inefficient or useless in certain areas of your life, but somehow these flaws can turn out to be a blessing in disguise.”


Copyright © Eileen Manassian | Year Posted 2015

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The Day We Met- A Collab with Paul Callus

A lovely breeze blew from the sea
That autumn day was almost done;
Her thick and wavy raven hair 
Was boldly gleaming in the sun. 

She rode her mare with idle reins
Along the vast and sprawling sand,
Deserted beach that gleamed of gold.
The seagulls flew from sea to land.

I had no doubt that she could sense
My silent gaze. Her head held high
She made no move to pull the dress
That showed her leg right to the thigh.
 
She turned and gave a fleeting smile
Knowing full well what cards to deal
And next on impulse flicked the reins 
To urge her mare and dug each heel.

She was away; I followed suit
As hooves threw sand into the air.
The race was on, yet I held back
And watched the sight of flowing hair.

We neared the cove where water played
I licked my lips and tasted salt.
She pulled the reins, her mare obeyed;
I did the same, came to a halt.

Her face was radiant, breast that heaved;
I was a failure at disguise.
Appraising look gave me away;
I saw the glimmer in her eyes.


Our eyes communed, there by the sea 
Before our lips dared utter speech 
I bade my time, while my heart beat 
And hoped the silence he would breach.

The sunbeams softly kissed my skin 
My dress, it danced within the breeze 
My eyes invited him to me 
My lips curled up in playful tease.

Dismounting from his feisty horse 
He slowly made his way to me 
I saw in stride and bearing he  
Was all a dream was meant to be.

His fingers slid in silky mane 
Caressing it with tender touch 
Yet in my mind, all I could see 
Was my long hair in ardent clutch.

I dared not breathe, for he was close 
He might discern my wild desire 
And so demurely I did stroke 
My lovely mare to quell the fire.

He spoke to me, in mellow tones 
And asked of me, to take a walk 
Up to the cove where water splayed 
It offered us a place to talk. 

I acquiesced with faintest smile 
His brawny hands reached round my waist 
No sooner had I touched the ground 
Than to his body, mine he braced. 

Down in the cove, he touched my heart 
He lay me bare, my flesh and soul 
And love I felt, in every part 
For on the day, he made me whole. 

Down in the cove we two made love
She gave her all, her flesh and soul 
There on that day in twilight zone
She touched me so; my heart she stole.

----------------------------------------------------

A Collab with Paul Callus


Copyright © Eileen Manassian | Year Posted 2015

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Sweet Purpose

I have come to the point of decision
And I have decided in favour of love

Wisdom is not solely measured by experience
But more by capacity for it
I have glimpsed deep into history
I have sieved through its successes 
...for the soundest advice I could find
Most profound I have received from the greatest achievers in its archives

I am a Student of Life
I am a Wordsmith of Optimism 
And I am a Mason of the Castles of Dreams
This Trinity of Purpose for me goes hand in hand, side by side
Each benefits the other
Issue is, they set me apart from the others

Here I am, young when I should be intoxicated with the fads of modernity
Fortified with skills that are eager to pay the ordinary wages 
But nay, I am not to be beleaguered 
I focus ahead to perceive the greater rewards at the summation of days
For I place most value on the greatest wealth: WISDOM and HAPPINESS

I have come to the point of decision
And I have decided in favour of love

I choose to commit my heart entirely
To the work I love best
For it is this calling that shall liberate the sanctity of my humanity
The world I dwell in fathoms not a shred of my quest
For it views life through the lenses of reality

True as it may be that my work suffices not to endow me 
...with common currency in these economic times
The rationale of my perception discerns far beyond this temporary mist

Let them roar their throats in laughter at my perceived stupidity
But it is their children and their children’s children that shall benefit most 
...From this shelter of thoughts and dreams that for them I build

I expect no immediate remuneration for my onerous undertaking
For I rationalize it as a selfless gift to humanity
Hence I shall tap deep within to give all can give
I am determined to build this Shelter of Thoughts and Dreams
I have the basic skills hence I commit my willingness and ingenuity
The Good Gods shall present the mortar and bricks

The fear of failure has been permanently exiled from boarding my being
As my eyes are fixated on the prize
I am ready to pay the price



Copyright © Wiseton Prins | Year Posted 2011

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Periphery

On a path laid as a snake,
Trodden down a winding wake,
Curls and slithers into night,
To thrones of ever-dimming light;
I hold still and gripped with feeling
In a mist that wraps concealing,
And I glimpse her flicker by
From the corner of my eye.

Heartless granite fissures break
At prayers to God of souls to take,
In their vessels bled to white,
Shells of failure and of blight;
It snares and snags as ivy veins,
Upon the brickwork, grasps and strains,
And I catch her ribbons fly
From the corner of my eye.

Set adrift in this domain,
The dead volcanoes that refrain,
Never smoking nor erupt
For the end was sharp, abrupt;
I feel the ether of despair
Envelope skin with frosted air,
I spot the crystals melt and die
From the corner of my eye.

No space for sorrow to explain,
To tell how love was savaged, slain,
The stir of breath can bare disrupt
Or wall of silence interrupt;
A fear of days, in truth, compare
With nights that always hunger there,
Unguarded moments, her I spy
From the corner of my eye.


Copyright © Tony Bush | Year Posted 2007

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The Fix

He fills his syringe with poisoned words
pulling the letters one by one from his rusted spoon
They rise up through the needle in perfect order
"Disgusting"  "failure" "worthless" "loser"
There in the cylinder they mix together
until they are a perfect black ink
Although he no longer sees the words
their meanings are not lost on him

As he injects them into his arm
he feels the blackness
Ink travels slowly up his arm towards his heart
At first he enjoys the burning sensation 
as capital letters make way for the smaller ones
In the moment he's convinced they are lies
When they reach his heart
he becomes a true believer

By choosing to be less than he is
he occupies his excuses 
The I can'ts and never coulds
The poor me's
All the reasons 
he's not good enough 
The words stack one on top of the other
until his heart is filled with empty
Empty promises
Empty dreams
Somehow this comforts him
He holds tightly to
It's not my fault
It's just the way it is
His is a waking dreamless slumber
only lies seem believable
So he injects another word 
"Anger"
Then a question
"Why do others have all the luck?"

Someone who cares
Takes a silver spoon
Fills it up with better words 
Feeds him nourishing words
Smart, tenacious, kind and happy
He starts with small sips
one letter at a time
in front of him a golden bowl
filled to the brim with phrases
"You are Lovable"
"Anything is possible"
"Your opinion is important"
At first he is convinced they are lies
Until they reach his gut
Until he becomes a true believer
Taking everything to heart
Satiating his empty
Now he can see beyond what he thought was impossible
His actions speak louder then words
His life is not a wasted gift
From this day forward
He's living his life to the fullest!




Inspired by Jai Bankson's poem "The Habit" check it out!








Copyright © Richard Lamoureux | Year Posted 2016

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Failure

They are in meaningless session again
Not seeking to serve but to practice the deception
Not seeking to lead but to mislead
Taking black and white, creating gray
Don't wave that flag if you do not honor it
Oppression by omission. You have given
                  NOTHING
But rights to the dissidents and wrongs to the citizens
Hear me now
I cannot replace the spine you're missing
               ONE NATION UNDER GOD
If you cannot accept you cannot lead
If you cannot lead you are the problem
                    THE FAILURE
Authorizing condemnation and treason
Banning prayer and patriotism
Once filled with victory and pride
Now mired in failure
Represent or resign, serve or secede
Make a stand for once or fall forever
We no longer will tolerate
                   YOUR FAILURE
One nation UNDER GOD. 


Copyright © Vince Suzadail Jr. | Year Posted 2007

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Crown Of Sonnet Marionette To Misery Part One

MARIONETTE TO MISERY part one

Sonnet One

Is this a story worth the black of ink?
The write of rhyme and time, confessions true.
I held on sane until I broke the blink,
I gave my life; I give it now to you.

I was so ordinary once before,
I wanted nothing more, silence of one.
Comfort I cradled while alone adore,
My show, the one I know, a done rerun.

A plain refrain, I shied in solitude.
Confrontations embraced by closing doors
I gave it nothing, finding nothing rude.
The skies despise me, when it rains it pours.

The storms do warn the clouds to disembark,
I wonder where I would be, damn the dark.

Sonnet Two

I wonder where I would be, damn the dark.
I lost the light along the way, I’m lost.
My mental state relates a question mark.
I buy my beauty knowing what it costs.

I must be changed; I fear the years to come.
Affording life is hard, I need a hand.
No family, I see my future numb,
It’s time to bend my heart and take a stand.

The scales are aged on years of twenty-four.
A wrinkle sighs on eyes of hardened steel.
I know inside I hide the wanting more,
Oh, can I change, I need a hand to heal.

A thought of love reveals in wants, I sink,
I fall against the grain, the thoughts I think.

Sonnet Three

I fall against the grain, the thoughts I think.
It’s all I could do, get on with my life.
I give myself a get’em girly wink,
I would be free, completely good, a wife.

So many mouths, I’m kissing frogs for fun.
My self restrictions done, I’m out to fly.
Explore detours until I find the one,
I’m smoking, drinking, getting high as sky.

My shame, it has a place I often dwell.
I changed so well, I could not tell my mind.
I trapped myself by wealth, a living hell.
Answers I sought, future I have to find.

I owned the sight so long, I’ve paid the dark.
Tonight, I crave the light, I search for spark.

Sonnet Four

Tonight, I crave the light, I search for spark.
A foolish brave, I rave against the raven.
Be black as shadows, drift away my dark,
Comfort me Master, ready, set, begin.

He licks my wounds and writes my new novel.
I fall on knees, I please, he wants more.
I give and live, he teaches show and tell.
He takes me places never gone before.

He sets a fire to ashes, watch me burn.
My Master faster captures strong my flame.
He gives me choice, a voice, a life to learn.
A chance to dance, he asks I give my name.

I’m named as Lady to Master Sir, I wed.
Sober sunshine, it comes to wake the dead.

Sonnet Five

Sober sunshine, it comes to wake the dead.
I hide the past in casts of stone, reborn.
My happiness is thriving, lover’s bed.
Enchanted knight and lightly unicorn.

We played the games of fame, a shine on scene.
The shooting stars on skies of night we flew.
I never knew the true, he could be mean,
Oh, what the Lady Red was going through.

My whole relationship displayed online
For eyes and ears witnessed my highs and lows.
I wanted fame but shame became a mine
Erupting shows exploding blow by blows.
I raise my glass and cheers against his ale,
A toast to trying, with all else, I fail.

Sonnet Six

A toast to trying, with all else, I fail.
We crumble with a pocket full of cash.
A steady drip on rivers setting sail.
To that interest we smothered down to ash.

He talked of fatherhood, he wanted sons.
I fear anxiety of family.
He told me please to give him just a one,
Depressed I rest in dark, it follows me.

A nightly haunt, it taunts me, widow’s tomb,
It wants my doom, my gloom, I hate the dream.
My hope is broke, I soak in sours womb.
No, nothing good, I should refuse to scream.

I wet in sweat the sheets upon my bed.
The pounding rages deep inside my head.

Sonnet Seven

The pounding rages deep inside my head.
I give the Master what he wants, a child.
The tears I cry, I lie in wasted bed.
I’m fed my pills to keep emotions mild.

My tummy grows, I feel the kick inside.
I want my motherhood to shine, I glow.
I count my blessings, life can please the tried.
It can be good, it will be good, I know.

But when the test arrives, the ultra sound,
Female result, my Master shouts disgust.
He begs abortion when no one’s around.
He thinks he owed a male, he thoughts are just.

I fight against his fists, I wail, I fail.
I live by threads and live to tell the tale.

Sonnet Eight

I live by threads and live to tell the tale.
He changed, a monster, blames me, damns my sight.
A living hell, I try to leave, I fail.
Intoxicated, he’s ready to fight.

My fault, I feel the failure blur my bite,
As teeth I clench so tight I feel the verb.
He strikes my story making ink tonight
On sheets I scream silence I must disturb.

My stitches sown, he says he’s sorry, lies.
Torment my mouth, it twitches, itches, bleeds.
I swallow words; I heard enough, he tries
I’m hiding bruises, space is what he needs.

My hands are cold, anger inside, I shake.
But death can take the grave mistakes I make.


Copyright © Casarah Nance | Year Posted 2016