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Best Hope Poems

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

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New Hope Poems

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

Only when the hope dies by panwar, sharaj
Hope at last by Timperley, Dave
The bridge of hope by Palawon Daiboo, Sunita U
My last hope by Harvey, Aa
Hope in the Creator by Lakebrink, Adam
Past picture, Present time, Future hope by Hall, Heidie
Trusting In The Living Hope -Jeremiah 17: 7 by McConnell, Gordon
In His Glory And Power - The Beacon Of Hope Style by Petersen Potter, Dorian
love takes the last hope for to live by paudel, sunil
my only hope by Nicole, Sabina

View all new Hope Poems

The Best Hope Poems

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Wind From The Sea




Inspired by Andrew Wyeth Watercolor Painting -- Wind From the Sea, 1947




Standing in the old house
A strange mixture of feelings erupt within me
My roommates Depression, Loneliness, and Hopelessness
Greet me with strangling arms and leering grins
I don’t fight them anymore – somehow they are a part me
So together, in this house, in this room
We endure the somber solitude of the day

A sudden chill fills the room
Death enters – its foul breath chokes me
My three companions prostrate themselves
Pressure builds in my bowels
Bile rises in my throat
A heavy weariness fills my bones
He’s calling – hissing my name
I can’t breath

Death surrounds my soul – crushing me 
I hear groaning  . . .
Strange guttural sound -- it’s coming from me
Deep painful darkness fills me
I beg Death to take me . . .

Through the open window
A gush of wind enters
A sheer curtain hanging comes to life
It’s spirit lifts inwards and up beckoning me to dance 

What is this wonder?
A limp ragged curtain – faded, stained, frail -- has life
Reaching toward me . . .  frayed fingers of thread motioning
Old friends rush to me – Joy, Hope, Love
Death’s grip slips – I gasp a breath
Looking up I see the open window
Boarded by old bare wood, hard with age

I realize it’s daylight now – soft shadows 
A curving road leading to the water
I can taste the saltiness in the wind
Trees in the distance
A calling from the sea
Seagulls, waves, laughter

Joy breaths into my nostrils 
Leave this place – Depression cannot hold you
Simple pleasures I will give you
   Cool breeze on a summer afternoon
   Laughter of friends
   A walk in the garden
   A book
   The Sea . . . 

Depression laughs in my ears
Through that window lies heartache, treachery, poverty, misery
It will chew your insides up – blood will pour from your lips
Pain and suffering awaits if you leave this house
Death waits to take you home 
An end to this constant noise – the peace of total emptiness 

Another breeze and Hope fills my eyes with light
I see colors – vibrant alive filling me with warmth
Leave this place, take a journey to the sea
Let light fill you and be your guide . . . see -- opportunities abound
For laughter, love, forgiveness . . . for life – abundant life
See the rainbow upon the Sea

Hopelessness rushes toward me
Kisses my lips and whispers
Light burns and blinds
Enslaves you
They will see clearly your secrets
Spotlight focus – ridicule scorn . . . ugly disgust . . .  self-hatred

Love rushes in and embraces me
Light, fresh, empowering
My heart leaps with pleasure
Arm and arm she leads me to the window
Much pain and sorrow – yes . . .  also Love
A powerful love that transforms, refreshes . . . frees
Breathe deeply of the Sea air – fill your lungs
Go – you are loved deeply and completely

Looking out Looking in




David Meade
01/07/2015


Live Generously


Copyright © David Meade | Year Posted 2015

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Edinburgh


Sweeping through your scotch broom,
weeping over your cobblestones,
lilting around the columns of Calton Hill,
is an Age of Reason so brilliantly brooding,
some nights I am kept awake
listening to Pendragon's breath caress Arthur's Seat,
and whispers drip from sills on Ramsay Street.

Though roots may drink from a sleepless night,
when morning light creeps through the curtains,
my love for you is renewed.




*This is a re-post 
replacing an opinionated piece


+/-


Copyright © Chris D. Aechtner | Year Posted 2013

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Closer

    The sky resembles the robin's eggshells
                                                      scattered across the ground,

a blue so seemingly infinite                     yet fragile,
cracks running between understanding and madness
 
       complementing each other

as divine truths in their own right
to conquer my mind,
to unhinge the doors,
making it unnecessary to pick rusted locks

      letting thoughts fly free,
                                       releasing love out into the horizon.

If frozen within caged snapshots of mildewed expectations,
      it will surely die,
                 but even so,
  I was willing to strangle it by holding on too tightly.

    
    Until I saw the sky and eggshells today


      Peppered clouds reflected on the water,
                                            paralleling speckles on the eggshells,
                                    remind me of the freckles on your face.

  We need to be wide-open-free,
                                                we need to fly,
         without focusing too hard on shells of yesterdays.

We need to unclench our fists,
unclench our tongues,
explore the vast blue peppered sky 
                                                 
                                                      on wings of letting go....

 so that we can once again feel with purity,       
 so that we can hold each other ever closer.







05.24.12


Copyright © Chris D. Aechtner | Year Posted 2012

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Love One Another





“Peace I leave with you
           my peace I give you
           I do not give to you as the world gives 
           Do not let your hearts be troubled
                 do not be afraid”  (John 14:27)

But I am scared
      Blood runs down streets
      Hatred, rage, violence dance 
            In a chaotic frenzy performance
                     of evil malice . . . 

What do your words mean?
      Are they void – empty promises?
Where is the peace in deafening explosions?
  In the cacophony of rapid gun fire?
     Screams of horror?
           Tears of death???

“I am the resurrection and the life 
     The one who believes in me will live 
                 even though they die 
     and whoever lives by believing in me will never die 
     Do you believe this?”  John 25:26

Yes, I want too . . .
     But fear creeps around my heart
     Its cancerous fibers sinking deep – choking me
     Doubts greet me in the morning
     Panic sleeps in my bed
     I am weak
     Hear my cries of desperation      


“Be strong and courageous
       Do not be afraid 
       do not be discouraged 
          for the Lord your God will be with you 
                wherever you go”   (Joshua 1:9)

Stay close – fill me
     I cannot see – 
     Darkness surrounds me
     Death, destruction, desecration, depression
     Blood, bitterness, bile, blight 

“I have come into the world as a light
              so that no one who believes in me 
             should stay in darkness
             If anyone hears my words but does not keep them
             I do not judge that person
             For I did not come to judge the world
                        but to save the world” (John 12:46-47)

I cannot begin to fathom this
         How great is this love
               Forgiveness over revenge
	           Peace over violence
	                Life over death
	                        Love over hate
                  Help me I pray

“A new command I give you 
              Love one another
             As I have loved you
             so you must love one another”  (John 13:34)

Love one another . . . 








David Meade
11/18/2015

Love Generously



Copyright © David Meade | Year Posted 2015

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Best Friend Defined

What's a best friend,
But the smell before rain?
The hand that we give,
When a friend is in pain

It's the things that we do,
The words that we say
That pulls a friend through,
When their heart's torn away

It's the steps that we take,
The songs that we sing
It's the choices we make,
And the hope that we bring

I'm here through the tears,
I'm here through the laughter,
I'll always be here
Until death, and after

It's the things we give up;
The things we give in
When our heart's full of love,
And selfless begins

It's the hearts that we touch,
The things that we won't
We never give up,
We could, but we don't

It's the people we save,
With the hands that we give
When we're lost, we still say,
You're my reason to live

I'm here through the tears,
I'm here through the laughter
I'll always be here,
Until death, and after


Copyright © Dana Smith | Year Posted 2010

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BUTTERFLY KISS

*BUTTERFLY KISS*

I'm still alive and I don't know why?
My heart survived falling from the butterfly sky

Caught by the hands of destiny
With visions only I can see!

My love I heard your call
Wings of a butterfly broke my fall

Love motion is in the air, a love no one can compare
Indulging a look-a-stare- that we both share

Reminiscing our love made out of stolen hope
Awe~:*! To  them butterfly kisses that felt so real

Flowing like Amazing Grace, 
A shining light upon my face.

I traveled fast and far, longing to be in your arms
I desire, the warm sensation of your charms

Your safe love will help me carry on,
With the strength and bond~the love you set upon

Nothing is better than a sensual butterfly kiss
Beyond the sensation of heaven's pure bliss

Fluttering in the clouds aiming for the moon
A dream of reality, out of my cocoon I bloom!

Valued by the art of true beauty and its rarity
True love flapping in the midst of clarity

I entwine that I am yours and you are mine
Bonded together till the end of time

With the vision, my heart is no longer blind
Two broken hearts at last combined

I glide below to touch your lip.
Our lashes touch from tip to tip.

Caressing each other as our wings expand
Two hearts- kisses collide and land

Holding your hand reaching to the rainbow sky.
Kisses:*kisses:* like the butterfly!


Dedicated to *My Babe*


Copyright © Poet Destroyer A | Year Posted 2010

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- My Dreams -

                                


                               Close your eyes and forget the rain
                                   Dream about the sun and heat
                                          a sunny summer day
                                       Dream of waves who sigh
                                          so quiet on the beach
                              Swimming naked with the one you love


                                       The dream of happiness
                                       is more than the dream
                           A dream about strawberries with cream on
                                Do not forget the roses and violets
                                          that smells so good
                            Running barefoot in the freshly cut grass


                            Close your eyes and dream your dreams
                                 Daydreaming as sweet and good
                      they are secret, I will not share them with anyone
                                  Imagine if life was a dream .....
                                         A wonderful dream
                                 and the world was full of love
                      and intimacy between all the people on earth
                                     My dreams are made of 
                                       hope, faith and love






31.July 2012
Anne-Lise Andresen :)
Copyright © All Rights Reserved


Copyright © Sunshine Smile | Year Posted 2012

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Sand Castle De Mal

~Sand Castle De Mal~

Beauty sails along the shores of life
Out there broken dreams form above sand dunes
Silent, God listens to the triumph of his creation



3-14-2015
3 line verse


Copyright © SKAT A | Year Posted 2015

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Tears to Weep

When I lay me down to sleep,
And cry the tears that sinners weep;
To speak the words of a contrite prayer,
And know that someone listens there.

He cares for sheep that have gone astray,
Who willfully wander their own way;
They vex the pride that hides within,
And drink the bitter cup of sin.

The web of lies and dark deception,
Lie in defeat of Light’s conception;
To capture all and destroy life,
With passion’s fire and human strife
                 
We need to plant the gospel vine,
Where evil rules and saints repine.   
While martyrs lead with ransomed prayer,
With hope for life that tarries there.

Blood that was shed on Calvary,
Set slaves of transgression wholly free.
So we rise from the grave to seek reward,
Giving praise to our risen Lord.



Copyright © elizabeth wesley | Year Posted 2012

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M


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 | Year Posted 2013

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Silver Haze

*                     ~Dark Silver Haze~                               *

   (side#1)                                         (side #2)

come taste life                  ----------  Heart-warming wine
old and stale,                   ----------   Jot down a line
unflavored, unpolished,      ---------   Mood changes hue
A sour, dim shade              ---------   To sweet silver blue

the lowest feeling              ---------- How high the cost
eternal gray sky               ----------  How much is lost
hollow memories               ---------- Back payment due
A sour, dim shade             ---------  To sweet silver blue 

weak limbs, overpower         ------- Head shake and sigh
moments of lights              --------  None left to deny
everything ends                 --------  Insight in view
A sour, dim shade             --------  To sweet silver blue 


torn from reality             --------   Somehow I gain
low spirits of sorrow        --------  Beauty from pain
bitter and dull,                 --------- As thoughts turn to you
A sour, dim shade           --------   To sweet silver blue


**A deep Look Into The eyes of the Poet Destroyer**

~A Tim Ryerson Collaboration~


Copyright © Poet Destroyer A | Year Posted 2013

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Love Sleeps, Never Dies

An old man
A Grumpy bitter old man
Bitter face
Red nose
Wrinkled beady eyes
Scruffy clothes his best attire

Life has not been kind
So his bitter words bite those around
He lived alone, inside his madness
Leave me be and go to hell
His favorite expressions

The phone rang one night late
This is the Court sir, your brother’s son and family 
Have been in a terrible accident
Only your niece of four survived
When can you pick her up?

The old man was in a daze
What the hell was he being punished for now
Keeping care of a dam kid
What the bloody hell did he know about that?
"Well sir, we will be expecting you tomorrow, 9am prompt please"

Walking back to his flat, with a 4 year old girl in tow
Well the neighbors gawked to say the least
The poor little girl, tears and teddy, trying to keep up with grumpy
Once inside his flat, he looked at her with disdain
Said "Guess you be expecting some food or some such"

She nodded, as sad as she was, she was indeed hungry
He showed her the cupboard and fridge, milk and cereal in there
Help yourself, and wash the dam dishes afterwards
Don’t got no extra bed, so you sleep here on the couch
She nodded silently, thinking the world truly must have ended

Days, turned into weeks, turned into months
This little girl complained not once
All she could think of was her pain
Mummy and daddy were in heaven where ever that was
Why they left her was truly confusing

Friday was her birthday
She was sad and missing her family
Getting ready, she went to the cupboard for dinner
The old man said what the hell you doing that for?
She shivered in fear, he was always so so so mad

She apologies, sorry uncle Pete
He replied you sit your self down right there
And you be quiet you here?
Then the lights all of sudden went out
Bright tiny candles burned in the night

The old man, said, is your birthday after all
Hope you don’t mind these little cupcakes I got us here
She looked at him with new eyes
He turned, not quite smiling, no miracles just yet
They ate in silence after which, he said good night and happy birthday

The next morning even they really never talked
Other than who does what chores
Or how expensive she was to care for
She asked out of the blue
"Uncle, why do angels have wings?"

In his usual grumpy way, he replied
"So they get the hell away from us as fast as they can is why
This world is no place for happiness or angels get used to that"
She was taken back by his bitterness, still………
She replied, “but I dream on them looking over me uncle"

Well he looked at her, and somewhat softly and with unusual kindness
He answered her "that’s because you are one of them, a sweet little angel"
She ran into his arms and gave him a big hug
This was a very good thing.
For then she could not see the single tear the dropped to the floor

He actually hugged her back and with all of his heart
That day, a day for most people that was a normal day
Was for him and his little charge, a miracle
A small loving child, held that secret key
To opening an old mans heart


Copyright © arthur vaso | Year Posted 2015

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Windowpanes

An ancient river, centuries-old shops and restaurants steeped in a 2000-year history and 
culture set the scene. The ambiance seemed divinely contrived to facilitate the purposes of 
our meeting and the very fodder from which the greatest poets are sustained.
Not newcomers to the area, Kay P. and I were assigned to the Army Security Agency Field 
Station in Augsburg, Germany in 1974. We were colleagues in the intelligence community 
with no romantic overtures to our relationship, save an appreciation of poetry and profound 
philosophical discussions. Kay wanted to spend the evening with a poet, so we planned the 
evening to be appropriate for the purpose. 
At the time and place, we quickly found ourselves hopelessly immersed in the philosophical 
foundations of my writings throughout the evening. It was the first time since Vietnam that 
I'd felt worthy as a person. I still recall sipping the red wine and feeling the warmth of the 
large hearth inside the Balkan eatery. I still see the swans gliding by on the Lech flowing by 
our café.

When windowpanes begin to weep with autumn's chilly dew, I'm taken back through seasons passed to one delight held true, A rendezvous that time allowed, a gentle evening spent Amid a time of long discord when days were dreary bent. I feel the stretch upon my lips, the smile returns once more. Again, I smell the Balkan fare prepared on Lech's old shore, The mood is cast in high regard, the wine is tart and dry, As Augsburg ripples in the wake when swans go gliding by. The ancient windows frame our view and day begins to wane As rivulets meander down and streak the dampened panes. The ambiance of ages passed beseeched us not to leave And held us in its warm embrace throughout the ebbing eve. My heart was scarred, without regard and hardened by the war But her esteem unveiled its worth, while nothing had before. She saw the child that once was me, I'd long since cast aside, And bade he climb astride his mount, engage his life and ride. Now, she is but a memory, whose kindness soothed my heart, For we embarked upon our lives on paths ordained to part. Her subtle way escaped my eye till time had made it clear That her esteem had set me free, that night I hold so dear. The poetry that filled my soul remains these many years, Impassioned in my warmest thoughts when autumn first appears, When windowpanes begin to weep, a-glisten with the dew, And I return to seasons passed, to one delight held true.


Copyright © Jim Fish | Year Posted 2009

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Before and Beyond The Bed

When 
When did a bed become your prison
I see your strength absorbed
Absorbed by the mattress 
I turn you
Trying to prevent sores
Who would have thought soft sheets
White sheets
Could cut like glass
I hold on to you
The younger you
Remembering your smile
your vitality
I had thought you to be
The most beautiful woman in the world
It is said that boys fall in love with their mothers
What I miss most 
Yes most of all is laughter
Playful exchanges
Those times no one else existed
The moments when we were the best of us
Before life became real
Responsibilities
Chasing of dreams
Growing up
I thank you for my humor
My irreverence 
My questioning
My creativity
These were not accidents
They sprouted from the ground you nurtured
The listening
The time you spent
The cheering I heard as I lived my journey
I knew I could always come home
Now you are home 
My home
Let me read to you my stories
We still have smiles to share
You who I love 
Who cared for me
I will not abandon you to a strangers care
Endings matter
I will usher you to your beginning
This bed can't hold one as strong as you
One day soon
You will skip into paradise
You will pick daisies
You will place them in your long flowing hair
When the time is right I will join you
When I have accomplished all that I need to do
I will miss you
I will cry for myself
Not for you
Because I know
You live beyond this room
I will once again
Know
You are the most beautiful
Woman in the world!


Dedicated to my Friend Armand.


Copyright © Richard Lamoureux | Year Posted 2015

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The Peephole that is the Moon

An infinite door of midnight blue;
glowing peephole that is the moon.
Dare I look before turned to dust?
Yes, dear friend, I surely must.

In the midst, a city of finest gold,
large as the earth; immense and bold.
Quoins of pearl, this must be known,
the lusture seemed a life, it's own.
Rising from it, a mountainous temple;
whisps of prayers escape the steeple.

Without the city, fields of crystal flowers,
and trees more akin to wind chime towers.
Platinum trunks doning metalic leaves.
Angelic music when brushed with their wings.

Out from all this, layers of various planes
seemingly worlds of their own, yet all of the same.
Once starving children and homeless ones too,
with comforts of home; endless tables of food.
One plane of great sports, children running free;
prosthetics and wheelchairs, now trophies and glee.
Another, Indian braves running with buffalo,
women laughing carefree with children in tow.
Serene planes of beaches and tropical breezes.
On none was found pain, lameness or diseases.
Thousands of planes, but my favorite to view;
families and the ancients with no need of adieu.
So euphoric, this sight, but there is more to tell,
as three glorious chimes of the great temple bell.

All froze still as beams of golden light
transported them to the temple in quiet.
The most beautiful prayers and songs arose.
From within the city; pure love aglow.
Three bells again and all were beamed out;
some to the same planes, some different routes.

I wanted so badly, to open the door
and be in this place forever more,
but the door was locked and I had no key,
then an angel turned and flew towards me.
Approaching the peephole, that is the moon,
It said, "Don't worry, you'll be here soon."
I have need of a key, I began to implore,
and it slipped a note neath the midnight door.

I unfolded the note; three lines within,
and three nails fell out; payment of sin.
The first line proclaimed, the door was faith.
The second; the beams are God's loving grace.
Overcome by peace as I read the third line.
Jesus is the way, the truth and the light,
and I remembered a scripture that so sweetly states;
"For by grace, through faith, are ye saved."




Copyright © Arlene Smith | Year Posted 2015

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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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The Promise of Spring - A Fibonacci

I 
Will
Kiss you
While you sleep
Lady dressed in white
And melt your cold heart  made of ice

Then
You
Will rise
Liquefied
High into the sky
And fall as raindrops from God’s eyes

To
The 
Waiting
Buds below
Where now you will grow
With me - in the bloom of a rose


           ~~~
Author:  Elaine George


* Note:  This poem is a Personification as well as a triple Fibonacci

Brian Strand's 'Image Contest':     First Place
John Heck's  '12-in-one' Contest:  First Place


Copyright © Elaine George | Year Posted 2008

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Things That Seemed Poetic

Things that seemed poetic were always sad,
though I yearned for sparkle
and my dad's guffaw, which never came.
Familiar things were always drear --
repeated motions in the same old game.
There were only distant glimpses
of budding spring, fleeting views
of daffodils. The strongest
poems dealt me death and dying.
Yet I always hoped, never went under
to gray despair, always dreaming
of a garden of love that we could share.
But those forbidden delights faded
quickly away; the only reality
I understand is the ever-looming
and final one. Nothing's changed.
The strongest poems deal death and dying.


Copyright © Leo Larry Amadore | Year Posted 2011

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Exhuming The Essence

excavate my fervent soul
with your familiar hands
(determination gets you everywhere)
stripped down to just my skin
in this sultry summer night
moon shining provocative…..bright

entwined limbs in midnights swelter
architecture of  this flaming hanker
you must stoke this slow red simmer
I assure you that I blaze
with just the right erotic touch
                        I become a vixen 

trace those fingers down my spine
those lips a naked search
beyond the present sunset
to this hearts clandestine perch
(buried profound but beating)
inside a cave of safety
if you will only reach it
                   patience is a virtue

I am only just a slave
held captive by your binding
to  your Adonis body
I am helpless as a hostage….
my master….I await….trembling
                                   (vulnerable)
for that final surrender

you can render me helpless my love….
and leave me barely breathing…


Copyright © Christie Moses | Year Posted 2009

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Without Hope's Gleam

The flower that is given little light tastes not enough of joy and cannot thrive - then fades away like dusk into the night. The soul who struggles just to stay alive - much like the flower wilting in the dark - tastes not enough of joy and cannot thrive. How can a fire be lit if there’s no spark? Without hope’s gleam, the soul will waste away - much like the flower wilting in the dark. This is the plight of one whose world is grey: Though others say a paradise exists - without hopes gleam, the soul will waste away. A man upon this earth who tastes no bliss is like a soul brought low who droops his head though others say a paradise exists. How sad that someone rather would be dead! The flower that is given little light is like a soul brought low who droops his head, then fades away . . . like dusk into the night. Written 11/15/12 For the "Hope" Poetry Contest of Craig Cornish and now for the contest of Nathan A


Copyright © Andrea Dietrich | Year Posted 2012

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The Love Letter

My dear, 

   I shall meet thee in the summer of thy heart,

   where we once walked head to each 

   elegant upon the world....


And had not a care but for little winds of love

   winking there in the dreams of trees,

   laying upon me to so delicately,

   tickle with your autumn hair,

   always so soap-scented you


Touch me where I had not known

   the ease of such wonder in your eyes,

   splendor only for a great king ----

   but I a hopeless romantic muse,

   with little empty pockets blessed

   with thy precious petal,

   am richer than any lord!


I shall wait for thee in our golden glade,

   the heart which flows the waterfall....
   
   by the dawn of your sweet embrace,

   in the summer of thy heart,

   I shall wait....

   (Love, K)


Copyright © Keith O.J. Hunt | Year Posted 2014

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Soft Wind

Soft wind, warm and weightless 
That brushes my cheeks in cool of day
And on warm moonlit nights of summer 
Let me lay upon your expansive wings
Let me breathe deeply of your spirit
Carry me o’er God’s beautiful earth
Carry me across the turquoise seas
Where silence lies supreme as dolphins play 
Listen as their bodies slice the oceans deep 
As the sun seems to linger enjoying the view
Let me down for a whiles to walk bare feet upon warm sands
Let me frolic with gentle white crested waves, then
Carry me far beyond blue heaven’s dome
Carry me to my Fathers’ home

~*~


Copyright © Annalise a.k.a. Audrey Haick | Year Posted 2011

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Waiting to be free

             Waiting to be free

I am dying, but not like anybody who died.
     I am living, but in the rainbow I do reside. 
How much longer I will go until secrets unveil?
     My mind cannot comprehend but my heart will decide.
My problems are too simple, my remedy complex;
     Love is my medicine, which I have identified.
Destination is unknown; the journey is too short,
     My vehicle is broken, our driver is mystified. 
My body is a cage, my soul is shackled inside. 
     Speak not of troubles, my pain will be justified.
The door is half open; I can see the ray of love, 
     My heart will take over until we’re all unified.
Tomorrow, I will fly with swallows, they know the path.
     Who can you trust “Haloo”? There is no one to confide.

March 1st 2016   Haloo


I dedicate this poem to Daniel Turner, for all his love and friendship. 


Copyright © Pashang Salehi | Year Posted 2016

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Who Am I

I am the ring around Saturn
spinning words as particles of ice and dust
with the power to transcend

I am the original chosen to be right here right now
transmitting verbal frequencies 
through speaking my thoughts into existence

I am the heir of omnipotence,
born with a direct connection to profound abundance 
The one whose words will age, yet still have substance;
since there are no boundaries attached to my pen

I am constant energy
Translating personal experience into imagery 
Vulnerable to tyranny,
yet i continue attempting to share some truth
through this abstract language of poetry

I am the core
I am that I am more
I am the Divine Presence that is the Source of my rewards

I am the green you get when you mix too much yellow with the blue
That shade of gold you get when the sun resides into darkness
and when it ascends in the dawn burning dew
I am the transition between the third and fourth dimension of time;
the love you feel when you realize how it feels

I am the poem that is abstractly direct
because I write beyond limits
absorbing frequencies from 3 to 8 hertz
through meditation for several minutes
I am the one bridging the gap between
the analog ascension and the direct connection to spirit
The one who is love
because I am a descendent  of it

I am the rhythm that the wind blows
I am the beginning and the ending of stories told
about the universe and how miracles unfold
I hold the power to accept judgement from those who will do just that
Not knowing that I am them in the absolute reality of me
Judge that

I am knowledge beyond measure because that is my right
So I continue meeting the different parts of me
when I meditate and write
Who am I?
I AM, THAT, I AM




Copyright © humble b | Year Posted 2012

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Good Deeds

Good deeds are so precious
They are wonderful things
All are filled with compassion
Oh!...the happiness they bring!

They can not be corrupted
You can't buy them with cash
They are gifts...they are blessings
And they come in a flash!

Good deeds have a voice
And they whisper so clear
Of great tragedies, deep poverty
Things wrapped up in fear

They tell of the darkness;
Deep sorrows - fierce pains
They will whisper of wishes
That have turned into shame

Some tell of the hopeless
Knowing not what to do
They don't realize they are waiting
For someone like you

When desperate times...Oh!
Destructions...they come!
Good deeds with compassion
Will bring hope to some

A good deed can be all 
That it takes at times
They will help others turn
From the dark to sunshine!

Do keep an ear open
Keep an eye open too;
They may tell of a good deed
That is waiting for you

How sweet are the feelings
That comes from good deeds
As you bless someone else
By fulfilling their needs

Good deeds are quite precious
Very powerful things...
They are filled with compassion
See? The hope that they bring?


Copyright © Neva Romaine | Year Posted 2012