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Best Mentor Poems

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

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New Mentor Poems

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

The Potent Mentor by Project, The Brooklyn Six
My mentor by Broadbent, Robert
THE MENTOR by Cwiak, Dan
mentor love by labeau, catherine
Of My Mentor by DAMFIELD, IRSHAD
The Mentor by walkerjohn, michael
GREAT ANSWER FROM MENTOR by Samson, Olatunji
GREAT ANSWER FROM MENTOR by Samson, Olatunji
GREAT ANSWER FROM MENTOR by Samson, Olatunji
The Gospel According to Mentor by Sentes, Glenn

View all new Mentor Poems

The Best Mentor Poems

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Pretty Poet

Where Have All The Pretty Poets Gone? 

A real poet are you, charismatic over everything you serve
Showcasing, a rainbow that folds the perfect world wide perspective
I'm talking about flawless literature at its best no typos, no muss
Just a page full of boredom and rust
Thank you for having Lunesta all up in my head
It's like reading a poetry lesson, from the extras of The Walking Dead
An image frozen cold, waiting for inspiration to hit like Al Capone
I'm bored of your flora flamboyant language rocking me like stones
A psychedelic trip, into the odyssey of a blind man's tale
A home where I am pushed to open a dictionary & thesaurus with braille
Wondering what you just said, --Hakuna Matata, what a wonderful day! 
  
The best rocket pen poet in the USA Today, 
Launching words like no tomorrow, a fool of wordplay and sorrow
A godlike guinea-pig genius, delegating poetry politician style
Perhaps, one day you will become a famous writer
Burning books, like a cigarette lighter
Until then, enjoy pushing your pen as if it was cocaine, 
Snorting up and cutting up the food chain in vain
Patronizing and ignoring those, for better or worse
A solo cup stuck up another cup, -won't even look my way
Correct me if you will, it's no big deal
Just don't forget to give me the same respect I offer you

Until then my pretty poetic friend, I kneel before no one 

By: ME
5-25-14


Copyright © Poet Destroyer A | Year Posted 2014

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The Generous Bard

(The Merry Adventures of Robin Good)

Sherwood's Forest legendary, leading man 
up, down, tricking eggs between branches
slender, slander, his voice is growing thinner
twisting, turning heads 50 shades of green

Master of disguise reaching for the top archers spot, 
A bard, with uncanny precision, ROBIN nonstop
Splitting his opponent LIKE A BOSS!
Aiming arrows, where broken women sit
Creating fantasies, for his band of hypocrites 
A serenade, of jealousy and mayhem 
A poetic outlaw, generously taking what others earn 
Wearing black tights, the hottest profile, sipping wine
A lust beyond Dorthy's Rainbow, a venomous poem
Somewhere, covered in leprechaun's gold
His chest is cold 
- Yet warm from all the hands caressing this bard,
He is the best, gravity has no weight on his pen, 
A soundless soldier having his way with his sword, 
Executing those who challenge him,
Breathing life into many empty accounts
Giving voices and self-encouragement
With no time to drop down this bard from cloud nine
A dissipation of air fresheners and hello's
Painting pain just to pretend it hurts the person
A fragile voice whispering in the shadows

Slithering Secrets;
From this hooded bard who carries no face,
A mask of lies, taking what belongs to others.
Robin of honor, graveled by his peasants 
MISUNDERSTOOD in every fashion, yet he preys
Pipping dreams away, down an infested rat's path
Shoving Little Johns hopes down the list

Robin is no common criminal, just a bard 
Wearing a dark cloak, when in disguise
taking from the greedy --- giving to the needy 

Thank you for enjoying my story 
Robin Good and his network of Merry Men

2-3-16


Copyright © Poet Destroyer A | Year Posted 2016

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PoetrySoup Heroes

The best advice came from my hero
since our very first days on the Soup,
he said to me ....be true to yourself
don't try to blend into the group.

When no one wants to write in rhyme
you told me ....write it anyway,
when no one wants to read rhyme,
you said to me ...write it anyway.

If this is your passion, why let it go
all opinions will be hit and miss,
poetry is not what others want you to do
only Heart and Soul make up the artist.

Did Poe try to follow the rest ...oh no
being unique makes any artist great,
perfection is what it is .....to you
only we can control the hand of fate.

So what if we are being a little archaic
by respecting those who came before,
the elders are remembered for a reason
they opened up the modern poet's door.

Thank you for teaching me to believe
because back then I just didn't see,
the talent, the potential, the poet
... that you somehow saw in me.










I have many Poetry Soup heroes....

but this poem is for Chan Hurst, "Just That Archaic Poet" ....RIP


Written on November 10th, 2015





Copyright © Kelly Deschler | Year Posted 2015

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Playing God

Listen to poem:

Playing God


I know she cherishes the sun, but I
must turn her often lest she grows deformed
and stifled in her quest for too much light.

And at the faithful window, day by day,
that glow appears—her sustenance of life.
Instinctively, she lifts her leafy palms
as if to catch each golden ray, and leans
to kiss the glass, back arched in thankful pose.

And I, like God, keep turning her around
to make her straight, aware that she must work
to find the light once more. An endless fight,
this turning, turning, cutting short her time
to fully drink of sun. And what despair
for her to face again the shadowed room—
to gather strength, confront the task at hand:
the twisting, writhing, standing tall, erect—
then leaning, reaching out for light again.

And yet she grows in beauty, health, and grace.
The secret lies in proper tension kept
between my God-like care to keep her straight,
and her strong will, to seek and worship sun.


Sandra M. Haight

~3rd Place~
Contest: I Drew A Blank
Sponsor: John Lawless
Judged: 06/02/2016

~1st Place~
Contest: Structured Forms-Iambic Verse:
Sponsor: Giorgio, A.V.
Judged: 02/23/2015

Blank Verse: Iambic, 10 syllables and 5 feet per line.


Copyright © Sandra Haight | Year Posted 2015

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The Poet

The Poet

Tribute to
Tim Smith @ Poetrysoup.com

Seeking inspiration
in the darkness of the night.
He listens to the shadows
to give him words to write.

A longing somewhere in the wind
a broken heart cries out.
It's captured his attention,
now's not the time to doubt.

He listens to a love gone wrong
he hears the teardrops fall.
Still he cannot turn away
until he's heard it all.

It speaks to him of anguish
and of a broken will.
He feels a soul begin to bleed
but he listens still.

When silence again finds him
in the shadows of the night.
He speaks for the voiceless
within the words he'll write.

Sending hope and faith and love
on wings of butterflies.
He reaches out to broken souls
then he helps them rise.

For deep inside he holds a key
though many may not know it.
The way to mend a broken heart
is the heart inside the poet.

Edwin C Hofert 


Copyright © Edwin Hofert | Year Posted 2015

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The One Who Remains Silent

"THE ONE WHO REMAINS SILENT" Visions of happy encouragement and loving growth I had been seeking... I'll never know his name but it's just the same he was the first who welcomed me... For he was writing...and...I was writing.. and we were both writing for the exact same purpose.... intentions to enhance our passion for writing he has inspired that purpose in me with a gentle reminder the One who remains Silent speaks volumes in his words.. Many thanks Sir... Written By: Laura Loo Date Written: December 18, 2015


Copyright © Laura Loo | Year Posted 2015

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I'm my Daddy Made Over

Dedicated to my Dad Jerry W. Niday 3/20/1952 - 6/18/2013


I am who I am because of him
He’s the reason for my son’s name
He gave me my courage & my strength
To stand tall even when standing wasn’t easy
Stand for the ones who can’t
To think and fend for myself
I’m my Daddy made over

Taught me to fight back 
To never back down
How to pick myself back up
When I’ve been knocked down
Fight for what I believe
I’m my Daddy made over

He gave me my stubbornness 
Gave me my pride
Gave me my temper
Taught me not to take crap
To speak my mind no matter who
Work for what I want
I’m my Daddy made over

How to keep my emotions in check
How to handle large amounts of pain
When in trouble he always had my back
He knew how my mind worked better than anyone
I got it from him
I’m my Daddy made over

Even though he’s gone
I’ll stand and continue on 
I may stumble I may fall 
May even get hurt along the way
But I’ll pick myself back up
I’ll dust myself off and stand tall
I’m honored and proud to say
I’m my Daddy made over


Sabrina Niday Hansel



Copyright © Sabrina Niday Hansel | Year Posted 2013

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- Sparkling Oceans Apart -

You're a maiden so hot burning thoughts 
whom melts ice inside deep waves salted 
unfolding ocean swells kissing your feet 
For once spoke those hot lips the truth shining 

Sunshine pleasing warm beholding to 
one's eye golden crowned jewel beauty 
rainbow luster coloring pearl treasure 

It's giving off their beauty pure free 
that does not require something in return 

A lady who pleases the heart warm 
Princess cut with deep class sparkling pure 
utopia's adorable sun rise 

How the body is heated and hear 
her echoing heart beat in the chambers 

Shining a future path dreaming ore 
every single moment precious links 
each one spent with you falling under spell 

Love is like pure sparkling magic gem 
unpredictable true and marvelous 


Magic silk covers batting eyelids 
enchanting soft lovingly flowers 
beautiful petals held within the shell 
Let the rose live forever and the sun 
shines always endless times glistening gold 





Written by Liam Mcdaid and Anne- Lise Andresen 
a co write in a 9/10 syllable count

a warm thank you anne lise


Copyright © liam mcdaid | Year Posted 2014

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Owl's Requiem

The rising sun has set.
Night has fallen.
The plow rests,
tillage and toil finished.
The corn ear withers,
but seeds are saved.
The scrolls are opened
event recorded;
the news spread:
"The sun has set,
the old Owl has flown
into the Heavens."

Yet, the sun will rise
and peek over the horizon,
the tractor will roar,
a new crop will sprout,
Green hands will turn brown
the flag will wave,
financial accounts recorded,
hospitality offered,
and the light of brotherhood shared.

Your torch has lit fires
that flicker and flame;
The fledgling will grow
and, hopefully, become wise;
New eras and life-chapters
will begin, 
continuing the credo
as a Legacy to you:
"Learning to Do, 
Doing to Learn,
Earning to Live, 
Living to Serve."*


*National FFA Organization Motto


Copyright © Jaycee Cervenka | Year Posted 2015

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What is Life

What is Life
	
Life is a gift, with many ups and downs,
Its mysteries and wonders keeps’ us spellbound; 
It takes us on adventures, that were not planned,
It has twists and turns, that we’ll never understand;

Life never stops, no matter the time or season,
Its existence is evolutionary, like the “Garden of Eden.”
It is a story book, pages full of complexities,
It baffles our minds, and exposes our insecurities

What is life? It’s beauty, change, imagination, too,
An everlasting rollercoaster ride, experienced by me and you!

Written: © 9/8/15


Copyright © Sarita Milliner | Year Posted 2015

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Old Men In Blue Jeans

Old men in blue jeans

Dungarees – that’s what they were called,
heavy, blue denim, metal button fly -
form that followed function.  The “cuffs” were
rolled up because inseam sizing and “pre-worn”
softened and frayed only occurred if you got
them from an older sibling.

Time has a way of softening things, Dungarees
included.  They shaped themselves to your needs,
became one with your movements, stayed with you
through the tough times, went to town with you,
wore the scars and tears of youth moving forward,
taught the lessons of toughness and tenderness,
of reliable, responsible, dependability.

The clothes did not make the man, the man gave
meaning to the clothes, imbued them with his ethic,
his love, his success and failures, stood with him
in  welcome rains and barren fields.  The jeans,
flannel shirts, boots, weathered face - caught
between an ever present grin and grimace -
awaited each sunrise with a purpose.

The blue jeans are now faded by age,
highlighted by wear and tear, creased
in the rutted way of old roads – necessary
but untended.  They offer the comfort of memory’s
warm embrace, the unspoken bond of a friendship
shaped by the demands of life.

They still walk together, these old men and their
blue jeans, more slowly but no less proudly,
for they have grown old together and know
that “the clothes did not make them men”.


John G. Lawless
1/1/2015


Copyright © John lawless | Year Posted 2015

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A Summer Of Lastingness

In a summer of lastingness, long ago,
what you had in store for me my love,
I could've never known.

Through the depth and channels
of the heart, you have shown me
life begins, where the loving starts.

Like an unfolded rose growing in the
morning's misty dew, you feed me
and then sheltered me as I grew.

If I stood before you today my love
you would see a full rose in bloom,
not at all hindered by gloom. 

A strong stem, no regrets, no sorrow.
Only togetherness with you, full of
brighter tomorrows.

Thank you for all you planted in the 
garden of my hardened soil.
A summer of lastingness has forever
brought tenderness instead of toil.
 




Copyright © Sharon Gulley | Year Posted 2015

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My Guardian Poet

A guardian poet you have been to me
Much like an angel, there protecting me
When I was silent, lost in dark of night
You read my words and brought me back to light

You told me that my words were ever true
That in my writes were thoughts profound and new
You would not let me simply drift away
A word of hope you’d send to greet each day

Your name is there below each thing I write
To tear dimmed eyes you brought a vision bright
“The Queen of Passion,” how I love the name
You gave to me and life is not the same

To you, my Guardian Poet, thanks I bring
You fool me not; I see your angel wing

Eileen Manassian Ghali 

Richard Lamoureux and I joined Poetry Soup at about the same time a year and eight months ago. Richard has been like a mentor to me. I’ve recently been very unwell emotionally and unable to write. I have appreciated the fact that he did not give up on me and kept daily visiting my previous writes and leaving words of encouragement. My words are my soul, so, in a way, he was affirming my worth as a person, which is what I was in need of. Richard has written a poem for me entitled, "Queen of the Romantic Pen."
 
Richard, your friendship is precious and dear. You are a man of faith and integrity. May God bless your home, your loved ones, and your heart with all that brings you joy. Thank you for standing by me through my dark times.


Copyright © Eileen Manassian | Year Posted 2014

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Captcha WHA6

When I was only five
Heard mommy always's say
Angel  keep being naughty and you won't make it to
6




Entry for Adam Hapworth's
Captcha Acrostic Contest
G.L. All




Copyright © Katherine Stella | Year Posted 2013

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SILENT COMMUNITY BUILDER ONE

S ince I arrived 
I n Poetrysoup
L acking in
E very poetry skill,
N ever once has
T his master doubted me.

O ne tremendous teacher.
N ever disappoints with 
E ach new poem he pens.





Copyright © JEAN MURRAY | Year Posted 2016

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Breathe In Me Life, For Death Enshrouds

“Seducer, healer, deity or thief,
I will see you soon enough—
in the shadow of the rainfall,
in the brief violet darkening a sunset—
but until then I pray watch over him
as a mountain guards its covert ore
and the harsh falcon its flightless young.”
-Dana Gioia’s Prayer

Captivated, cruelly scorned Innocence breached in the caress of sifting leaves I breathe… Shards of crimson ice splitting the skies, I breathe… Hung in the nest of my Guardian’s threshold I breathe… I receive the tantrums of travesty, Though I pause, the air suspended in my lungs Death, damasked and naked The hairs of his youth dancing in the breeze I breathe…I breathe… Words of ire, phantom echoes in my mind, I breathe…I breathe The pain of existing taught in those eyes I breathe…I breathe Until the fighting for control ceases Until the lungs are filled to the brim with torrential tears My eyes, open, lifeless I see you, gallant Guardian A silhouette sobbing, a heart pounding and throbbing You sing to me, lulling life wonder Spices surround me, for you are my Gatherer of needed scent Allowing your tears to fall, refusing to grieve Seeing in me budding revelation Your lips hot against mine Gently, gently you breathe And in Death’s astonished brow, I live


Copyright © Laura Breidenthal | Year Posted 2015

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That's when, you're going to need a friend

(That's when) you're going to need a friend


When your love's got up
and left you
And...
you feel like
you want to die.

And...
you've given up
on just believing...
you don't even 
want to try.

Isn't that right,
now, man?

You feel so
worthless,
like you can't go on

No matter 
what you do,
everything
feels wrong

You don't know
where to go,
or
what is real

you only 
know she's gone
and 
the way you feel

Bridge
(you know) I know the feeling
I've felt that way too
I feel your pain
I really do
Just call my name
that's all you've got to do,'cause

Chorus
When times are tough...
that's,
when you're
going to need a friend
Oh yeah, 
when times are, 
when times are tough...
that's,
when you're
going to need a friend.


I'll try my very best
to help you to see
your value as a man

when you love yourself
it set's you free
that's when you understand
Can't you see?

There's just so much more
that you need to know

Like, 
show your feelings to her
'cause
that's how her love grows

Tell her you love her
each and every day

I'm telling you what 
you've got to do
If you want her to stay

Go to bridge
Go to chorus
repeat twice
fade


John Derek Hamilton
October 28,2016








Copyright © John Hamilton | Year Posted 2016

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My Father's Footsteps

I can see you up ahead of me
I am following 
in your footsteps

no matter how fast I walk
I cannot catch up 

your footsteps are bigger than mine
but they were warm 
and safe to step in

you turn around
and smile encouragingly
then return to your journey

thank you for your footsteps
when I can no longer see you 
they will always be here
pointing me in the right direction

Dora Roimata Langsbury
27 June 2009

Written for my father, Kuao Langsbury, for his 75th birthday gift.


Copyright © Dora Roimata Langsbury | Year Posted 2013

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Enemy Wear

"Enemy Suit"

If you are my online styling enemy, 
Then I love you more than poop and snakes combine 
I'd pray to God, every night, 
'Ask him to fill your room with termites 
Once in a while, I'd ask him to give you grace 
In hopes today, you don't expose the green monster face 
Enough said for the time to be.

To:
My dearest enemy, my mentor
I want you to know, you taught me well
Tonight I Will Put On My Enemy's Clothes
And I'll be the fake friend that hugs you
 

Hugs, Hugs, Love, Love Linda



Copyright © Poet Destroyer A | Year Posted 2014

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Went Fishin'


Submitted to the "Gone Fishin" contest
------------------------------------------------

Trollin’ the islands at Texoma,
It was April, 1964.
New rod and reel in hand,
I’d NEVER been fishing before.

A Garcia 2510T casting rod.
The reel, a Mitchell 301,
Plus hand-selected worms and lures…
I was ready to have some fun.

My teacher, a master fisherman,
Had fished all over the earth...
From trout in Austrian mountain streams
To sea bass just west of Perth.

He showed me all the basics,
Including how to tie a lure.
“No snaps. They’re no good.
Tie’em on…just to be sure.”

He made me practice casting.
“Take aim with your rod’s tip 
Take her back - ten, eleven, twelve, one;
Smoothly return to ten… with just a little flip.”

While I practiced the casting motion,
He said, “Large Mouths will be jumpin’ bugs.
Water’s bubblin’ with Sand Bass spawnin’.
You’ll know the difference if one gives you a tug.”

As we drifted around the islands,
He said, “I think you’re ready.”
So, I picked a lure, a pretty Heddon;
And tied her on.  My hands were steady.

Yellow with black dots and a weed guard. 
A streamer tail and double treble hooks.
Who knew if she would do the job,
But I liked the way she looked.

As I tied her on, I looked around
For a likely place for my first cast.
Magazine pictures always showed weeds
In the background of a striking Bass.

So, I picked a reed bed in the shallows;
Threw my first cast, watched her fly.
What happened next was the stuff of dreams.
We couldn’t believe our eyes. 

About eighteen inches before she lit,
A monstrous Large Mouth erupted from the water.
My teacher screamed, “Holy Mary, Mother of God!  
Kiss O’Reilly’s Ugly Daughter!”

When the Bass broke water, it scared me. 
My whole body jerked and shook.
So sudden, so silent, it seemed like slow motion.
Until I heard him screaming, “Set the hook!  Set the hook!”

When the big Bass scared me,
I must have set the hook.
The tussle was on, long and hard.
This fish didn’t want to be cooked.

My lack of skills prevailed, however,
As I finally reeled him in;
I grabbed him by the lower lip,
Like I’d seen Don Wallace do, time and time again.

“Oh, my God”, he murmured as he weighed the Bass;
“Jeez.  Over thirteen pounds....Thirteen pounds, two.”
He took out his Polaroid and laughed, 
“I’ll take a picture of this fish... holdin' you.”

He snapped the picture of me holding the Bass;
On the back wrote the date, the length and weight.
As he turned to put the camera away……
Get ready.  This is the part that’s great.

I’d watched Don Wallace ‘catch and release’.
He always did that on his show.
“This fish put up a good fight.” he’d say;
“Now it’s time to let him go.”

Yes, as my teacher put away the camera,
I held the big Bass by the lower lip and tail
And ‘swished’ him in the water,
Making sure his gills would not fail.

My teacher turned and saw what I was doing
Just as I let the big Bass go.
This, too, was like slow motion
As I heard him screaming, “NOOOOOOO!”

“Why would you do that, Lad?
Do ya know nothin’ at all?
A fish like that... on your very first cast?
Well...Lad, that fish goes on the wall.”

“Well…he’ll be here next year.” I said with a smile,
“And even bigger, I’ll bet.”
He said, ”You’ll make a fisherman, Lad.
It’s not for the fish that we fish…

but for the great stories we get.” 

I still have that lure…and the rod and reel.
Still in their bags and boxes, just like new.
I thought about selling them on eBay,
But 50 years later, they have sentimental value.

You see…I’ve been invited to go fishin’ several times
By golfin’ buddies and other friends;
But for some reason…I really don’t know why…
I’ve never gone fishin’ again.

They say, “Truth is stranger than fiction.”
And I believe that is a fact.
I hope you enjoyed this bit of truth and,
In the meantime…..”Ya’ll come back!”


Copyright © Robert Candler | Year Posted 2014

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We Lost More Than a Dad

We lost more than just a Dad that day
We lost half of how we came to be
We lost we four girls first love
We lost our Best Friend

We lost more than just a Dad that day
Our Mom lost her Soul Mate, Her other half 
Our children lost their Papaw
We lost our family’s foundation 
We lost the glue that held us together

We lost more than just a Dad that day
We lost the Strongest man we ever knew 
We lost the man we looked up too
We lost we four girls Teacher of many things

We lost more than just a Dad that day
We four girls lost our Hero
We lost some of our Light
We lost part of our Heart
We lost part of our Soul

We lost more than just a Dad that day
We lost some of our Courage
We lost some of our Strength
We lost some of our will to fight back
We lost some of our will to carry on
We four girls lost more than a Dad
We lost more than just a Dad that day


Copyright © Sabrina Niday Hansel | Year Posted 2013

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He Loved You

He loved you too, you know
Loved you like his very own
In away you were
You came into his life as my friend
Through the years you grew to be my brother in arms 
Along the way you became the son he never had

He loved you as a friend
He loved you even more as a son
A son he never had
When things began to spiral out of control
You stayed when so many others ran away
You helped when I couldn’t

You meant a great deal to him
You never looked at him differently 
Nor did you treat him differently
You stood by his side
When he fell, you stood by his side and mine
You were willing to help me fight his battle for him 
You were there from the beginning 
You were there until the bitter end
Always remember my friend, my brother
He loved you more than you’ll ever know


____________________________________________________________
Dedicated to close Family friend. He loved my Daddy just as much as I did/do.


Copyright © Sabrina Niday Hansel | Year Posted 2013

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Its Personal

Reasons i should have killed you before birth
You speak to my heart in sharp tones
Cutting all inner senses and ability’s backbones 
You kept chasing my dreams in thoughts and roles

Mr Poem

I regret you ever lived in my timezone
You speak to my heart in sharp stones 

My skull 
Your home 
Separated from body languages
The floor plan built in nine months to live happily ever after
Is torn apart before the vast fruity paintings you planted to impart
You built the wrong domicile in my style
My tongue is far from being nursed

So tempted to curse supernatural affairs
I need you to fill my purse
You are my King 
Speak my wings so i can fly my dreams

A King shares his blankets with flies
Sipping tears on dry oesophagus seasons
With words he farts stinking expressions   
He swims out of overflowing jealous pools

The people’s mate with no checkmates
He leaves hope before his death dates
Building lanes for babies covered in flies in high rates
Bigger than lies on worship graves

A King knows poverty speaks one language
Self-medicated brains eating traumatic reasons
Single homeless heads share roofing reasons

Mr Poem 
Be my leg when i walk my rhymes
Be my mentor when i bite styles blaming poverty’s global roof skies

Yours Creativity

(c) Raymond Ngomane


Copyright © Raymond Ngomane | Year Posted 2014

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Your My Dear Friend

We have been together
treasured joy now for many years
we trust each other with our
emotions, with affection, tears,

Any day when you are sick or hurting
I feel your pain - significant other,
when eighter-one needs attention
we help one another...

These mutual friendly feelings
for assistance, approval, support
form our tight bonds,
usually never broken

Sharing visions, time together
we respect each other,
regardless of shortcomings
I know you, "I love you anyway"


Copyright © Perry Campanella | Year Posted 2013

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A Child's Dream Come True

As the sunsets at the end of the day,
And the night begins to fall,
So, does all the dreams of all the little children,
In their own wonderlands of their own,
Wishing and thinking of great things to come,
Hoping their parents will make these dreams come alive,
Cause dreams to children should become bright and gleam,
And all to them more than just alive,
All children want is hopes and dreams to become true,
But if you can teach them how to work hard at them,
They too can make their dreams become their own reality,
For any one person works hard enough,
At what they want in life,
They can have any one thing they want,
All they have to do is work really hard to make it real,
For believers can believe in themselves,
And strive to work toward making their own goals,
Their very own come true,
Which gives more satisfaction in life,
Than things being handed to you,
So always strive for the best,
And all your wishes and dreams can come true,
In your life if you want them too.


Copyright © John Hembree | Year Posted 2013