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Details | Poems Poem |

Where Poetry Lives

 His  poems live deep down in the wood
down in an olde hunting lodge
They are brown as the bears head that 
hangs on the wall
brown as the dark leaves that fall
silently hiding the salt lick
from fawns who come in
the twilight to call
His poetry growls and grumbles and purrs
like a cougar alone on the rim
of the canyon above the olde
hunting grounds
where he writes all his lines
like a hymn
His poems stretch out on the furs
by the fire
and tell of the storms and the waves
that tested the strength of the words
that inspire
and sent many songs to their graves
for brave are the sagas
the odes that survive
the trek through the woods to the town
and as we go home we gather them up
scattered like leaves on the ground.
Brown,yellow,red ,a few of them green
His poems are places and things we have seen
but not from the view that the truth hunter gives
deep down in the woods ,where  poetry lives


Details | Poems Poem |

Would You Think Less of Me As A Poet

Would you think less of me if I told you their names… I sat there for hours looking smashingly sophisticated drinking expensive caffeinated drinks My long chestnut eyelashes resting on my Foster Grants Reading Nobel laureates and others poets blessed with Allen Ginsberg’s waxy seal of approval I read for hours ad nauseum Nothing bled through It was just god awful… Their poetry was dead to me I needed something alive! There they were- poems of all shapes and sizes and promises to enrich my gray intellectually anthologies & morphologies & 6 long centuries of prose Embossed in gold and promised that they would live on forever …oh, no! I would rather ride home naked in the back of a police cruiser or maybe wedge razor blades under my finger nails I almost couldn’t take it any more It was as though the red velvet sofa I was nestled upon was set afire I wanted to click my heels three times and instantaneously be home reading the beloved poems of my friends from Poetry Soup Many do not have their names on the spines of books at expensive book stores or are available to download to a Nook Rather they are the souls that have moved me with their everyday poetry and the friendship from their quills I took. Written by Gwendolen Rix 1-13-12 Written for Carol Brown’s Contest~What I Love Most About Poetry Soup~ *friendship* This poem is dedicated to Chris Aechtner


Details | Poems Poem |

Five Stars

*Dedicated to Andrea Dietrich, Caleb Smith, Isaiah Zerbst, Anne Currin, and Eileen Ghali

I'll start with illustrious Andrea,
our talented sonneteer.
She peppers our poems with kindness, 
with comments so bright and sincere.

Next, we have Mr. McCaleb,
our sweet gent from Arkansas
From KOs to boogers to nature,
he writes without limit or flaw.

Now, I must turn to Isaiah,
the master of meter and rhyme.
His poems are most reminiscent
of forgotten ages in time.

I cannot forget our Queen Anne,
who graces us all with her songs.
Her lyrics tug at our heartstrings, 
yet she's upbeat, lovely, and strong.

Last but not least is Eileen,
the most spirited poetess.
She translates feeling to verse
and writes with such skill and finesse.


Details | Poems Poem |

My Poems Are Children To Me

My poems are conceived, not within the womb,
which long time now has been devoid of seed.
My poems are born from a need to be heard:
my thoughts, passions, sentiments and beliefs.

They start as fragments,
flecks of ash from my mind's abyss,
a restless volcano that never long sleeps.
The particles of ash collect and form together.
Feverishly I rush to absorb them all
as captured words on scribbled scraps of papers,
employing metaphor, play on word,
or sounds deliberately paced, and grace of rhythm.
I mold my poems meticulously to my image,
and then they emerge, fatherless but freed.

Each, my voice, shares her sisters' ways,
but unique, is cradled in the pages of my book,
where, satisfied with my labor, I can turn to them
and often look as a mother does on her infant babe.
Unlike, however, mortal children can do,
when I am through with them, they do not change,
and fully formed, they rarely disappoint.
As some have loved the fruit of my own flesh,
I hope they'll love my poem children too.


For Carol Sunshine Brown's WHO WHAT WHERE Poetry Contest


Details | Poems Poem |

I am bored with Poetrysoup

I am bored with Poetrysoup

Premier Poetry website rekindled my poetic talent 
Veterans loved my work and inspired to showcase talent
But soon got entangled in Members Contest
Contests more of mutual admiration club than talent hunt
One Premium Member placing other high on winners list
Ordinary Members often accomodated below Glory list      

Poetrysoup Members Contest rules needs revision
Premium Membership based on fees not on merits and contribution   
Novice at times get chance to judge veteran 
And post three poems in Poetrysoup Contest tilting fair play condition
Rules need revision, Premium Membership should be criteria driven
Either based on 25 Top Ten wins or upon posting of 150 poems  
Top 50 of Poetrysoup Contest should conduct contests and groom 

Though bored yet good platform of poetic expression is Poetrysoup  

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 

By Hitendra Mehta
April 2011

Placed 7th in Members Contest - I am bored with______ by Linda Marie 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

P.S - Its not intended to offend the Premium Members. Few of them have 
really supported me and loved my visuals and flow. The idea is to make
this platform more stronger and meritorious to groom real talent.
Winning Top Ten and accumulating marks is okay but ultimate gratification
lies in showcasing the visuals with seamless flow of theme and packaging
same in adorable poetic forms.

Ventured this caustic one hoping that it will bring about positive changes.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
 


Details | Poems Poem |

Poems for My Alien Abductors: a Ride into Space

I thought I could wow them with poems from earth
Poems of joy and humor, poems extolling it’s worth
So I laid out poems from Michael, Gail, and me
From Andrea, David, Gwen, and Ilene
From PD, Harry, Mandy, and Chris
From Jack, Craig, Cyndi, and Liz…
For I was sure once they read our beautiful works
They would embrace us and love our humanly quirks!
So last night I taped them all over my skin
Knowing they’d find them if they took me again…

When I woke up, they were gone and I had a reply:
“We enjoyed reading those poems last night, 
And thanks for the names of the earthlings too -
We have many more experiments to do!”


2/7/13
For Michael's boomerang...send your poem for a ride contest


Details | Poems Poem |

I dreamed a dream of You

Yesterday I dreamed a dream,
that had no end.
You in your white gown, and long, black hair flowing.
You were calling my name.
I heard you, but I couldn't reach you!

And when I say your soul was tainted.
You went out in the night life.
You dressed in your black, evening ball gown.
You danced till the Red Sun came out, over the horizon.

You smiled at me.
A flame in my heart burned red hot!
My knees and hands shook with nerves;
Nerves of love and joy.
I blew you a kiss,
but you turned away!
Oh, please don't turn away from me,
for I would die, if it happened again!

Your beautiful and golden heart showed me the truth.
The truth that every gentleman wants to hear.
I've seen you walk the streets,
in the blue dawn of August.
As I followed you, you stopped and looked at me.
You smiled so beautifully, and my heart fluttered into oblivion!

You walked with your friends and I went my way.
I couldn't find a single trace of you that day.
I cried out "Why did I leave her like this?!"
I looked for you, all over the courtyards and town squares!
Yet no sight of your beauty.
... No sight of your golden heart, that I hold so dear to mine.
Where did you go?
Why did you leave?
Why did I leave... that is the question!

I should have stayed by your side,
till the ends of time.

Yet I had left.
Why...?

One gloomy and parish midnight.
I came along a road,
and soon found myself in front of a wayward cafe.
Smiling faces all around me.
I spotted a beautiful face that outstood all the other faces around me.
It was yours.

Your face brought me to sanity and I went over too you!
You spotted me and tried to run!
I caught you in the dirty hallway and pulled you in.

Our eyes met and I fell in love once again.
Sanity re-entered my mind, body and soul.
I kissed you and you kissed back.
You held my hand, and we left the cafe and walked down the street.

The street was gloomy, yet we together brightened the dark street.
We went back to the lit up city streets, of the lands filled with smiling faces,
and we fell in love and slept together.

You lay there in my restless arms and I gave you a sweet kiss,
upon your sweet and soft head.
Your dark hair was sweet smelling and felt of silk.
I closed my eyes and fell asleep with you,
there in my arms and we dreamed together
till the morning came and woke me up,
and took you away from my weak and weary arms.

I dreamed a dream of you.


Details | Poems Poem |

My maa touches my poems

My aged mother she can't understand English... feels my poems by touch she touches the words her frail fingers caressing... smile in wrinkled face 'write a poem for me'-- 'all the poems are yours my maa... your grandchildren' **My 100th poem here for someone so SPECIAL © 2011 kashinath karmakar (12th May 2011) ================================= Placement:10th ;(June 2011) Contest:My most Inspirational Poem Sponsor:Poet Destroyer


Details | Poems Poem |

If I Never

If I never write another poem again
Will you remember me
All the parts of my heart I exposed
The morsels of my soul
The intricacies
The pain
My manufactured pieces of joy
Humor
Wisdom from a fools pen
Stains dripped from a troubled mind
I sit here with head in hand
Looking at a blank page
Fearing I have nothing left to say
Coaxing my brain to respond


Drip
Drip 
A word 
A corresponding heart beat
An image projected
Displayed
Choreographed 
Spinning 
Coming to life
I wish you to reach out
Take it in your hand
Feel touch
Smell 
live within the space
Allow the idea to expand
Grow beyond a page

Put leaves on my trees
Climb my branches
Drink from my streams
Add color to my rainbow
Breathe through my lungs
See through my looking glass
For if I never write another poem again
I can sigh and say
It has all been worthwhile
You heard my call
Responded 
Understood
Seen the previously unseen
Walked along my landscapes
Left a part of yourself
Drank from my cup
Sat at my table
You my honored guests
The one I will remember
For you are the reason
My pen drips and my heart smiles
You help me remember
To see
To believe
One word at a time


Entry for PD's Free Verse Contest




Details | Poems Poem |

Humbled to Myself

I stand humbled amid my own servitude
A ghost reflected 
My shadow bowed of my rectitude
To my souls accord

Afore my growth not withstanding
As one of a Saint
I am not accused.
To those who see me as I am
Unobtrusive in a simple world.

For a competition by 'Just an Archaic Poet'
(The poem of his - The Patron Saint of Worthless Causes)



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