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Best Poetess Poems

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

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New Poetess Poems

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

Avariciously she wanted to be a poetess by Jennings, Bonnie
A Poetess by Langford, Eton
A TRIBUTE TO OUR LOVELY POETESS FRIEND SKAT by Devnath, BL
THIS POETESS LEFT by MURRAY, JEAN
When A Poet Dates A Poetess by chizoba vincent, john
The Heart of a Poetess by Ward, Julia
The Obscure Little Poetess by Manassian, Eileen
I AM 'THE POETESS' by Guillermo, Olive Eloisa
The Poetess by Smith, Tim
You The Poetess Fills My Nights by Yvonne, Maurice

View all new Poetess Poems

The Best Poetess Poems

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The Fallen Poet

(The Fallen Poet)

Shadows, fall from the east
Winter show, white meadows,
Compelling words lost, in a silent world
Beautiful, Bloomingdale is how it goes
Apocalypto-- my very own limbo
Alone in a field of corpses-
A field of men, women and broken pens, 
Images of angels fallen to their knees

A piece of space, of solitude
The sun a wasted disease
The more I prayed the worse I felt,
Lord, I came before - broken and alone

Heaven sees the secret inside
Lost I may be, yet you see
Offended me, I no longer sing
I wait till all is asleep
My ink is dry, a broken poet, with nowhere to go
Lost in the shadows of snow, frozen like ice
A sheet of paper, with no meaning, no words

My friends, my comrades, how easily one forgets

Like a game of chess, I panicked
Made all the right and wrong moves
I lost my way, staggered across
Love comes and love goes
My heart weaker than, weak
I don't know how I survived before, 
After turning the other cheek
I was no longer whole, forsaken myself endlessly 
I was lost, could not even count on myself

Guidance, I ignored no one believed what's become of me
Alone, I stood in old footsteps after falling down

At times end, I found nothing could put me back where I belong
It's time to get back on offense,
Walk through the new, refreshing old footprints

~*~ 


Copyright © SKAT A | Year Posted 2014

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LIBERTY OF EXPRESSION is HERE

Why I am here in Poetrysoup?

I like a seed carelessly thrown 
upon dirty solid black, brown rocks,
I strive, thrived to grow 
despite big rough blocks..

words... phrases... sentences...
They are screaming to be released
or climbing to burst in climax seize
or if not drifting upon crinkled seas

but how can I? 
When will I?
If within
minute by minute
salty prints roll down my cheeks
caused by bitter-lava  of emotions.

Heart is in state of stroke:
my mouth now mute
my lips lethargic to speak
yet my fingers found the head of a captain:

  wandering, wandering
  'til a shoreline glistens
  in the name of hope

Pressed. Pushed, 
I puddle anew the currents,
nothing but my desire to share;
to live, to be happy, to be healed,
to pour safely  fears, frustrations;
trials, dreams that I always pray.

Stabbed from behind,
bang and troubled by shark sharp words,
the powerhouse I built 
slowly, slowly fell to short.

Curiosity ignited my interest,
I attempt to pass a five stanza rhyme verse
eyes shut, ears closed to comments.
Not long, 
sleeping poems from my head popped,
they escaped

  teasing and tickling,
  unafraid, I bite every challenge
  swimming, soaking, diving deep.

Seven months until I taste glory
excitement crawl and peak
nervous yet I...

   I clamor to learn,
   I clamor to move on,
   I clamor to sing,
   I clamor to run,
   I clamor to fly,
   I clamor to soar

from the bluest ocean to darkest clouds,
from lair of lilacs to fruitless air,
from reality to ecstatic speech of fantasy
with pinching memories of past rejections, lost love 

   I hide behind the mask of metaphors
   I tease torrid with personification, 
   I sassy seduce using alliteration
   I heighten arousal with my pose, my muse
   I recite in my own right the rhymes of my soul

Ring! Ring! Ring
allow my poetry  be the bells
clanging blues echoing hues containing feelings.
Permit the tinkles permeate, 
impregnate your thoughts.
Freedom of expression, 
this you and I yearn.

Here in Poetrysoup liberty, I did earn!

Supporters, friends, challengers, lover I gained
yet these I never ask. I never expect.
They landed softly to my open palms,
I accepted. I treasure them.

Finally, my congested suffering heart 
today, beats systematically:

   gratitude, I can only inhale
   smile, I can only show
   prayers, I can only blow...

I know, 
respect, peace and order we all want.
Your verses and so is mine will be of powder rust, dust
but am humbled to be connected.
Pages I will leave here are my immortalized sentiments,
I do believe not all may agree because...
   
   Each one is unique
   Each one has a style
________________________________________________________
8:21 pm, December 26, 2015





Copyright © Olive Eloisa Guillermo | Year Posted 2015

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I Write A Poem

I write a poem that will entertain the world.
A poem that will fade someone's fear.
The one that will inspire you to smile.
Something that can make you out of mind.

I write a poem for lovers and friends,
To describe the feelings, how is love moves the earth.
A poem that encourages deads to live.
To keep the sun shines over the fields.

I write a poem that makes the whole world read.
A sentimental of a heart from lover who left.
The adventure of a man who travelled the lands and seas.
The agony of a woman who lost her baby.

I write a poem....
Until my ink gets dried.
Until the sun meets the horizon.
'til there's no tears fall in my eyes.

I write a poem...
To fall in love once more.
To hold the hand of a new lover,
To see the stars, the moon in full bloom.

I write a poem....
Until the last leaf falls in tree.
Then my life fades in the shadow of eve.
And every memories be left in dreams.

I write a poem....
Please care to comment and sealed with  a kiss.
Choose one or two to be your favourites.
And dont forget, fave the author of masterpiece. =D



** 2nd Place Winner in Poet Destroyer aka Linda's Contest: Any Poem #28 **



Copyright © Aiyah de Torres | Year Posted 2014

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Night Owl

Sitting by her open window,
Was a girl deep in thought,
Lost within a book of Poe,
A perfect poem she sought.

With a curious eye,
He watches her pen,
For she gives it a try,
Every now and then.

He will visit her forevermore,
In silent hours of midnight,
Casting his shadow on her floor,
Within the full moonlight.

Mysterious, nocturnal bird,
Calling out to darkened land,
Speaking such wise word,
Which I cannot understand.

I am lonely, I must confess,
It's just you, me and the moon,
You are much like me, I guess,
So, please sing me another tune.

A messenger of death,
Wailing songs of a banshee,
Has my grim reaper cometh,
Was this warning meant for me?

My soul was projected,
In the shadow of a fowl,
A raven I had expected,
Not the silhouette of an owl!



Copyright © Kelly Deschler | Year Posted 2013

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Lucilla Smiled

Although her smile I could not see, Lucilla smiled through poetry. This lovely lady I met here who graced us with her sunny ways until her very final days became for me somebody dear. Although her smile I could not see, Lucilla smiled through poetry. Her words of wisdom now can flow in heaven, where all angels go. This lovely lady I met here became for me somebody dear. Although her smile I could not see, Lucilla smiled through poetry! RIP Lucilla Carrillo - Written in her memory Oct 2014 For the Sonnetina Rispetto Contest of Dr. Ram Mehta


Copyright © Andrea Dietrich | Year Posted 2014

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Jan Allison


Jan Allison


There is a great gal on our ‘Soup’
Renowned in our poetry group
She’s ready to show
How our poems glow
With comments that give us the scoop.

Sincere as she gives us her view
Of writes we submit, old or new
No sooner we post
She’s there like our host
With greetings to look forward to.

Her poetry’s lovely to read
No matter what subject indeed
Some words leave us sad
Some words make us glad
And some provide lessons to heed.

So friendly to all on our site
We love her with all of our might
Although she has woes
Her care she bestows
On others to help with their plight.


© Sandra M. Haight 2015 
   All Rights Reserved

~1st Place~
Contest: Write a Poem
Sponsor: Judy Konos
Judged: 02/11/2015




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



Copyright © Sandra Haight | Year Posted 2015

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MY SOUPER GIRLFRIENDS

I met them once I landed in a place, 
they called it haven, a soiree place. 
Where people are nice,kind and cool. 
Some are young, some are....never mind. 
They're awesome people!

I first met this blonde lady,thought she's only twenty.
She did refused, said she's almost a mother to me. 
I beg to disagree,'cos she's more than just a mom. 
She's a bestfriend, she's wonderwoman. 
She lives in Norway,Anne Lise Andresen was her name. 

There goes a new avatar,who came to visit on my land. 
She's wearring sunglasses,but can't hide the beauty from behind.
Then I found out lately, she doesn't just own a pretty face.
She is the sexiest and hottest momsie,rockin' up poetry.
She's a real poet master,SkAT A.,that's her name! 

One day I sat down and read some poetries, 
So delightful,inspiring, and awesome pieces. 
I got struck to what I've found. 
A Filipina who's writing with charms, 
Her poems are incredibly great, 
She's Nette Onclaud, the goddess poet! 

I came to land another page, thought at first that's a cage. 
Of a tigress with full of angst and strength. 
I must admit, though I was afraid, I admire all the pieces she had made. 
She left the table and threw the soup,and think tha'ts the last time I'll see her poem. 
But with revenge she went back home, and send me greetings that I treasured. 
With friendly comment I came to know, this tigress is tame and a sweet person. 
Who is she?...the everbody's love and favorite, Poet Destroyer!

As time goes by, and my journey went long.
I had to passed in different stations.
I came to know so many beautiful people,
So kind and thoughtful, their arts are treasures.

There came to visit my poem one day, 
Though full of greiving,they cheered me so well.
They are Mary Jo ,Eileen, F.J. ,Vie and Shadow.
The women who are pride of this site.
The pretty ladies who always been there to lift you high.

Above all these awesome experience,
Is to know the people from my own motherland.
My country fellas, so sweet,cool and nice.
They are the crystal flowers glisten brightly like a star.
They are Leonora, Maria Paz, Nikko and Carole...

My day became brighter, you light the path I walk.
Everytime your greetings knock on my door.
Allow me to do the honor to thank you guys.
And let you all know how thankful I am.
My dream has came true, because of this site.










Copyright © Aiyah de Torres | Year Posted 2014

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Pride Of Poetry

The Pride Of Poetry

Tribute To
Kim Patrice Nunez @ poetrysoup.com

Like sunrise in the morning
or darkness of the night.
Even shadows hearken to her
when she sits down to write.

Oceans all grow restless
there's a stirring up above.
Clouds move so the moon can see
as she writes words of love.

Storms are brewing in the skies
her anger's not forbidden.
Be grateful for the skies of blue
on days her anger's hidden.

Tonight today is almost gone.
She's poetry's long lost lover.
When this day is over
she'll sit and write another.

With mountain tops and butterflies
and valleys filled with springs.
Lovers lost along the way
and sometimes angels wings.

As she looks through eyes of love
 and only she can see.
What each new day's going to bring
the pride of poetry.

Edwin C Hofert


Copyright © Edwin Hofert | Year Posted 2015

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Birth of the Poet

Birth of the Poet When there are feelings so deep that you cannot express I will bring them out with words that embrace When there is anger that would only manifest through violence I can bring release without a drop of blood shed As your heart leaps for joy from the love coursing throughout I magnify its value and prolong its affects I can take your soul and give it wings I can take your heart and render it in two With only words I will make you desire With mere syllables I can make you climax I am the keeper of every domain I am the wielder of every emotion I AM Poetry
~FJ Thomas


Copyright © FJ Thomas | Year Posted 2015

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Our PD

Our wonderful and ever-present PD. What a talented writer! You don’t know poetry if you haven’t seen her work. She has been around here for such a long time. If you’re new to this site, go to see what our PD has written. What fine examples she displays! Her words and lines will amaze! Let’s hope she sticks around where her fine work can be found. May 19, 2013 For the Appreciation (In Honour of PD) contest by Abdulhafeez Oyewole


Copyright © Robert Pettit | Year Posted 2013

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Tribute to Linda Poet Destroyer A

Ay Chihuahua what a hot enchilada

Beguiling in her Dallas Cowboys letterman jacket

Flicker starlight in her eyes angel in beauty 

Raven waves of silk long hair 

Will torture your soul for just a small taste of her
 
A girly girl born to embraces her femininity, but a free spirited mujer, 

Burning the darkness riding her Unicorn

Through the calm majestic presence of the night

As music follows through the sky with a thirst of her poetry

A woman with lots of passion, sweet wishes, and wings for the night


7/17/2016 

A Tribute to a lovely person and poetess. 
Mujer- Spanish for woman


Copyright © Eve Roper | Year Posted 2016

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I'm Not Real

I’m not real….
I’m a woman woven from wonder’s imagination
Ethereal….the cotton candy of a dream
the glow and sparkle of a stream
the luxuriant lusciousness of cream
the sparkle that scintillates the surreal
the smooth softness of silky feel
But I’m not real…

I’m the sparkle left of angel dust
the fair fairy in fiction’s feast 
the tantalizing temptation tease
the benevolence of balmy breeze
Oh….
But, I’m not real

I’m not real…
You catch only glimpses of me
in what I want to reveal
What I want to conceal
I’m not real….
but when you read
those little rhymes
and poetry lines
Those emotions that you feel?
Those?
Yes! 
Those are real….

Eileen Manassian


Copyright © Eileen Manassian | Year Posted 2015

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Destiny's Clutch

The dawn spoke her name like a silken secret
carried carefree by the tradewinds of lust and larceny
imported from the traderoutes of paradise and pandemonium, 
sequined with violet venom she venerates the virtue of volition
her love is unlawful, unequalled in unrest, righteous in conquest,
tender in temptation, torrid your surrender, her beauty a will bender,

Queen of Empire Passion, warrior unknown to submission
her kingdom was not inherited, glory and throne ungifted,
the treasures, stables and territories, battles and crown all won,
rich in intellect, endowed with rare resources, affluent in original passion
bejeweled in natural beauty, she bewitches beasts and men alike,
Poets pen her preciously as Woman Total, Priests implore her pardon,
male servants pander to her anger and ardor, satisfaction she commands,
Sisterhood the symbol and soul of her mission,

I was just a man, a wanderer wading through her reign,
from the unsubdued North I came, a curious traveler with ancient name,
my tribe unfamiliar, underestimated, a Chieftain of steady pulse,
tresspassing towards her roots my aim was direct knowledge of her
woman of renown cunning and learning, woman of exotic ability,
seeking teaching and romance, though I would not be her Subject or victim,
this she knew, this she abhorred, a challenge to her dominance,

I agreed to meet her alone in the open morning of war,
in an abeyounce of gliding fire she comes riding out of the sun
regalia of black roses against red tears flying above her shoulder,
our horses begin a battle tromp, breaths heavy with moist mania
she has leopards in her eyes
poinsettias and death's palms painted on thighs,
scalps of exlovers and enemies slung on sadle
we acknowledge one another with ritual yell
I exclaim, Warrior Poetess, she screams Poet Warrior!
dismounting with mutual vigor our combat erupts
cutting my cheek with her blade's lip
kicking me in the ribs
I clinch her collared throat
and heel trip us to the ground
she snarls, I growl,
a glimpse of rescue in eachother's eyes -

J.A.B.


Copyright © Justin Bordner | Year Posted 2014

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Soul of the Poet

Invite of the trendy crowd, yearning for acclaim, a common braggart read aloud, to glean synthetic fame. The fellow even took a bow when some had stood and clapped The rest of them were in the know; so mostly they just napped. Elsewhere in a lonely hut, near death’s parting knell, doors and windows firmly shut, a poet bids farewell. Painfully she starts to write, and pens a lovely score, her phantom fans in sheer delight, arise in silent roar.
2nd Place, Put Your Best Rhyme Forward, Just That Archaic Poet


Copyright © Mark Peterson | Year Posted 2013

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SHATTERED LIFE

Broken Wounds will not heal Surrounded by sadness Grief pours from every single line Constance Form used traditional Cinquain 2,4,6,8,2 syllables Contest: Fragment of Life Sponsor: Broken Wings 02~24~16


Copyright © JAN ALLISON | Year Posted 2016

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RAINDROPS OF IMMORTALITY

RAINDROPS OF IMMORTALITY Smiles were stolen from me long time ago Days gone gray as storms rush to play: my... They drain. Fervently, I called to the Heavens but it seems no one there. No one there! I lullaby with the whine of gushing winds, hoping they are kind enough to blow my notes. Notes carrying cries when am still a child as 'til this day, I yearn for father's love... I face every facets of life in color white, some brushed my lips with grins and laughter, some stitched the screams of November yet passed they left footprints to remember. There in the azure ambiance, love's dare~ I bit the chance but sadly I fell distant, my sweet red heart weep from bitter thrusts. Easing emptiness within, I refuse to be a victim. I prayed, pleading always for a Saviour kiss just maybe through it, I might die in peace. (Is death the better surrendering deliverance? Or just an acrid escape for suicidal goodbyes?) I chose God for I prefer to love and live into poetry I began rhyming a letting go the quill of a poetess, I bravely try: verses and lyrics my healing balm... Tossed flowers from the changing seasons and so the smells of pancakes and cafe flirt slatternly to my imagination bursting from me a ballad or a sonnet. But oh! Poetic finesse is a gold in a mine hence, I dig, dive to curves and loops presenting always my jolly descent views... Others said images I present confuse, they don't know, they are the nightmares creeping, shaking my lethargic muse. Written free, I asked you to read carefully~ I send messages of love, beauty and maladies... My pen scribbles mom ore unchained melodies for my heart slowly erects from slumber. It somersaults upon the breaking swell of sunrise in this tediously solitary realm of the world. The horrible webs of yesterday's frustrations I untangled from life's hullabaloos... Shattered dreams into my ink, I shall reform unencompassable inspirations, I want to rouse. Grace from God refilled, it empowered my life surging heartbeats pushed me to clamor for change. I stand to blossom amidst imprisoning trials yet never forgetting my humble ground. Coupled with the will to survive all strifes let my living be mirrored to pages and when breath of life is cut from me let my pen be raindrops of immortality. ____________________________________________________________ Sponsor Name: Silent One Contest Name: Your final poem ~~3rd Place~~ ++ POEM of the DAY ~ August 30, 2015 ++ © Olive Eloisa Guillermo 10:57 pm. August 28, 2015


Copyright © Olive Eloisa Guillermo | Year Posted 2015

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Our Poet Destroyer

Like a buzzing bumble bee welcoming
the opening of stunning new blooms,
she flits constantly from page to page 
just to check out all the new poems.
If you are one of the lucky new poets,
she will pollinate your written work
with a sparkling comment  that will
often leave you in such a state of awe 
that rendering a response beyond
just a simple "thank you" is difficult. 
She is loved by many new poets
and appreciated by even more
while others green with jealously
envy her own poetic skill and talent.
She may go by this name or that name,
or occasionally use her given name,
but to all those who really do care
she will always be our "Poet Destroyer."


Copyright © Kim Morrison | Year Posted 2013

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I AM 'THE POETESS'

I AM, "THE POETESS" The array of pigeons stampede upon soft blue-white bears camping on the mountaintops. Stretching shadows across green fields, slowly depart when sun yawns to sleep. When moon-dust streams bathing the night sky, horizon gleams brushing--a hidden tryst below. From biting misery caused by world wars' fangs to lullaby hums of tweeting birds and of seagulls' swish and pounds... Grand or not they are spark spectacles drawing lifeline.. (I am the poetess who loves to write about these) Through my pen, I echo to the world the rhythmic message of love. I open the eyes of man to see the beauty among God's creations. (I am the poetess who is a lover of God and forever am seeking ways to please Him more than any) I bring beauty too, that even the blind can see.. Some trembles: songs and speech of angels that even the deaf can hear.I want to touch the lips of the dumb that they may psalm the ballads of life. (I am the poetess who is 29 y/o this year, a nurse, a singer, a cook in my own right :D!) I lift the spirit of the crushed then cheer victors in the pedestal. I invoke joy when there is none. Hence, even tears: a scream of smiles. (I am the poetess who dares try and reach my limits and beyond, writing from my heart of hearts and from my thought of thoughts) I light up a candle in the midst of hopelessness then usher through morals in verse:the cavalcade of humanity (I am the poetess who expresses freedom of expression responsibly-- wanting always to inspire, encourage and to remind) Poetic finesse not always my ground My name may never be known but each stanza I write I hope it may wake your somber muse. (I am the poetess that always consider herself-- beginner in every poem she writes...) I am the poetess... ________________________________________________________________ Sponsor TAMMY REAMS Contest Name Bio of a Poet ---Placed 3rd--- O.E. Guillermo 9:11 pm, April 15, 2015


Copyright © Olive Eloisa Guillermo | Year Posted 2015

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In Loving Memory of Lucilla Carillo

My lovely Lucy, you’re no longer here
He called your name; you left without a fear
Your heart was tired and more so your soul 
God let you rest for soon he’d make you whole

There is sadness deep inside my heart
To know that in our group you’ll have no part
I’ll look for you by name, but I won’t find
That face that was so loving, sweet and kind

I don’t blame God, for He knows what is best
You were His loved one, so he gave you rest
A woman of great faith, you had no doubt
You wrote of Him and all that life's about

I’ll miss your poems, and your friendship, too
One day we’re sure to meet in earth made new


Brothers and sisters, we do not want you to be uninformed about those who sleep in death, so that you do not grieve like the rest of mankind, who have no hope. 14 For we believe that Jesus died and rose again, and so we believe that God will bring with Jesus those who have fallen asleep in him. 15 According to the Lord’s word, we tell you that we who are still alive, who are left until the coming of the Lord, will certainly not precede those who have fallen asleep. 16 For the Lord himself will come down from heaven, with a loud command, with the voice of the archangel and with the trumpet call of God, and the dead in Christ will rise first. 17 After that, we who are still alive and are left will be caught up together with them in the clouds to meet the Lord in the air. And so we will be with the Lord forever. 18 Therefore encourage one another with these words.

I Thessalonians 4: 13 - 18










Copyright © Eileen Manassian | Year Posted 2014

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A Poem About Nothing but Love

A Poem About Nothing but Love By: Tyner Twine "I edited a few parts from my original poem. As tribute to my first love's requiem. Nevertheless, this simple soul song is the same, Written all for love and not for fame. A poem of love I wrote on hot summer day, remembering the love that has, for so long, faded away." Would someone care to explain Why people write poems in a way That adorns with jewels something so plain That expresses emotions beyond the insane I lift my quill and dwelt on the thought, And realized the reflections I made and forgot... There I lift my pen THEN PAUSED and reflected: How should I begin to write, About lads and gals with love at first sight? Though I have tried as hard as I might, To close my eyes from love's delight, He won me over without a fight, Now all I see is love's pure light. I wondered... Now I shall write: Have I become some kind of fool Who let Love ruin my poems and rules? Who let Nostalgia come and play With distant Beloved's memories on a working day? Have I been foolish every night, To think his arms are holding me tight, To wish that he'll come home to stay, That he'll make love to me every night and day I think these thoughts and was appalled, How | felt too warm and oh, so galled In thinking that these thoughts might stay, and be my ruin at the end of the day. Love, oh love, is a cruel thing for fools if I might say, Though it is delightful it has a price to pay. Fool, fool, fool! With love as her tool... I am. Beguiled and ruined. Oh ~ why can't they just write about trees? Or how honey flows and comes from bees? Why can't they just write about the Sky? See the clouds and the mist and the birds that fly? Why can't they just write about life? How calves are born and how they die? How flowers bloom with the light of the moon, How the sun rose up and set too soon? Oh, a foolish poet's heart of clay, Be molded with the warmth of fate's faint sway! For life changed drastically above, As the fool that I am Writes a poem about nothing but love.


Copyright © Kristine Mariz Ursua | Year Posted 2013

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an Angel from Norway

            The Soup and all the mix ~
           this has given me my own home
           A warm place I feel safe a Family 
          
          Many Inspired me with Love and welcome from the 1st Day 
          One comes to mind and what would I say ?

          The beautiful Poetess Anne lise ,  from Norway ~

           Anne Lise being sweet and responding from the start
           A most important part of the soup here in many hearts
           I want to say Thank-you for reading and inspiring me to write 

          I want to say you have a beautiful Soul God gifted a special way
          Showing Love , sharing art , sincere in caring for all here

            Anne lise you are truly amazing our Angel Heaven sent ~

           You show such Love to others indiscriminately 
           you read others and respond to all with beauty 
           May Love surround you Always keep you warm like a Blanket Forever ~
  
                    "In Honor of Our Angel Anne Lise "


Copyright © Shanity Rain | Year Posted 2013

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From Darkness To Stardom

Every child is born into this world crying,
Little did this poor child know, tears would fall for the rest of her life.
Born into a world of abuse, heartache and pain,
With a drug addict, alcoholic abusive father and a heartless mother.
Every day was the same, left alone with only silence and darkness,
Dirty clothes, little to eat with every cry for help resulting in violence.
How could her eyes see any happiness when they had run dry?
How could she smile with cut lips and a bruised body?
At 7, her mother died from a lethal overdose of alcohol and drugs,
However, the abuse got worse as she became her father’s new toy.
Poor little girl, an object of carnal gratification and her innocence stolen,
By a man who was responsible for her protection and well being.
The effects of a dark and destructive childhood destroyed her confidence,
With low self esteem and no social skills, they mocked her in school.
Little did they know about the struggles in her life and the pain she was going through,
Bruised and abused, having to make her own lunch with no help from a pathetic father,
This was her daily routine- even hell would have been a more peaceful place for her.
But, little did the world know the girl had a hidden talent,
The voice of an angel and the mind of a creative poet.
At night when she sang, the stars glowed to her beautiful lullaby,
The ink of her pen was like blood rushing from her veins to create magical lyrics.
Music and poetry was her escape from a life of cruelty and rejection,
Her talent was hidden, so no one could help her reach her potential.
As the girl grew, her abuse never stopped, there seemed no end,
With constant memories of painful yesterdays and a childhood lost.

She used her incessant pains and struggles to enhance her music,
Writing hours upon hours of poetry and songs, self-teaching brilliance…
Deep inside she yearned for someone to understand her, to see her…
If not, but one, she would she be wholly satisfied

Many nights she would find herself crying uncontrollably, 
The darkness of the room enveloping her every being
She could see the past in her mind’s eye and be reminded of the sick present
She began to hate her father, and every brat at her school
She cursed death and life alike, and envied her mother’s eternal sleep
Everyone who spit their insult, everyone who remained silent and apathetic,
She hated them with a passion so self-destructive, it burned her raw scars...
Teaching herself to hold it in, so that on paper she could create masterpieces
And prove all of the monsters around her wrong…
In silence, she recalled the worst memories to shame further her reality.
A part of her knew that she was incredibly talented,
Though the darkness often blinded her with guilt
She felt that she did not deserve even a voice,
Her writings were but a sick reminder of demons she could never conquer
Shivering in the cold, her skin dirty and dry,
Ugly…ugly…was the only word she could live by

One night, she contemplated taking her life…
She vowed all of her suffering would meet a greater purpose,
Beyond the grave…beyond fear of hell beneath
She was dirt after all, like the kids always told her
How much worse could it be, facing the flames she was born in?
She threw the kitchen knife down and looked up at the stars above
Even Death would reject her, she knew…
In acceptance, she acknowledged her ugliness and became a stunning underdog
Rebellion sifted through her veins and her strength brought fear to her father
Bullies looked at her as if she was the devil himself
No one could tell her what to do anymore,
And nobody would ever understand her
Though that was okay…
Because that is all she ever knew

Ten years later, the rotten roller coaster continued
Though a fateful night of circumstance had led her right on the stage
Men were mesmerized by her fierceness and apathy
Not being able to grasp each significant line layered in truth
She showed none mercy as she slayed ruthless chords of wonder
Her voice rang angelically, mixed with the fires and tears of her life
Echoing beyond the grave of cold Death… beyond what was wrong or right
It was her silence that stunned the audience the most
Those eyes, having seen so much…felt so much…hid so much…
That cut mouth, with the eternal dry trickle of a bitter tear
The world was not prepared for her intolerable genius,
Just as she was not prepared for their astonished applaud…

-A collaboration by The Silent One and I : )


Copyright © Laura Breidenthal | Year Posted 2015

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Heaven For A Poet

My own piece of heaven, a quiet little nook,
With only the finest parchment in a leather book,
A feather quill pen and an ocean of ink,
My thoughts would never stop to think,
Every single line I write would rhyme,
My poetry would be beautiful and sublime,
I'd be entertained daily, by Dr. Seuss,
And, put to sleep nightly, by Mother Goose,
Lessons from Byron, Shelley, Coleridge and Poe,
Teaching me every single thing that they know.

My own piece of heaven, will have to wait,
Until one day, when I must meet my fate,
So, for now I will have to be content,
With my own words that may be heaven sent,
Inspiration from my idols is all I need,
Writing poetry in a notebook from Mead,
With this cheap, plastic Bic pen,
And a dream to be, just like them.


Copyright © Kelly Deschler | Year Posted 2013

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The Poet's Invitation

Oh, visit me, though I've not looked for you
Show me you care; come share a word or two
Look for my name, in all the names you see
Come spend some time, be ray of sun to me
Visit Me

How will I know if you like what you read
I long to know that I fulfill a need
That what I write is solace for your soul
My little rhymes, a balm that makes you whole
Visit me

Come let communion wash away your fear
Let words of comfort dry away that tear
In blessed little rhymes, is sweet reprieve
and warmth and comfort in the lines I weave
Visit Me

Come visit me when others tear you down
Come visit me when in despair you drown
Come visit me when hope from heart has flown
Come visit me when pain is all you've know
Visit me

My words will be the kiss upon your cheek
The elixir of youth, when you are weak
My lines will be the bandage that will bind
I hope that what you seek, in me you'll find
Visit Me

Come and visit....ME....

Eileen Manassian



Copyright © Eileen Manassian | Year Posted 2015

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The Blue Poet

I am the Blue Poet.
The uneasy man.
Who longs to be loved,
or just to have a friend.

My heart whisphers a low melody
on a faint, cool evening
thinking of her.
Once in my arms,
laying on my bed of roses.
Now she is gone.
I cannot think anymore!
It is hard, to love again,
When all your love has been taken away.
... I am the Blue Poet.

I am the Blue Poet,
That walks the bluish, dawn and dew covered streets
in the the October evenings and nights.
But I tell you, I wasn't always so blue.
No! I was once alive... happy... romantic,
... till Love went away!

Now I sit in the wayward poetry clubs,
drinking club soda and snapping my fingures
to a finished performance on a poem about love.
Written by a soft, spoken seventeen year old girl.

Soon, it is my turn to give my poem a read.
I stand on a lone stage, with a spotlight drownding me in blindness.
I face the faces, who look at me and smile.
A clap, and a cough, bring my head up.
I look out upon the sitting crowd.
To see that one face
that speaks to me,
without the movement of the mouth.
The face never showed though, and my head fell back down.

I start to read.
A vase of emotions kill me and swallow me up.
I try to hold back tears, but no more could I halter.
I finished, with a salty tear, rolling down my rough and oiled cheek.
I leave the crowd at ovation
and leave the women, all with tears in their eyes.

I come down from the stage, leaving the bright spotlight.
I shake hands, give hugs,
and collect my pay, and have another round of club soda.
Then, I go down the midnight alleyways of sprinkled city streets
finding myself a cozy room.

I think of her for a moment,
then off to sleep.
I dream of one time laughs, and hugs and kisses.
I cry in my sleep,
...For I am the Blue Poet.


Copyright © Chris Boskovski | Year Posted 2013