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Details | Poetry Poem | |

How Poetry Began

That thing that we call poetry - when asked where it began, I’d say it started beautifully before the dawn of man! It glistened on the oceans before man came to be. It blossomed on the grassy cliffs that met the first great sea. It glittered in the moon and stars and beamed on earth below in meadows where bright flowers danced and on the pristine snow. It sparkled on the lakes and streams, and when man came along, he took sweet words that flowed to him and turned them into song. This was how it always was before we knew of time. The poet who begot us all made it to be sublime. Poetry has now evolved, and as with many things, there are many kinds. . . but I still like it when it sings! Inspired by the contest of Justin Bordner and some of the beautiful poems I've been seeing in this contest Now for PD's Best Poem of 2014 - Poetry Contest

Details | Poetry Poem | |

Of Ink

   Partial Paper
 -A poet in heat-

Ink carries its own tale,
When moonshine intoxicates your pen
Bottles of ink fill your mind
Composing symphonies on every line
Drops of passion all over the mask you wear
Nothing compares to black stains and broken nails

This part of you 
"A CAN'T BE REMOVED" tattoo
The tough skin you'll ever live in
Fountain pens of split identities
Who Are You?
Sinking  words like no other
Poisoned ink piercing every rhyme
Inferior poet, making the heart pure
Anger plus anger "GIVE ME MORE!"

You have a desire to paint all day,
Breathing and beating in every way
Toxic lines, from which ink flows
Inhaling images from the world
Deep and cold sorrowed emotions 
True love is always easy to poetize
Dear Poet:  "Ink Never Lies."

Pretty pink acrostic ink when she's nearby
Sugar and salt, Epic taste of reality
Ballads sung under the full moon
Sunny Sonnets, on any rainy day
Ode's of rivers from your past
A dark smile jotting down memory lane
Monologue tears brought under pressure
Loading cartridges of fresh Senryu and Haiku"
Dramatic red runs through your veins when all is done
Unfolding old and new propagandas
POET: You are my favorite verse in every stanza
((Only this, and nothing more))
Writing is like giving birth

by;)

Details | Poetry Poem | |

Whisky Moment

~the Fear of Never~ A DRINK TO REMEMBER!


   And the fire catches every time, my heart needs a sip
I bear no shame pouring, poisoned pabulum whisky down 
Lost in a place with hungry whores, ink paying  gigolos 
This night a respected gentleman put's on his evening gown
He sits in front of a mic playing the same old sad song
Fitted out in drag, his wife has no clue
Holy breeders trying to change my shoes
Lingering from the Cute Chinaman, running his tab sky high
Bluebirds of jealousy, set round the vintage Barstool like fools
Minds overpowered and threaten to the very nub

I am drunk-- in his eye, 
He receives a macabre confession of possessiveness 
I am drunk-- in her eye,
She has a sick confession of subconsciousness 

Broken loose from a negative, regressive state of mind
Sit and enjoy this broken bottle of champagne 
Unspoken rage in every empty can left behind
A shot glass drops from my unstable hands longing to hold a pen
I look into a mirror and embrace every meaning of stability
Blotting out the madness behind a metal cage of reality
At times, I feel the need to bring down this masquerade 
A drink so hostile, I can't even remember my image and name 

Too many scars, from the foster of paper and pen
My dependents are drunken demons from a traumatized childhood 
Tonight I will legislate a special thanks
Holding up my cup, until death finds my note 
I will smile, at every Judge and Jury, during karaoke night
Shutting down my eyes, fantasizing everything's gonna be alright
I will not  jilt knowing, writers block haunted my days away
Insecure hoarding monsters enjoying spoil forgotten words
Tonight I thirst like never before, my tongue inscribes around a tin cup
I am not eating up by it, no matter how long I've drowned in it
This is my kind of whisky, my thoughts, my days of ammo 
To tell you the truth, I possess no desire to drink
It's all about the love of poetry and how sober, I become (WITHOUT)
The monsters that reside inside, have one thing to say

"Give me Poetry, or give me Death!"

by: PD

Details | Poetry Poem | |

FORGOTTEN TREASURE-

FORGOTTEN TREASURE

I found the fountain of youth
When I stumbled across the forbidden garden
Right smack in the middle,
Was what I thought to be a wishing well
I tossed in a quarter!
Looking down with a puzzled face
I peeked to see where it fell
I leaned over and that's when I saw my vanity
It was always there waiting for me
The reflection in the water was my face
In wonder I asked what this vision could be?
With one drop on my taste buds
I knew I found the one true key
The most beautiful thing that can set one free
I reached in to touch the poetry inside me

      ~SKAT~

re-post- first poem on the soup

Details | Poetry Poem | |

God's Kind Of Poetry

I see God in nature, surrounded in the beauty of our earth.
As God may speak with his spark of life dwelling in me,
Expressed though HIS thoughts in my poetic word’s birth. 

“Now all of my children born and reborn in this world,
I will be your parent, grand teacher, and protector.
Know you are part of me as your earthly body is unfurled.

Fragrant flowers should be known as your sister and brother.
Breathe in deeply of the varied glorious tree’s blessed breath;
A gift from me, your omnipotent father and mother.

Each season praises that divine dominion of poetry.
With each season new life emerges with the beginning of spring
Into the warmth of summer across verdant fields and forestry.

Do not fear as I cause autumn season’s winds to blow
In seeming wrath, set upon colorful trees, leaves are freed
To invite winter and the blessings of new fallen snow.

Receive my blessing of light that opens a direct path to me.
Let it shine bright in your life, in all that you say and do.
Share your delight of this blessing through inspired poetry.

Be aware of your words for they embrace the real you.
Others may be hurt by careless words spoken.
Remember, words mean as much as your actions do.

Any kindness you display by reaching out to those in need
Is always a welcome gift and returned to you in kind,
Only in much more abundance to help YOU succeed.

As you question the heavenly stars in their distant galaxies
The answers lie within yourself, if you will be still and meditate.
You may seek the truth in your own mind for life’s realities.

I am near you always, within and without, have no doubt.
I only wish you love and happiness, even though I know
You must experience difficult times to learn what life’s about.

For you are my child and I rejoice in lessons you’ve learned of.
Teach your children to revere and love me, not fear me,
I’m here to guide and protect them, for you see, I am LOVE!”

Please put your trust in me both below and above
For my divine power and glory is centered in love.

© Connie Marcum Wong

For Brian Johnston’s contest: “God’s Kind of Poetry”


Details | Poetry Poem | |

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!


Details | Poetry Poem | |

WORDS

Your words flow freely like a cascading waterfall
Such beautiful writes, I can relate to them all

Words that reveal the pain in your eyes
The hurt you feel you cannot disguise

Tender words full hopes and of dreams of romance
Find the girl of your dreams, then take a chance

I am honoured to find such a treasured friend
Together lets hope our dreams never end

Jan Allison
8th September 2014

Details | Poetry Poem | |

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.

Details | Poetry 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 | Poetry Poem | |

Falling into you

Your voice imprinting stories from time, into me
My senses whirling, a hundred dervishes
Lost in the lore of your timbre, I struggle not to lose myself
And then, I settle, knowing you from times I must have forgotten
The sweet strength of your power over me
As your songs wake the gods
They must know my surrender
They must see I come to you from stories unknown
Unwritten, as your hands on me
I fought hard, I fight deep
To claim us back as strangers sometimes
But battles disintegrate to our souls entwined
Rhythms from the unknown
A cosmic dance in the silence of our universe
Waiting by the fire…
I hesitate, I stop to give this a name
Sometimes the nameless creates with all the strength of the unclaimed
Free, wild, surging the limits of the unknown
I am falling into you, Stranger…

Details | Poetry Poem | |

Sparkle

I’m drunk tonight on these sparkling thoughts
I am crazy and unleashed on rapture’s madness
I climb up on a wish and twist my sinuous thirst
A few icy drinks as my head reels on your constant absence

Can I wish on you phantom, would you burn into my life?
Would my dreams come true on this insane naïveté?
Unbelievable as they come, I am the true song on every eyelid
I frolic thru little pleasures that gets beyond everyone’s lucidity

May I dance with you on borders that have us beyond reaches?
May I kiss you on thoughts that wont reach realities?
Would you turn around all of this life if I lend you my sparkle?
Drink me drunk and your dreams will twirl heavens

Shimmer with me on sparkles that carry lost stories
Rope them right back on destinies shut from possibilities
Help me haul them onto shores that dance true
Meet me on cliff tops that leads us thru the maze of happiness…

Details | Poetry Poem | |

SPILLS OF IMAGINATION



early dawn cracks the  wispy air
open , wandering around viscous spaces
like fairy shadows caressing the edge
of sleep… and the days stretch longer,
 
taller than maple trees delicately rustling
the garnet of late Indian summer when
birds, orbits and urchins listen to 
a single searching sun… when all else
 
is sprawled quiet, there comes this
certain fired imagination straying  on
mouths of  gentleness  far beyond
nuptials of effervescent realms…
 
someone said morning becomes Electra,
that learning how to hear a pear or
grain unravel the very skin from
which it was born is allowing time to
 
unfurl its leaves far beyond unknowing a
heart’s need to be:  the juice spills streams
waking new faces of time, bending the width
of life's rhyme through endless mystery...
 
a thousand times before and after, daybreak
and night twine... that in tints of all hues,
passing through fables of any season
 
is poetry's way of coming back to itself.


Justin Bordner's How Poetry Began Contest
by nette onclaud

Details | Poetry Poem | |

A Lei of Secrets

I found your voice caressing the breeze
A lei of secrets whispering in the wind
Your thoughts, urgent from the dreams we hold
I kiss them on sunsets, as elation claims me
Can I be the taste from your ancient songs?
Would you know me from our tangled stories?
Love me from the fires that tease your chances
Hug my lonely hours with your heady madness
Play my surrender, with your wild love for me
Light this distance away, till I come to you…

Details | Poetry Poem | |

To the Scoffers of Sensual Writes

To those who think that poetry must be
of lofty things, not sensuality
To those who write of stars and sun and moon
and who to romance will not ever swoon

To those who write of angst and misery
of all that has gone wrong in history
To those who think I write frivolity
and read not what I write: an oddity!

I write to you, and all my thought's I'll bare
and see if you can argue if you dare
If you’ve forgotten passion's blazing fire
Or how consumed your heart was with desire

If you’ve forgotten romance in the night
Or making love in early morning light
If you’re denied the thrill of ecstasy
And can’t bear witness to its urgency

If you have come of age when health concerns
are all of life that now your mind discerns
I tell you dear, the fault is yours not mine
Devoid of love life meets not plan divine

The gift of love is granted from on high
You can’t deny that even if you try
the pleasure’s woven in anatomy
He formed and blessed our sensuality

To reproduce was in his own design
But also to enjoy the act sublime
There is a little bud that’s meant to thrill
It’s only use is pleasure to fulfill

So tell me, what is life if not for this
To show commitment with the sweetest kiss
In right communion to be drenched in love
And in its throes to glide to heights above

My fellow poet, write of lofty things
And all the finer thoughts that wisdom brings
I pity you for love and passion’s reign
Has banished you from glory with disdain

All nature and all life with love is mixed
And so my mind with passion is transfixed
It’s love that makes this world go round and round
Without it, best be buried underground.

Eileen Manassian




Details | Poetry Poem | |

A Cameo Appearance By Andrea Dietrich

It was not the mountains.. those that dwarf us, the forests that invited our senses...seduced us to stay. Nor the oceans whose mass we contained within us, creatures small and large...some we loved and others feared. Not, the floating rain, the clouds...kind or angry, the sky bright or blackboard black, the falling leaves or those who held on tight, the multiverse of colors sharp or flat. NOT...the seasons that in all their glory arrived  or stepped away as their sister or brother took the stage. Every inch of our untouched world chants to our sensibilities, the perfect candidate to rule our internal domain. Life in its all knowing way  has always bestowed us with gifts, unfolded miracles in our wake,  other times challenged us in a rage. Our world would take an eon to notate. Not, those particles...each made the whole, stirred our voices...drew from us...song. We, are only messengers. Our words not our own. Some call it passion, others magic, they also call it art. Some suggest it comes from the heart. Whatever you call it, this mystical harbinger who through us communicates... it is he, she, responsible for what we loosely term art. Poetry like all the arts...never began as such... rather it is integral to just being. IT is US...  just ask the lady with the pen and pad writing while driving her car... it is a part of our existence  ...it has always been. poets would write, even... if they lived in a vacuum.

Details | Poetry Poem | |

Toilet Bowl Committee

Toilet Bowl Committee (aka: Uptown Hood)

A lavatory confinement
my$h!tdontstinkcomode.com
---
If you want to moderate this place, pick up the pace
From the mouth down to the @$$
Your so called kind has no class,
Fed by these political rejects, never elected for what was!
No matter,
They wipe their assets clean with our dreams
Forgetting to wipe their own toilet seats clean
Trying to make us feel dirtier than scat
Feeding off our paper when their toilet bowl water level is low

Toilet bowl PO-poes, wiping without dental floss
Missing everything in between reality
Trying to be kind, saying "One Day We'll Be Good Enough!"
Offering their Golden Plunger, straight from the Home Depot shelves
No Thank You! My plunger a true gift from Mr. Wal-Mart himself

Next time you feel the need to offer a reference point
Please caption your name when you drop by,
Rinse thoroughly when speaking my name,
Then I will listen when you talk civilized
Correct my punctuations and spelling errors 
The weakest trait you wear
You are no Prophet, just white tissue turning brown
Your Justification comes from old dried up grapes falling from the vines
Ridicule will never give you the respect, for what you are!
We, the few poets from the hood, overpowers any change you offer Goodwill
Crumbling and flushing what does not meet your standards
Trying hard to force feed us soup, without giving us bibs

Thank you
Toilet Bowl Committee
For clogging up my drain with your bull$h!T


By: Keeping it Real (The Downtown Hood) 
Date: 12-15-13

~A Poet Destroyer Collaboration~

Details | Poetry Poem | |

A song for me

I caught the moon’s smile on his eyelids
My nights heaving, hollow from his absence
The silken ropes around me, finally fall away
As I move to him from lifetimes that must have been

An army of kisses my way, he whispered
Silver spells on my life, our times together
One moment with him, my eternity surrendered
Caught in each other’s universe, his strength all mine

The sun on his shoulders above me
Rhythm our secrets, satin moves of want
I trace his beauty from our entangled breath
Ballads of love from bodies in need

Star spangling diamond beautiful shining out 
inner vision dazzling a jewel treasure 
whispering softly winds gently landing kiss dream 
bouncing together our souls uniting in space eternity's bliss..



Liam was sweet enough to work on this poem with me, he beats me at romance:)Thank you, dear Liam!


Details | Poetry Poem | |

Poetry Pillar

When Light needed a body to behold, and color to kiss,
as Darkness dreamnt to die in the dawn of depth,
when Soul lustered to lust for learning, and being learned,
as blood bespoke to bones for building a star of flesh,
when Time needed the umbrage of it's ubiquity to be understood,
the moment texture tempted touch to tease with a thousand sensations,
when laws of love sought a language to express the extremes of it's lips,
as romance rampaged through the ravishings of famished hearts,
when the seduction of sorrow made heros of loving men and women,

When Justice appealed to the instincts of intent for inscriptions of innocence,
as bravery found battle in basic questions of survival and conquest,
when war demanded a metaphor in the terror of it's diligent destruction,
as Faith found resolve in seconds small along with giant gestures,
Death singing melancholoy for sympathy and Life haughty upon it's horizon,
when Angels chose to wear albatross of gold to feel the rue of rogues,
as the most perfect woman ambushed the ideals of rumored beauty,
when God wanted imagination to create immaculate reality
Poetry began, born in the instant of forever Art,
because, the only promise of a Poet, is Passion -

Dedicated to Poetry...J.A.B.

Details | Poetry Poem | |

DREAMER'S SECRETS

Virgin piece of paper
You lay in front of me
Bare, a sleeping beauty
Mesmerized by what I see 

In that moment, captivated
Drawn into your light
I'll cover you with passion
Long into the night
You'll give this dreamer's secrets.. sight

I gently touch your canvas
Let lover's feelings flow
You give every indication 
That tonight you'll let it go

And I am filled with wonder
Of all that we could be
Amazed that you weren't taken
Lost in this serendipity
When this night is over
Oh forever, it'll be you and me

Penned flame, yeah all I got
Two now one, love's knot
Feel the stroke, inks heat
Making music, love's beat

And what we birth in secret
Tomorrow will be so clear
Spread across your sheet
Love's expression without fear

So remember every moment
How I mused over you
Together we created
A masterpiece to view
You've made this dreamer's secrets.. true

Penned flame, yeah all I got
Two now one, love's knot
Feel the stroke, inks heat
Making music, love's beat

Penned flame, yeah all I got
Two now one, love's knot
Feel the stroke, inks heat
Making music, love's beat

Perspective: The Poet Pen's RELATIONSHIP with Paper

Contest: Regina Riddle's "relationships" 
Date: 7-25-14

Details | Poetry Poem | |

August rains

The steadily falling cold August rains
Continue to pour upon Cheshires lanes;
over flattening fields of soddened wheat,
Soaking the grass, splashing the feet.

Stands the Combine in the shed,
The unripened apples hanging rosy red,
Stands the caped heron all alone;
The glinting eye as cold as stone.

And in amongst the many puddles
We step around like our troubles - 
So lurch ahead with our retreat
Like drunken fools in the street.

And through this months darkly frowns
The cleansing downpours wash the towns;
Scrubs the spire from ingrained time,
Absolves the guilt from the crime.

Details | Poetry Poem | |

Ecstasy

My thirst sang, walking thru quicksand
Stardust, from the pollen secrets of my dreams
Swollen rainbows and their rain-drenched songs
They kept me company on the moon’s route

Lit in ecstasy, on a whim’s silver dream
I fly with the winds from a trellised lore
The magic of my beginnings bite into my days
The swirl of illusion peeling layers off

Gossamer truths on tiptoes, they wait 
Shy in their purple robes, tasting elation
Whispering together, sipping their future
They drink from pools of veiled time

Life dances her brilliance 
On the polished shoulders of my desires
Coming alive, on little crumpets of sweet enigma
An Eden unveiled on the brilliance of every mote…

Details | Poetry Poem | |

Disharmony of a Palette

The first stroke of bleeding red, slashed rage
Potent brush on bitter hurts, alive and restless
His hands work out buried truths, uncoiling karma
Teasing spectrums on his canvas, churning lucidity

Black vapored in, dark from pasts
Feverish, as his memories on insanity’s rant
The blue of coherence misting on hope
Swirling ethereal in an universe full of his demons

His yellows brilliant on gold tips, they smudge
Hopes, like limpets on silver lined chances
Reason, edgy on a mind running on tragedies
Eager on the whites of tender love and moon paint

A palette whipped on fire, raising impossibilities
Running with his stories, his wings hard on destinations
Colours feeding on wishes and distant dreams
Thirsting for the inherent harmony of his soul…

Details | Poetry Poem | |

How Poetry Began

0ne Sunny day the angels sat, assembled on the clouds,
Some played harps, others sang, they all looked very proud.
A few were showing new wings, they’d just received that morn,
Others cuddled angel babies that had just been born.

Children jumping through the clouds, half flying they would run
A day like this in heaven, was made for having fun
Everywhere I seemed to look the clouds rang out for joy
Until I seen one little cloud with just one lonely boy.
 
The boy he held a paper and his feather was pure white
He sat there very serious as he would think, then write.
Dear child I asked what is it here that keeps you from the rest
He answered I am writing poems and want to do my best.

Poems I wondered, what is this? I knew not what he meant
The little man then read to me, he was such a little gent.
These words he read were different, yet somehow still the same
They rang out more like music, which seem to be his aim.

I wanted to help God out, when people are feeling sad
If they had poems they just might, read them and be glad.
The angel folded his paper, to earth he watched it glide
And made it float and gently land at a Wiseman side.

Now I asked, why did you send that paper down to earth?
He winked and said this is the day of poetry’s great birth.
That’s why we are all gathered here and celebrate this day
When humans discover poetry, to help them on their way.

Written by Brenda Meier-Hans 
09.13.2014
For contest: How Poetry Began
Justin Bordner

Details | Poetry Poem | |

Poet Convention 2014

Poet Convention

Lost in a poets convention, 
I can't recall every poem, I've read through the years
50518, unique comments I 'validate'--- 
Thank You For Sharing Your Happy and Sad tears 
Since March 24, 2010 In the mist of every line, 
I'm sending special hugs, for he/she that favorite me through the years 

Today's Convention, 
A praise to all poets mentioned and not mentioned

I will miss, the sweetest girl on this block LEONORA G.,
She treats me with love, adores my words and twisted poetry.  

I will start with the soups famous October, 7th babies,  
Frank and Kash, Debbie D, and myself, these lines belong to us, 
Our best characteristic has everything to do with the mind 
In our poetic hearts you'll find the symbol of justice and balance

This is not a song, it is not a poem, it's a free falling memo written with style

Back in March 2013, I said it then, I'll say it again 
Andrea, you and only you are the Poet Queen 
By the Queen, sits the Poet King of rhymes, Robert L. Hinshaw
Thank you both for never stepping on your loyal subjects 
Carol B., & Linda Marie, no one can replace the hole you left inside

I will miss all the little poetry pups, who came and sat by my side 
MAHIMA and Saanvi, and Sabrina, thank you for the encouragement

Phyllis, Joyce, Francine, Rhonda, Betty, sweet Karen A., and Catie, 
Clap your hands for the lovely quiet soup ladies.
Okay, maybe not Karen A., and Catie, these ladies love speaking their minds:)
SARA K., a mentor to some, a Fairy Godmother in my book
I will miss her "Magic Pen like Wand" dearly.
Gail, thank you for spreading your wings, and teaching us how to fly. 
Hopefully --wings are a nice gesture, --waving--  
"One day I'll see you again, my friend."

Daver Austin, "Go ahead, make my day" thank you for the show 
Now, you know why I referred to you as, "The Clint Eastwood of Poetry."
Russell Survey, encouraged my days and moods with his kind words

Scribe ML., where are you my friend? 
Don't you know your BIGGEST FAN misses you!!!

Dr Ram, Bindu V, Litan D., Donna J, Shadow, Sandra A., Peter Durgan, 
Giorgio V., Mystic Rose, BL Devnath and of course our Nette.
Thank you for being kind and rewinding and replying to every note.
Joseph M., Caleb S., Vincent F., Juliet L., Lucy Carrillo, Scott 37, Johnny R.,
Kelly D., thank you for the honor in always honoring my words

Roger Horsch meets Eileen Ghali, your smile, her smile always made me smile,  
No matter how many miles apart, our smiles always met on the same page.

Jenish, Don J., S.Z. Kamoonpuri, Gideon, Gary, Austin E., and Jody M., 
Fatima N., Mark N., Aiyah B., Ralph F., Kathryn C., Elly, Ayesha A.,
Clay W., Erich, Syam, MIKKI, John B., Olusegun, *Sukmawati* Gwen,
Delysia H., Frederic P., Richard L., Brenda L., Keith, Debbie G.,
Thank you for painting the best IMAGERY 

Michale Clarke, Charma C., Wayland B., Jancarl C., Carrie, and Harry, 
M&M, Abdulhafeez, Michael B., Maria P. S., CHAN and Mandy T.
You are only the beginning of what makes this a good community

Arlid A., Dinda M., Silly Billy, Tim Ryerson, we go way back.
Ravindra, Kim M., Richard S., Honestly JT., Wade A., Dom-X.
The ingredients in your poems, makes the best soup remix

Joe M., Jack H., James H., James P., Tim B., Jon A. C., Allan K., Matthew A.
Deb Wilson, David S., David William, Thomas S., Cecilia M. 
Keep that pen flowing for tomorrow needs poets like you.

Justin B., Laura B., your words will continue to be a part of me.
Owen Y., and John L., your visits, your friendship I will never forget

Yasmin and Carl F., hanging out with you on the soup was the best.

Cherl Dunn, and Colleen Bono, SandyIvy, I will miss everything about you, 
Mostly I will miss your friendship and the way you took care of me.

Poet and sister Skat, keep rocking what I can't.... 
Copy paste your love, welcome in the new.
Show Edwina, Robin, Sam B., and all the NEW POETS they belong

Last but not least-- Behind every mess, they are the best 
--Craig Cornish and Cyndi McMillan
What have you done, I admit without you this place would have been no fun.
Thank you for the spin, making every penny worth our paid premium memberships

Before I forget, 
I want to take this time to reminisce and add two old friends to my hot list.
Nikko and Chris A..... My first POETRY SOUP FRIENDS.
I will never forget you, and all the fun moments we had,
Back when the soup was not like this:) 
Chris, can you ever forgive me, I never stepped up to say "I was Sorry!"

As you know my kindness is my weakness 
Now it's time to be strong and move on 
If one day I return, then you know, I fell off the wagon
And, into arms and luring fingers of Team Poetry Soup
AAAAAAAGGGGGGGGGAAAAAAAAAIIIIIIIIIIINNNNNN!

Love 
The Poet Destroyer

Details | Poetry Poem | |

I am Poetically Bankrupt











































© Arthur Vaso 2014
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Notes: This poem was formally called “Winter Blizzard” I just posted it with a new title. If you know of what I am referring, then 2 more must I do

More Notes: This poem is for sale for 2 million dollars, however I will give any major Museum at 10% discount.