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

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Poets and artists are proof of God's existence by Hamilton, John
For Fellow Poets by Bhurani, Rizwana
Lunar Poets by barchettadrive, red
Here's to the Poets by Minor, Jeannie
Who Are those funny Poets by Roper, Eve
Genearational poets by fumani, karen mathe
generational poets by fumani, karen mathe
Belonging with Poets Dozen by ROBERTS, SEREN

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The Best Poets Poems

Details | Poets Poem | |


"Mine all Mine!"

A thief I long to be
Your eyes original like the moon and sea

A lover in the world............
An Anthology, you walk and talk like the word "AMOR."

The words you send, I nicely tuck under my pillow
Every note every line you left behind 
I memorized till they became all mine
Unauthorized I scrape the concrete calluses off the tongue
Pirating the perfect dramatic monolog look,
Basking through the passage around your Bio, 
Lost in the musky scent -around the sonnet of your aura light 
Epic enough, I reach inside to feel every idyllic rhyme
A strong iambic meter curse, conjuring up the perfect verse
In you I lift a copy paste from your lips, 
No need to credit the sources in your bliss
The sweetest undamaged sensual memorandum book
A moment I stole and sealed without copyright proof

My dearest Poet, 
When you move across the room
I see a thousand arrows that follow from behind, 
Indulged when you speak and point out a verse per verse
I am a victim pampered by your words,
Sponging every line, adding them to my crib notes 
Improved wordplay that infringed my everyday diary
A haiku so tangible, it sets the perfect images in my dream,
Hypnotize after I read your first love poem
A printed feeling--
Borrowed from the sun


Copyright © Poet Destroyer A

More great poems below...

Details | Poets Poem | |

A poet's dozen Poetry Soup heroes

Not for contest: Tribute to all those who have helped me grow as a poet

rivers flow gently like that of a poet's pen creating heroes How can I mention only a few-as there are a number of inspirational poets who woke me from my slumber From all those who greeted me with a pleasant welcome to all those who watered the rose that grew in the desert The Aqua girl encouraged me to share my raw lyrics as I posted - many commented with encouragement My lack of detail for grammar had others in hysterics while many advised me to ignore the discouragement The ink flows as my poetry heroes provide nourishment
A poet's dozen is 12 lines of poetry using the following forms in this order: One modern Haiku: 3 lines: Syllables 5,7,5 A couplet: 2 lines Free verse: 2 lines English Quintain: 5 lines: Rhyming scheme ababb The Silent One 1 November 2015

Copyright © Silent One

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Silent Page

Silent Heart

Sad, as it maybe, I had to break my OWN heart, 
Too many nights, I sat there all torn apart
A dream girl, 
Sitting under its own corrupted auspices sky 
You the poet, in disguise
Telling white lies about, your love for me
Saying I'm a born from the sky....
A match, a queen, your muse, your everything
I'm no good, I admit this once more, 
Your advice, I forever adorn 

It's time to follow the crying crows and praise what is left
Afraid to listen my rhymes weren't cutting it, 
I release it all!
Your smiles, words, and worn out shoulders
I walked away
I acted on
Without a word, in a fetal stage I awake
Tonight you carry a tune for others
A story of a man who stole my soul of sins
A poet, I long forevermore
Always, you will own the only sound that still beats inside
To live alone, in silence, asleep in my own world
I had to let go, 
-Of him, whose name I whisper in darkness
The only thing that remains is the echoes of pouring rain

Too many reasons, writer's block, took full moon
You are a poet, from another lifetime, 
Down in Mandalay, I can no longer ask you to stay
Reading everything about my life, silent and old
Alliterating poems, greeting every dark shadow, normally yours
Many nights I waited, long for the moment of my OWN return
Instead, I found myself alone
Trying to dust off yesterday's verse, yesterday's dirt
Cobweb remains on my page
My pen now sits like a twig
No motion, since the day I decided I am not worthy of the wait
You the poet, who walks my way
I pressured less of me every day
Like Aspen, a forever winter cold! 
Isolated to the world
In your eyes, you wonder why, 
I trace the white smoke standing in your place?

To savor your words, once more 
It's too soon to breathe again. 

I hope you understand, 
How can I continue to love when I don't even love myself?


Copyright © Poet Destroyer A

Details | Poets Poem | |

Midnight Poet

Whisper's of October  

Whispers in this soup bowl
20 minutes after its muse explodes,
Daylight remains nothing more than a dream 
Avoiding the howling sound in mid-September's stream
Writing about a ginger light,
  found in the depths of everything
Taking from the sitting twilight, numb, tranquilized 
Exposing and expressing the emotions found inside
An attic lost in the Ancient sky  ---awaits 

A poetic hand is formed ---reaching out
In the hiss of darkness, 
Listen-in,  the echoes of October are calling
A halo, that reconciles a mysterious monarch moon
A mono grip in which summons a deep voice
  of sweet serenity
Poets posting poems along the midnight page
Each poet can write a poem and mimic free fallen verses,
One might  call it a creative craving curse,
Webmaster's whose words speak for themselves
They feel, and spills the will of idolized ink,
Blind-handed, splitting day from night

Warm whispers, needing no food to consume
Migraines of ink, feeding the soul
Burning Pages, overused pens
They've forgotten the pretty flowers
Living like lions, who never comes out of their dens
Murmuring and devouring, the enigmas of the unknown 
Eyes behind a sieve, close tighter than before, 
They hide-
A globe created from every sky-scrape wall
Wanting to belong, a trick -or- treat*er in disguise 
No friends, everything is pretend
These poets can’t be described, can't be trusted
They are the best, at what they do
For all you know this poet might be me, 
This poet might be you

By: PD

Copyright © Poet Destroyer A

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In harmony the ink flows

Why do you let hate defeat the love you hold inside Your mask is just a camouflage of emotions you hide The tempest rules your egotistical narcissistic mind Gifted with Immaculate vision - yet you are so blind All those battles you fought - did you achieve peace? or maybe it was for monetary imperialistic increase Keep stabbing those venomous daggers into my back Unbreakable my wounds heal fast - I will never crack Study me as much as you like - you will never succeed Get rid of the voices and the demons you endure to feed Rid yourself of barbaric antecedent ghosts - just let go Lose yourself in the magic of love - like water - let it flow Animosity, antagonism and hostility - is bad acumen In harmony the ink flows better through a poet's pen The Silent One 19 October 2015

Copyright © Silent One

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PoetrySoup Heroes

They read our poems, and more than that,
they leave a word or two.
It isn’t much, yet that’s a thing
some folks here NEVER do.

Some heroes never visit me.
I sure do wish they would,
but I am glad to know at least
to others they are good.

They welcome poets never seen
by simply saying hi
or click to comment on our poems,
not just on that “Reply.”

I know we all have busy lives,
but if we post a poem,
it’s much more fun if we can feel
this is our second home.

The builders of community
are whom I’m writing of.
To those I’ve met and those not yet,
I’m sending you my love!

I just found out I had to choose
three poets and no more.
It pays to study contest rules
not after, but BEFORE.

And so I'll name three friends of mine:
The very first to greet
me and become a truest friend
was Nikko, one so sweet.

Another one to fit the bill
of great community
is Jan. I love her humor and
her sweet sincerity. 

So many others do their part
to make this place so great.
My newest friend is CayCay, and
to meet her was my fate.

Three friends, all women, do their part
to build community.
These are the ladies who now bring
sweet sanity to me!


Since my Poetry Soup Heroes are too many to name, I have named three Community builders that I am currently the most in communication with through Hotmail: Nikko Palmario (who goes by binibining P.iNk), Jan Allison, and CayCay Jennings. For me, friendship is everything.  Without good friends here, how can one truly enjoy the experience?

Copyright © Andrea Dietrich

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A Tribute to Armand

On you the angels did bestow
a glow your friends would come to know
as star-shine!

For even stars cannot outshine
your countenance. It's as divine
as starlight.

Oh, how you hush those stars, my dear,
from brightly shining when you're near;
they're star-struck.

I too am stricken by your sight.
I'd love to be with you all night
to star-gaze.

Shine on, sweet man, but do not burn
too long or strongly; stars might turn
to stardust!

*Written 2/25/2015, this poem is based on the compound word verse created by Margaret R. Smith. It is dedicated to one of my favorite poets at Soup, Armand! Please come back soon, my dear friend!

** Since I wrote this, Armand (who goes by Maurice Yvonne here at soup) has only been able to visit a few times. I urge you to check out his poetry. I am sure you would love it!

Copyright © Andrea Dietrich

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The Poets I Hope to Meet in Heaven - A Tribute to Chan Hurst 1979-2014

A few poems written by Chan Hurst, (Just That Archaic Poet)

I hope that we can find some comfort in them at this sad time.

"A Rational Explanation"

What must I do to see this through-
Unlock the world I never knew?
For all I've seen hath been untrue,
As all I've felt hath plagued me, too!
I am no more, past Deaths before
I've reached the end of Living War-
(to see through eyes both blind and closed)
A life to touch, but never know...

"Now I Lay Me Down To Sleep"

Every day, to God I pray
For answers to Life's enigmas
Patience lays in wait to stay-
To cleanse our Social Stigmas
We pass the time in our idle Dreams:
Like fallen stars in singing streams

"A Happy Ending"

Remorse and regret, I mustn't forget
Remind me that Life is a process of Learning
Indeed for I sorrow'd; 'twas always upset
As the Truth was met with painful discerning

But now my eyes are open-wide,
Grew to love what I once despised
I am no longer sick inside-
I just feel happy to be alive

"A Master's Approval"

No happier could I ever be,
(Or feel a joy's enormity!)
Than to know a Soul as Poe-
Would say he likes my poetry!

"The Poets I Hope to Meet in Heaven"

I pray that in my Eternity,
I'll meet Shelley, Poe and Emily
That we'll all sit down at a table round,
And at length discuss our Poetry!

And Longfellow, lest we forget
Lord Byron, Shakespeare, and beloved Keats!
If I prove their favorite Poet,
I could accomplish no greater feat!

For all my many silly musings,
This one I covet above the rest
For my Soul's toil- finally proving
That the Masters love me best!

"Heaven For A Poet"  by Kelly Deschler

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 bed 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.

This poem was one of mine that Chan had faved, so I thought it would be appropriate to share this now and dedicate it to him.

I will always miss you, BP, my brother in poetry, but I sense that you are smiling down on us now.

I know that Chan idolized Edgar Allan Poe. I remember him telling me that someday,
he wanted to share a table in heaven with that "good ol' E.A. Poe".

So, Chan, if that is what you're doing now, I envy you, my friend! 

And, you said that you would personally invite me to that little gathering, remember? :)

Copyright © Kelly Deschler

Details | Poets Poem | |

A Poet's Heaven

Among the classic poets of fine rhyme - are balladeers who weave with lines a tale, the satirists and bards of the sublime, and troubadours who sing a light rondel. I close my eyes, imagining I'd dwell among them all - a poetess in bliss. Could heaven be as wonderful as this? With modern poets too I would commune; With friends I'd known on earth I'd reminisce . . . and poetry would flow - celestial boon! A Dizain with rhyme scheme: a. b. a. b. b. c. c. d. c. d and done in iambic pentameter.

Copyright © Andrea Dietrich

Details | Poets Poem | |

We Push The Pen

We push the pen to make you feel
the gentle tapping of the falling rain,
the stinging burn of the summer sun
the heavy heart of despair and pain.

We push the pen to make you see
the vibrant orange of a monarch wing,
the secretive soul hidden in our eyes,
the golden sunrise in early morning.

We push the pen to make you taste
the sweetness of love's first kiss,
the bitterness of heartbreaking defeat
the richness of pure chocolate bliss.

We push the pen to make you hear
the clear waters babbling in the brook,
the forgotten laughter of our inner child
the cracking spine of a brand new book.

We push the pen to make you savor
the pungent petals of the red rose,
the crisp aroma of a tart green apple
the autumn air that excites the nose.

We each push the pen in different ways
with our own tone of voice and mystique,
an art form that no other can duplicate,
no right or wrong, just wonderfully unique.

Copyright © Kelly Deschler

Details | Poets Poem | |


My words have abandoned me
This poem is about nothing
No emotion, no feeling nor description
Zilch, zero complete extinction
No romantic words about love
No words about sorrow or pain
No words of inspiration
No words to ease your mind
This poem is about nothing
This poem will always remain a cipher
Take you into oblivious nihility
This poet is in a state of being obliterated
As my words have been annihilated
When a poet no longer exists,
what is left?

Nothing poetry contest by Anthony Slausen
18 September 2015

Copyright © Silent One

Details | Poets Poem | |

Who do you think I am

He came contemplating whether to dance Giving all poets a warm welcome in advance As a new poet he took a cautious approach As a polite gentleman, not wanting to encroach He promised to show us raw emotion To write for us his poetry in motion He put on his new dancing shoes Let the ink flow, writing to amuse Daily free verse, couplet and quatrain Words about romance, sorrow and pain His life is revealed poetically, part to part As his words flow like blood from his heart Richard dancing with the lyrics of poetry
We now know who he is to you and me Who do you think I am contest by Richard Lamoureux Tentative dancer: The pen gets started, revealing each part (his first poem) 15 September 2015

Copyright © Silent One

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Sonnet queen a tribute to Andrea Dietrich

Andrea Dietrich is the fair maiden's name A talented poet who has taught me so much The queen of sonnets has become her fame A talented lady with the Midas touch As a novice I entered the world of Poetry Soup At first her words seemed like those from a preacher Telling me I should do things correctly on this group But slowly in time, Andrea has become my respected teacher Her poetry has been awarded many an accolade Not only sonnets, but also for the quatrain and quintain From romantic writes about a lover's serenade To heart ache, sorrow and poems full of pain Andrea Dietrich, a wonderful mother, nanna and wife
Who brings a breath of fresh air to every poet's life A tribute to a wonderful friend Andrea Dietrich The Silent One 15 September 2015

Copyright © Silent One

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On Poetry Soup

A first day on Soup is filled with much awe The wonderful poems will make you smile Easy is it to fall for all Some enabled my mind, lingering a while Just the few Soupers I mention here Will blow you away with works of this year! Janet Cervenka almost made us lust When she penned a piece on Heavenly's bust Marvelous is the diversity of Jan Allison Such a dressed gem, and she's only blooming Nandita then tells us that she's no Jan Indeed her craft is paralleled by none Man! the lyrics never cease to flow for Dave So highly endowed with a skill many crave You see, my first day on Soup I was greeted by SKAT Who so humbly laid down the welcome mat And if there exist a bond no man can put asunder I have to say it's between SKAT and Linda O! How can I forget 'Half of A Heart' A Sara Kendrick special, such design and art! Who better to mend our Broken Wings Than the namesake with a quill in full swing Yes Soupers always brighten my days Place me in velds full of beautiful haze And there I spot a Mystic Rose Defined so uniquely like a Kim Nunez prose From a consummation a lover was denied To the hautiness of a lonely man's pride Whatever we plan to glimpse or scoop We tend to leave with more from Soup

Copyright © Wilfred Ani

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Poet -This Poem is About You

-Dear, Mr & Mrs Poet- 

Do you ever question where it comes from?
This poem's about you, sit down and get a load off 
Tranquilize your pen, take heed to the ecstatic applause 

The things in life we take for granting, in time get worse 
From WHICH' our lives transverse, ascends a deep poetic curse 
You write almost everything, rehearsing every living verse 
Embezzling words, like Martha Stewart, ---NOT YOURS!
Withdrawing from your substance, 
--yielding it to others, who aren't devoted lovers 
Spacing your lines, ready for reader's digest, 
Educating the mind, like Albert Einstein

You paint a different horizon for the color blind,
Drop a note, forecasting the news, that brings, Spring to mind
Your adrenaline, leaves people with a feel good faint.
At this level, Poet you're better than high speed Internet,
Anything that makes you feel this is the real deal, 
Today, you write like there's no tomorrow, borrowing yesterday's clay
Inspiring ink, left to right, feeding the need to breed a poetic degree 
Your dramatic dialogue, deserve 'The Peoples Choice award."

I love the sweet audio, when you lowercase every word
It's done so well, hell, let's never capitalize another word
Reaching a point across, when capitalizing every letter, 
This is your world, take it, manipulate it, with the perfect stanza
Produce it like a poetic film, imagery, action, CUT it like Jerry Bruckheimer 
One day Hollywood will incite a roll, looking for the best poetry soup rhymer

Your tears and affection, you pour on partial paper,
Showing every word you want to enunciate
A SHOULDER-- gone cold, drowning, forgetting the normal way
Writing about the pure religion that meets your light, 
A beautiful flower under the moonlight
Hear the bells, Poe wrote about, adding sprinkles to the twinkle in your eyes, 
A redolent scent not meant to be forgotten, from Eden's garden
Taking nature, by course, granting her a crown, before slamming us down
I will call her out --The evil and the fury of a goddess, a beast
This is my feast, I welcome you to my jungle, and the outer bounds of time.

If you ever question where it comes from?
Sit down and get a load off, listen---Where's the ecstatic applause?
I'm not afraid to say, -----I'm Proud to be A Poet Without A Cause

I do it for fun

Copyright © Poet Destroyer A

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Super Soupers

It was a rainy day so I flipped through a stack of comics
My Amazing Poet series
Finally I picked the fabulous Five
I liked the picture on the front
Yanny the Zen Master with long black hair
Becca the Creative and Beautiful with her mythical pen
One of my favorites sultry Eileen known as the Emotionator
Anne the Philosopher was right there beside Eileen with her magical smile
Then to round out this team was Vicky Victorious calling from the wilderness 
In this edition they were battling the Poet Destroyer and Joker Jack
who had kidnapped Newbie Timothy Hicks
As I read their words I was in awe of my Heros
They made me cry
They brought me to new worlds
Filled with adventures
Sexy had new meaning
Tears became diamonds
Winds swirled inside my head
All the emotions of the rainbow
I longed to write with such clarity and strength
I tried to flex my poetic Muscles
Worked out every day
Then on the back of the comic
A scrawny poet sat on a beach
Beside the girl of his dreams
He is writing for her when along comes a muscular poet
The big poet kicks metaphorical sand in his face
The the scrawny poets girl is whisked away
Underneath it says
Are you tired of having Metaphorical sand kicked in your face?
Are other Poets getting the girl?
All that can change
Join the Andrea Dietrich School of Creative Poetry
She will have you writing like The Fabulous Five
You will never be afraid to flex those poetic muscles again
So I cut out the back page and sent my five dollars
The address is PO Box 88888 Inspiration California 
Now all I can do is wait
What will the future Hold?

Note there are many Poets here who would appear in my vast Amazing poet series.
Poet Destroyer and Joker Jack are not Evil nemeses they were chosen for the roll
because of their names( also I love their work.) I hope you enjoyed my little tale.
Some of the younger poets may not be familiar with the Charles Atlas ads that used
to be on the back of comics, the rest of you I am sure will get the joke.

Copyright © Richard Lamoureux

Details | Poets Poem | |

Poetry Soup Heroes

We're Off To See The Wizard.

Emotion, a storm that came, swept me into the poetry game.
A tornado, carried me to this place, a new face, I'd never be the same.
I was greeted with techni-color, I was black and white, out of place.
Munchkins, the whole lot, greeted me with aisles of smiles and glow,
Welcoming me to a whole new world, one that I would come to know.
They say go, find that wizard, take a journey to eternity,
Life will be a better place as I find the friends to walk with me.

My footfalls step one in front of the other, Toto, he is at my side,
He takes this trip with every strip and dip, to him my secrets I confide.
And we follow the yellow brick road, chirping and singing along,
When we come across the scarecrow who hangs strawed and strong.
He comes with great knowledge, a Wise Dummy, he is so smart,
A character with creative charm and clumsy grace, his poetry is art.
He thinks great thoughts even though he thinks he is just made of stuffing,
I could not journey this experience alone, this genius is quite somethin'.
From the mysteries of our histories, similarities begin to appear,
And I welcome him into my adventure, he is terrific to have near.

We skip along the yellow brick road, hearing a crinkled creek,
There stands rusted with nature trusted, a tin man mild and meek.
Tipping the oil can we lubricate and he starts to enunciate and pronunciate, 
A song beats as he moves his feet, he has no heart but wait...
As we all start to travel, his lyrics start to unravel, he has marvelous melody,
And he sings with all his mighty might, songs so very very right just for me.
I would not be fooled by his metal, his surface so smooth as a kettle,
He may be made of tin, but his heart beats strong within.

As a troop we continue to see the wizard who is our goal,
Every word we write along they way has be written in our soul.
Out of nowhere jumps the lion, roar, he tries to frighten us away,
But how cute he shies when we see through his disguise, a pussy cat, a stray.
He has no fear of the things he writes, he has mighty truth in his tongue,
Soothing the stings the stiff wasps bring, he laughs while being stung.
He joins our adventure, giving praise of plenty and being fairly fair,
I couldn't imagine my journey through life without him being there.

I have been so fortunate to find my scarecrow, tin man and lion,
To make it to the great wizard, that is our task, together we are tryin'
Three poets, so true in their personality will always walk with me.
Have a place in my heart, always play a part, making me see poetry,
A journey doesn't have to be alone, there is always a friend.
And they follow me to the wizard, and even then it's not the end.

We're off to see the wizard...the wonderful wizard of oz....

Date: October 16, 2015

Dorothy: (unnamed poet)
Toto: (unnamed poet)
Scarecrow: (Richard Lameroux)
Tin Man: (Lyric Man)
Cowardly Lion: (Arthur Vaso)
The Wizard: (We'll all meet him one day)

Copyright © Casarah Nance

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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

Copyright © Poet Destroyer A

Details | Poets Poem | |

Behind These Red Brick Walls

I remember living quietly inside these red brick walls,
a soul, wandering alone through those dark, empty halls,
this is the place where I used to rest my weary head,
now you, another poetic heart, are dreaming here instead.

I was just a poet, a soul like you, so do not be afraid,
this is where I once lived, and this is where I stayed,
I want to whisper my secrets to you, late after midnight,
just hear my faded words, and I will remain out of sight.

There was a lonesome time when I wrote poetry, too,
now I am here, to be your muse and inspire you,
100 years ago, I lived on the other side, only now,
I dwell just behind these red brick walls, somehow.

(A sequel to my poem, "These Red Brick Walls")

Copyright © Kelly Deschler

Details | Poets Poem | |


I cried the first time I listened to the words
whispered    shouted    snapping about 
like flags in a brisk wind     Words being shot 
from open pink mouths in a staccato hail of bullets 
slamming into my barriers     Hairline cracks appearing 
in my armor like spider webs meandering across 
a bug splattered windshield
I cried    even though I was not sure why

Who would have thought there was so much ammunition
being ratcheted from dry throats to be chambered
in mouths    spewing forth in a fusillade of fire
So much raw emotion housed inside ordinary people  

I found life    
emotion    feelings running rampant
bouncing off brick walls
echoing in my sluggish soul
wakening banked embers of a life 

I remember this thing called poetry
it danced through the dreams of my youth
brought hesitantly to its feet when I read
Resume by Dorothy Parker

I dreamed that I could put words onto paper 
and evoke emotion in another person
I dreamed and I played with the words
my new best friends    and drank Orange Crush 
spilling it on my early attempts    
giving them the appearance of measles erupting 
from the white parchment of youthful skin

But the words proved to be too much for me
		too much me
Emotions I did not know I had locked inside me
Fear flowing unchecked in dark splotches
Sorrow ripping the page with blunt forceful strokes 
of the pen     I tried to use a pencil but the feelings 
inside me were too strong to be erased so easily
Now the silence of my soul has been illuminated 
by the sun the poets hold in their hands
I could have ignored soft moonlight ripples 
across my mind    but this sun snakes its way 
into every crevice    finding my imps and demons 
standing mutely shadowed in gray

The homeless beggars on my street of lost memories
are rising up with pen in hand    refusing 
to be slapped into silent submission any longer

Copyright © Monterey Sirak

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Long Distance Dreamer

Call me evil
Call me names
Call me 

Kiss me on the lips
Kiss my heart
Kiss me

Wrap me in your arms
Hold me within your breasts
Whisper your longings

Touch me with your voice
Touch me with your caress
Touch me

Fondle the thought of forever
Fondle the thought of longing
Fondle me

Dance for the happiness inside of you
Dance to wash away your tears
Dance into my arms

Walk the path of wisdom
Run towards my heart
Kiss contentment

The sword of lust is shining
A dozen daffodils to undress your heart
Flower me with kisses

Call me

Copyright © arthur vaso

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Sending Waves Touching Beautiful Always

She who sends waves touching beautiful warm and gracious words
Draws bright sunshine smiles in our hearts as they sing in her grace
Flowing from the heart her beauty held in her Quill ready to write
Pure diamond sparkling rainbows as a true friend is a friend in deed

The tidal wave raises fine soaked sand from the bottom of the ocean
And the waves curl out pearl white reflecting a most Picture Perfect
Image that is truly splendid and always sublime to behold and cherish
As Nature’s soft wind caresses your aura and inspires your next poem

She who sends these very waves touching beautiful personifies a Muse
So rare, so special—and brings her influence and talents to bear in
Masterfully supporting the efforts of fellow poets and dreamers as they 
“Spill Ink” on blank pages late at night crafting their next poetic masterpiece

The very power and wonder of her good works and positive influence are
Always there magnificently arrayed like pure beams of sunshine touching
And dazzling all in her reach quite profoundly with the magic of her thoughts 
And the quiet courage of her convictions as the simply wonderful poet she is
Gary Bateman and Liam McDaid – A Collaborated Poem (Free Verse Poem),
November 26, 2014 

NOTE: Written in Honor of Anne-Lise Andresen for Her Fine Poetry and For 
Her Continued Professional Support and Encouragement of Other Fellow Poets.

Copyright © Gary Bateman

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Alone Together

A "collaboration" with Edgar Allan Poe's poem titled, "Alone"

From childhood's hour I have not been
As others were - I have not seen
As others saw - I could not bring
My passions from a common spring.

     Where years of mingled adolescent voices
     Denied a heart and it's choices
     My quiet self could not speak
     Another outcast - a soul unique.

From the same source I have not taken
My sorrow; I could not awaken
My heart to joy at the same tone;
And all I lov'd, I lov'd alone.

     Pages of art, the written word
     An interest each one found absurd
     A solemn love that I must hide
     To keep when I and time can abide.

Then - in my childhood - in the dawn
Of a most stormy life - was drawn
From every depth of good and ill
The mystery which binds me still:

     How - in melancholy youth - I found
     The companion to whom I remain bound,
     I do not know precisely the day when
     Though I knew I had gained a friend.

From the torrent, or the fountain,
From the red cliff of the mountain,
From the sun that 'round me roll'd
In its autumn tint of gold -

     The years dragged on without relent
     As months of solitude were spent,
     Down a new road I traveled then
     Meeting destiny, though I knew not when.

From the lightning in the sky
As it passed me flying by-
From the thunder and the storm,
And the cloud that took the form
(When the rest of Heaven was blue)
Of a demon in my view.

     Undeterred by any supernatural power
     Or life's occasional teardrop shower
     My soul kept tight hold of passion
     Let me fulfill it in my own fashion
     This outcast "demon" found in me a friend
     Alone together, now and beyond the end.

Copyright © Kelly Deschler

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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

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A Poet With A Priceless Pen A Poets Worth

I am poet with a priceless pen
born to burnish the beauty of men.
I wonder what mortal mirrors reflect...
For me, all races deserve respect.

I often hear the splashing of rain,
and flood rushing down the drain.
I see the petals of the morning bloom
and dawn peeping into my dusky room.

I strive to forget the tales of ages long gone
when dreams died as deeds undone.
I am a poet with a priceless pen
born to burnish the beauty of men.

I pretend to be a terrific tree
sapping the tears that betide me.
I feel old scars opening each time
my heart tends to commit new crime.

I touch the heart of the gentle moon
and worry if the Sun will shine at noon.
I cry for the youth and aged in need
and for gluttons in the grave of greed.

I hear the whispers of wealth and wisdom
flowing freely from the field of freedom...
I am a poet with a priceless pen
born to burnish the beauty of men.

I understand the chains of our choices;
frailties of our fate; our darn differences.
I say let us not preen on what is not ours,
we will leave them in the six-feat towers.

I crave a world without woes and worries;
the mortal mall of matchless memories
where everyone trades a lasting legacy...
and love is shared on the platter of mercy.

I long to see gray skies turn blue
and my sweetest dreams come true.
I am a poet with a priceless pen
born to burnish the beauty of men.

Copyright © Adeleke Adeite