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Best Power Poems

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Power of Language by Woods, Mark
The power of words by Hopper, Anna

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The Best Power Poems

Details | Power Poem | |

Hands

Featuring: Leonora Galinta
----------------------------------
Take My Hands
I Offer Them To You
Hold Them Tight
Never Let Go Of Them!
---------------------------------

~MY HANDS~

With all the time on my hands
I gave my hands one job.
  My Hands 
-The Artist-

My hands paint everything in my life
they paint my weakness, my strength 
they paint the fire in my eyes
they hold me when I'm cold
my hands colored my childhood!

Like an architect, 
my hands drew the plans and layouts of my life.
My hands *very articulate, are they? 
They continue to sew and show the way  
Sometimes, my hands paint the truth
Sometimes, my hands paint lies
Painting hurtful images on drywall
My palms, my fingers embedded calluses from every fall
Creating images, healing my heart
Sometimes my hands are the only friend I see. 

With no words to say
I caress the skyline like a mime
My hands ride the wind, 
My hands paint the world, 
each of their own. 

Young and pretty fingerprints 
They feel, they hold, they grip
Don't let go!

Clever and cute
It's time for motherhood
My hands painted your first hold
Traced your first smile
A painting  I treasure forever in my heart
Yes! A Rembrandt they became during birth 
Now you're all grown up...:-(  
Embarrassed to embrace the hold
One day when I'm old,
 you will hold my hands and remember the gold.

My hands paint many designs when it comes to love
sometimes a masterpiece 
sometimes a mistake
sometimes my hands felt images I can't describe
Made up moments of handicap when lost
My hands perfect when in love
They write songs when complete
So many interlock moment with you
Firm, the perfect match, my fingers spoke.

My hands 
-The Artist-
they've been told
held so many times
always meeting, greeting,  
waving hello's and goodbyes... 
((you see my hands, they smile too))

Painful, arthritis 
cuts, bruises
Pinching my way through reality. 
Reaching holding on to dreams.
Snapping fingers, we are a team.

My hands age in every turning page
Shriveled and old
Still you embrace and love the hold
my hands touch and make a difference
my hands learned a lot
my hands prayed 
and knew their duty.
My hands employed by me.
When they are bored,
they tap and tap and draw THAT annoying noise.

My hands know secrets, a fortune teller can never reveal
they hold the past, present, and  future in every line.
I extend my hands,
without flipping the bird
Thank you, Hands!
I am enjoying the sign language show.

In my next life, or so
I will praise my hands
Yes so beautiful, tender, they love to feel...................

My Hands
-The Artist-
I can't believe with all the time I have on my hands.
I forgot to mention I'm left-handed.

by;PD

Copyright © Poet Destroyer A

More great poems below...


Details | Power 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 sang 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 propaganda's
POET: You are my favorite verse in every stanza
((Only this, and nothing more))
Writing is like giving birth

by;)

Copyright © Poet Destroyer A


Details | Power Poem | |

As the Sun Rises

From out of the smoke we will rise
The weight of these chains we will break
From his face we will rip the deceitful guise
The spirit of our brothers and sisters we will wake

My blood flows free yet I do not weaken
My feet clothed in blisters yet I feel no pain
For my children’s lives I will not bargain
Though my anger burns my calm will remain

From beneath his foot our people we will remove
The hate he has implanted we will unbind with fire
The lies he  feeds  the blind  we will disprove
We will watch him drown in desperation’s mire

With only a stance we will shake every plain
With only a look we shine with the force of the sun
My feet clothed in blisters yet I feel no pain
My blood flowing free yet I will not weaken
 

~FJ Thomas
….we are not of only one race in this family

Copyright © FJ Thomas


Details | Power Poem | |

Winds of Autumn

I called to the winds of autumn
As they wrapped up the dying year;
"Oh stay for a moment and tell me
Of answers I need to hear".

Who is the rival of prudence
Who is the merchant of crime
Who closes the eyes of beauty
And steals the hours of time?
Who brings the winter to age
From the springs of the fountain of youth
Who is the companion of sorrow
And destroys the justice of truth?
Who's the apprentice of Satan
The Prince of the Power of Air
Whose appetite is transgression
With more than enough to share?
Who weakens the power of the great
Who slaughters the wisdom of wise
Who brings the honest and gracious
To depths that others despise?

The winds of autumn now answered
With a voice like a phantom call
"It's an evil afflicting so many
Who drown in the drink alcohol."
This is the spell of the devil
Who casts his net from hell
An addiction with power to destroy
Gathering all who are caught in its spell
For his net will gather the unwary
To beguile lost souls with his breath;
This is the destruction of lost dreams
That perish in the arms of death





Copyright © elizabeth wesley


Details | Power Poem | |

- Life Behind The Mirror -



Enchanting chambers made of glass 
Breaking reflections shatter falling into ruin
The history behind the tears and sorrow of a heart
Fragile echoes inside truth broken always sings 
If this be loves beauty like dropping crystals splash
Speaks a language of one thousand tongues when the sparks fly
 
The soul released from thought 
Faraway shadows cover a dream
When you have found what you're looking for
And always breathe in the beauty of nature
Silver buds glisten in morning dew 

Millions of years before you or me
Weeping willow hangs heavy over us 
These things and so many more
have made you and me understand
Blossoming sunshine shades golden 
Crowned kissed by love in the summer  rain 

What a beauty to wake up to birdsong
Carried on gentle winds when they sigh
Hearing screams from the raven far up in the mountains
Secrets of the water flowing whispers 
Our lives have a meaning here on this earth
Stars circle your space in another realm 
Thoughts and dreams put together as mosaic
A moon smiles as shadows dances to a joyous tune 
The smell of pine needles tickle in the nose
As a sun lights our footsteps with golden harmony 
Commitment strong and sense of purpose is the key to life
 






13.05.2015
Written by L. Mcdaid & A-L Andresen :)
Copyright © All Rights Reserved

Copyright © Anne Lise Andresen

More great poems below...


Details | Power Poem | |

Who Am I

I am the ring around Saturn
spinning words as particles of ice and dust
with the power to transcend

I am the original chosen to be right here right now
transmitting verbal frequencies 
through speaking my thoughts into existence

I am the heir of omnipotence,
born with a direct connection to profound abundance 
The one whose words will age, yet still have substance;
since there are no boundaries attached to my pen

I am constant energy
Translating personal experience into imagery 
Vulnerable to tyranny,
yet i continue attempting to share some truth
through this abstract language of poetry

I am the core
I am that I am more
I am the Divine Presence that is the Source of my rewards

I am the green you get when you mix too much yellow with the blue
That shade of gold you get when the sun resides into darkness
and when it ascends in the dawn burning dew
I am the transition between the third and fourth dimension of time;
the love you feel when you realize how it feels

I am the poem that is abstractly direct
because I write beyond limits
absorbing frequencies from 3 to 8 hertz
through meditation for several minutes
I am the one bridging the gap between
the analog ascension and the direct connection to spirit
The one who is love
because I am a descendent  of it

I am the rhythm that the wind blows
I am the beginning and the ending of stories told
about the universe and how miracles unfold
I hold the power to accept judgement from those who will do just that
Not knowing that I am them in the absolute reality of me
Judge that

I am knowledge beyond measure because that is my right
So I continue meeting the different parts of me
when I meditate and write
Who am I?
I AM, THAT, I AM


Copyright © humble b


Details | Power Poem | |

UNICORN

                 Like the UNICORN

At times I fear I am the mysterious of all animals
Like the Unicorn, I myself do not feel real
My inner beauty is the only thing to conceal
I am my own mythological creature
Roaming souls with a little will power to heal
 
Ages of my forgotten tear
Like the Unicorns  a prophecy so unclear
I compare your beauty to be the eyes of stare
I am a magical power so rare
Absorbing the energy of the sun into a spear
I appear like the wild horse
I have no feelings of real existence, my life with no compare
Embracing all memories to disappear

Wasting away absorbing nature's life
GONE!
Haunted down by a hunters knife
Thousands of wolves hungry to eat me alive

Fallen legends and myth
Pondering in a past life who I am
I feel a  touch upon my bones
Am I he the Unicorn 
A horse with one horn
Unlike the Unicorn who fell to exist
My suffering  really does exist
How I wish everything was fake
To be like you hiding upon the mist

Like the Unicorn who is a horse with no horn
Like a nobody when my life slips into the abyss 
A depth of wishing to have never been  born
With the vision of  Heaven’s Realm with a Unicorn twist

Like the Unicorn who only exist in Legends and Myth.
I come and go like a blown kiss
Shedding tears feeling all alone
I want to be like the Unicorn who are bound to roam
Take me away from this wonders of thorns
Give me a magic Medallion to free myself from the pits
Infatuated with the gorgeous Unicorn
A passion among beauty is where I exist

by:

Copyright © Poet Destroyer A


Details | Power Poem | |

EDGE WALKER

                       EDGE WALKER 

Waking up to the depth beyond such things every day
One day I choose to walk and become Queen of Mandalay

In the depth of my ocean mind
I Find my soul diving and trying to unwind

Peer pressure can not handle all the empty space
Avoiding the world's relativistic mass by the human race

Overusing the power giving to me
Sleeping at times disappointed by humanity

I walk in darkness to help you reach the light
I twist the darkness to give you a better sight

Walking at the edge of all things with the ability to precept
Using logic to compare and intercept the emotions we can not accept 

With the emotional picture of a fast heart beat
Wiping out the brain waves with a mood in heat

Giving enough flow to the power of intuition
Exceeding the knowledge without the book of Revelation

Receiving the pointless pain in persons chest
A wreck who ignores the emotions to digest

A mood string of self-manipulation eating away at the mass of reality
Some viewers are so unperceptive, a low self-esteem of stupidity

A curse a gift with ability to know everything, illusions of feeling it
with an emphasis so useless you can not admit

Trusting one day came with a price, alerting my ego on strong
Using my energy to direct the purpose of the wrong

Walking like a tool throughout the world's philosophy
A weapon of thought not meant for the mindless or monstrosity

The hidden riddles of life are the ones before your eyes
Grasping the concept with the attention of ending lies in our lives

Proceeding the ethics of the center of one's endless layer
accepting the birth of all responsibility, over the edge of a mind player

I gave the thought with a natural twist of a moving spear
Expanding the horizon of the hemisphere

Edge walkers down and broken standing without
Walking straight forward with the same God and Devil in doubt

Simply looking through "rose colored glasses."
Chaos from the ugliness of avoiding the large body masses

Balancing out the change to allow the flow
follow logical emotions, that destroys a mind blow.

causing the opposite to any action
effect the law of any equal reaction

expect to accept the unexpected, a dull way of life
connect the keeper of the masters weapon knife 

with religion  comes the weakness of not standing tall
with the strong perception of life even one can fall

Standing without the generations of a crawler
living as a shadow he or she who believes the edge walker

                       by: P.D.   June/6/10

Copyright © Poet Destroyer A


Details | Power Poem | |

Necromancer (The Haunting Continues...)

In the cemetery I walk, so dark it is this night.
 Hoping that the Ghouls won't start to bite.
I feel the tug of the dead, as each grave I pass.
 Thankful this nervous tension won't last.

Armed with my Animation supplies,
 I stare out at all the green glowing eyes.
A chicken for my blood sacrifice,
 Raising the dead, there's always a price.

The salt keeps the dead inside.
 Using the machete our magic, we'll ride.
Salt is for everybody's protection.
 Cold steal seals out any deception.

To prime the earth so the dead will rise,
 cast the blood and create our ties.
Focus my energy and the ground starts to shake.
 Winds whip through the area and the on-lookers quake.

I command all that is at least 3 days dead.
 Just enough time for the soul to move ahead.
Born with this power as a Necromancer,
 When I will my power all the dead have to answer.

I look to Sandra Hudson, who hired me,
 to raise the dead and hear their screams.
I call Illyanna De La Keur from her deep, dark grave.
 Her words are scary so be very, very brave.


For John Loving III's "Haunted Poets Society"

Copyright © Aleera Canino


Details | Power Poem | |

Leader Of The Pack

why bark for oneself
when gullibility rules,
the runt of the cur
rushes to aid one’s master
rogue awaits to shuffle pack.

©Harry J Horsman 2014

Copyright © harry horsman


Details | Power Poem | |

The Undyings' Curse

Deep in the earth, a crypt of rock
slumber guarded by casket locked
Lips grope silence ‘ever more
 rasping thought, remembers whispered lore
Outstretched palms the roots do clench
tranquility stilled by festered stench
And eyes, sleep caked, are propped ajar
ignites no life, but collapsed star

Burned blades sigh, Winds’ dying gasp
bones brittle snap within her clasp
A lonesome howl the moon does draw
vigil broken, it twists its maw 
Upon an arena of endless stone
the granite gates they’ve passed alone
And entered a world of burning eyes
eluded the judge of smoldering cries

A faultless gait, no stumbled draw
a reaping brought  by scythe and claw
Opal edge which shrouds a cause
aberrant blade shapes nature’s laws
Dictate a script, the stars can share
an open secret, a language bare
Steps continue, feet are drawn
across gray grass, undying pawn

Copyright © Avery Swarthout


Details | Power Poem | |

Laughter, the Best Medicine

We live in a world where sickness abounds, Sometimes stumping the best of providers. Symptoms and tests almost always expound, While the emotional costs grow wider. The travel and care and expenses we bare, In dollars and tears for a healing. Pale when compared, with the voluminous prayers, Our reverence and humility kneeling. Seeing through to the end, great strength we must take, And the position that attitude matters. A stiff upper lip and a smile sometimes fake, Anything less, and fragile hope easily shatters. Yet until we’re called home, to streets paved with gold, Or abodes filled with love and affection, Widely known in the hearts, of the young and the old, Laughter remains, life's greatest healing medication!
(This poem is dedicated to my wonderful Sister Cindy, whose strength and positive attitude throughout her struggle, encourage all who cross her path) User Name: Wedge Motif: Philosophical

Copyright © Michael Wegman


Details | Power Poem | |

Hollow Thrones

Hollow Thrones

Death and destruction reigning in filth over dry bones
  kings ruling over weaker souls with little hope,
drowned deep, cast overboard loaded with misery stones
 unmercifully hung with no justice and short rope

So proudly the kings rule over subjects so very poor
 no concept of the natural rights of mortal man,
having power , treasure and selfish desires by the score
 completely unconcerned with life's ever so brief span

Shallow pleasures lusted without thought of coming reward
 stolen time and freedoms from more deserving souls,
unmindful of the many stolen lives so desperately scarred
 judgment awaiting in deeply unforgiving , darkened holes

Reigns of tyranny reaped as bushels of rotten fruits
 while spirit raping of better women, children, and men,
falsely rewarded homage paid from wickedly evil roots
 soon to be given eternity in their evil Master's den

Robert L. 05-25-2014


Read a book this morn on the great Empires long since destroyed,
with more of the same always filling the void.... 
Mankind simply refuses to ever learn...

Copyright © Robert Lindley


Details | Power Poem | |

LADY DEATH

   "LADY  DEATH" ------Chaos!!!

Craving life was all of 'HOPE' desire.
Torturing her into the odyssey of Hells fire.
Ending her in heartbreak by her own insane,
cruel father Matthias.
A demon so obsessed with dark power.
Head demon to all hells devour.

Matthias allowing his beloved 'HOPE' to be burned.
In a hellish death as a witch.
Pleading for her life.
All 'HOPE' is lost,
 in a pit of endless broken bones.
The supernatural appeared in front of 'HOPE'.
'HOPE' complied and renounce to give up humanity.
Tricked by demons who lied.
Manipulated that this would save her sanity.

A power bestowed with a creation so rare.
A Demi Goddess of destruction.
Chaos soon will inflict every hour.
With death in her place, she turns into,
a cold blooded Diva of Death.

Reliving in the plague of dark ages.
Angels and Demons flow through her blood.
With contradiction of many stages.
Many evil forces out to end her existence.
Betrayed by all she knew.
Now she is locked in a demonic resistance.
Defeating Lucifer herself.
Blading the neck of the prince
Death lusting for power in an epic battle.
Lost forever in the era of judgment.
Revenge she claims on her throne.
Making Lucifer's power her own.
A forever endless graveyard.
Restoring into the blood of her new home.

Making hell tremble, many slay to death's assault.
Death arising to all her faults.
Declaring the lost of 'HOPE'
A man's worst nightmare in the sweetest form.
Overthrowing her one time dream.

Obsessed with his Lady'''
 Evil Earnie.
Rides by her side.
A  domino of all killers.
In a blood bath stream.
Killing everyone in his & her path.
Killing for her love, his Lady Death love.

Pondering about her lifeless soul.
"All HOPE is gone!"
all that is left is death.
"Lady Death"
  Lord of hell
On a mission of Mega Death.
To conquer all of earth.
Men killing for her demonic way.
Evil Earnie matching to the depth of her Odyssey.

With the belief.
That behind every good man, (EVIL EARNIE)
is a good women..                  (LADY  DEATH)


((Lady Death is a character in her own CHAOS ))

Copyright © Poet Destroyer A


Details | Power Poem | |

FAITH IS A POWERFUL THING 1

Focus
All
Internal
Thoughts
Heavenward

Impossible
Situations

Are

Possible..
Overcoming
Worry,
Establish
Real
Faith (for)
Ultimate 
Living

The 
Hope
Is
Necessarily
God

1-11-15

Copyright © Lyric Man


Details | Power Poem | |

ROOTS

                                     i am with the roots
                                     of flowers
                                     entwined, entombed
                                     sending up my passionate blossoms
                                     as a flight of rockets
                                     and argument

                                     Charles Bukowski,  Penguin Modern Poets 13 


   _________________________________________





I chose toile wallpaper
in muted blues
since pastoral scenes 
refuse to budge

Pick that, girl,
and you get nothing else

I stood my ground 

Our ninth move,
I only wanted 
the repeating pattern
of that mill

It’s wheel
would never turn

Homes revolved,
doors slammed, 
nothing was ever still

my mother lit sticks 
of manic dynamite 
which drilled holes in walls,
and drilled holes in my father
who lost 
more chunks of himself
every day

Afternoons shuttled me
into corners 
with Bukowski or Plath,
love lesions,
heavy bloodstones,
sponges

Evenings, too, never settled,
the wind stayed up,
tippled glasses,
ripped pages from 
my books

But when hell 
shifted even darkness into fester-reds, 
I crept into pastels...
as untouched as the core of flame,
as motionless as Wedgewood


Copyright © Cyndi MacMillan


Details | Power Poem | |

The Whisper Of The Wind

The leaves they dance... the leaves they fall.... the whisper of the wind
One more season... one more year... the change, it now begins
For many years your presence felt... the trees prepare to sleep
As I wonder at your work... your voice begins to speak

The trees they bow as you approach... your power now displayed
I close my eyes and drift away... my thoughts of life replayed
Breaking through the whistling wind... another I do hear
Who is this you’ve brought with you....  whose memories I hold dear?

"It’s me my love... I’ve heard your thoughts"…".I sought and found a way"
Please tell me where you’ve been my love... what do you have to say?
"My time did come"…"I had to leave"…"so much you do not know"
What power brings you now to me…on winds that billows blow?

"I only came to say hello"… "to see you one more time"
Times did change…I did move on…another love is mine.
"Listen to the words I say" …"and cherish memories all"
I’ve thought of you so many times…your memories often call

"The wind it blows"... "I must now leave"..."but hear these words my love"
"Enjoy your life"…"Do all you can"…"Until your journeys done"
"Your voice will speak to her one day"..." when winter winds do blow"
"The voice within the whispered wind"…"only she will know"

"One day the leaves will dance and fall"... "and she will think of you"
"Your life will be remembered then"…"the voice will then be you".
The leaves they dance... the leaves they fall... the whisper of the wind. 
One more season…one more year…..the change…it now begins


Copyright © Jon Arno


Details | Power Poem | |

Lines Life and our Faith in God

Lines Life and our Faith in God


Is it possible to divide lines?
Which are of numerous types and kinds,
Like life, which always appear in different,
Forms, colors, shapes and types.

But when all these types and kind of lines disappears,
Covering the sheet of darkness,
What is left is only a tiny dot,
Which has no end and has no beginning.

From a tiny dot only life and every thing began one day,
And in a tiny dot every thing would vanish one day,
Leaving no lines of any kind bold or thin,
On the sands of time,
What would ultimately be left, as the last impression,
Would only be a tiny dot, much smaller than the rolling tears of eyes.

The Universe also started from a dot,
Even all universes and galaxies, stars and planets,
Started from a dot created by God,
And every thing ultimately would vanish,
One day in the darkness of a dot, like black hole,
About which we almost know nothing,
Except that every thing including the earth, planets, stars,
Even our body and mind and its high rising aims and ambitions
Would ultimately get lost in the magnetic darkness of the 
Black hole, which is nothing but another form of a dot.

The creative and destructive power of the dot,
Is right before us in the form of a computer,
Which builds, learns and teaches every thing,
Starting and ending from tiny tiny dots,
And places before us humans and nature,
Animals and creatures, in their true forms, except
They do not breathe, love and hate like humans.

But humans are close to create a new dot,
Tomorrow it would breathe and talk, 
It would think and walk and may also love and hate
And may be, it would start creating,
New types of humans and may start thinking himself one day,
As our new Creator or a new God.

I pondered, wondered and imagined,
What would happen, when this new God,
Would have a small amount of some power in his hand
And may become a new God for those,
Who do not believe in our faith and in our Almighty God,
As even a small amount of the power of creation and destruction,
May blind the weak humans to start thinking himself as the new God.

In such a situation, all lines of all types may disappear
For ever from us, which has so far, 
Saved us from the total disappearance of our existence,
And has brought up like a child in every religion and faith,
So that we may flourish and bloom like his Nature
And may adore Him as,
Our faith or God or as our strong and bold Dot,
Which always loves us a lot.


Ravindra


Kanpur India     13th June 2006



Copyright © Ravindra K Kapoor


Details | Power Poem | |

Strength

Strength is not the
resistance of
falling,
nor the man who
moves mountains by
force.
It is not determined
by weights lifted,
nor the beads of
sweat that trickle
from his brow.
It is not muscle. It
is not efficiency.

Strength is not ease
displayed in
adversity,
nor the prevention
of shedding tears.
It is not determined
by hills sprinted,
the lack of aches
and pains after
exercise.
It is not hardness.
It is not power.

Strength is the rise
from tragedy,
the man who moves
mountains by faith.
It is the lone
blossom daring to
bloom in snow,
the drive erected
from words meant to
defeat.
It is persistence.
It is aspiration.
It is valor.
It is you.

Copyright © k.m. braxton


Details | Power Poem | |

The White Stallion Arrives

The White Stallion Arrives


The White horse came in so very fast
with purpose and great deeds to last
Arriving in a spirited tour de force
evil alerted, took notice of course

Sitting upon its huge, stalwart back
knight ready for any vicious attack
Dark forces were quickly sent to meet
the fighters to engage and deadly greet

Stallion knew the lay of the dark land
also the power of the warrior's hand
Racing to meet Evil and deadly foes
with courage only the brave knows

Warrior with sword of truth in hand
slew hundreds in the demon band
The charging stallion knew his job
slay those whose aim was to soul rob

As the enemy lay in forced disarray
the white stallion reared up to bray
A signal he was in tune with his knight
that he knew victory was soon in sight

When the last dark beast met its fate
sun was about to rise and not to late
The knight planted the victory flag
as he slew the last flying demonic hag

As sun and its glow lit the waiting sky
White stallion flew into the bye and bye
Echoes blasted back a victorious sound
promising Hope would always be around

Robert J. Lindley, 04-25-2015


Note:
New poem , based very loosely upon my poem titled , A Golden Steed Gallops. 
Hope you may enjoy this one....

Copyright © Robert Lindley


Details | Power Poem | |

Dusk's beginning

The chiselled talons of soulless sane,

With crooked claw of judgement bane,

That in the glare of beaded tell,

Seizes the cries where innocents dwell.

Whose shadows are dust in plumage stained,

The ashes of merciless reign.

Where crowned in glory of thorned rose,

They’ll seat the throne of headless woes,

The guardians of the fallen ten,

The service of shadow less men.

Copyright © Lauren Knight


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Light On the Devil's Chord - Day 6

Upon this date he spoke no more of the preceding moments, 
Tearing and hurling insult upon insult
In several directions, his tongue whipped and scorched me,
And he waited relentlessly to see the spark in my eyes fade…..
He was so livid by my silence, he began thrashing around the walls,
Grabbing a  wayside demon and crushing him into the ground…
He destroyed Death’s bass, pulling off each string in monotone menace
Glaring at me, as he yanked each off,
The whine of its timbre flooding the eerie, murky pit……

“Nothing else, but you and I,
No more music, no more beat…
Your heart alone is enough to drive me mad…”

He spat into the crushed instrument, 
And Death cowered, scampering away like a wounded rat
Picking up the pieces as he disappeared into the soot

“Just you and I, 
I will not hear another cry except from your  lips…
No cheer, except from your voice,
No fear, except from your soul…
No support from above….no love to bring us light…”

I circled him my tears glistening,
The light burning him, as he laughed bitterly
And I sang…

“Your attacks drill against your friends,
Your darkness sifts, in pending motion,
You can crush the pulse that you began,
Though you cannot end my faith and devotion.”

He stared, his nostrils flaring,
His claws protruding in and out
Suddenly he smiled, and he was calm again
The wailing of a freshly injured demon faintly sounding…

“Tell me Loving Lady, 
Of what you recall of mortality…
What do you miss the most?
The rush of Death’s call, 
The touch of slowly falling? 
The thrill of free-will…kissing the darts…
The crushing of sadness in your feeble heart…
You have missed mortality I am sure,
You have missed the spirit of mutiny,
The infernal blaze of my brilliant core…
We need not but our voices to replay such times, 
I remember your days as much as I do mine…
Remember you used to lust and lie?
Remember when you were afraid to die? 
Those darkest nights, remember me grinning?
Remember the infatuation of sinning?
No, it was your art, and you left a trail,
So He might follow close behind might you fail…
He allowed you to suffer, to ache…to retch 
You forgot Him, and embraced my ways…
Do you ever miss those wondrous days…
Surely, surely you must appraise…” 

I picked up a lone string of Death’s mighty bass,
Feeling the metallic twine cool in my hand
The crushed demon moaned in agony beside me…

“Mortality was a rustic feat into the fray,
Many times blinded in the dark, to emerge into the day
I miss the way danger led to discovery,
In suffering greatly, I miss the relief of recovery
I miss the way it was so bittersweet, 
When the wrinkles began to appear…
I miss the sound of that single drop of rain…
Falling into the rest, never missed, always blessed…
Recalling the times I have stumbled,
I miss what now I clearly see…
I recollect darker emotions and I miss how they built me,
How they led me to the ones that guarded me to the end
So I might live in a better place where pardon became my friend…

Death’s voice intrigued me, frightened me, redeemed me, 
The falling of those around me led me to my calling,
And swiftly, failing became a past that set me free…
The test of free-will became a weight upon my shoulder,
The challenge became what shaped me as I grew older…
Sadness became easier, and less enjoyable,
When I focused my life to the skies and into open eyes

I remember the lusts, the lies, the sins—they never belonged to me
At the time, I didn’t see this—they were all I wanted to be….
I hunted to wallow in the madness and sadness of darkness…
I believed I did not deserve the wisdom of righteousness 
In my mortal skin, I learned to look deep within…
And fight off the urges…the lusts….the timey wages of sin
It became my duty to no longer allow you in…
Though my love for your redemption grew brighter within…”

The Devil clawed the bass string in my hand
And it strung an empty sound that echoed dryly all around…


“Immortality has its torments too…
See how gently I return to you…”

He never could destroy the beat thumping from my chest…
He merely hummed along with it in begrudging dedication 
Stubbornly, he sought for my pain 
But the hurt had been released  far above, where still he dared not look…

I lifted up a crippled demon and kissed his forehead
“I love you as well, demon, do not be afraid…” 
The weary eyes stared into my own, than quickly glanced in fear toward our fuming Prince…
“You understand pain, fear, and torment more than any, I am sure
Would you like to sing too?”

The Devil in rage grabbed the demon by the throat before he could answer
“You foolish woman… he is MY pet… 
Nothing else, but you and I…
He has no voice, no heart…no mind…
I give him no permission to,
And he accepts his place…
Unlike I …unlike you…”

I touched his clenched hand, and his grip loosened upon the demon
“All voices deserve to be heard,
Through compassion, let his existence ring…”

The Devil scoffed and threw him down with much force, perturbed
The demon dared not move

“WHY HAVE YOU COME HERE TO US…. To mock me…to turn them against me…?”
The hush of his question held more intensity than his shouting
 “Surely…surely not…..
He belongs in the dust, 
At my command… he can never be like us…
You love him as much as pity will allow…
We are special, Silly Being, and his fleck of existence is but a toke
To gamble with for my amusement, nothing more…nothing more….
Stop this attempt to become the idol of the underdog
Don’t be such a predictable bore…”

The demon shriveled, but remained…
Like mortality’s fate, his body did shrink and fade…
But I heard his somnolent thoughts….

…I am but the refrain…
 Immortality….. has….. its torments….. too…

Copyright © Laura Breidenthal


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The Elected

            The Elected

Sharks leave the water to campaign on land
Drink Champagne at political parties
Draw blood; circle around, troll for enemies 
Take contributions with a wink
Tease young girls, kiss babies, follow rules
To the point of razor sharp teeth
Follow schools of fish
Delicious to eat
Sharks don’t just swim.  They float 
Rainy days don’t help the votes
Bait dangles on hooks
Sharks steal it when no one looks
Change to gentlemen in a gesture
Genuflect when given gifts 
Run, (though they have no feet) at the smell of money
Chummed up by buddies in muddied waters        
Pray for a cause to chew the fat
Call Jaws if all else fails
Sharks fly when not swimming to victory
The media counts on them to lie
They lie in wait to strike
At the elected hour
When they rise to power
Sharks love the taste of cowards

Copyright © Earl Schumacker


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Fox Trot

Though I'll tell you what you want to hear
I'm not a prophet or a seer
My lies tap dance upon your soul
As your Cinderella dreams unfold

Bullshit woven to the letter
Assuring you there's no one better
Than me, to fulfill your need
Your virgin ears begin to bleed

One more drink we do the dance
Another ruse into your pants
Crafted words depth with skill
Now closing fast in for the kill

It's always just about my pleasure
Silk smooth lines cut to the measure 
Crystal clear what was my aim
Reflecting on your walk of shame

Copyright © Nick Puopolo


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Mind of a Serial Killer

I have a thrill and a high profile skill
I must have dominance I will get your full confidence
I crave for lust even though you disgust
I control all things with you as you go on a stroll
I will make you bow down to me this will be your downfall
I am very intelligent as you become very diligent
I will stalk you as you start to feel distraught
I'm just your neighbor, or maybe a co-worker
Do You Feel Me? Do You Want More?


2/3/15  T Reams   Contest sponsored by: Casarah Nance 

Copyright © TAMMY REAMS