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Details | Repetition Poem | |

God's Strength, God's Word, God's Love

 trijan refrain 

The heart half full means something’s wrong -
the Spirit’s flame burns low.
When emptied, broken, we are strong
refilled, and ready so -
God’s strength can fix a heart gone dull
our selfish contents He can cull.
       God’s strength restores
       God’s strength restores
each day to keep our mark on full. 

The heart half full means needs may go
unmet by God’s own grace.
We’re called to let our fellows know
that they can win this race.
God’s Word abounds with help each day,
it must be read to find the Way.
       God’s Word abounds
       God’s Word abounds
to fill the empty hearts who stray.

The heart half full calls us to prayer,
it’s time to take a break.
Engaged with work, no time to spare
another’s thirst to slake.
God’s love pours forth when we look up
and ask for wisdom in our cup. 
       God’s love pours forth
       God’s love pours forth
enough to share, our neighbors sup.

written by Reason A. Poteet
posted September 19, 2014
for Giorgio's Structured Verse, Iambic Forms II contest

**I realize this is a combination of iambic verse in tetrameter, trimeter, and dimeter but that is the requirement for a trijan refrain, a variable line length. If it does not meet the rules of your contest, I will understand.

Details | Repetition Poem | |

A Past Life - The Mayan Warrior Princess

A Past Life – The Mayan Warrior Princess
In eerie recurring dreams, like things seen dimly before dawn, Blurred snapshots of memories at a temple pyramid resurface from a time long gone. My ancient soul trapped between two strikingly different worlds, One new - the other centuries old, Reminding me that I have been here before, And of that I am absolutely sure. Familiar faces, smells, sounds, and scenes from a past life I see, Persistent recollections of my life at Piedras Negras continue to endlessly haunt me, Conjuring up images of the Lady K’abel, Mayan warrior princess, I used to be. I am time’s reluctant prisoner, and I sense it will never ever set me free.
In a foggy haze, like a sleepwalker in sluggish slow motion, Body painted cobalt blue, I am made ready for my heavenly redeeming mission. Midnight velvet hair flowing, I lie on an already red bloodstained stone altar, As temple priests prepare me for the sacred sacrificial slaughter. Piously chanting their practiced prayers in unison, They adulate the gracious gods for a new divine king’s ascension. The sharp knife swiftly pierces my sweating feverish virgin skin, But reliving this scene countless times before, I no longer feel pain or anything. And as the universe greedily grasps my restless soul, I float into welcomed oblivion, Knowing that the harvest will be renewed, and ultimately, I will be reborn.
Please Note: This poem is dedicated to my maternal great grandmother who was Mayan. The Piedras Negras, mentioned above, was a thriving Mayan city-state in Guatemala, Central America, from about mid-7th century BC to about 850 AD. While this site is considered remote, during my childhood, I visited frequently with family who still live in this fascinating region. When I visit, I am completely at home and the experiences are amazingly mystical. Piedras Negras means "black stones" in Spanish. The name in the language of the Classic Maya has been read in Maya inscriptions as Yo'k'ib', meaning "great gateway" or "entrance." Entered in contest, "Past Lives" sponsored by Carolyn Devonshire (6-25-2014)

Details | Repetition Poem | |

splitting heart ache


visions of you
romantic visions of just us two
can these visions be possibly true

dreams of you
wonderful dreams of just us two
are these dreams really really true

my heart is now black and blue
my heart was once for you
my heart is now broken

in two

Details | Repetition Poem | |

I think back

When I think back...
 I see your eyes on me across the room,
 The way your lips slowly curve into a happy smile,
 Your strong arms holding a child,
 And I think back...
 Do you remember being the "Big Man" on campus back then?
 Or the easy ways of the women you've held?
 The loving hearts that you've shuttered and broke?
 And I think back...
 Do you remember those secret games we once played?
 Or the silent pleas to the Lord that you've made? 
 The loving family you've had and destroyed?
 And I think back...
 And I think back to the way things are and smile,
 And I think back to the way you were and I know,
 And I think back to the man you've become and I love you,
 And I thank back...then I thank God.

Details | Repetition Poem | |

Heart Of Gold

I sold my heart of gold
To the old man with a heart so cold.

Though it seemed I had sold my soul to the devil,
Truth be told, the old man was never evil.

Details | Repetition Poem | |

New Year's Eve Ballad

New Year's Eve Ballad

It’s true one year just ended
And that another one began
In places crowds did gather
They drank and offered cheer
There was singing and ‘twas dancing
Celebrating the New Year.

As a child I do remember
This special time of year
When bedtime was extended
And the neighbors were all there
Together at the strike of twelve
Celebrating the New Year.

And as I grew much older
As did the other friends I know
We continued all to gather
As this special time did near
We talked of all the years past
Celebrating the New Year.

So many friends are gone now
So many that I knew
But always I remember
The times that we did bear
I think of them now as I am
Celebrating the New Year.

Last year we met such challenges
Not all glory, not all fun
But stood each with the other
As we chased away the fear
We faced just ‘one day at a time’ and now are
Celebrating the New Year.

Cheers I say to others
As I pop the cork and drink
Thinking now all days are special
Though life sometimes does seem unfair
Still I drink to health and happiness
Celebrating the New Year.


Details | Repetition Poem | |

Lost Identity: View point of a slave

Why is my skin color different?
Did God make me this way?
When he made me, did he have
intentions on me being a slave?

And I thought we were all brothers,
including all the ones of different colors.

But why are they beating and hurting the others.
Someone save me, I didn't choose this life.
These scars, they've carved me with the sharpest
knives.

All I have is my faith.
Because if I'd held on to anything else
it'd be theres to take.

What is it that I ask for?
Equality, I preach.
Something small to you, 
but makes a difference
for me.

Whipping, spitting, hitting on me.
Raping our women in your wife's sheets.
Taking our children and turning them into workers.
No sense of empathy, grief or composer.

For the brotha' on my left and my sista' on the right,
with the courage that I hold I will continue to fight.
You have taken away my freedom, and most of my life.
But what you have failed to obtain is my state of mind.

Go ahead work my body, and do all that you please.
This is just a shell anyway, it's not coming with me.
You spit, you laugh, thinking you gained the world.
You think you have power because you've raped a young girl.

Stand tall sir with all of that pride.
And go ahead and hold it until the day that you die.
But your day will come when you'll fall to your knees.
Feeling the burn on your body from the whips you've given me.

"The LORD is my shelter,"
I continue to say.
While my soul goes up as God takes me away.
I wish you peace with smile on my face,
knowing that God teaches the fullness of grace.



Details | Repetition Poem | |

To The Fall



It is raining leafs'
They are pouring down
If you half listen
      Then,
They barely make a sound..
        --------
The birds' they do sing,
They doth' fly south
The tinny tinkling
Taste of morning dew
Is so prevalent...
I can taste it in my mouth


Poet/Author
Gary Fields



Details | Repetition Poem | |

I Want To Confess

I want to confess as I have committed a sin, Sitting idly in my emotional incapacities Conscious that this is only television screen. I see people being butchered like flies therein Women being gang-raped in large degrees I want to confess as I have committed a sin. The school kids getting burnt alive within, Due to the negligence causing short circuits, Conscious that this is only television screen. With mere curiosity I watch each of the scenes, I want to cry, get angry but can’t, my apologies! I want to confess as I have committed a sin I am taught not to dwell long on any scene, As I can view next day’s batch of goodies Conscious that this is only television screen. All of my emotions whirled into the screen Getting a call for hangout from my buddies. I want to confess as I have committed a sin Conscious that this is only television screen.
+++++++ May 2, 2014 Form: Villanelle Fourth Place win Contest: Irritate Me by Charlotte Puddifet

Details | Repetition Poem | |

The Gift

Strange
Of times of ways
The waves that carry
The space that scares you
Into who you have to be
Strange
The voices
Around
Inside you
Hide to 
Find the light
Don’t know what you might 
Discover
Strange
The faces
They make at you
Contorting their ways into
Monsters who play
With your heart
You freely give to them
Letting them break
Letting them change
Because you don’t know how
Strange
Is become real
And really not strange
Anymore
Normal
The times the ways
Now you forget
How strange

Details | Repetition Poem | |

My Chick

You’re skin and bones, chick.
Compassion commands me stop, 
stare, on my path, where you sleep.
I see dryness, hear stillness, feel silence.

You’re skin and bones, chick.
Were your chirps for worms
silenced in unsound Mother’s ears?
Your wings, too weak,
too still, on your first, failed, flight?
Your plume-less limbs
Coverless in cold night?

Uncovered corpse, bony chick.
No shore water to wash away
your undug green grave
in a low, lonely juniper.
My eyes wash me in salt water.

I have a path; yours ends here
your bones sinking, my brain soaring.	
Which frightened robin, fleeing my footsteps,
was your  misguided mother? So unlike mine, 
who saw her child, underfed, and said,
“You’re skin and bones, my chick.”

Details | Repetition Poem | |

That Girl

Everyone thinks they know that girl. At 
least they think they do. 
You know that girl that makes everyone 
laugh, and is a class clown. Who used 
to be a star athlete. And had everything 
going for her.
Yeah that girl that everyone thinks they 
know
She became homeless at the age of 16 
due to a house fire.
Yeah that girl everyone thinks they 
know
Yet that girl is still laughing away and 
making everyone laugh, but isn't the 
same inside, No, Something inside of 
her changed they way she felt.
Yeah that girl everyone thinks they 
know
She became mentally ill, she was 
diagnosed with major depression and 
bipolar disorder. She was always under 
medication, so you never knew what 
side of her you where going to get.
Yeah that girl everyone thinks they 
know
No one knew how much she hated 
hearing sirens go off, or how she 
couldn't stand seeing fire trucks. She 
struggled living her life daily.
Yeah that girl everyone thinks they 
know
She lost her closes friends cause she 
shut them out and nearly lost them all.
Yeah that girl everyone thinks they 
know
From what I hear it's been 3 years 
since the fire and that girl is barely 
getting her sight of her future back.
Yeah that girl everyone thinks they 
know
She is talking to her lost friends again, 
but just isn't the same for her, so she 
has to make new ones. Which means 
she has no one.
Yeah that girl everyone thinks they 
know
She is happier now and is looking 
forward to graduating and moving on 
from this chapter of her life and letting 
go.
How do I know so much of her?, well 
"that girl" is me.Yeah that girl that 
everyone thought they knew. 
But im fine now. Sure I have my 
downfalls, but I still get up and smile. 
THAT GIRL IS ME, I AM THAT GIRL.

Details | Repetition Poem | |

No One Knows

No one knows how she envies
Those who live their dreams.
No one knows how her mind
Overflows with envy and sorrow.
No one knows how she truly feels…

Details | Repetition Poem | |

Then Comes the Rain

The darkness falls, then comes the rain.
Hell's demons call again, my name.
My soul cries for surcease of pain.

High hopes they had for me, in vain.
Their little girl is not the same.
The darkness falls, then comes the rain.

This inmost hurt, I can't explain:
A hollow shell of me, became.
My soul cries for surcease of pain.

A thunderbolt you can't contain;
My madness only to inflame.
The darkness falls, then comes the rain.

Despair within me sits ingrained.
By giving in, I feel the shame.
My soul cries for surcease of pain.

Intensity begins to wane.
This life, I fear I can't reclaim.
The darkness falls, then comes the rain.
My soul cries for surcease of pain.

Details | Repetition Poem | |

Tired

Second Wind - where are you? If I slow down, will you catch up? Can't stop Afraid to stop Must go on Find me - before I drop!

Details | Repetition Poem | |

John Henry

John Henry

He wakes up in the morning 
when the clock shows five
And he looks in his mirror 
and sees he's still alive
He stumbles in his room 
and falls down in his chair
And he listens to voices 
BUT THERE'S NOBODY THERE

He was born in the summer of 94
And was found on the steps
Outside the church door
And from that day on
He would live the life of the poor
He never knew his momma
And he never knew his pa
To find them now he would need radar

At the age of sixteen he left his life in care
He had so many parents some were good
And some were poor
And others just showed him the door
Now he is back to his usual tricks
And he is looking for more kicks
So he decides  to have one more score
And he slips down from his chair

And now he is lying on the floor
Poor John Henry
The boy who lived next door

Details | Repetition Poem | |

Lets have a toast

Lets have a toast for the jerkoffs
Lets have a toast for the assholes 
Lets have a toast for the dirtbags
Lets have a toast for the criminals 
Its not all your fault dickheads

Lets have a toast for the vigilant 
Lets have a toast for the lovers
Lets have a toast for the successful 
Lets have a toast for the truthers
Its not all your work independents 

Lets have a toast for the gooks
Lets have a toast for the guidos 
Lets have a toast for the gringos
Lets have a toast for the jigaboos
Nothing wrong with you 

Lets have a toast for the freedom
Lets have a toast for the liberty
Lets have a toast for the human rights
Lets have a toast for the awaken
Its time to have a toast 

Lets have a toast
For creation
lets have a toast
For being alive
Lets have a toast 

03\22/2014



 





Details | Repetition Poem | |

Circle of Love

                                                      Love
                                            beautiful, powerful
                                       loving, caring, encouraging
                               lovers, wishers, whisperers, supporters 
                                       shouting, fighting, weeping 
                                                painful, hateful 
                                                      hate 



                                                      Hate
                                          remonstrant, remorseful 
                                         crying, reminding, seeking 
                                      songs, poems, photos, friends
                                           feeling, finding, smiling
                                              extraneous, lovely 
                                                       love


                                        SANDIP GOSWAMI, INDIA

Details | Repetition Poem | |

snakes sometimes

Snakes sometimes are simply sheep
sleeping, and easy to tame and keep;
but all this depends on the way they milk you
and the sustainability of all it too,
for when  the scantiness winters come
their once virtuousness is released venom
from their one time sweet singing harp 
as their virtue and their vileness overlap.
and the sleeping sheep
unwind like snakes in the rumbling wind.
and they become snakes in body and mind,
and these snakes rise like a swam of bees;
the distressed sheep; the sheep not at ease:
these snakes that are sometimes cheap,
sheer sleeping sheep
now wear darkness and recite dark verse
when winters come, the winters of scantiness.  

Details | Repetition Poem | |

Troll Song

We are the tintinnabulating trolls
To the rock rock bottom of our nonexistent souls.
Madder than the maddest hatter,
Hear us bellow, bray, and bleat;
And we prattle pitter-patter
In our jabberwocky chatter
To a bumbulating beat.
See us zim zam zoom
As we're going bim bam boom
In an onomatopoeia that so rhythmically rolls.
We're the trolls trolls trolls trolls trolls trolls trolls.
We're the truly tintinnabulating trolls.

We are the tintinnabulating trolls
With our xenophobic hearts lit like black burning coals.
Hate and anger are our teachers
So we squabble, squeal, and squirm.
We are misbegotten creatures—
With the ugliest of features—
Lower than the lowest worm.
In these premises
We're unrivaled nemeses;
And we burrow furrow mindless like some misanthropic moles.
We're the trolls trolls trolls trolls trolls trolls trolls.
We're the truly tintinnabulating trolls.

We are the tintinnabulating trolls
From compassion and goodness we're at opposite poles—
So devoid of any scruples.
On stupidity we feed.
As our villainy quadruples
We're the most attentive pupils
To insatiable greed.
See us bash bing bang.
Hear us clatter clash cling clang
As we crash upon the shallows of malevolented shoals.
We're the trolls trolls trolls trolls trolls trolls trolls.
We're the truly tintinnabulating trolls.

We're the trolls trolls trolls,
The incorrigible trolls.
We're the trolls trolls trolls.
We're the horrigible trolls.
We're the irritating, aggravating, fascinating trolls.
We're the wrangulating, jangulating, strangulating trolls.
We're the trolls trolls trolls trolls trolls trolls trolls.
We're the truly tintinnabulating trolls.


– Harley White  

< 1987 >

[From my version of “East of the Sun and West of the Moon”]


Details | Repetition Poem | |

Edge

Edge
	chalk on  blackboard
	diamond on glass
	knife on steel.

Edge
	bitter coffee	
	sweet milk
	steaming.

Edge
	nervous smile
	green eyes glance at blue
	watching me watching you.

Edge
	flushed face	
	rapid breathing
	nipples stiffen.

Edge
	lifting auburn hair
 	revealing vulnerable nape
	whispers yes.

Edge
	tip of your tongue
	circles your lips
	foretaste of pleasures.

Edge
        tongue flits from lush lips
	laps last of cream
	white teeth smile.

Edge
	finish your coffee
	back to work,
	knowing our paths
        will cross again.

Details | Repetition Poem | |

The Length of A Swore

Do You ever just get tired of Being You?
Up there on The Highest of pedestals as You rule...
Is It You feeling selfish or alone as an unhinged  fool?
I care of Your most inner thoughts and about You often...
May My remarks make Your Strength become more soften.
Do You ever get tired of Being You?
Even with All Your Money or possibly Self for filled greed...
I can't help You understand for I only have Me to need.
I hope I can Be of Your Beckoned Service when You actually want to See.
For as I share this marking wound of Your deepest fear I hide inside Me.
Do You ever just get tired of Being You?
The Children captured in Their different varieties of worlds holding pain...
Wondering if Their Next Meal or life matters that may or will ever Be obtained.
I'm just trying to hit Our common grounds to Our Survival...
We are just mismatched in A Huge Puzzle yet unsolved as We form rivals.
Do You ever just get tired of Being You?
As The Richest of People plummet into cesspool of remorse over My thoughts...
There Doors locked for discussion as Wars are created from the shadows taught.
Do You ever just get tire of being You?
The Length of A swore is vast,thicken with Evil Doers,and blood drenches are filled.
The firmness In My Words silenced;I have spoken from My small mind as willed.
All left for concern of Me;is silent,disheartening,as Your sunsets go on for now...        All is red and done;Seemly to reflect empty words dusted underneath A sad Brow.


  


Details | Repetition Poem | |

The Stranger who is the Other Me

The Stranger Who is the Other Me
By: Tyner Twine
 
She looks at the stranger who is  the other me,
And treats her more of the flesh than I’ll never be.
She looks –and loves— the face she only wants to see
Right at the reflection of the girl that was never me.
She looks at that stranger who is the other me,
And sees the child she wanted but believes I could never be. 
She lifts the stranger’s light for all the world to see,
And covered the other with the shadow that was always me.
And here the other’s other me lay await,
For a sign, a change of heart and a change of gait.  

But try as I might I’m resigned to never be free
Of the truth that she loves the stranger more
Than she could ever bring herself to try and love me.
And now the truth so resigned and clear for all the world to see
Is that, indeed, it will always be, for this nurturer, the beloved stranger
That was never me. 

Details | Repetition Poem | |

Smarter Amongst The Smartest

Life is like a video, with recordable memories like a music tape
Our minds are very brilliant, that we can re-play things we have seen
Through the valley of poverty, our minds are responsible for every action
Through the Wonders of Miseries, still remains the Responsibility of our Minds
Sometimes we come across choice less situations, yet our minds vigorously seek for resolutions
As Brave as a Hunter, As Curious as a Baby
For such special reasons,
Allow me to state, that our Minds…. Are loaded and equipped like a library necessary for the achievement of any GOAL, THUS, Our Minds are Smarter Amongst the Smartest.

N.H Kandjimi






Details | Repetition Poem | |

How Many Times

I've read and read, and read it thrice
and each and every time
I found one missed spelled word or more
Hidden in the lines
And though I proof read once again
Once again I goofed 
And if I have too, once again 
I'll go right through the roof