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Best Rock Poems

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

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New Rock Poems

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

Christ Our Spiritual Rock -1 Corinthians 10: 3,4 by McConnell, Gordon
Jim Morrison DEATH OOF A ROCK by Bdosa, Vee
Lead Me To the Rock, Lift Me To A Higher Place by Holjeson, Todd
Lighthouse on the Rock by Marschall, R.A.
Jesus Christ Our Rock, Strength, and Source of Joy by Roper, Eve
The Rise And Fall Of The Worlds Greatest Air Rock Band by Hauser , Mike
Monumental rock vocal of rock and roll by Raynes, Lewis
THE SOLID ROCK by Trifiatis, Demetrios
ROCK AND ROLL by Devnath, BL
Hard Rock by Brown, Robin

View all new Rock Poems

The Best Rock Poems

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John Lennon


On the day  that John Lennon died,  people were just going  about their business  as they did every day.  Mark David Chapman  was reading  Catcher In The Rye  void of his holy self.  He would have had to  Imagine there’s no heaven.  John took the elevator  down from his room  at peace with his belief  that there was  no hell below us.  He stepped out  on that fateful day  over him,  over everyone,  above us only sky. On the day that  John Lennon died,  people where just going  about their business  as they did every day.  Imagine, all the people  living for today.  Chapman talked to Lennon. Just before he killed him. He was singing "imagine  there’s no countries  because it isn’t hard to do." Chapman shot his  hollow point bullets,  without cause,  there was nothing  to kill or die for  and no religion too.  What a senseless killing,  how senseless killing is.  I imagine all the people  living life in peace. John fell to the ground,  a pool of blood beneath him.  A preacher on a soap box  unaware of the horrific act  that had taken place  was spewing words   that never belonged  to his soul but filled  the tin cup he was holding.  He yelled loudly,  ‘you may say that I'm a dreamer  but I'm not the only one’   a woman in the crowd hummed  ‘I hope someday you'll join us.’  A teenage couple under  their breath followed with  ‘and the world will be as one.’  Amen! They say when the police arrived  Chapman was reading his book.  Imagine no possessions,  I wonder if you can. The Detectives did not wait  for an ambulance. They rushed John Lennon  to the hospital. They weren't looking for credit;  they had no need for greed.  The preacher had left  with his tin cup full,  no need for more or hunger. At the hospital the air was  like most emergency departments,  people comforting people  who themselves needed comforting.  A brotherhood of man. In a hospital with its tragedies  life is more than real  you don’t need to imagine  all the people sharing all the world.  It just is. You can hear  their hearts  beating in tune,  singing  ‘You may say that I'm a dreamer  But I'm not the only one  I hope someday you'll join us  And the world will live as one.’ 07~11~2014 Maurice Yvonne Sponsor: Kelly Deschler Contest Name: I Love Rock n Roll


Copyright © Maurice Yvonne | Year Posted 2014

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Devils Deadly Dime

Devils deadly dime

The sign said no grown-up at the playground.
Tripping on a penny, like a mime!
My hand is in my pocket with the dime I found.
Its all mine, I asked for the devils hand that time.
Echoes in my head, bounded by a screaming sound.
Paying for a forgotten crime,
on what comes around goes around.

A prison with greed that carries an evil musical chime.
Jumping off the merry-go-round!
Encouraged by the devil,
 the pleasure of his deadly nursery rhyme. 
Now the world is measured by my blood level.

The devils delight feasted on my youth before I hit my prime.
Bashing my mind, with thoughts implanted by evil.
Entering the day with no beauty to my sublime.
Begging him to remove this anvil!

He laughed while he cursed me with a favor for a favor.
A fallout so violently in this world not civil.
One can only lust on the taste that only he can savor.
Hanging out  by the swings wounding me with prey,
on two victims to his delicious flavor.
I climb my way to teach a lesson in hate not love.
Two siblings who always scream for each other.
Giggling as I offered each a push and a shove.
Stopping they give each other a big hug.
Defeating and proving love is a stronger disease
The devil wicked eyes looking  at me like a bug.
Clawing at my inner guts with remorse that he will win this war.
Until another day one skips the penny, 
and begs a poor fool like the devil for his dime.
Tossing heads for his tail when times hits rock bottom.
I will stray away from his deadly reaction time.
He will not own my soul so freak'em,
and his greedy deadly beg of a dime.


by;pd


Copyright © Poet Destroyer A | Year Posted 2010

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Hot And Cold Comes The Night


LIST POETRY - A FUTURISTIC INTERPRETATION You must know I cried yesterday and I think I broke the world so I braided some words into twine planted some sweet and sour coated seeds I grew free standing expressions and then I joined them with left over thread to present these interlocking pieces in their proper order regardless of the number they wear in an attempt to confuse and deceive. I offer this humble list for your reading enjoyment It is an honour to have you visit my page. The pleasure I assure you is all mine WORDS ON PAPER - THE LIST FIVE I loved you centuries before we were born. You lived in my dreams before I ever slept. When others wasted time picking flowers I waited for when it was time to pick you. Love calls you in the natural scent of your partner. You'd feel their touch in the vacuum of outer space. Your desire for them would melt away the ice age. I want to find a door in the brightest part of the sky I could open to erase what was, to shine a light so bright it, like a book of golden words, would write ideas so vital as to eradicate even a suggestion of our mournful past. I want to be that magician who does not bother with illusion but rather heals wounds and shatters burden. TWO We were at the fair, joviality in the air. A memory filed, I was a young child holding balloons floating round like full moons in vivid colours bright. Fixed on this joyous sight I was on Cloud Nine proud these were mine. If I had not let go of them. If I hadn't watched them as they flew higher and higher as my heart sunk lower and lower I might of never learnt what it felt like - hurt. Hope gloats, hope floats. either your way or just away. THREE sometimes the afternoon sun is.....too hot to walk barefoot........on the concrete path still even then.......I refuse to wear my hat I guess I'll never change, I'm just like that. sometimes when I jump in the lake in late summer... with all of my clothes on...I do it in the evening......as I go down...way down to the bottom...there's a gentle peace overtakes me..I want to stay down like a rock... revel in the ecstasy...not swim back up..........not ever SEVEN ours was a paper mâché love living in a cut out cardboard home with a macaroni art painted lawn and nothing real to call our own nothing solid that we could hold. we tried stacking lego bricks but you have to be able to pop your cheek to qualify as a kid - to get a license to build. the castle we assembled didn't pass the test. so much for fairy tales - hello reality check. we rolled the dice but our thimble went straight to jail and our mouse ended up trapped. can you hear that buzzing the operation failed. where are you going? your tricycle is still in the shop and I might as well tell you..............I have no eights................."go fish!" we fell through the bunny hole where i - jack fell ddddownnn nnnnnnn and broke my crown and you - jill came tumbling aaaaaaaaaaafterrrrrrrrrrrrrrr EIGHT it is a choreographed ballet our love stands strong legs at the base digging deep build roots delicate hands branched out reach high long slim fingers define twigs draw space the body of our trunk thick sweet filled music fills our human needs one sound wind pixies dance meticulously the air sunlight leaks effectively through dark spots lifts carries holds and shapes our smiles it is a choreographed ballet our love in sync our bodies their senses once immersed in I now us ONE I know the last thing I want to feel as I leave this world, it is your lips on mine. When I take my last breath I want to feel yours with its loving touch. NINE Always, no matter the roar or intensity of the storm how severe the attack even out of the norm Always, i offer my hand with sincerity aim to deal with it peacefully. Always! SIX then suddenly it hits like a swarm of locus. a deep dark manifestation that greases my mind my very existence in its unforgiving sense of doom. every bone stiffens, when I move, a sound of dead dried out forest twigs breaking against the boots of hikers echoes in the confined space of my skull. i reach for a pill slowly it dissolves under my tongue i wait and i wait and i wait ... my body is soaked in a sweat with its own cold and hot tap. i assume the position, lying on an unstable floor. the creature depression is now in full control of my faculties. this too i will survive ...that is what i do...what i do...this is what i do.......somehow i survive. FOUR there is a deafening hush... silently raging through the core of my existence...still...I am humbled by the light and the love I have witnessed in my brief appearance...........here on Earth there is a river...that walks at my side... walks with me........at the same stride... April 14 2015 Armand


Copyright © Maurice Yvonne | Year Posted 2015

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Northern Slaves

In the silent breathing of night,
treading through 
the darkness and the hush
(A heavy band of slave)
like black ants snaking
through the forlorn distance.
Grieving with tears
Of yesterdays burning anguish. 
They hum a languid song
On the fragrant breath of wind.
A haunt that invades my trembling eyes 
With a thousand boundless tears
That quivers through the night.

The dreaded echoes came down the black pathway
Like a thousand men 
Galloping through the sultry breeze
(Were the heartless whips that toiled)
With dumb hands,
Feeding paled pink flesh 
With endless stings of cruel misery.

The stars curled around their naked feet
As they trampled the grass 
Wet with lurid dew and the masked
Beds of fragrant hues
Prancing in the hallowed night.
I could feel the storming of their sorrows,
The rock of their heart
Drooping with defeat.
Despair a master to their fading hope
That sailed across their faces.
Oh those foul notes budding with despair
Branched within their eyes.

The lulling whispers of their shackles
United with their treading feet like hooves
Cloaked with heavy weariness
(It surrounded the dead of night)

I hung up my fears
For I was bright with their pain
Oh I died that day 
Oh I died that day
While drifting to the helpless East
To that damp cold earth filled
With drowsy mournful Asters
Then the smell of dead men came alive
Black dogs clustered to the earth
Their children beside them with gripping hands!














 


Copyright © Mustapha Mohammed | Year Posted 2013

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Fallen angel

An angel is banished from heaven.  Thrown down to Earth, until the angel learns its purpose. Whilst an innocent child is born into a dark and disgusting world of abuse and pain.

(The Angel)
A flash of light filled the skies causing confusion for all those who saw,
a small tremor was heard as he fell to earth.
his wings had been cut, blood still pouring from his wounds,
his halo has been smashed, replaced by baldness.
His ocean blue eyes had now turned a dark colour,
and his skin no longer soft or immaculate.

All around him were green fields, for miles and miles,
he stood there naked with the hot sun shining down on him.
In an array of confusement, he wandered and contemplated,
where had he come, what would be his fate as he followed an unwinding path.

The angel was shocked with what was around him,
the world was a place lost in hate, greed, selfishness and hedonistic needs.
Without a place to call home, cold and all alone,
the angel found a dark cave, for now it would be his solace.

Days, months and years passed and he too became like a mortal.
Lost amongst so many lost souls, he too searched his purpose.
In a world full of darkness, deceit and betrayal, he was lost.
Until, he decided to do what angels do best and help people.

(The broken hearted girl)
A beautiful young girl was born to a broken home,
both parents addicts and abusers, her childhood was lost.
Every day was full of pain, a new abuse even more sadistic than yesterday,
mocked by those who didn't understand, every day became harder and harder.

Every night the child prayed to God, to set her free,
to send her an angel who would protect her from the adversity.
But no one came, not even an angel, so she gave up waiting,
with no hope, she lost her faith and accepted her fate.

No one to turn to, no one to help, every night she cried herself to sleep,
her self esteem shattered, every morning was a new nightmare for her.
The trauma of her childhood lived with her forever,
so sensitive, even the smallest of things, would make her world fall apart.

Meanwhile, the angel set out to do his work, in a Godless world,
everyone he met he tried to help, to take away the pain, so they could lean on him..
He became a rock for all, even though many never stayed,
he was happy he had helped them and they had moved on.

But, deep inside, he knew he did not belong and longed to return,
to return to heaven, the place where he belonged, his soul was not from here.
His world had become a lonely place, no one really understood,
but until he found his purpose, he was still being punished.

Then came that fateful day, the little girl (who had grown into an adult),
decided that enough was enough so she decided to run away.
As she saw the door, she freed herself from the chains and ran and ran,
never looked back, not even once, just kept running into the open road.

Darkness fell, the star came out to shine, and the moon was her only guide,
cold, scared and hungry, she walked until she could find a place to rest.
Can you imagine, being in a place alien to you, that you had never seen,
a place with evil lurking around the corner, but something kept her walking.

Whilst out helping a homeless man, the angel heard a voice in his head that whispered:
"Go home".
So, off he walked down the unwinding path towards his cave.
At the same time, the girl, who had blossomed into a beautiful young lady,
caught the eye of a group of men, lost in lust, carnal desire and intoxication.
They grabbed the poor girl and dragged her towards the remote cave.

It began to rain heavily, lightning and thunder struck so powerfully,
that all the animals ran and hid.  All doors locked, just darkness.
the girl screamed, but no one heard her cries as she was dragged,
the angel getting wet, began to run, to get home quicker and answer the call of the voice

As he got closer he heard the cries of the girl,
the men were dragging her towards his cave, for an awful fate.
The angel, ran towards the men and asked them to let her be,
they laughed and mocked him and ignored his plea.

Suddenly the thunder became stronger and the lightning frequent,
the angel let out a violent scream which blew away the group of men.
As they ran away into the dark, the angel picked up the girl,
as he held her in his arms, a beautiful peace over came them.

Who was this man who had saved her, no one had ever shown her such love,
as tears rolled down her eyes, they fell onto the angel.
Behold, a magical transformation began right before her,
a rainbow of colours exploded into the night sky, almost blinding her.
Then she saw the most angelic sight known to humankind,
the angel stood right before her, his halo shining bright glowing like gold,
his magnificent white pearl wings stretched around her.

Finally, the angel discovered his purpose, he wrapped his wings around her,
held her in his arms and spread his wings and ascended up onto the heavens.

There are angels who walk amongst us, if you find one, never let him/her go..

28 July 2015


Copyright © Silent One | Year Posted 2015

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Rock Turtles

Rock turtles in blue waters . . .their crawl so slow it’s imperceptible


2/20/2016  Based on one of PD's fave pictures for the Monoku #7 poetry contest


Copyright © Andrea Dietrich | Year Posted 2016

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Happy Solitude, COLLABORATION WITH POET DESTROYER A

(This theme coincidentally matched up with another contest I recently
entered, so I revised my sonnet and then PD graciously extended this
idea of a day of happy solitude. Thanks, Linda, for keeping it in sonnet
form! It's a double sonnet now!)


Happy Solitude/Andrea Dietrich In solitude, I watch the clear blue sky.  Leaves flutter on the grand majestic oak  beneath which I am sitting;. Swallows fly  around me, swooping! Now I hear a croak -  a sound that I am sure I’d never hear  if I were on a busy city street.  I stand and walk around. The sound is near.  The feeling that I get is rather sweet  when finally I spot there on the pond  the tiny frog that’s serenading me.  Crops rippling in the breeze I see beyond  my shaded spot. I'm running - feeling free.  Inside a field with flowers everywhere,  I'm whirling as the sunlight gilds my hair!  -----  Like the sun, I sit and explore the view  A sensation, of everything I lust  Feelings I found myself unequal to  Yellow leaves fall to the ground like gold dust  Once, I reached to touch a lonely rock  The sounds return back into the shadows  I felt trapped by the beauty as I walk  Suddenly branches hung like the gallows  In slow motion, with no reason to stray  Facing down, the new founding sound follows  The croak in the water echoes with play  Captivated, by the flies it swallows  A young, peaceful feel, indulging in fun  I shall kiss and see if he's the right one  ~A Poet Destroyer Collaboration~


Copyright © Andrea Dietrich | Year Posted 2015

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Sleeping With The Enemy

SLEEPING WITH THE ENEMY

See what you want to see
Don't Look at me!
You are staring you are watching;
Eat what you can't be

Come sleep by my side
The whole world is our playground
Don't make a sound
Stop clowning around

In the mist of the night,
You keep me from crying

I wipe off the taste of your lips
You kiss me starting at my inner hips
You broke me in a way..
I hate to say your love is better every day 
I deny you, the one thing I can't say

You are my pillow
Where I rest my legs,
Can you feel me~
This moment feels right
I just want to die here, 
Die here ~ 
Die here by your side

I sleep with my eyes wide open,
I sleep with the enemy by my side
Come here and hold me
After you watched my worlds collide
Come here and love me
I'm yours till the end of time
You can rock me!
Under the moon and its rhyme
I put it all to a side, how I hate you inside
I can't let go
I just want you to know
I'm a fool in love with you
Even if it doesn't show!

~SKAT~
12- 7- 10


Copyright © SKAT A | Year Posted 2011

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The Old House

Seven generations walked through your door,
Which stood so strong and always welcomed in.
You said goodbye when boys headed to war,
Two soldiers lost to battles they can’t win.

Your kitchen always busy as a bee,
With canning, baking apple crumble cake.
Stone hearth, a place for warmth and drink some tea,
The table decked with riches to partake.

The living room a place to sit and chat,
With pictures hanging for one hundred years.
A chair still there where ancestors once sat,
This room for laughter and at times for tears.

Your nursery where many babies grew,
With bassinet where ev’ry child did lie.
The paint would change at times from pink to blue,
A place where time would always quickly fly.

The floors within have felt each child’s first walk,
Their worn out wood drowned many times with stain.
You watched the aging people gently rock,
You’ve heard and felt the tapping of a cane.

I stand and listen in your sacred halls
And feel that you’re a part of everyone.
Each breath we took embedded in your walls,
Of fathers, mothers, daughters and of sons.

Old house of stone your warmth embraces me,
Your children now all scattered far and wide.
You still stand proud for all the world to see,
The thoughts of you, sweet memories inside.

The house my children grew up in.

Iambic Pentameter  
Written by Brenda Meier-Hans 
10.02.2014
Giorgio’s Contest: Iambic Verse III
2nd
Best of 2014  1st place


Copyright © Brenda Meier-Hans | Year Posted 2014

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A Letter Home To Rome'

My dearest Claudia, 

     For eighteen months, I've been at this Jerusalem outpost.
     "Tis you and young Julius that I miss the most.
     This wasn't the adventure I set out to seek-
     At least, not until this past week'
     
     A local rabbi rode a donkey into town,
     While people were throwing palm branches down.
     Many proclaimed Him to be their "King."
     The Jewish leaders vehemently denied such a thing'

     They arrested Him and a riot ensued;
     My squad was called in to get the masses subdued.
     Back and forth, they sent Him- through several mock trials.
     The prisoner maintained His silence all the while.

     "He's a traitor to Rome," the priest and leaders cried.
     And the crowd wanted Him crucified'
     A "Royal robe" they made Him wear
     Then His own cross He was forced to bear.

     With a thorny crown jammed down upon His head,
     It was off to Golgotha He was led.
     Lifted up between two thieves,
     The day turned black and I wanted to leave'

     Then I heard my Centurion say something very odd:
     "Truly this is the Son of God'"
     Buried in a borrowed grave- as if in a womb-
     I and my men guarded that tomb.

     Then some time during the middle of the night,
     The rock was rolled back 'midst a blinding light'
     

     In the morning some woman came to that "prison,"
     But two beings inside said "He has Risen'"
     This week's events have so drastically changed my life.
     That I was compelled to tell you of them, my beloved wife.
     
                                                                                           Your Husband Octavius




                                                                                     Arthur Ball (h.S.L.P.)
                                                                                     April 16, 2006


Copyright © Robert Ball | Year Posted 2009

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Heritage

The ranch on which I hang my hat, though short on most the frills,
Is thirteen sections, give or take, of rugged trails an’ hills.
We call it ‘home’, our little world, our very own frontier,
Amongst the cattle, sheep an' goats; the varmints, hogs an' deer.

Today I watched the breakin' dawn an' whiffed the mornin' air,
A time I often set aside for things like thought an' prayer.
A Mockin'bird an' Mornin' Dove, an' other birds at play,
Were there to sing an' set the mood to start another day.

This mornin' saw the strangest thing, like time itself had merged,
An' all the souls who once were here, appeared an' then converged.
In swirlin' clouds of mist an' fog, right off the bluffs they rolled,
Till all had gathered in the glen, the modern an' the old.

The Indians, conquistadors, an' other ancient men,
The soldiers from this country's wars, an' cowboys from back when…
They all had come from yesterday to help me understand
Our link with those who came before, to heritage an' land.

A crazy notion, so I thought, that they could just appear,
But as the morning went along the reason got real clear.
They rode along with me that day to show me things I’ve missed,
The things I’ve seen a thousand times an’ some I’d just dismissed.

Those wagon roads of long ago, still evident today,
Are carved in rock an' rutted earth, not apt to wash away.
They linked the missions, forts an' towns those many years gone by;
An' left their mark for all to see, as modern times grew nigh.

The artifacts an' weathered ruins attest to yesterdays,
When others came an' lived their lives in very different ways.
We've seen their skill in arrowheads they honed from fired stone,
An' craftsmanship in beads an' tools they fashioned out of bone.

At ever turn and trail we took was something to remind,
The Maker must have had a plan laid out for humankind.
The Earth He made’s been feedin' us a half-a-million years,
An' used it's wonder, force an' change to challenge pioneers.

I do not know if they'll return or if they’ll feel the need,
But I’m prepared to ride the trail, where ever it may lead.
We all are spirits ridin’ time with bodies of the Earth,
Whose time has come to take the reins an’ offer up our worth.

The land has been the legacy we cultivate an’ reap,
The life has been the heritage our father’s fought to keep,
An’ we are bound throughout our time with those who came before,
To put our hearts and souls to it, and make it something more.


Copyright © Jim Fish | Year Posted 2009

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Sun And Moon

. I am the moon hanging solitary in the sky watching sails fluttering by breathlessly against the wind. I'm just a rock ,dark,unknown without a light that is my own. Yet He ,He sees hues I cannot see and the true colours in me. He, He is familiar to my face This face that shines less brightly without his full embrace. He is the sun, He is the one Never so close , always too far yet still staying behind me . He casts his softest glow reflecting orange and soul, He penetrates his warmth A fire ball of wants , Then fades ,fades away in the horizon. He is the sun, He is the one in a universe of nothingness . He fills our gaps,hopes and regrets Never so close ,always too far yet still staying behind me. I am the moon ,He is the sun He is the one...He is the one


Copyright © Charmaine Chircop | Year Posted 2015

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Chopped III - Humor

i narrate me own story in a fake english accent. the bloody typewriter is 
broken, it can't capitalize. i'm out of coins for the heater. i can see me own 
breath. it must be really bad . it's summer here in london. i'm a tough guy who 
carries a gun. don't mean i don't want to look good. i freshen up my lipstick,
light up a cigarette and offer one to my secretary. she is hot really hot.
like i said it's summer. she don't wear lipstick it wouldn't help. in the 
encyclopedia under the word butch is her picture. 

i put out my cig in an ashtray overflowin. i'd tell her to empty it but she scares me. 
she only wears one gold earring. who does that? i'm workin on a case, already 
drank half the beers. by the way i'm a dick a private dick. the name is rock,
rock hard. there's a knock at the door. this could be bad she has two fourty fives, 
she's also got a gun. 

she's holding an airline ticket. no reason. she says she just likes it. 
whatever! maybe it has to do with some kind of contest. 
she says we're going for a ride. we are driving when she gets a flat.

i pump she pumps then we get out  of the car and fix the flat. never liked 
cars, horses are more convenient. less breakdowns. she takes us to a 
party everyone is jumpin for joy, so joy gets up and leaves. bet you wish 
this was going somewhere. it's not. like i said i'm a dick.


11~28~2014
Contest: Chopped III
Sponsor: craig cornish


Copyright © Maurice Yvonne | Year Posted 2014

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Beauty Kisses The Beast

Sun golden shining warm upon the back speaks
wind cutting cold chills freezing thoughts held
captivating love standing a vigil faraway dream

Touching warm fingers of light in a deep blue painted sky
bewitching clouds gunbarrel grey shooting magic wishes
silver shading arrow points out into the softest peach charms spells

Everything spellbinding shines amazing beautiful enchanting 
snow covered mountains cold winds howling and whistling tunes
bells in the distance calls you're the rock one clings to on Trawbrega's shores

Drawing behind the eyes wind bellowing whispers a blessing tides turn waves
inside joy burns one candle warmly flickering happiness butterflies dance
blue blazes to see the soul of a deeply treasured jewel forever sings



unrhymed tercet 



Copyright © liam mcdaid | Year Posted 2015

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This Buds For You

-This buds for you!-
-It takes one to know one!-
-I know you are, but what am I?-

A second hand, on my stopwatch, going nowhere!
You are a joker, a smoker, a midnight stroker  
<-------How, about that, Steve Miller song

I'm not here to talk about the way you comment a poem
That's not how I roll, now listen, and listen well, 

I don't care, about them words you speak
A whining sheep, every time you don't score
Crying behind close doors, 
Boo-Who, I did not place high in so-and-so's contest
Gosh&dammit, not everyone's on a quest
Blogging, about the day, your poem got demoted to nonsense
Trying to comment relentlessly, 
You can't top, a mountain that has no setup

I'd rather leave a copy paste comment, 
"than being fake as fake can be"
At least, my copy paste was a song, 
in which welcome the new poets on
Treating, everyone with love and security
Your invites, are cold and force, to you it's not about community
No motion, to your notion, simple, and disgusting

I don't know why you think, we are competing, 
Long ago, I left you bleeding, no reason to be defeating
Your paranoia, has you thinking, it's all about the points,
It's getting old and boring,
You cry babies are nothing more than jokes and hypocrites
Hey you, this ain't dominoes, we done pass every Jo-Jo
When, I have time I sit here for fun, my trigger finger on the gun

Reading, commenting, until my day is done
You think, because someone, left a copy paste 
That your poem was not read,
Perhaps, it was not understood, or enjoyed
Or, a welcome to the neighborhood
A nice smile, from me to you
Nice poem, You Rock!
So What! ---- WOW!

This Bud's for you
I think it's time for you to GET A LIFE!
Be glad someone took their time, in checking you out twice
Not, everyone on this site, is full of bull-shit
The smallest words, are more likely to be legit 
I don't need and expensive comment, 
I don't want to impress, when it comes to the best comment
Please do not make love to my poem!

A nice pat on my back will do, 
Now that my friend, puts a smile on my face
To know you care, to know you were there:)

Peace Out,

~SKAT~


Copyright © SKAT A | Year Posted 2014

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Battling Addiction

               You  told
               me  once  
               about the
               R e l i e f:
               the  f o g,
               that haze
               of apathy
               that  veils
               the  mind,
               b l urri n g
               the  edges
              of your pain. 
             Can  you  feel
          anything  at all? I  
        watch you drink your 
      life  away, far too many 
     moments  lost,  forgotten
    in that  h a z e. I watch as
   you   f e e d   your  disease, 
   suck yourself dry before you
   suck  me  dry,  draining  me 
   like  one of  your bottles, till
   I'm empty inside. But I can't
   wait around for you to  snap,
   to throw me against the wall.
   I won't  shatter  like a bottle. 
   I won't  burst  in a mosaic of 
   glass  and  light.  You cannot 
   b r e a k   someone   who  is
   already b r o k e n. You can't 
   fix someone with  s l u r r ed 
   apologies  or  promises  that 
   smell  like  stale   alcohol.  I
   can't  be  there  to  drown at 
   the  bottom  of  your   bottle. 
   I’m done  with  rock  bottom.


  For Anne's "Battling Addiction" contest
  Placed: 1st


Copyright © Heather Ober | Year Posted 2013

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Like a Rock

I carry my mother 
like a rock in my pocket 

that I just can’t seem to throw away 

It serves me 
no purpose, 
it just weighs me down 

~~~
 
When I first found it, 
when I first picked it up 
and started carrying it with me, 

I thought it so beautiful – 
I could look at it for hours 

But, like my mother, 
it never looked back at me, 
never grew warm under my loving gaze 

For the longest, I was blind to that, 
Blind to anything but the beauty, 
blind to the cold, hard, 
beyond-remote nature of the rock,
of my mother,
my stone

~~~

I carry my mother,
a thought without weight

And she’s heavier

and she’s colder

than all the stones
there are

~~~
 
By the time I recognized her 
immutable, emotional unavailability, 
I had run out of joy,
felt depleted of hope –

But I could not,
for the life of me,
stop seeking a beauty, a warmth,
inside her heart

Could not stop
wishing
that one day this stone,
my mother,
deep inside my pocket,

Might just become
its own opposite –

Change from hard to fluid,
from cold to warm

But my rock, my hard burden,
will only turn to water

When my mother
stops being
a stone


Copyright © Rev. Rebecca Guile Hudson | Year Posted 2005

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Follow The Bouncing Ball


She dresses the land down
in a virginal bridal gown 
a masterfully cut and sewn chenille 
shines brightly with a fine crystal appeal

Her assistants work quite diligently
to add special touches and then flee
they decorated the mountain peaks 
using all their white glitter techniques 

beat beat beat beat

pause 

one small step to the side

As an observer...

your feet quake in their shoes
your body heat quits without notice
your nerve endings are on edge
your common sense walks out the door

 listen

A little girl tells her mother
" Mom look big, fat, snowflakes"

they are

Brave 
you look out at winter
unmoved she looks right back at you
with a chilling icy stare 
freezes the turkey in the oven - to the bone.

she exhales a wispy sigh
by her royal blue decree
a below zero degree.
she is brutal, my oh my!

beat beat beat 

pause

another step to the side

Back to all the children lean
Back to younger than nineteen

Back to those in their twenties
Those were my best years, twenties

Back to men and women below fifty
don't know why but they look happy

Skates are sharpened
Skis brought out of storage
You can hear the sound of coats, 
Zippers being pulled to up above the neck
Sounds of thick socks and scarfs 
walking out of cedar drawers.

Toboggans racing down hills
Kids right behind them wondering
why their sliding on their own butts
Trying to catch their brand new ride.

Snowboarders execute their killer moves
no judge no jury it's all 'bout the grooves

beat 

pause

here's where this poem 
steers off the beaten path 
so hold your breath

beat beat beat          beat beat

here we go 
with the flow

Winter has arrived, 

beat

oh sh~t here we go

My God 
Winter 
Has
Arrived

This woman is far from shy
She with that dry ice heart 
That woman will cut you open
With the chill of her breath

That's right Dorothy 
were not in Kansas anymore 

This Witch is East, West, North, South WICKED!
We're not even in Oz this Witch is spelled with a 
B and she's got a hell of an itch, if you catch my drift

I preferred her father he was kind compared to her
since she took his place minus forty is a warm day
she dresses in winter white but the Grinches 
coal black heart at least had some life in it, this 
women is down the toilet with her potty mouth
her heart is frozen solid Dead! Bad! and Beyond!

With her there is no such thing as a thaw
even her brother was occasionally warm
Not her she'll shrink your willy 
from ten to two inches long
(who the heck is willy, should we free him?)

Don't test her she is far from tame
She'll freeze your flesh, use your frozen balls
as ice cubes for her one hundred and forty 
proof vodka. Laugh in your face as she downs 
her drink. Then gargle with your family jewels.

Ever notice how you never see the Devil 
at the peak of winter, even he fears her
She froze off the tip off one of his horns
When they were kids and not a thing he could do
She's family - hands off - if you know what I mean
There has to be honor in a house of thieves

Winter is here
and it's frikkin cold
she'll drop six feet
of the white sh~t
in a single go

hhhhang onnnn
back to some sanity
let's end this with some
bullsh~t poetic beauty

Did I mention Ontario's Niagara On The Lake
Did I mention Ice Wine and tasty Frosted Cake

hang on to your pants 
beat beat  beat beat 
beat beat here goes

During the christmas holidays you 
have to go to the Falls, what a venue

Niagara Falls itself is quite amazing
The powerful lights they shine blazing
Against the thundering waters rushing
Like the results of an artist's airbrushing
The Festival of Lights is also worth perusing 
It is a path you follow in your car just cruising

We follow it up with Montreal every year
It is a long tiring ride but we're finally here

It's a New Year - all the land is aglow
Voices of children playing in the snow 
Sculptures for the festivities come to life
Lights shine- with colors bright - people rife
With enthusiasm for The Festival Of Ice
A family event in this winter paradise

beat beat beat
once last walk  on the wwwwwwild sssssssside

A Winter Paradise? pahh!
The B~~ch  gargled with 
Your Gonads in her mouth
She used them as ice cubes
Who DOES that?

Yes this is a chilling ending 
but an ending all the same
you all come back now
you hear? The End!

beat beat 
and now the refrain
beat

Come on Manuel it's back
to the igloo with us. (Now why
did I say that in my John Cleese 
Voice.There's Something Faulty 
there. The man Towers above me)

No Senior this winter thing
She is not working out for me
You stay if you like, I am visiting
my friend in Malta...

...Paul Callus!


12~23~2014
Sponsor: Sheri Fresonke Harper
Contest Name: Rock Me Around the Clock or Rock Me to Sleep--Rhythm Poems 



Copyright © Maurice Yvonne | Year Posted 2014

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Haiku 30 Rock Love




                                  running to the rock

                                              a strong tower against foes


                                                                    her love a refuge






To strong women and their love


David Meade
11/20/2014
Live Generously


Copyright © David Meade | Year Posted 2014

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Uplifting

I flew over Bryce Canyon my wings fully spread in a gentle glide as I marveled at the view below. It wasn't the first time but it always felt like it. I flapped my wings to ascend even further and consume even more of the landscape. The weather chiseled rock that always reminded me of sandcastles children sculpted at the seashore. I loved the fragrance of the pine trees that neatly grew amongst the rocks and the white and golden blend of colors that jutted here and there against an ever changing sky. I suppose if they could see me - humans would gasp at the sight of an Angel and me well I still gasp at all that God created for the pleasure of mankind.
22~12~2014 With Love Maurice Yvonne


Copyright © Maurice Yvonne | Year Posted 2014

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A Crown of Thorns

1
Insanity has its own wellspring and demise.
There is no better place to hide than between coils
of convoluted grey-white matter which can't recoil.
Mind has no leering lips to scorn or show surprise 
as ungoverned, the ancient demon-dancers rise.
The traitorous bits, which cut with Brutus’ red fang,
have no regard for the womb from which they sprang.
They seek dominion; they care not for your cries.
Crazed, their freedom paid for on the rack, how they sang
of anything, of windigos’, and warriors winged 
of fresh flesh beneath a gibbous moon's harangue, 
where those in sanity beneath their blankets cringed.
Night terrors sweat the sheets of the weak, as fear sprang,
a ripened, musky-scent arose from those unhinged.
2
A ripened, musky-scent arose from those unhinged
cloaked in mirrored, morose, magic; the mind a foil,
the heart, the soul, the sunny days, caste down, embroiled; 
destined to languish convulsed in the depth of coil.
Brightness, so dimmed, is lost within a rancid soil,
left to meet horned demons all but unarmed, alone, 
no company except the mirrored self-entombed,
no bliss state, no ripening sweetness to uncoil
a compost heap of bitter memories, atone ...
atone, little mother, well-used wife, wander now,
seeking ever seeking, yet finding no one home,
insanity wakened, waits, patiently endows ... 
empty days and nights, the infrequent sound of om,
cuddling the traitorous bits, shooing brighter dreams roused.
3
Cuddling the traitorous bits, shooing brighter dreams roused,
the teeth of dogged night rise-up, they breed turmoil.
Deep within the sleeping mind of men, sorrows roil.
Abandonment, disloyalty, hatred espoused,
all shriek to the traitor, the night arouses. 
Niggardly night, loath to lose ground within the dome
of blanched white, gray matter, within this skull of bone,
delights in the sorrowful detail night houses.
Insanity licks raw the salted wound entombed, owned.
"What could we be?" the ego cries to he or she.
"What would we be?" the windigo screams but, “alone.”
On, on, they chatter in the carapace, they breed, 
spreading dark matter, for they've no chaperone,
no friend to stay the brutal cousins, so mislead. 

4
No friend to stay the brutal cousins so mislead,
so in darkness, fear and hatred spread on fertile soil.
Yet, self-hatred shields its sharpened claws, as day uncoils
filling the breach with bright creations, dark concedes, 
and dims the room while manic laughter recedes.
A sunrise bows through prism-glass and colors swell
a lighter laughter comes, newborn to dwell.
Hands that once drew only blood, now tune bent reeds                        
of green, blades of springtime grass within the dell;
where larks sing and long lost lovers dare to reunite, 
no mention made of darkness or the depth of hell,
for sanity has cast a lighter stage this night.                       
Daybreak suspends the demon-dance upon the fell,
now, fairies prance in pastures high, and verse delights.
5 
Now, fairies prance in meadows high, and verse delights
her fancy takes a softer turn at his behest,
with buttercups, in a Fairy Ring, they coalesce,
and shine the golden glow beneath a chin of white.
With the talent of a troubadour, love does strum
upon desire's strings the raging beast is culled
as coy love songs and  sweet lullabies emerge from
the hidden depths of mind where sanity is mulled.
With the talent of a troubadour love does strum
upon strings of desire the fearful beasts are culled 
as coy love songs and sweet lullabies emerge from
the stygian depth where her frail sanity is mulled.
How long will harmony dance to love's blissful hum
Will dark's whine wake, disturb, insanity so lulled? 
6 
Will dark's whine wake, disturb, insanity so lulled? 
A scent of jasmine fills the air with swarming gnats.
Her covered ears belay the sound of feral cats
yet, huddled in his sheltering arms, her pain is dulled.
Dulled, but not waylaid, raging, she becomes unglued
She starts to rock, to whimper, and then, cry out- loud
begging for the dev'lish tide to leave, as he vowed,
renting strands of flaxen hair from her small skull.
Torn, he watches as she fades within a shroud,
a witless waif, bedeviled by the harvest moon.
He had to leave; he could not stay beneath this cloud
ever waiting for this, her omnipresent doom.
His love had its limits and yet, he was not proud,
Oh, he could not stay and watch her be consumed.

7

Oh no, he could not stay and watch her be consumed,
to have his pleasant memories of ardor's bloom
be marred by images of her so poorly groomed. 
No, never would he stay to see her be consumed.
One morn he left, his sum was not what she'd presumed. 
And, she sat in the rocker by the door unfazed,
her bowed lips o'er cast and her eyes o'er glazed, 
alive, but not, her nascent sanity entombed.
Death had come, death of the mind, his metal now assayed
he ran from old memories, as each thought enticed.
Their first tryst 'neath jasmine vines vanished in a haze.
Was love's reward, a sweet repast, mania's disguise?
Would true love have held the course where sanity betrayed,
insanity has its own wellspring, and demise.

First Published Five Poetry Magazine 2014




Copyright © Debbie Guzzi | Year Posted 2015

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She Moves In Silence

She moves in silence like a jasmine breeze through a moonlit garden walk She doesn't journey like a star with a lustrous shine in a celestial sky But just like a little rock a little limestone rock that crisscrossed muddy rivers and made it to safe shores A lifeless rock so fragile not sturdy yet still strong Her beauty doesn't shake fresh dewdrops from water-lily leaves Nor does it make blushed plum buds fall from murky forest trees But when his mind is filled with thoughts of her Oh how She gets him on his knees She lurks deeply in his soul Her eyes,a golden tint of fireflies glowing into his own She kills him with her smile like hundred nights before and thousands moments gone Then walks away from the forbidden door Her fingerprints She leaves over his lips,across his cheeks and all her perfume in his sleep So every woman that ever goes to him to tease him with her kiss would know It would never be,no it wouldn't be His arms belong to their once upon a memory She is the owner of his heart and would never set it free She,She is still his sweetest dream His saddest song,an empty verse The sound of a child's laughter and chapters in between She is still the wild street flower The promise made to last The lady of his life The woman from the past


Copyright © Charmaine Chircop | Year Posted 2015

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FINDING GOD

FINDING GOD My hungry heart and thirsty soul yearns for refill... Darkness and light roll then turn me up and down. Laughter and cries conjure caress my being in shrill. Gaping aghast to running rush caused a run-down! Yet, You my God comforted me 'neath water tides try. In trials and confusion, Your Sovereign a rock still. To shaky hope and weakness, Your grace empowers my will. The wilderness brings forth spring when I found yea... Hearing the sweetness of your voice in silence unfolds truth - healing wells of pains and woes... Heaven's breath by blossoms smell brought no shyness of searching... finding... knowing You more and more... Stars and moon shine along with my life's lamp shall bow in praise and worship, the deepest reverence I can offer. Thanking you until my life is done, my forever vow. As finding You, my God within labyrinths sets order... (c)Olive Eloisa 4:11am August 10. 2013 FIRST PLACE, GLORY TO GOD!!! CONTEST: FINDING GOD SPONSOR: Gale Angel Doyle Inspired by Biblical Verses: *Acts 17:27: That they should seek God, in the hope that they might feel their way toward him and find him. Yet he is actually not far from each one of us, **Matthew 7:8 = For everyone who asks receives, and the one who seeks finds, and to the one who knocks it will be opened. ***Jeremiah 33:3 - call to me and I will answer you, and will tell you great and hidden things that you have not known.


Copyright © Olive Eloisa Guillermo | Year Posted 2014

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Slow walking talker

I want to 
I really  do
I want to walk the walk
But I have a limp
Hobbled by all the things I think
There seems to be more than one missing link
On the beach of life, I try stepping softly but still I sink

I want to
I really do
I want to talk the talk
But I'm afraid, fifty shades of grey times two
How do I know if what I believe is true?
Will it be evidenced by the things I do?
Or in the end will I be influenced by you?
 
Walking and talking
It's just not enough
I need to relinquish all my inner stuff
Allowing myself to be weak instead of tough
For if God works in mysterious ways
Everything leads to the end of days
So instead of walking and talking my hands I'll raise
With voice and heart I will give God praise
 
If I allow Jesus to love me
He will guide my walk
He will permeate my heart and the way I talk
My inner softness he will surely unlock
His words not mine will become my rock
it's not about doing
It's more about being
His way, is the way of helping and seeing
By letting Him lead, it will be more freeing
The more I witness the more I'll be believing
Walking and talking but more importantly listening!


Inspired by Debbie Guzzi's contest but not for the contest.






  


Copyright © Richard Lamoureux | Year Posted 2015

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Rain over Vietnam

There is the calm before the rain
It’s almost silent all around
The clouds expectant in the sky
Foreboding birds are homeward bound.

The soldiers stare at looming clouds
There is the calm before the rain
And yet there’s tension in the air
Will all this waiting be in vain?

They know the feeling well enough
The sun gets left out in the cold 
There is the calm before the rain
They have to be prepared and bold.

The sound of planes will soon be heard
Torrential bombs will fall again
But ‘til the heavens burst in floods
There is the calm before the rain. 

-----------------------------------------------------------
Inspired by the song “Have you ever seen the rain?”
Sung by Credence Clearwater Revival.
With underlying reference to the Vietnam War.
-----------------------------------------------------------
Contest: Screwed (Mar 2015)
Sponsor: Rob Carmack 
Placed: 7th


Rock N' Roll Contest sponsored by Kelly Deschler. NA



Copyright © Paul Callus | Year Posted 2014