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Best Spoken Word Poems

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

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New Spoken Word Poems

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

SPEECHLESS SPOKEN WORD ARTISTE by ARTHUR, CHRISDAD KOJO
So Blessed With Spoken Word by Haight, Sandra
''oh, the sweet spoken word'' by Wings, Broken
Never Forget You: Spoken Word Part II by Kae, Kre8tive
Never Forget You: Spoken Word by Kae, Kre8tive
true spoken word by junor, mark
The spoken word cannot be unsaid by Broadbent, Robert
Oratory - Power of the Spoken Word by Ioane, Tiaua M
I am monster spoken word poem by Carroll, Ken
THE SPOKEN WORD by WANJENGA, JOSEPH GATEBI

View all new Spoken Word Poems

The Best Spoken Word Poems

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Indian Ink

Listen to poem:
“Indian Accent”

Hear the whispers inside

Chanting from long ago
Echoes come and go
Losing time in a soft eternal glow

A beautiful and delicate autumn mountain scene
Dry blue eyes enchanting melodies!
Voices fall from the sky;    -Rising hymns release 
-ancient demons that   CLING to the soul

Darkness dwells under - gentle moonlight
Ancestors of the Spirit World!
Weaving Native smoke into the barren air
Indian spirits haunt the muddy Earth---
Moccasin makers rise from underneath;    While
  guardians of dream catchers - print the Universe
Smooth thread from the outer world; 
Arrowheads,   Ivory gems,   feathers, and illusions
I stumble upon a florid kiss.......   My veins;
Run Cold, like ice through a desert night.

Winds of enchanted drums - cry out for rain
Hollow chimes mesmerize,  my ties,  my eyes
An ancient rage begins to flare --- MADNESS! 
- takes place among the sanity of  who   I am
The spear of the perfumed buffalo scrapes my skin
I remove the veil that covers my eyes
The hands that cover my ears
Drying the scalp that bleeds on my face

KINDRED IN EVERY WAY!

Raven silk braids and feathers on my hair
Dancing in a horrid hallucination of Peyote,
*
Waking up from the “American Dream.”
Holding out my arms, I am free, I can fly.

I AM A BIRD!

By; PD


Copyright © Poet Destroyer A | Year Posted 2013

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Like A Girl

Listen to poem:
Like A Girl 

I play like a girl, I hit like a girl
You say I throw like a girl, 
And, when I run -- I run like a girl!
All that plus more, enjoy this one size fits all

Who and what I want comes from being strong 
Classy and fabulous, 
THIS is my song!

I've been told, cut to size
The world dark and gray, when life becomes an insult
Take heed when I speak my mind, 
I am tough, outstanding and beautiful!

Move ahead --- say it twice, I smell nice
A taste of Cool Water and Justice Perfume
I have a non-stop multitask fixation
Like a woman, everything about me is hidden 
Magic and alluring the only joy in sexuality you'll need

I'm empowering this moment!
Endorsing Myself, with a certain sorta mystique
I deliver an independent will, 
     don't ever underestimate my physique

I am a caregiver, a female who won't give up the fight
I remain firm and believe all women have equal rights
I walk and talk Like A girl 
    wearing heels Breaking the sound of Annabel

       Like, Mona's unforgettable smile, 
       I stand tall Like Miss Liberty
       I am, Betsy Ross, America's #1 designer
            Harriet, who escaped slaver-y 
       Like Theresa and Mary, I'm here to give change
       I am, Hilary overwhelmed with determination
       A leader -- A Goddess, I burn like Joan
       ---Cleopatra in the room
       ---Calamity Jane's wild side
       Emelia's, won't give up heart
       I am Anne, with a secret hidden spot
       Susan B, with the right to vote
       Emily who writes deep and pretty

The sound In your eyes aren't listening!
You imagine I am weak -- not strong enough -- brave enough, 
You call me different and difficult!
Still, you want my warmth -- my love -- my attention

I am not less, I am more
I am a woman -- I frown -- I cry -- I hurt and yell at the universe
Nevertheless, I make a difference
Like a girl, I smile
A smile never seen or felt before, both defined and undefined
Your heart will ask and implore for more

Like a girl, I'll drive you wild, looking pretty "You're In Love!"
My Self confidence comes from who I am deep inside
Everything I've become follows the makeup on my face
Bare and nude, I am the Madonna flowering the mood

At the end of every day, I have one other thing to say
The Next Time You ask me to cook and clean
Because you think, I belong in the kitchen
You better believe I'm doing it my way
LIKE A GIRL


Copyright © Poet Destroyer A | Year Posted 2015

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The Squirrel

Listen to poem:
~My Nutty Squirrel Poem~

Up in a tree, on a branch
Now you see me, now you don't!

Sneaky and fast, I'm adorable
Now, why would you hunt or shot me for fun?
Do you like, how fast I run?
I'm not just another chipmunk 
Stuffing my face with nuts,
I'm classy and beautiful, 
The  best  part  of   nature.....

Red pointed ears, I hear you drawing near.
Chuckle, chuckle, caffeine free
I saw you looking at my fine coat.
Fluffy and curious, touch me and I'm Calling PETA!
See YA---  Life Is Beautiful!!!
I'm stuffing these nuts back into my mouth 
and Jumping onto another tree :) The End
........
Love The Squirrel from another World.  
Love LINDA


Copyright © Poet Destroyer A | Year Posted 2016

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The Poets of Gloop

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Have you heard of the wonderful Poets of Gloop? 
Their imagery slouches and metaphors droop,
but the poems they write have the scent of a rose 
‘cause they write in a garden where poetry grows.

They live in a place called the Garden of Gloop. 
It’s a beautiful garden for such a great group! 
They’re divided in teams, labeled A, B, and C, 
but they’re never quite sure on which team they should be. 

Well, the A-team is run by the “old-timer’s” clique.  
They have been there the longest - they know how things tick!
So do NOT try to trick them with ticks that are tocks, 
They’ll assume that you’re fake if your poems are crocks. 

Team B is comprised of a colorful few
who observe from the top, and they’ll fight for that view. 
They’ll whisper their thoughts as they give you their wins, 
and they’ll keep you engaged with their winks and their grins.  

Team C are just people who try to stay real;
so they sit the on the fence, and they feel what they feel.
They’re nobody’s puppet, for goodnesses sake!
And some peeps are so good, they’re thought to be fake! 

Now, here’s the weird thing about Poets of Gloop:
They all run in circles and try to regroup!
So that guy with the A-team? He used to be C … 
And what’s up with that one?  He’s now such a B ! 

So they flip and they flop as they fight to fit in,  
and they frown as they fall, but they get up again, 
for a Poet of Gloop is a poet who knows,
they all need to belong there, where poetry grows. 






Copyright © Becca Teagan | Year Posted 2016

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THE BELLE OF THE BALL

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My dress is made of fine peach coloured lace Hair is in ringlets, which frames my pretty face The lights in the room cast a romantic glow My first ever ball; I must go with the flow The orchestra strikes up a wonderful tune Ladies and gentlemen glide round the room I stand on the sidelines I am oh so very shy Then a dashing young man catches my eye I smile at him, then I coyly avert my eyes I find him so handsome; that I cannot disguise He reaches tenderly for my awaiting hand We move to the dance floor; oh it is so grand His arm wrapped around my tiny waist We dance to the music, there is no haste So full of excitement at the hope of romance I float round the room at my very first dance At the end of the dance he bows down low My heart is aflutter I hope this does not show He leads me gently to the side of the room Sweet roses enchant us, we smell their perfume Time flies by so fast and we dance all night He looks in my green eyes and to my delight Whispers so gently those words I long to hear You simply are the belle of the ball my dear He reaches out gently and kisses my hand My first ever ball has been oh so grand Sadly now it is time for me to depart I bid adieu to the man who has stolen my heart Best love poem ever contest sponsored by Laura Loo 11~15~14


Copyright © JAN ALLISON | Year Posted 2014

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Eternal Life And The Total Self

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Eternal Life And The Total Self


Life is but a fleeing whisper
     echoing through time,
never dying, always being
     magnificent and sublime.

The body's a receptacle,
     a superficial shell,
but in it dwells the gift of soul;
     eternity knows it well.

The soul contains the truths of life,
     to all that's ever been;
to all things now, and yet to come,
     but guards them deep within.

The mind has hidden doors to soul;
     we long to find the key...
unleash the vision waiting there
     that lives eternally.

And so mind seeks to open wide,
     grasp firm the light of soul.
and at that moment when it does,
     we know we will be whole.

So when we penetrate the shield
     that stands between these two,
we will perceive with inner sight
     our soul, complete and new.

If in this life, we cannot grasp
     this bond of soul and mind,
we'll be reborn to live again
     till total self we find.

We've been before, so many times;
     we've known many a past.
We'll be again, an echo in time...
     till mind and soul are fast.

And when that final day does come,
     at last to lift our soul,
for Him to gather in His arms...
      a perfect self, now whole.


Sandra M. Haight

~2nd Place~
Contest: Soul Consciousness
Sponsor: Catie Lindsay
Judged: 06/29/2016

Theme:  After death, will you have to enter again in another Earth life, and Why?

Although not my religious belief, there are some religions, like Hinduism, that believe in reincarnation which refines the soul by it living many lifetimes, and after it is perfected, goes back to God.  My poem is based on that belief.  So many people, including myself, have inner feelings or momentary flashbacks like they have lived before in another life...so who knows... 


Copyright © Sandra Haight | Year Posted 2016

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Like Zephyr Breeze

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Before I ever saw those eyes     How deeply I loved you 

Before you read my first thought    I found you.

Before you ever dreamt of my lips     I kissed your smile

I meant nothing to you      and you were already my world.

I lived through every breath you inhaled

till that same breath became a ghost from the past.

Tonight I exist to live for what was...

Tomorrow I live to exist for what will be.

I stopped calling your name

I stopped searching your footprints

I stopped seeking those arms

Stopped believing in stars.

Yet sometimes     in my soul's dusk of night

through your cold absence  I feel you within me

Ever so soft     just like the wind

Like zephyr breeze which left my cheek     yet never gone.



Since I have a writer's block ,or more simple -( I am museless at the moment),
I decided to repost my second most favoured poem by soupers.
Thanks to your favouring , it made it to one of the Top Hundred Poems Of All Time on Ps.
So,  I reposted  & decided to add a voice to it  too, Thankyou : ).


Copyright © Charmaine Chircop | Year Posted 2016

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A Desperate Housewife - in limerick form

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A desperate housewife I knew
had such mundane housework to do.
Being so tired of it,
she decided to quit.
Then off to Las Vegas she flew.

Having always been such a lithe girl,
she thought “I’ll give dancing a whirl!”
Her audition went well.
From a large oyster shell
She emerged, so they all dubbed her Pearl.

Her skin, soft and fair, shone like dew
as she smiled with eyes crystal blue.
All the men threw her money
as her voice, sweet as honey,
called out, “Let me entertain you!”

As Pearl danced each night, looking pretty,
Her husband, back in her home city,
was fit to be tied,
thinking maybe she’d died!
Poor fool didn’t have a clue, did he!

Unbeknownst to sweet Pearl, her “dear” spouse
had been sneaking off as she’d played house.
To conventions he’d said
he was going. Instead,
he’d been gambling in Vegas, that louse!

Off to strip clubs he’d gone every chance
that he got. How he loved to see dance
naked women all sizes 
in sexy disguises
while his wife at home longed for romance.

Now the tables were very much turned.
And her husband was feeling quite spurned.
He would sleep restlessly
thinking where could she be!!
But her whereabouts he never learned.

No longer could he run away
on a whim. He still had bills to pay.
That cleaning and cooking
meant no time for looking
at girls! He had less time to play.

In Vegas, his wife had come far.
In fact, she was a superstar.
Wearing naught but a fan,
she’d entice every man,
then drive home in a pearl-colored car!

Her spouse lost his job. The years fled.
His wife he then had declared dead.
But with no job in sight,
he’d stay home each night,
with loneliness causing him dread.

Do you think this guy ever has let
his conscience feel any regret
that his wife did so much
while he gambled and such?
Has he learned anything at all yet?

Did he marry and get a new bride?
Did Pearl go and change her sweet ride
to a sleek red Corvette,
and did SHE marry yet?
I leave it to YOU to decide!


Written June 2016 for the Desperate Housewife Contest of PD


Copyright © Andrea Dietrich | Year Posted 2016

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We Rulers Of The Earth

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Homo Sapiens we call ourselves, rulers of this Earth,
Intelligent and civilized, but what is all this worth?

We're working hard to conquer space—we landed on our Moon.
We better solve our problems here, or soon we will face doom.

New industries and factories constructed every day,
And poisoning the air we breathe—is this the price to pay?

Energy sources are shrinking—what happens when they're gone?
Will Man of Earth ever learn to work with Nature as one?

Some in this world are starving still while others hoard their gold.
Intelligent and civilized, at least, that's what we're told.

We cure disease with drugs that may cause sickness as result—
How many dearly paid for this ‘experimental cult’?

We have become a plastic world where everything is fake,
From the foods we eat to how we look—when will we awake?.

We're civilized we tell ourselves, but fight our fellow man,
If only we could solve world stresses through a better plan.

With government corruption and morality sinking low…
The price of progress we may say—is this the way to grow?

We have upset Earth’s balanced ways, destroying Nature’s scheme—
We’re intelligent and civilized—is it all a dream?

Will we ever walk on Nature's path, take her by the hand,
Restore the beauty meant to be on Earth, our dying land?

Homo Sapiens we call ourselves, rulers of this Earth,
Intelligent and civilized, but what is all this worth?


Sandra M. Haight

~1st Place~
Contest: Best Old Poem
Sponsor: Judy Konos
Judged: 12/17/2015

~2nd Place~
Contest: Let ’er Rip – Shoot from the Hip
Sponsor: John Lawless
Judged: 04/06/2015

I actually composed this poem 30 years ago…but it is still appropriate today for venting because nothing has changed.  Homo Sapiens means “man of wisdom” in Latin.


Copyright © Sandra Haight | Year Posted 2015

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The Crofter's Moon

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There's a chilly air where it used to shine
There's a misty breeze through the purple vine.

In a fading summer tick-tock sounds
 move backwards marking every hour

Darkness falls down slowly upon each longer night
Stealing beewax gold of sunset's soft -glow light.

Against total eclipse, Foliage silhouettes make their return back 
Bringing to his arms  a Lunar death ...  Her death.

Along empty walks, earthy drops drizzle regret
Regret with every footstep and  heavy inward breath

Regret... Drops  Thunder...  Thunder and death
Death !  Dead !      Gone ..  Gone....    

Or does She live in his forevermore

Is that her reflection  mirroring  affection
Is it her hidden face that glistens in the lake

Is that the crescent moon that once showed him the way
A way to feel    to feel again what it is like to dance and sway

Sway to lilting music nobody else could hear
to flow adrift in  silent pause ,knowing She' s still there. 

Knowing she is with him hovering in dreams,
beaming  radiant shadows all over his cheeks

Believing  She'll get closer without owning his lips
Because their  bond was deeper than just a simple kiss.


Copyright © Charmaine Chircop | Year Posted 2016

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Suncatcher --recited

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A visitor— icicle fingers tapping on my windows' pain— white blanket in tow Hurting enough, I paid him no mind so he kept tap, tap, tapping ‘til cobweb-like cracks appeared: a final, gentle tap shatters my windows My rainbow world now smothered, pallid, forced into boredom and slumber, sunlight chased away and I am never the same again… Soul gets plunged deep in the cold blinded by whiteness, numbed with simplicity there is an eerie stillness, almost as if no one dared to breathe, even the barren trees refused to quiver brittle dendrites seem to claw the sky futile though, for they are frozen, grasping at nothingness, clouds stubborn and stoic, brooding in silent grayness …and then from within, a filigreed whisper escapes palpable and brave~ it weaves its way through the branches, gathering strength wherever it went it beckons to the sky, which in turn gives in and celebrates ~ letting dainty confetti fall white, yet amazingly graceful each flake falls softly on the ground— a fashionable brocade trees softly sway now, and dance to a winter song the sky weeps with happiness for seeing a glimpse of life— diamond teardrops they catch a bit of evasive sunlight, of which I thought I’ve lost and give birth to miniature rainbows… all this time, Sunlight was there I just never knew how to catch it.
an audio of me reciting this poem http://www.4shared.com/music/Q_tqp2LEba/suncatcher.html?#


Copyright © kabuteng P.iNk k. | Year Posted 2011

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Play Rain

Listen to poem:
Play rain , play melancholic tunes
Play closely to my ear, I need to hear

I want to listen to Sinatra's toe-tap sounds
As you fall, fall slowly to the ground
outside my great-grandmother's house.

Play rain, Come down and break the silence
Bring puddles to the desert
Puddles far from clear, yet fresh enough
to jump into, to jump in muddy waters

to step within the dormant child
to free the one I'm not from who I am

Play rain, play melancholic tunes
Wash away my present ,So I recall my past

Let me find night's music
as you patter on the old tin roof
like a symphonic flute.

Let me search for who I am , who I was
why, and where

Why do I fight this little girl inside ?

This little girl who screams , who begs, 
who yearns  to run, to get her white shirt soaking wet
to splish and to splash , to be whom She's meant to be
Daughter of the wild.

Rain , rain, come again
Let those drip drops stream , over my shoulders
All way down my back, and across my thighs.

Let me sail upon your rivers
Holy waters - Dirty Waters
Any water, better than a dry land
where only cactus will survive.

Rain, rain, Let me feel your touch upon my  lips
Rub gently against my skin
Let me taste your every trickle

Rebirth in me with all the blowing winds

Cleanse all sweet hypocratic lies, anytime

Tease me with your whisper
Evoke in me  the childhood magic
Make it last throughout the years

Rain, rain,  pour down your sky light showers
Let them hide away my fears
Fears, tears, Fears...and more tears.

Rain, rain , play and make me smile.







Inspired by Nikko's blog about Rain , Thanks Nikko !


Copyright © Charmaine Chircop | Year Posted 2016

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It Was in September - FIVE WORDS

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It was in September that Poetry first came to me -
a time when summer’s embers, for me had not yet caught fire
until, that is,  Poetry walked casually toward me
wearing bell bottoms and a young man’s angel face.
Visited by such exquisite grace, I felt the spark of sweet desire’s flame.
Our kisses in the night made my spirit sing; the flame leapt higher.
Yes, a night to remember is what my angel boy  gifted me,
and though the fall was near, I was in the springtime of my youth.

The years have come and        gone            gone           gone
Memories of my old flames are cinders now, softly glowing In my mind.
They cannot be revived to brightly glow again; they are the past.

After Poetry walked in all those years ago,
a few decades passed. One day I felt the urge to put pen to paper.
Recalling nostalgically the fire that once had so consumed me, 
tender words flowed from me; passion was reborn!
Recreating fantasy, I became the lady who danced the unicorn,
who lived, and who still lives romance, again and again and again,
for the passion now is in my pen!

It was in September that Poetry first came to me.
I just didn’t know it then. 

Written May 28, 2016 for  The Five Word Challenge of Timothy Hicks

The longest words from the titles of my five BEST POEMS used in this poem:
                September/ Poetry/ Fire/ Cinder/ Fall


Copyright © Andrea Dietrich | Year Posted 2016

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Welcome to the World of Worldly

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Welcome to the world of Worldly 
where we feast all night.
All those things you once thought wrong -
here they all are right!

Worldly’s citizens are many.
Membership is free.
Criminals are here as well as
high society.

Come here and forget your sorrows
and forget your past.
Leave your ethics at the door too.
Here they will not last.

Come consume the fatted calf.
Imbibe cherry wine.
Love is a four letter word.
Lust, though, is divine!

Little boys and pretty girls
are also here to serve you
(if you lean that way, of course).
All things are on the menu!

Worship with us at the alter.
The sacrament for sin
is your blood lust or that rush
you get beneath your skin.

We have got a secret leader
with the gift of charm.
Succumb to him. We will relax you.
Let us prick your arm.

Our special members love green color
and they love their gold. 
You might qualify one day. . . 
Just do as you're told.

Finally, remember this.
In Worldly you will be
with peers who think and act like you
(should you need sympathy).


Written May 25, 2016 and 
Inspired by the Lyrics II - The Black Crowes - Poetry Contest of Rob Carmack


Copyright © Andrea Dietrich | Year Posted 2016

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Just Desserts

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I was at my favourite restaurant and had a lovely meal If I finished all my food then a pudding was the deal I’d relished every morsel and was pleased as a Cheshire cat The dessert menu was on its way, Oh I couldn’t wait for that The waitress bought the menus and I rubbed my hands with glee Oh sticky toffee pudding, now that’s the one for me She came to take the order – we had waited as you do She finally turned to me and said ‘oh Madam what can I get you’ Oh stiffy cockie pudding please was my swift reply I didn’t realise what I’d said till I saw the tears form in her eye I went as red as a beetroot and the others began to laugh At my spoonerism which turned into a complete gaffe The pudding it came quickly but I couldn’t wait to leave I choked on every mouthful and my stomach it did heave So please take notice of my error on this horrendous day If you order sticky toffee pudding be careful what you say! 2/2/14 Entered into Just make me laugh contest Sponsored by Christine Lehman This is a true experience! The waitress was a student at the school I work at - I was so pleased when she went to university - I have never ordered this dessert since! This is my first poem posted here and it is my first poem to be published in a book by United Press


Copyright © JAN ALLISON | Year Posted 2014

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Old Lady

Listen to poem:
"bag of bones"


I wonder if when you look at me
You can't bring yourself to like    the  vanity
Lost  somewhere  inside - 
I wonder if beauty lives..... in you???

Poor old lady; 
-perhaps you should not pass judgment 
For one day
I might be
Just 
Like 
You!

By: PD


Copyright © Poet Destroyer A | Year Posted 2016

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Worst Love Poem Ever Written

Listen to poem:
I suck at dying poems

Chemo poems, Metastatic Cancer poems,

Hair falling out in the shower poems

 

And I told a half truth

When I told you I could write you one

In less than six months (It's been eight)

I apologize for being so late

 

I wanted your poem to be pink and graceful

Like those ribbons

I see all over the internet

Filled with cheesy generic rhymes

That could get me hired by Hallmark

 

 I just know my metaphors will start melting

And that my similes will get all soft

 I guarantee you the rhyme meter will be off

 

I went to Google

And the typed in the word 'happy'

Three billion things came up

Not a single inference to

Breast cancer, hair loss

No redirects to mastectomies

 

The only thing research could teach me

Is that a good day on chemo

Is when your stool doesn't come out tar Black

And has no blood in it

Or when your urine

Smells better on Wednesday

Than it did on Tuesday

Sleeping less than 12 hours

When 24 would be better

 

Still I refuse to finish this poem

Without something bright and hopeful

And I know I'm doing a horrible job

 
America has more poets

Than it does alcoholics

   And Pot smokers combined

And you chose me to be

Your Breast Cancer

Poet Laureate

Trusting me to write a poem

About the biggest battle in your life

 

And don't think

I didn't notice your Facebook activity

Had decreased by 88%

In the last three months

 

And you aren't really

Coming to any more of my poetry shows

Ever again. Are you??

But we still have January, February

 

And how do you write

A Breast Cancer poem

With no references to breast

(I get embarrassed)

 That would be some kind of Oxymoron

I guess

 

But even if you had one breast

Or no breast

or if you had less hair than I do

I promise to look only in your eyes

And never ever even notice

Or even think about it

And never for a moment

Would I feel sorry for you

Yes I suck at lying too...

 

But I don't suck at loving you

Or at hoping you wake up tomorrow morning

 With no Cancer at all

And that The Eiffel Tower will be right outside

Your bedroom window...

And I would be right there with you

Holding your hand while we look down on Paris

And you can impress me with your French again

 

And if I ever make it

To the Pulitzer Poetry board

I might lose a thousand points

Just for this poem alone

And my hopes for the prize will be smitten

And some old person with white hair will say

That this was the worst love poem ever written


Copyright © Poet M.e. | Year Posted 2016

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Listen, Listen

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Listen…Listen Listen to The rain drops falling Let us cry… Wash away Life’s bitter, stinging pain and Take away its stain. Listen to The ocean splashing Let us laugh… Lift our hearts With cool, refreshing waves and Penetrate dark caves. Listen to the thunder clapping Let us shout… Wake the world To all that makes it wrong and Righteousness prolong. Listen to The songbird chirping Let us sing… Fill our souls With hope to carry on and Yesterday be gone. Listen to The wind song howling Let us rush… Race the clock To live life while we can and Fly within its span. But, hear now… The silence screaming Let us pause… Long reflect On that which we must do and To ourselves be true. Sandra M. Haight ~NA~ Premiere Contest: Sounds Of The Day Sponsor: Nayda Ivette Negron Judged: 06/20/2016 ~1st Place~ Contest: Didactic Sponsor: Regina Riddle Judged 12/08/2014


Copyright © Sandra Haight | Year Posted 2014

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''shades of nature''

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and in my dream- I find myself in a lush forest
dripping wet with life, steamy and sultry
I am one with nature and with the aqua drifting water
oh, the soft moss and the wet lime ferns
I float in tranquility and beneath me water reeds grow, swaying
so many hues of greens and colors dwelling in harmony
juniper, sage, olive, blue, pine
emerald green of a little frog and dark brown of a crocodile
small yellow little fish kiss my toes
  a lovely fushia flower, an orange snake slithers
    a fluttering purple butterfly, a blue bird sings sweetly
      green twining vines, meandering in the dark foliage
        my sage eyes, whisper come fall into the lush depths with me
I will take you to a world full of utter peace
where all beautiful shades of nature, mingle and entwine

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May 18, 2016 (re-edit)


Free Verse

For the contest, The Sun Is Out
sponsor, CT

Second Place
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Also entered in the Recitation Poetry Contest
sponsor, Team Poetry Soup
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Copyright © Broken Wings | Year Posted 2016

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Three Keys

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Three Keys Three keys of life...faith, hope, and love... unlock the joys you're worthy of. No things in life remain the same, yet changes have their time of strain. Before a butterfly takes flight it must endure a darker plight. How many winters must there be before the twig's a fruitful tree? So turn the key of FAITH for you... set free belief that sees you through. Do not let yesterday block out today's new tasks which you're about. Help butterflies leave their cocoons, with life renewed, spread wings out soon. Help ripen too, the needed fruits which grow from common, faithful roots. So turn the key of HOPE for you... set free bright sun to shine anew. As brothers, sisters, we are one big family beneath our sun. All butterflies are pretty things regardless of their varied wings. As trees bear fruits both tart and sweet, they all are welcomed as a treat. So turn the key of LOVE for you... set free acceptance, deep and true. Unlock the joys you're worthy of... three keys of life...faith, hope, and love. Sandra M. Haight ~2nd Place~ Contest: Three Keys Sponsor: John Lawless Judged: 07/20/2016


Copyright © Sandra Haight | Year Posted 2016

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Our Boogeyman

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Our Boogeyman


There is a boogeyman within
this home of ours, we swear he's here!
He comes and goes to mess with us
and bring about a silly fear.

It happens if we're here or not; 
he seems to go from room to room
to keep us guessing why we see
phenomena that brings such gloom.

It has to do with lights, you see,
the kind you touch to turn them on;
somehow this boogeyman knows how
to toy with us, and whereupon,

we find our touch lamps brightly lit
in rooms, we enter while we're there. 
But worst of all, to find them on
when we've been out, and such despair,

to wonder how that comes about??
For sure, it doesn't make much sense.
Do boogeymen have fingers that
can generate capacitance?


Sandra M. Haight

~4th Place~
Contest: Boogeyman
Sponsor: Nayda Ivette Negron
Judged: 06/02/2016

True Story!

"Touch-sensitive lamps almost always use a fourth property of the human body -- its capacitance. [kuh-pas-i-tuh ns] The word "capacitance" has as its root the word "capacity" -- capacitance is the capacity an object has to hold electrons. The lamp, when standing by itself on a table, has a certain capacitance. This means that if a circuit tried to charge the lamp with electrons, it would take a certain number to "fill it." When you touch the lamp, your body adds to its capacity. It takes more electrons to fill you and the lamp, and the circuit detects that difference." http://science.howstuffworks.com


Copyright © Sandra Haight | Year Posted 2016

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Listen With Your Heart

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Listen, my fellow dreamers,
But listen with your heart,
And hear the silent music
Of which we're all a part.

Cover your ears, my dreamers
Lest the worldly tunes drown out
The inner magic symphonies
Of what life's all about.

Listen, listen, listen,
And hear the song of Love;
It's echoing within you,
Outside, beneath, above.

It's playing in the meadow
And in the city street;
Resounding in your friendships
And the stranger that you meet.

Listen, listen, listen,
To the symphony of Hope;
Its crescendo's growing louder
To help you grasp and cope.

It's drowning out the concert
Of trouble and of strife;
Just close your ears and listen
To this melody of life.

Listen, listen, listen,
To Faith's unending song;
There's magic in its music
To make and keep you strong.

Feel the mighty power,
It's flowing through your soul;
Its tune will conquer mountains
And fulfill your every goal.

Listen, listen, listen,
But listen with your heart,
And hear the silent music
Of which we're all a part.


Sandra M. Haight
Audio: Read by Author

~1st Place~
Contest: Life ~ Premiere Contest
Sponsor: Janis Thompson
Judged: 05/15/2016

~1st Place~
Contest: Simply Beautiful
Sponsor: Kelly Deschler
Judged: 04/05/2015


Copyright © Sandra Haight | Year Posted 2015

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Playing God

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Playing God


I know she cherishes the sun, but I
must turn her often lest she grows deformed
and stifled in her quest for too much light.

And at the faithful window, day by day,
that glow appears—her sustenance of life.
Instinctively, she lifts her leafy palms
as if to catch each golden ray, and leans
to kiss the glass, back arched in thankful pose.

And I, like God, keep turning her around
to make her straight, aware that she must work
to find the light once more. An endless fight,
this turning, turning, cutting short her time
to fully drink of sun. And what despair
for her to face again the shadowed room—
to gather strength, confront the task at hand:
the twisting, writhing, standing tall, erect—
then leaning, reaching out for light again.

And yet she grows in beauty, health, and grace.
The secret lies in proper tension kept
between my God-like care to keep her straight,
and her strong will, to seek and worship sun.


Sandra M. Haight

~3rd Place~
Contest: I Drew A Blank
Sponsor: John Lawless
Judged: 06/02/2016

~1st Place~
Contest: Structured Forms-Iambic Verse:
Sponsor: Giorgio, A.V.
Judged: 02/23/2015

Blank Verse: Iambic, 10 syllables and 5 feet per line.


Copyright © Sandra Haight | Year Posted 2015

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New York Street Horse

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Plunked down in chaos
from a gentler time,
blinkered from the traffic
he pulls the coach along.
Patient, in his harness bond
he tugs at hearts, with pathos-
as to his love of duty we respond. 
Amidst the screech of sirens
and the blasting horns,
he stands and dreams
of meadows in a nosebag.
 
Such rhythmic clicking of
 metal shoes on concrete,
full rolling of the carriage
wheels and he, confined,
down through the centuries
he thought he'd left behind.




Copyright © Suzanne Delaney | Year Posted 2013

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Poetic Ambitions

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To enchant the eye and tickle the tongue
with levels of nuance like well-aged wine,
to engage the ear and limber the lungs
as sea winds seasoned with fragrance of brine.

To hearten the soul or tear it apart,
to start with a sigh and end with a gasp,
to sharpen the mind and quicken the heart,
to aim one's reach to outdistance the grasp.

To roar like a lion and ever stand fast,
to bring out smiles and mitigate pain,
to tell the legends of histories past,
and teach their mistakes, not do them again.

© May 26, 2015


Copyright © Roy Jerden | Year Posted 2015