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Best Talent Poems

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Details | Talent Poem | |

The Angel Inside

Coral life forms in copious swarms
Feast in the Cambrian chyme
Dividing their cells and forming their shells
To end on the sea floor as lime

Tectonic churning and magma upturning
Renders marble whiter than bone
The marble is mined, but the cutters are blind
To the angel confined in the stone

A young sculptor arose, with a bend in his nose
And a transcendent creative spark
Charged with ambition to fulfill a commission
An angel for St. Dominc's Ark

An artist sublime who will live for all time
His genius is to see things not shown
For an angel to achieve he first has to perceive
Its splendor enclosed in the stone

At dawning's first glow he surveys the tableau
Of the blocks the stone cutters supplied
In some he sees dreams of potential themes
But only one holds an angel inside

“A beautiful thing never gives so much pain 
As does failing to hear it and see it.”
The block that he chose was rejected by those
Who then lied and claimed to foresee it
 
With talent and skill he falls to with a will
Surrounded by rubble and relic
His method you see, for the angel to free
Is to remove all the bits not angelic

Michelangelo’s art for all time stands apart
But there's something further to heed
For there's a bit more to the fine metaphor
In the tale of the angel he freed

“A beautiful thing never gives so much pain 
As does failing to hear it and see it.”
For in all our insides a bright angel abides
And is just waiting for something to free it

To remove all the parts which harden our hearts
And chip out the darkness and pride
To smooth the rough patches and polish the scratches
And unshackle the angel inside

Details | Talent Poem | |

FAVE POETS MEET

Meeting my homegirls Wilma Neels
and Kim Van Breda with shrieks and squeals
hasty introductions and we're on our way
for a night of reading at Poetry Café

We've Yasmin to thank for arranging the meet
with fellow Soupers, a veritable treat
Yasmin the sneak had their names withheld
we're apprehensive yet still by curiosity propelled

My fingers are crossed to meet Eileen 
fave poetess mine, the Passionate Queen
dare I wish to meet hamsome Ryerson
not to mention Anne-Lise Andresen?

On first glance the café seems somewhat rowdy
from one of the corners a chorus of "Howdy!!!"
heaven help!!  I'm rooted to the spot
all my fave poets from the Souper pot

The Queen of Passion, my special friend
Eileen Ghali, an angel heaven-sent
with open arms and that beguiling smile
that's touched us all over thousands of miles 

I spot our Father Christmas, Jackie Ellison
Oh my, mercy me, the hamsome Tim Ryerson
then the beautiful being, Anne-Lise Andresen
and our pretty young doll, Anne Poetess Currin

Andrea, crack writer and popcorn freak
and Nette Onclaud, Madame Linguistics
the talented and sweet Leonora Galinta
oh, for a long time I've longed to meet her

There's the much-loved Reach-Out Lamoureux
a stylish gentleman, delighted to meet you
our very own Linda who happiness spreads
memorable the day as Brown Licia meets Red

He who writes poetry with a golden pen
bestest, fantasticest, hamsomest friend
Rich-Heart Seal-ed Door, my bruv from abroad
by his smile I'm bowled over;  by his charm I am awed 

I'm jumping with joy at my fave poets meet
befuddled, bewildered;  who first to greet?
midst the mountain of talent I'm on a positive high
overwhelmed, I simply break down and cry


This one needs a whole lot of polishing and smoothing 
out, but I was too excited to submit it.  I'll iron out the 
crinkles soon.  LOVE TO YOU ALL, LICIA <3 <3 <3 <3


Details | Talent Poem | |

Sharon Weimer

Though we’ve never met 
I comprehend your beautiful words
I feel your pleasant persona
Never a mean word to be said
I ache from your kindness 
Making others feel ten feet tall 
Picking me up when I may fall 
Talent beyond compare 
Are you brunette or fair?
But that wouldn’t matter to me 
If I never had the chance to see you face to face 
Your wonderful personality I could never forget 
You’ve help build a community of friends 
Steady and true
I wish you peaceful skies of cobalt blue 
Fields of flowers brushed in rainbow colors 
I pray for love from God above 
For you and your family beloved 
Know that you touched lives that may not have been touched 
You changed someone 
And brought me a new reason to write 
You’re an inspiration and a friend 
And you’ve touched my heart polite 
Gratitude pours forth  


Written for and about Sharon Weimer !

Details | Talent Poem | |

Marionette Master

~Marionette Master~    

All my dreams evolve around my wooden floor
Candles and clowns the show must go on

~~~~

The Moon slowly moves its way into my room
Dust pushes through my window making shadow puppets on my walls
The talent on my walls dance, scaring my sweet dreams away
No cradle-songs tonight
Dangling artisans’ fingertips scratching down my core
Exquisite observation, an alley down “Death Street.”
Panic rattles my bone, 
Stuttering a taste of ma' ma' ma' mama' off my lips
Grandfather clock ticks with every pull of the string
Invisible jellyfish puppets swaying their feelers that sting my site
A superior skill eating away at my fear
I can’t breathe, 
I can’t move,
It dangles!
What can I do?
Carved Marionette figures locked in my head
A game in which trickery and deception are the main events
Staged with an evil sinister mask, sanctioning my nightmares. 
No one to rescue me from the danger of this bedside playground.
The puppeteer engages to provoke me with my own dolls.
A dramatic performance throttles my mind ……. 
I cannot come out from under my blanket,  
I cannot run,
My hands cannot reach the circus print lampshades!
A shadow show played in slow motion!!!
Realizing the moon can pull a world of strings with its own light

***

Suddenly, boney fingers from the sunrise show me the way…
I look down until my toes touch the cold wooden floor
I creep and creep,
Then I flick on my lamp.
The purple walls swallowed the orgy drawing inspired by the mooned night
A huge diversity of graphic illusions of puppetry in my room vanishes in one click
Mother please no more Pinocchio in my lullabies! ;-) 

Details | Talent Poem | |

The Poet

THE POET’S PANEGYRIC “There’s someone I knew with talent unleashed and a heart that had for so many relentlessly reached This poet sought inspiration from the living and the dead But I can tell you this about the poet who has moved me by what this poet had ever said I read the words from a comfort zone which this poet created, surrounded by friends or by foes or simply alone” His essence of soul sweeps down deserted dead streets where the thunder still crackles, the burial bell bleats He laughed at himself as a Royal Rhymester Clown but bore the black pains of those all aroun’, He echoed regrets but never a grudge ... of this I’ll say little... let his lines be the judge THE POET’S PEN Blind shots cry out beneath the night, a car is cruising by. A stripling’s blood streams words to write ... Wry rhymes to ask us why A silly girl with child, unwed... to many, but a slut. The baby at her breast is dead ... Cruel couplets meant to cut A drifter, broken, cast aside, lies lifeless in the cold. Tap tattoos on a tattered hide ... Some scarlet stanzas scold Two lovers clutch a turtledove, enraptured by her coo, impaled on pangs of Ladylove ... A sultry song for two A drone of drums in distant wars beguiling bold dragoons who sell their souls like wanton whores ... Raw rhythms writ in runes The stars ablaze, like tiger-eyes reflecting candlelight, ’lume angels singing Lullabys ... A sonnet stuns the night The soulless eyes of shackled slaves drip tears that burn and blur. Their ash, like dust, set free in graves ... Emblazing ballads stir A hurricane, foretold, unfurled, unravels mystic signs as Demons dance, destroy the World ... Limned lurid lyric lines Some die a death neath hangmen’s hands where tainted justice reigns for ‘thou shalt kill’, Revenge commands ... A quiet quatrain pains While well-to-dos amass and flaunt And follow fashion’s trends, pale children starve and die of want ... And so an epic ends THE POET’S EPITAPH His words lie strewn along the sand While breakers wash ashore The ripples weave designs unplanned ... a verse forevermore His tales, entwined in cryptic airs where freedom seeds are blown, warn Guarders of the Realm ‘beware’ ... his heresy is sown His life outlined a chronicle along a lonesome road It started out as doggerel ... and ended as an ode
With a little help from my extremely talented, but somewhat modest, friend “ANON” AKA JC... Thanks JC, for the depth of your support and your breath of inspiration...

Details | Talent Poem | |

Jukebox Gigolo

Old Zack Adams sits a slouch’n so sloppy drunk on a bar-room stool,
Wear’n his cheap-threaded cowboy suit and a stained satin shirt.
All the while a peek’n and a leer’n at women like an old poor fool,
But think’n man tonight—Oh Boy, I’m really gonna hit the pay dirt!

Old Zack in this small Texas town is reputed to be quite a lecherous hoot,
As he raucously and recklessly rolls old worn quarters into the slot
Of the old bar-room Wurlitzer while snicker’n and smil’n to boot,
And plays his tearful and twangy jerk-water music while smil’n a lot!

Old Zack is this town’s “Jukebox Gigolo,” a real lover boy—Oh Boy!
He wears his patched cowboy hat and his scuffed silver-studded boots,
Meant to impress young girls and bar-fly floozies who have the Joy!
Of being with this bewildering, withered, weathered man and his boots.

Old Zack has a fad’n recollection of events and a silver mane of hair,
With a cigarette in his hand and cuss’n like a nasty little stable boy,
He downs whiskey shots and tequila seconds like no tomorrow on a dare,
While chas’n whiskey glass ice cubes and the tequila worm—being so coy.

Old Zack while a swigg’n down his whiskey mucho fast and direct,
He has now that blind courage to fight or to love—whichever is first, 
While the old Wurlitzer resonates a rueful hick song for a teary effect,
But Old Zack can’t move now for this song has him sobb’n the very worst.

Old Zack with his nicotine-whiskey breath and his pockmarked face,
Personifies the image of an ideal loser of a man—with problems all,
While fight’n, scream’n, and punch’n others to gain some precious space,
He’s a showcas’n his reservoir of manly prowess—with problems all.

Old Zack was young once and not so wild, withered, weathered like now,
And he thought he was a really smart dude—all right moves and all,
But was really a man act’n far above his funny fake smart brow, 
And now a cry’n on his bar-room stool and act’n like a fool before a fall.

Old Zack Adams—alcoholic as he truly is and sly and slick as a Texas fox,
Is not really so good with his women friends nowadays—for his real talent
Is in roll’n those old worn quarters pieces one-by-one into the old Jukebox,
Sing’n—“I’m the Jukebox Gigolo”—“a Drunk and a Delight,” that’s real talent!

Gary Bateman, Copyright © All Rights Reserved, Schoeningen, Germany 
(October 7, 2014) (Rhyme poetic format)

Details | Talent Poem | |

Salieri Soliloquy

You give me the desire
a love for composing 
word symphonies
yet you give me
the cross of mediocrity
to bear
day by day to know
there are others 
who are prodigies
and I must hear 
the thunderous applause
while at best
I get the praise
of those who seek to console
my dying soul
I must eat my heart alive
while the words burn inside
demanding expression
soul confession
unborn masterpiece extrication

I fall to my knees
and plead
While I beat my chest
in fervent heat
"Bless me...Bless me...
Make me like him
Make me like her
Make me more than all of these
Make me the best
a word genius
For this love of words will not set me free
Till it is MY name that they chant
My name on their tongues
My name branded on their minds
the Maestro of Word symphonies
Oh, Let it be ME, ME!
BLESS ME!"

Yet...
day after day
night after night
and in my dreams
I see, I see....
I see them take their bows
I see their work showcased
praised
immortalized
while I?
I sit at my desk
and try once more
to write
to...WRITE
the sublime....

Eileen 

The movie Amadeus rocked my to the core. "In it, Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart was killed by his jealous rival, the court composer Antonio Salieri. Salieri cleverly took advantage of Mozart's fondness for drink, his financial crisis, and his obsession with pleasing his deceased father, and tricked Mozart into working himself to death."

Murry Abraham did a wonderful job of portraying Salieri. There is a scene where he argues with God about the wonderful musical talent he has gifted Mozart, who seems undeserving to him, while HE has to live with mediocrity in musical talent. I can relate. I LOVE poetry. It is my life, and yet...I have to watch as others write so effortlessly and reach the pinnacle of fame. It is hard to do. :( Some days are better than others. On the good days, I'm happy that I can write a poem now and again. On the bad days....I want to cry for not being another Shakespeare....or Donne, or Dickinson, or Gibran, or Rumi, or....and the list is endless. 

Details | Talent Poem | |

VOICE OF AN ANGEL

Locked high in the tower the Princess did cry No school for her that was the golden rule The King allowed her one pastime - she could sing She would retreat to her chamber whenever she could Her eyes sparkled with intelligence; singing was her prize She’s so blessed with talent, confined in the chateau Great inner strength inside made her such a winner Her voice, so light and beautiful, made her rejoice She shines like a precious gem despite her confines 02~01~15 Contest: Plucky two by Nine – ‘Cryptic Rose’ 2nd and 9th words to rhyme Words to be used:- Princess, school King, retreat, Intelligence, blessed, strength, light, gem

Details | Talent Poem | |

elegant giraffes


He wondered if his verse was made for fools
and cretins that splish-splash alongside whales
composing dull sonnets was chased by bulls 
- by elegant giraffes and racing snails.

Amid the chickens in his country cot,
while gulping bourbon the pig-farmer writes
his scribble verse turns to an artless blot
and straight he gulps one more for his insights

Oh, detrimental muse of his confused,
absconding inspiration that evades
his talent which was alcohol-abused,
and like the content of each bottle, fades:

......Inspiring advent of a healthy burp
made pigs and chickens to comment "superb"!

© G. V. 06-27-2013 All rights reserved

Sponsor: Judy Konos
Contest Name: The Lazy Contest

Details | Talent Poem | |

The Soup Reich


The Fuhrer's deceit is baked with OCD tendencies,
one hand doling it out to the masses,
while the other hand places more checkpoints
along the already tightly surveilled perimeter.

The Fuhrer's Souper Troopers, Gestapo and Souparazzi
scour the Soup halls for any anomalies,
for any Resistance Fighters of literature
who might distract the masses' attention

away from the Fuhrer's spotlight. And there! Hark
the Herald Demons, the Head Pig pounds the podium,
refocuses the little piggies' minutely distracted attention
with tales of fearful monsters, uniting the crowd

against a common enemy. 

Divide the mind, to conquer it. "Divide and Conquer,"
whisper the Fuhrer's elite henchmen
as they send-out another wave of soupmail propaganda,
while running fingers across the mustaches dangling

from their rat-faces like miniature toupees meant for 
the now-aged Ken dolls stricken with cancer from eating 
too many GMO Swastika corn-dogs and Huns.burger Helper --
cannibalistic swine eating their own kind. "Sieg Heil!" 

The little piggies devour Swastika slop from their troughs:
big lies broken down, fed to them over time
until they squeal dolefully, piggies wrapped in blankets
waiting for another bribed lullaby to help them fall asleep.

Poor little piggies. Believing themselves to have no talent
of their own, they ride on the barbeque sauce coat tails of a 
one-trick pony-pig Fuhrer -- selling short their own deserved
spotlight to a fugazi masquerading as a 24 Carat saint.







July 22nd, 2013

________________________________________________________



"Take the greatest deceits, decorate them with gold and hand them out as gifts. 
When the masses have swallowed the contents, you can make these people 
believe and do anything." - Adolf Hitler
 
 "The more we do to you, the less you seem to believe we are doing it."
- Dr. Joseph Mengele

"The most common characteristic of all police states, is intimidation by surveillance. Citizens know they are being watched and overheard. Their mail is being examined. Their homes can be invaded. When citizens alter their natural conduct via the fear of being watched, truth becomes suppressed when public discussion turns into whispers." - Vance Packard

"To silence satire, is to silence freedom." - Sidney Hook

“The true essence of a dictatorship is in fact not its regularity, but its unpredictability and caprice; those who live under it must never be able to relax, must never be quite sure if they have followed the rules correctly or not.” 
- Christopher Hitchens, Hitch-22: A Memoir

“The first truth is that the liberty of a democracy is not safe if the people tolerate the growth of private power to a point where it becomes stronger than their democratic state itself. That, in its essence, is fascism -- ownership of government by an individual, by a group, or by any other controlling private power." 
- Franklin D. Roosevelt


*Author's Note: This satire does not involve the TPS administration.





+/-

Details | Talent Poem | |

Gifts

Gifts

Gifts are what matter the most.
Where's the talent without its host?
Where's the paper without the pen?
What is repetition without doing again? 
Where's the car without its driver?
Where's the home without the family?
Where's hope without faith?
Where's the song without the singer?
Where's the vocalist without the musician?
Where's the tune without the melody?
Where are the words without the lyrics?
Where's the music without the instrument?
Where's the orchestra without the conductor?
Where's the production without the producer?

Where's the tree without its root?
Where's the branch without the tree?
Where are the leaves without the branches?
Where are the flowers without their stems?
Where are the petals without the flower?

Where is spring without its showers?
Where is summer without heat?
Where is winter without the cold?
Where is autumn without the breeze?

Where is love without passion?
Where is affection without attraction?
Where is deed without action?

What is math without its equations?
What is a word without persuasion?
Where's a sign without indication?

Where's the line without a starting point?
What are bones without their joints?
What is a body without chemistry?

Everything has a gift.
Everything has a function.
These things work together in perfect conjunction.
Gifts, yes indeed, gifts.

Details | Talent Poem | |

Insomnia (To Tom)

.                        
                        Insomnia drifting 
                        from fears to phobias
                        towards sunset 

                        I used to wine and dine her
                        now, Rosie can't stop:
                        her constant and succulent Tid-Bits 
                        transform our kitchen into her sanctuary
                        Moon shines on her cellulite 
                        like lunar craters
                        for eventual wormholes 
                        inertia under the spandex boxer shorts

                        Insomnia drifting 
                        from fears to phobias
                        towards memories

                        ...with my lost friends in Dire Straits gig 
                        yelling "money for nothing"
                        the abusive police sharing pain
                        and the blood in the white shirts
                        when we sold the Hammond for medicine

                        Insomnia drifting 
                        from fears to phobias
                        towards nothing

                        The mute T.V. and the World I didn't change
                        skipping, switching, zapping 
                        the vacuum salesmen
                        the nuclear waste in a poor country
                        the UFO convention
                        American Idol, America got Talent, 
                        and the stupidity of strange feelings
                        Coke, Trojan, Toyota...
                        Listerine soaked tissue
                        to kill the germs that cause bad words
                        dirt and death
                        order and death
                        votes and death
                        power and death
                        control and death
                        politics and death
                        selfishness and death
                                                      manipulating my sleep



.

Details | Talent Poem | |

STAND BY ME

Lyrics written 
Get uber deals
Dynamic offers
And epic thrills
They say talent
I know it's love
From my angel
From up above
Oh, all might see
But only you feel
Under my skin
My heart's thrill
So take my hand
On this night sky
Live the moment
Money can't buy
There's my name
Just take a look
It's on your heart 
Not on a book

See I..
Don't care for fame 
Or popularity
I'll be just fine
If you stand by me!



Details | Talent Poem | |

I am bored with Poetrysoup

I am bored with Poetrysoup

Premier Poetry website rekindled my poetic talent 
Veterans loved my work and inspired to showcase talent
But soon got entangled in Members Contest
Contests more of mutual admiration club than talent hunt
One Premium Member placing other high on winners list
Ordinary Members often accomodated below Glory list      

Poetrysoup Members Contest rules needs revision
Premium Membership based on fees not on merits and contribution   
Novice at times get chance to judge veteran 
And post three poems in Poetrysoup Contest tilting fair play condition
Rules need revision, Premium Membership should be criteria driven
Either based on 25 Top Ten wins or upon posting of 150 poems  
Top 50 of Poetrysoup Contest should conduct contests and groom 

Though bored yet good platform of poetic expression is Poetrysoup  

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 

By Hitendra Mehta
April 2011

Placed 7th in Members Contest - I am bored with______ by Linda Marie 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

P.S - Its not intended to offend the Premium Members. Few of them have 
really supported me and loved my visuals and flow. The idea is to make
this platform more stronger and meritorious to groom real talent.
Winning Top Ten and accumulating marks is okay but ultimate gratification
lies in showcasing the visuals with seamless flow of theme and packaging
same in adorable poetic forms.

Ventured this caustic one hoping that it will bring about positive changes.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
 


Details | Talent Poem | |

Chunky Charlie



A Special Poem for Will Helppi A really fat cat named Chunky Charlie From a town called Licketysplit Corner Was renowned for a very interesting talent As a world famous circus performer His extra poundage added to the spectacle People thought it was really appealing They giggled to see him jiggle while juggling Six tennis balls as he was kneeling A pretty little kitty called Cuddly Cathie Winked at him while watching him juggle So trying to concentrate on his performance He found it to be quite a struggle In fact, near the end of Charlie's performance Balls flew off in every direction One ended up in the lap of Cuddly Cathie He approached her with a very red complexion He stuttered and stammered trying to apologize Her beauty made him literally tongue tied Instead of an apology these words stumbled out "Will you be my pretty kitty cat bride?" Not a moment went by, Cuddle Cathie replied "Yes oh yes, I'll be your blushing bride" Dear Charlie could hardly contain his emotions He was absolutely brimming with pride The moral of this tale is really quite obvious Perseverance pays off sooner or later You should never give up when reaching for a star The rewards will never be greater!

Details | Talent Poem | |

GOD'S GIFT

.



A miracle in waiting my friend you are
Possible it is all you wish to achieve 
    
Just

Use God’s planted talent in your soul 
He is expecting you, His gift to retrieve! 



© Demetrios Trifiatis
    06 January 2015 

Details | Talent Poem | |

WHERE FROZEN EMBERS STILL BURN

WHERE FROZEN EMBERS STILL BURN

When will periwinkle dreams entwine my lifesong
  for prickly winter has blanket me? [Long, ah! so long...]
Has bloody ferns swirl then froze me as falling snow
  for acrid critiques cold cloud? [T'was wrong, Oh so wrong...]

Doubts and worries weaken more my weary feet.
  But teeming catalysts from a passionate bearing God
    activate talent embers, once frozen, to fleet--
Spelling: "TRUST, GO AND START!", smolder revive from above.

Bearing a faith anew, I spread my wings to fly;
  walking even over blitz agonizing talk for pry.
Cracking myself from iceberg of fears--
  instead, twining myself to God's glory, a clear dear!

Braiding faith and hardwork in cornerstone steel,
  spirits afire hope that guards, a powerful seal.
Unfolding gifts from long frozen hearts' embers burn.
  mightily restored through heaven's love way turn...

(c)
10:16am
August 22, 2014

***inspired by verses:
Matthew 10:26 -
Therefore do not fear them. For there is nothing covered that will not be 
revealed, and hidden that will not be known. 

2 Corinthians 4:7-11
But we have this treasure in jars of clay to show that this all-surpassing
power is from God and not from us. We are hard pressed on every side, but not
crushed; perplexed, but not in despair; persecuted, but not abandoned; struck
down, but not destroyed. We always carry around in our body the death of
Jesus, so that the life of Jesus may also be revealed in our body. For we who
are alive are always being given over to death for Jesus' sake, so that his life 
may be revealed in our mortal body.

Details | Talent Poem | |

The Perfect Painting

I could not refrain from asking what it was that made her sigh
When each picture that she started she took down. I wondered why.
The young lady was forthcoming; said her thoughts were fresh and bright
Every time she started painting nothing seemed to turn out right.
Then she glanced at my own painting and declared that it was great
She remarked I found it easy to imagine and create.
Well, I smiled and softly told her that it was my special brush
That afforded all the wonders; careful handling with no rush.
So I told her she could use it, to be gentle for a start
Till they reached synchronization so that both could play their part.
What about the other brushes? Do not fret or give a hoot
Mine will be the instigator, all the rest will follow suit!
I went off to have a breather while she went to work anew
Gave her time to get on with it then returned exact on cue.
I could see her face was radiant and her work intense yet cool 
She expressed appreciation at my most fantastic tool.
I will let you on a secret; I have played a hidden card
For my brush is only normal. You were trying just too hard!
You can paint, you have it in you. To your talent be not blind.
As you see there is no magic; it was only in the mind. 
So good luck with your endeavours. Some advice, precise and brief
You can make the perfect painting; all you need is self belief.

---------------------------------------------------------------------------

Note: This poem was written to pass on a message to all those who 
         suffer from low esteem. Self-belief is the way forward.
---------------------------------------------------------------------------

Author: Paul Callus
Contest (Favourite Poem...) sponsored by Carol Eastman
Placed: 1st



Details | Talent Poem | |

I'll cry tomorrow

Sitting dying alone,
In this dark and dingy place 
It has now become my home..
The only open bar 
In town, I needed something to heal my broken heart
I'm on my 8th round, Going on Nine now!

Swaying on this broken bar stool
As the bartender shouts 
his “last call”, As I'm looking down
and this shuffled ground
As I try a re step my footsteps home
Walking them back In my head
But I'm a stumbling mess

My heart feels like shattering glass
I'm slowly breaking,
Sink-in, Drown-in in the dark-nest
I'm Gasp-in, For breath, Each one Hard-er
than the next!
While the whole world around me are breathing
Fine, I'm falling back into the abyss, 
Broken heart-ed 
This vodka has cut my skin so deep
This broken glass with it's hard edges
Digging, Silting into me
Tho some of my pain was self inflicting 
My heart's beat, is barely beating
That's why I'm drinking
This gin 
Now swallowed, why cant I
swallow my pride With
Dignity, I'm openly seeking darkness 
I'm sorry farther “For I have sinned”
Those sin's I've harbored
Now my hollowed soul's giving In
To that darkness....

My body trembling ,The outcome's looking bleak
I've become so weak
Shaking knees, I can barely stand up
My eye's become teary 
They say its this alcohol that's depressing me
But it's soon becoming my dependency
I'm finding hard to leave it be, I'm hooked....
...To a drip, Anything so I can get my fix
It’s another chapter I've my book
That''s needs to be ripped, Apart
Because I'm hiding be-hide a mask
My face is smiling but inside my heart is scared..

I'm writing this at night 
I'm tired... but my mind's racing fast
while my eyes are wide shut
I'm Trying to sleep..but my mind's
Not giving up..whilst
I'm lying on my friends sofa
I'm unable to get up
Morning rises but I'm slowly dying..

I'm hung over
Pondering on my life and wondering
what it would be like being sober
How can I achieve anything in life
When my only motivation is getting high
And the other half of the time
I'm crying inside 
Too depressed to write
But I wipe my tears 
But I'm still here, On my bar stool from 9 to 5!

The same broken record playing
Saying “I'm going to quit” But I'm not facing
My problems to begin with, I need a Fixative
I'm not telling myself I got a problem to be able to fix it!
Sitting here, Ripping the label off this toxic beer, bottle
I can't look at look at this mirror and face him!
Face it you hit rock bottom...
I cant believe what I have become
I wake up drunk
Where will I end up?
As I look along, A sedimentary I come a pone, A grave with my name above...

As the bar door's are now closing
My heart's ripped open Soaking
In pure emotion
Bartender “Give me two more shots”
And ill mend my way's
Not before a quick pit stop 
To get more drink from this shop
Because I'm getting sick of these sad song's that play
From the broken jukebox!
Or this it me?
And my pain that's eternal bleeding
Thinking that every sad song is talking to me?
I'm leaving.. 

Because I'm lonely
I wonder if anyone get's me?
The feeling of looking back hopelessly
At the bottom of the vodka bottle
Describing my feelings of feeling empty!
I've been here before so it can't be rock bottom

The only thing I adore 
Is my trusty red Pen that's my Savior 
It's a metaphor...it's my blood, That's in its ink
When it hit's the paper
It's that pain, I'm writing with!
Because that inspiration's bleeds through my veins
Just for me to scribble to words on this page
Just so I can throw them away!
Because I think anything I ever do 
Is not good enough for you..
Maybe I should do, More before I get taken away
Maybe if that ambulance had been late
I wouldn't been standing here today
But I still cant make that change

Because My vision, Impaired by the flashing lights 
Of that ambulance
So If I die, today 
At least they couldn't say 
He was just an addict
Who abused his talent...

But I'm still here I tried To drown My 
Sorrow
But I'm Drowning In tear's That I'll cry 
tomorrow!

Details | Talent Poem | |

And The Piper Played On

 And The Piper Played On

The mystic piper paid his earthly dues
 strange tunes he did so often choose
 Notes that ring so loud and so clear
 wiping away doubt and darkened fear

 Yet each found this a false delight
 shadows that lurched in evil night
 Music set to lowly goals and greed
 easing pains from a desperate need

 Dancing in a deepened hollow ring
 woes trailed all that shout and sing
 Piper plays on in his standard way
 as his victims spin and gaze far away

 Stars spin away so very far, far above
 this world needs more, always more love

Robert J. Lindley

note: Inspired by the words of a fellow poet here. Such inspiration is in great abundance here as this site offers the writings of so very many talented artists!
I am humbled to read such poetry and any subject can find inspiration from the tremendous number of offerings presented here each day! From seasoned poet to newbie the talent here is simply amazing..

Details | Talent Poem | |

"Ladies of Soup"'

Poet Destroyer is such a good friend...
On and off with chatting and e mails we send...
Each day I check for all the new entries..
Thanking all for comments that are always friendly..
Raising stakes each day by such talent shown..
Your site has helped, for this poet has grown...

So to my friend Wilma across the pond...
Our partnership in crime has formed a nice bond...
Until my Jersey Girl stops her sweet ways...
Poems shall continue to roll all of my days...


Poetic picture of PoetrySoup contest

Details | Talent Poem | |

Here I Am

**not sure if this makes sense but the beat for the lyrics goes...
   dadada  dada daa dada da
and the chorus....   da da da   dada da da  ... kind of how I hear it in my head**

HERE I AM

Everyday I read a million words
Every time I speak my voice gets heard
All this talent flows like waterfalls
I'm so glad to be a part of it all

         Here I am
         Writing for you
         Seeing your skills
         Shining through
         Reading your soul
         Beating like rain
         Feeling refreshed
         Never be the same

Whether I am swooning or laughing out loud
I fit in perfectly with this soup crowd
If you bring the inspiration my dear
I'll pour the sugar and spice right here

           Here I am 
           Ready for you
           Here is my skills
           Shining through
           Writing my soul
            Speaking like rain
            Spirit refreshed
            Never be the same

Serving up my soul for the silver spoon
Dancing to my favorite lovers tune
I'll expose my heart to be your star
Yes I love you, you know who you are.

            Here I am
            Dancing for you
            Craving thrills
            Feeling true
            Singing my soul
             Breathing rain
             Here I am 
            Never the same

And here I am,
take me as I am my love
hold me as I am my love
For you my true Here i am 
 


06-08-2014
Casarah Nance
For Contest:contest of my dreams
Sponsor Dave wood           

Details | Talent Poem | |

Sebastian Aaron Baez

Swimming in an ocean of mixed ink,
words collide in a catastrophic link.
Images form from random collision 
exploding into nuclear fission.
Pen and paper graphic graffiti
Unique style of art and poetry.
Passionate vocabulary, images create
Euphoric illusion of confusions state.
Lover and linguistic, word driven man,
Rushing and thrusting the mind, he can.
Silence evaporates in steamless smoke
Senses stilled by the will his words provoke.
Blistering the canvas unable to blink.
Friend in fame, master in me with mixed ink.

 
For my friend ~Sebastian Aaron Baez~
Find his poetry here and his artwork at
  www.acameraandaquill.com under the art section, he has got some talent!!

Details | Talent Poem | |

Greatness Calls!

Its whispering gentle 
 through breeze to leaves
rustling each to a frenzied clamor
 Can you hear the heightened sound?
Inaudible then so loud...so Loud!!
  So loud you cant hear at all
As the days slip past do you
  stop and listen?
Greatness calls!

Aptitude resides in minds...hiding in wait
  as a coiled snake rearing to strike
A glimpse...a flash...a window we passed
  our sight steering down a narrow hall
life carrying our feet too fast to see...
  to left or right in brilliant hues 
So vibrant and lively, ideas hiding in wait
 Can you see them in the passing panes?
A moment of brilliance lays dormant 
  awaiting your attentive audience
Greatness calls!!

Outside stimuli grows so rapid
 numbing our minds of freedom
processing the intake derails a train of thought
A locomotive whose motive is motivation
  Rumbling on tracks reverbing through your soul
Can you feel the power surge in your veins?
  raising hairs with the electricity of knowing...
...knowing an idea tingles with possibility?
       crawling below the surface of skin
   Itching for pores to release it
Greatness calls!!!

Sweetly epiphany drips of honey
 cooing with a flavor we seldom devour
To settle for dreaming is to savor bittersweet
 repression attacks the tongue so sour
Can you taste the food for thought?
  A peach drizzling juicy images with clarity
    sating the tongue, these dulcet revelations
Greatness calls!!!!

In realization the scent of lilac spring lingers...
  fresh and intoxicating with the nectar of creativity
Wafting through with pleasing achievement
  swirls of petals and spice compound a nasal euphoria
Yet in squandering ability lays the stench of rot
  Reaking strong of regret this stagnating refuse 
    overpowers with the odor of inhibition
Can you smell the promise of flowers blooming?
  in spite of doubt using rubbish for compost
Emitting a fragrance of intense talent
Greatness calls!!!!!

Details | Talent Poem | |

A Tribute to The Highlander

His talent as a Bard explodes
From an exquisite mind it flows 
Through an instrument of script
Flooding parchment reverberating
Through the psyche creating waves  
Reaching the far ends of the universe 

Words of truth deep sentiment flourish
Propelling legitimate personal emotions 
Giving due praise to brave loyal and true
To God nature his love and fellow Bards and
The magnificent highlands he loves so well
Always uplifting inspiring and sharing 

Accept this tribute from an amateur a friend
With gratitude for reading commenting for 
Being just who you are, The Highlander