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

Tribute to the Rain by Pushpala, Mothiram
Tribute to a brother by Dome, Peter
The other me - a tribute to drag queens by onwochei, carl
Tormentuous Tribute by Harding, Lycia
A Tribute To Veterans by Artis, Elis
Veteran's Day Tribute - Hotan by Petersen Potter, Dorian
A tribute to love by Oldham, Stacie
Big Band Spanning Trees - A Tribute to Adele and Lady Gaga by Walker , Verlena S.

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The Best Tribute Poems

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A poet's dozen Poetry Soup heroes

Not for contest: Tribute to all those who have helped me grow as a poet

rivers flow gently like that of a poet's pen creating heroes How can I mention only a few-as there are a number of inspirational poets who woke me from my slumber From all those who greeted me with a pleasant welcome to all those who watered the rose that grew in the desert The Aqua girl encouraged me to share my raw lyrics as I posted - many commented with encouragement My lack of detail for grammar had others in hysterics while many advised me to ignore the discouragement The ink flows as my poetry heroes provide nourishment
A poet's dozen is 12 lines of poetry using the following forms in this order: One modern Haiku: 3 lines: Syllables 5,7,5 A couplet: 2 lines Free verse: 2 lines English Quintain: 5 lines: Rhyming scheme ababb The Silent One 1 November 2015

Copyright © Silent One

More great poems below...

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Of Ink

   Partial Paper
 -A poet in heat-

Ink carries its own tale,
When moonshine intoxicates your pen
Bottles of ink fill your mind
Composing symphonies on every line
Drops of passion all over the mask you wear
Nothing compares to black stains and broken nails

This part of you 
The tough skin you'll ever live in
Fountain pens of split identities
Who Are You?
Sinking  words like no other
Poisoned ink piercing every rhyme
Inferior poet, making the heart pure
Anger plus anger "GIVE ME MORE!"

You have a desire to paint all day,
Breathing and beating in every way
Toxic lines, from which ink flows
Inhaling images from the world
Deep and cold sorrowed emotions 
True love is always easy to poetize
Dear Poet:  "Ink Never Lies."

Pretty pink acrostic ink when she's nearby
Sugar and salt, Epic taste of reality
Ballads sang under the full moon
Sunny Sonnets, on any rainy day
Ode's of rivers from your past
A dark smile jotting down memory lane
Monologue tears brought under pressure
Loading cartridges of fresh Senryu and Haiku"
Dramatic red runs through your veins when all is done
Unfolding old and new propaganda's
POET: You are my favorite verse in every stanza
((Only this, and nothing more))
Writing is like giving birth


Copyright © Poet Destroyer A

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Ancient Warrior

I see the wrinkles in your suntanned brow,
You carried burdens then; you see them now.
You’ve heard the cries your people who in pain,
Have shed their tears two hundred years like rain. 

Your sad brown eyes, reflecting now the sky
I see the wings of eagles flying by
Beside you stands an Appaloosa mare
Her spirit one with you now over there.

You hear the drums, they bid you to come near,
Your spirit drawn the beats they ring so clear.
Song like prayers are chanted through the night,
Calling you come, and help them end their plight.  

You’ve heard sad cries and now stand at their side,
You join the prayers with both arms open wide,
United spirits sing until the dawn,
When in the fire’s flames a golden fawn.

Remembering a smile crosses your face,
When tribes were one with Mother Nature’s grace.
The lakes and streams flowing with waters clear,
Flow sadly now, the planet lives in fear.

The weightless feathers that adorn your head
Your tribes grey future weighed you down instead.
Now breathing deep you smell the winds of change
While here on earth your people rearrange.

Written by Brenda Meier-Hans 
Giorgio A.V. Contest 
Iambic Pentameter 
1st place

Copyright © Brenda Meier-Hans

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flowers for Chinaski

I quickly grew tired of poems about
the supposed gentleman who wanted
to turn his gal into a flower.

I thought about what it might be like 
to be turned into a 
flower --

maybe domesticated in a garden 
first, then plucked

or plucked straight from the wild.

Stuck into a vase
on display for people to watch you 
slowly wither.
People admiring you 
with punctuated looks of sentiment,
sniffing you while they watch you

By chance
someone might press you into a book
to preserve you for later admiration,

only able to touch you like a 
so your petals don't disintegrate into dust.

Nah, I would rather she be a 
have her petals embrace me.

She might try clawing out my eyes with rage 
and slam the kitchenette 
in just that way I can't stand,

before we cuddle together,
an ashtray between us
smoldering with the stacks of Pittsburgh or
Chicago or Buffalo City.

And even if the blue light flickering off the walls 
can't fill all the empty spaces 
in our hearts,
at least we chose to be there

and lived.

Lived beyond 
living for the sole purpose
of dying to look good in the casket,
only to be pressed into a mausoleum.

When the time comes,
I want my corpse to feed
the forces that don't give up
fighting against contrived,
manicured lawns --
that don't stop fighting to break through 
concrete city slabs
with the faces of dandelions and chickory,
blossoms exploding
into bright ruckus

while making love to the sky.

April 7th, 2014

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

-- Charles Bukowski,
"The Roominghouse Madrigals: Early Selected Poems, 1946-1966"


Copyright © Chris D. Aechtner

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flowers for Chinaski -- part ii

part ii

There was a time
when I wanted to be one of them,

to somehow fit in
with the fancy rituals
of their high society.
But the da-Dumb, da-Dumb, da-Dumb
made me want to puke,
made me want to bounce my head 
off the table, hopefully causing the bone china
and forks
to add clatter to their snobbish 

Words like "gossamer" 
flitted around the room,
word so thin but veiled 

and distant,

even the candle light appeared
to shy away from those dry wings.

The snobs talked about how
I was too simple with words.
They did so with such a simple, 
the irony provided oxygen for flame
to devour.

And the critics proclaimed that
I wasn't able to love,
when really, I just wanted to get away
from them, 
smoke a cigarette in peace
while hitchhiking back to my chubby cherub,
feel her belly fall and rise against my skin.

I was finally able to love,
and she died.

The previous pain had been for show:
"Look at the drunk ham
feeling sorry for himself."

But when she died,
I distilled tears
into a different type of proof.
I was no longer willing to be
their carnival attraction
placated under the table,
listening to them upstage each other.

When I was able to stand again,
a cold, sharp thing was birthed in my mind,
I wanted to shoot them all between the eyes,
splatter their degrees and deeds 
with their blood and brains.

I found peace though -
stopped wanting to be one of them.

I found peace
away from their chatter
about what to carve on their headstones
or what type of fancy imported granite
their mausoleums should be constructed of.

I found peace in readying myself to be 
consumed by 
to be perspired into the open, fathomless sky --
the same deep blue as the bird 
who finally pecked his way
through the rusted cage of my heart,

freeing us both.

April 12th, 2014

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

-- Charles Bukowski,
"The Roominghouse Madrigals: Early Selected Poems, 1946-1966"


Copyright © Chris D. Aechtner

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Tribute to Charmaine Chircop

If tonight I could paint a moonlight sprinkle it with endless love and childlike magic sail away with you across an azure sea on a vessel to happiness If tonight I could close my eyes dance with you through the chambers of my heart wrapping you in the endless emotions of my soul and let all my Pasionata set us free If tonight, just like the wind felt on your moon glowed cheek through the silent distance would you remember me a fresh sweet scent of last gardenia on yesterday's linen sheets a wonderland of happily ever after's through fields of daisies where the river meets the sea little by little dare to dream a dream wonder a bit longer lose yourself where the crimson bleeds it's rose
08/07/2015 Tribute Contest hosted by Silent One

Copyright © Tim Smith

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Sonnet queen a tribute to Andrea Dietrich

Andrea Dietrich is the fair maiden's name A talented poet who has taught me so much The queen of sonnets has become her fame A talented lady with the Midas touch As a novice I entered the world of Poetry Soup At first her words seemed like those from a preacher Telling me I should do things correctly on this group But slowly in time, Andrea has become my respected teacher Her poetry has been awarded many an accolade Not only sonnets, but also for the quatrain and quintain From romantic writes about a lover's serenade To heart ache, sorrow and poems full of pain Andrea Dietrich, a wonderful mother, nanna and wife
Who brings a breath of fresh air to every poet's life A tribute to a wonderful friend Andrea Dietrich The Silent One 15 September 2015

Copyright © Silent One

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How Shall I Write For You Tonight

How shall I write for you tonight when the words don't seem to flow? I could write about the moon and the stars and how, to you, they don't compare to those starry caramel eyes that look deep inside of me wrap around my sated heart and fill my life with glee I could write about your killer smile that brightens my every thought that gives me strength to carry on when sad or when distraught I could write about your compassion your powerful soul or your caring heart I could tell you how much I love you and how we'll never be apart I could verse a poem about how I admire who you are your virtues, values, giving of your time what you stand for or how I'm proud to call you mine I could write a song that would praise your love of God the less fortunate, His children and all of those in need. How can I possibly write a worthy poem that sings praises high enough of you when all you do seems right and just and your intentions are so true. Tonight I'll try to write my sweet of one who strives to rid the world of hurt So I'll close my eyes and picture you and hope I find the words

Copyright © Tim Smith

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I Can't Breathe

In memory of----

Solely in my room, I can't stomach the sound of my heartbeat.
I sit here alone to forget the taste of air, 
Overwhelmed by the scene -unbelievable footage
18 seconds too long, "I can't breathe."
My judgement is gone, stressing all night long
I use to fear dark colors, now I fear spinning bright lights
Red, White, and Blue,  I spew the NY Police crew
What's wrong with your blue eyes?
You see him, you want to mess with him
What a day to trade  --  a life for illegal cigarettes
Persecution and judgment day, a sweet life taken away
"I can't breathe", executed in broad daylight!

Bullies left and right
What happened to minding our business?
Moneymaking, refusing to be singled out 
A hurting voice tackled by racism 
Free to see, pouring his heavy heart,
Oinker's demand the ground, leaving out his testament
8 times too many, "I can't breathe!"
Where did his vitals go? 
Can someone please pound the pavement!

Stress, anger, madness, the voices of the innocent
"I can't breathe." the volume of Valium
"Officer, did you not hear the man?"
Are you deaf, have you forgotten how to save a life?
Is it just the NYPD or is it every other badge,
Insinuating crime's a one-color show.
We are all criminals, why the excessive heat?
Shot, tasered, beat down, pepper sprayed,  now on the ground
The choke hold of all choke holds, murdered and out numbered 
The echoes remain "I can't breathe!"

- The truth!
Eric Garner robbed of his own natural path and youth
One man down eyed suspiciously 
Perplexed minds suffocating him instantly
The mistrusted, the fear, the hate,  
So tangible, uniforms using deadly force
One asthmatic in a choke hold
Slamming his head on the flooring
Open wounds, worldwide tears

My heart goes to the family and friends left behind
A courageous last breath, for the first and last time
"I can't breathe," now deceased.
You left this world unwilling, waking up a strong community
Strolling in a  better world, where racism don't exist
"I can't breathe,"  Eric Garner Rest in peace!

By: PD

Copyright © Poet Destroyer A

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Night Owl

Sitting by her open window,
Was a girl deep in thought,
Lost within a book of Poe,
A perfect poem she sought.

With a curious eye,
He watches her pen,
For she gives it a try,
Every now and then.

He will visit her forevermore,
In silent hours of midnight,
Casting his shadow on her floor,
Within the full moonlight.

Mysterious, nocturnal bird,
Calling out to darkened land,
Speaking such wise word,
Which I cannot understand.

I am lonely, I must confess,
It's just you, me and the moon,
You are much like me, I guess,
So, please sing me another tune.

A messenger of death,
Wailing songs of a banshee,
Has my grim reaper cometh,
Was this warning meant for me?

My soul was projected,
In the shadow of a fowl,
A raven I had expected,
Not the silhouette of an owl!

Copyright © Kelly Deschler

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He Makes me See in Color

He makes me see in color
when I’m enshrouded in my grey.
His hues of happiness twirl and dance
and my life takes on a different stance.
~~~Beauty birthed in blessings believed~~~
        He gifts to me...
reassurance in reality’s revelations!
His color blind eyes
make my truth blind ones see...
My words are wonderfully wise
Passionately poignant
Honestly heartwarming
Sensually scintillating
Oh la la lacious…simply delicious
vibrantly colored in vivacious!!!

These are the word colors
he mixes on my page’s palette
with his own signature artistry. 
He embellishes the plain canvas of my mind
a kaleidoscope revelry….I see
This color blind poet,
this mentoring friend
is a man who carries a name
which says it all...
Lamoureux: the one who loves
He's a lover of colors he cannot see
because he’s gifted them...
He’s gifted them all
to me

Eileen Manassian Ghali
For Richard Lamoureux's Contest
Who Do You Think I am
September 26, 2015

You paint your pictures, on the canvas of my mind.
Ebbing and flowing, as your thoughts become released.
Texture and color, are displayed with every line.....

From another poem
If I could see in color.....

Richard Lamoureux

Copyright © Eileen Manassian

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Indian Girl

--Virginia Slim--

Different eyes, the same world 
Ancient skin, dirty Indian Girl 
Smokey, eyes, exotic raven hair 
---Now listen to  the colors, of transformation, 
On the day she was born, the wind blew in, 
A blessing ---her soul, fallen from the heavens
A  gorgeous puff of smoke, Miss Virginia Slim

Able to walk the world with an open mind, she twirls
Pocahontas, one of her many names. 
She carves, and climbs on trees, this little Indian Girl, 
Her feathers ride with the wind, against her red titian skin
Daughter of Chief Powhatan, a powerful tribal, red man 
Peace and love with the Indians of her Virginia Lands,

Many myths, many stories, maybe a mad woman, 
A new Christian, living sad poverty, a silent hero, 
Twisted tales, from savage green to ivory white religion
In her eyes, life never was about greed and skin
Her new look attained an altitude precision
Pocahontas tricked and captured, 
Set to sail another tribe, lands were taken over, 
Boat sailed out of Virginia Lands

Tribes acclaimed her to be wild and ambitious
"The naughty one," searching for admission
Native American child, before the princess, 
Her beautiful soul, a short auspicious beginning
Leaving her world, beautiful and fearless
Forgetting her roots-- From Mother Willow's Vision 
Pocahontas, the Indian Legend from, The Virginia Lands


Copyright © Poet Destroyer A

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Lucilla Smiled

Although her smile I could not see, Lucilla smiled through poetry. This lovely lady I met here who graced us with her sunny ways until her very final days became for me somebody dear. Although her smile I could not see, Lucilla smiled through poetry. Her words of wisdom now can flow in heaven, where all angels go. This lovely lady I met here became for me somebody dear. Although her smile I could not see, Lucilla smiled through poetry! RIP Lucilla Carrillo - Written in her memory Oct 2014 For the Sonnetina Rispetto Contest of Dr. Ram Mehta

Copyright © Andrea Dietrich

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Dirty Laundry

(She's Got Cooties)

Bitter every night, she speaks of another man
In dialogues, she rips and shreds my brothers sheets
Her moves are naught more than an exposed wound 
Riding dreams with no thought to spare 
With eyes, that lie every night,
Even, I believe every word from her prune lips

Silent she auctions words into the breeze
My brother's heart is so brittle, it hurts
She is lying, he's dying, a fool just to feel complete
At this point he believes, she was kidnapped by apes
She's not the kind of wife that sit on a trophy case
Once she removes the makeup, her face is gone
She is gone, gone, gone, 

A smile mocking infidelity, 
I scream, I want to beat her brains in
My brother begs her to rest, he prays
His wife will wash her dirty mouth
A kiss that hurts as she takes the air away, 
Pouring guilt, pretending it's his fault
After every sucker punch this past month
She left while he slept
A wicked in law, with no comparison
Breathing luscious sperm, she's a worm
Vacuuming another man's dream, 
She is gone, gone, gone, 

A weak link, wasting his time loving her
His heart murdered 19 years ago
My brother holds on to plain dumb hope
In hopes, she might stay longer than 3 days
His dreams are sweet, innocent and failed, 
Yet he won't stop dreaming of her loving lips
Heating up to nothing when she's not there
She is gone, gone, gone, 

Sometimes I just sit and wonder 
What sort of man, sits awake with his eyes shut
Daydreaming of a long life dream
Then I realize if he can dream
Why Can't I   

~Trashed #2, sponsor, Broken Wings~

Copyright © SKAT A

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Word Piles

“You know you're in love when you can't fall asleep because reality is finally better than your dreams.” — Dr. Seuss

There was an old man, he was tattered.
He’d piled his words like it mattered,
all of his life
through trouble and strife,
while his wonderful wife, well, she nattered.

Oh why do you pile those words over there?
They’re taking up space much needed for air!
Forgive me my dear,
I like them quite near,
without them, I simply don’t care.

He pushed them and nudged them, those words that he loved,
but his missus attacked them, often ungloved.
The man only smiled,
which left her unstyled
like all of her wits had been shoved.

One bright summer day the man took to flight,
off to the place we often call night.
His wife was aghast
as she stared at the past
and those piles of words in her sight.

She sat in their midst, breathing a sigh,
missing her husband caused her to cry.
The silly old pest,
could only but jest,
she missed him, but didn’t know why.

Until she began to shovel and scoop,
all of those words piled like poop,
throughout her house
by her missing spouse.
The thought made her lips start to droop.

Suddenly a baby word drew up quite near
and nudged at her eye, releasing a tear,
which started a flood
turning words into mud
who then giggled out loud with good cheer!

Contagious it was—all of that mirth,
more precious than gold (what it was worth)
turning around
her well-practiced frown,
releasing a smile on the earth.

What she’d never known, what she’d never seen,
was, though he’d loved words, she was his queen.
The joy those words brought
was what he had sought,
to give to his wife who’d been mean.

Now she saw through the mud his bright smile,
amplified much by the pile,
full of whipples and wots
and twisted what-nots
plus words not used in a while.

The funny ones, much in disuse,
discarded and thought too obtuse,
pronounced with a quack,
or maybe a glack,
were enough to plant grins on a moose.

So she gathered those words with great care
She even put some in her hair.
They whispered to her
like a kitty-cat’s purr
and her smile made onlookers stare.

She threw out her lonely big bed
and slept on those word piles instead.
The man of her dreams,
although silly, it seems,
was the hubby she’d deemed loose at the seams.

Finally she really did love him, him and his odd-wording ways.
She reads his words without ceasing, on her many, colorful days.
Her nights are now filled with chatter
and nattering, nat-nat-nat natter.
Those words and hers, joined as one voice, singing a word-piler’s praise.

John Wulf  08-11-15 for Dr. Seuss Quote Prompt Contest

Copyright © John Wulf

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Tribute to Eric Boddie

Enlightened is the one that rhymes words with so much ease
Rebelling against the nemesis that is the mind block disease 
Inspiring so many with his vast selection of poetical lyrics
Care free writing with so much ease, without any gimmicks

Big man with big muscles it what he lets you see
Only revealing his romantic side for his lucky lady
Devout he is in his love to Jesus and God's word
Developing to inspire, staying away from the absurd
I've never known a man so sincere and pure
Enchanting rhymes into poems forever, I'm sure..

Tribute to Eric Boddie
30 August 2015

Copyright © Silent One

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Evergreen Rose, tribute to Mystic Rose

Many a rose has bloomed, but never one that is evergreen
As her petals fall, another grows, such is the magic of Mystic Rose
Her beautiful nature blossoms happiness into our hearts
Her words heal those who are fragile and bring a smile to their face
The Mystic Rose holds an enchanting pen that captivates your mind
Her writing flows so smoothly, like rivers flow to the sea
If heaven has ever lost and angel,
then that surely is our Mystic Rose..

A tribute to Mystic Rose
The Silent One
1st September 2015

Copyright © Silent One

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The Wind

~~The Wind~~
Look into my eyes
Follow me into a world of ecstasy
There and only there
Will you find the peace to unwind

Beautiful brown eyes not blue
Shady lids, stunning  ocean view
Embracing every word 

Hear the wind whispers your name
Come with me
Drown with me
Into the abyss of loving rain
Embrace this moment as I draw you in with words
Release you with the warmth -------I was there

I Share--I take
Into my arms
I am the charm
Around your neck
Around your wrist
Listen to the voice from my beating heart
It yearns
The freedom of touch
The freedom of speech. 
Of love, 
Of purity
Like the wind
I'll find my way
Into your heart
Arouse the cheerful energy
Of your insecurity and pen
Follow me into the sea
There we will fall into the deep
Build sand castles 
Around dreams of reality
Slip into my aura light 
Set to the rhythm of the oceanic night

Now, listen to the breeze
It's called out your name
It's only a matter of time----------------
You'll find yourself calling out...... mine

by: PD
Dedicated to all my loving friends & fans :-)

Copyright © Poet Destroyer A

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Clerihew Soup

I tell you I like, that Wayland a bunch
He'd be the guy, to be there in a crunch
Not afraid of humor, he paves the way
With clerihew words, he loves to play

Let's talk of Eileen, the Queen of passion
Her verses of pleasure, will not be rationed
She causes men to rise, women to weep
Many a farmer, have stopped counting sheep

Then there is Shadow, who is a bright light
Her name suggests darkness, but that isn't right
With a pen and paper, she loves to play
Out of the Shadow, poems brighten our day

There is the woman Donna, she is filled with charm
For her animals, she'd give her left arm
Still here in the soup, she adds her own spice
She's a little bit hot and a whole lot of nice

When it comes to Eagles Montery's the last word
She's not in a flock she's a solitary bird
With her strong wings creating a breeze
Verses dance on the wind with the greatest of ease

I can't forget about Richard, now there's a man
He teases Eileen, just because he can
Yet within the humor, his clever exists
His poetic talents, impossible to miss.

My friend Vicky T, has brought me to tears
She possesses insight well beyond her years
A voice from the wilderness, please take heed
Wisdom resides in her poems that we read

When it comes to nature, our Nette is the girl
She makes mountains quiver and pretty leaves twirl
To angelic worlds she causes us to travel
Brooks are helpless she makes them all babble

Our Andrea she is well beyond great
Her words are profound they carry such weight
Regardless of form, many contests she wins
She's top of the heap, before she begins

Becca's a doll, with a sensitive pen
She writes of the now and also the then
Her words magical, a muse guides her pen
Capturing my mind again and again

This place amazing, a Mystical Rose
A unique handle my creative friend chose
Perfect for her that woman has style
A perfect seven at the top of the pile

My buddy Drake he has really mad skills
With words like honey the airways he fills
If you are lucky he'll let you co-host
To him I raise a glass to happily toast

Others must wait I'm running out of Rymes
I will write of them some other time
Until then I must wish you all goodbye
Have a sip of my soup, give it a try.

Inspired to try my first Clerihew by 
Wayland Bunch. Hopefully I have got it right.

Copyright © Richard Lamoureux

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Find In Our Eternity, Sweet Love

Find In Our Eternity, Sweet Love 

 Find in my Heart,
 cast away misdeeds never to be embraced
 Find in my heart,
 a love of you that can never be erased

 Find in this Soul,
 a friend so gladly embracing all of you
 Find in this soul,
 true lover that forever loves all you do

 Find in my Dreams,
 golden paradise I built for your pleasure
 Find in my dreams,
 a deep love, gentle and without measure

 Find in my Desires,
 gentle touch, a touch of your pretty face 
 Find in my desires,
 nights seeing you dressed up in black lace

 Find in my Life,
 a sworn oath to your deep love be true
 Find in my life,
 to each bright morn, our deep love renew

 Find in our Eternity,
 a golden palace made just for you and I
 Find in our eternity,
 united love, as great as a Heavenly sky

 Robert J. Lindley, 02-03-2015

 note: I failed to write my darling wife her daily poem yesterday(first time in ten years). 
 So she being playful demanded I write a double good one this fine morning.
 I hope this effort will do. If not, then I am lost as this came directly from 
 my loving heart to her, my sweetest sunshine, my darling wife.

Copyright © Robert Lindley

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Peace, Love, and Gods Greatest Gift

The mellifluous musical tones of the village bells

Echoing chimes over the cold snowcapped mountains

Both finding their way to people in the valley below

Christmas songs — let your spirit sing freely and loudly

Welcoming the Birth of Our Savior and Baby King

Who so charms the Angels on High and God Himself

On this night, The Star was so beautiful, clear, and shiny

Crisp and so crystal-bright, centered above and beyond

Reflecting now the Lord God’s most divine and holy light

There is real magic in the night air as Heaven rejoices aloud

The child and the infant’s divine soul breathe life now intently

Fulfilling truly God’s very promise and His hope to Mankind

Keep this Christmas spirit — share it with others near and far

Grace filled with good tidings as we dance on wings of joy

We all now celebrate in great happiness, love, and kindness

Christmas is forever — and you must never ever close this door

Faith always enters, carrying His guiding torch high and proud

And encouraging Man every step of the way on his long journey

Even in a simple cradle where the Baby Jesus so innocently lay

Heaven doth bathe His cradle with the warmest rays of divine light

Bespeaking the heavenly beauty, joy, and wonder of Our Savior

Amazing peace makes a lovely gift, I wish for all of us to have

As new life blossoms, wrapped in petals of an immaculate heart

God’s holy blessing, love, and intention are clear for all to see

That Holy Night the Angels entire sang mirthfully on Christmas Eve

Praising Almighty Lord God in Heaven on the birth of His only son

The Angels’ paeans echoed in their divine beauty across the Universe

To bring peace now, glowing with your love, is His divine intention

Rejoicing in God’s Greatest Gift to Mankind who was born in a manger

Destined to become Our Most Holy and Divine Savior — Amen! Amen!

Anne-Lise Andresen, Liam McDaid, and Gary Bateman
A Collaborated Poem, Copyright © All Rights Reserved
December 1, 2015 (Unrhymed Tercet)

Copyright © Anne Lise Andresen

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9 11

                             America the Free  ~             America the Brave ~
                           Freedom with price              Capitalism attacked
                            the many taken                   hearts broken still
                              one World                           try to rebuild
                            sadness and tears               fall hard with fears  
                            guilt by association             many accused still
                             souls evaporated                shattered dreams 
                            tears fall on innocence          left with anger 
                             The proud fearless             knew the inevitable
                              policeman fireman             many lives lost
                            grieving does not stop           12 years later    
                               New York city once          proud  & shameless 
                             refusing to let fears in          protecting ours 
                                left in shock still              question's unanswered                    
                               nothing learned                     nothing gained  
                                ready to attack                   many left behind
                              anger greets denial              anger meets rage 
                               unacceptable still                 refusing new love 
                            wanting days to rewind           let us go back in time 
                              acceptance  allowing           the victims leave in peace
                              the brave taken young           leaving us sadly old
                               haunting dreams                     lost spirits dwell
                               no answers to hate            never forgetting that day
                               Evil entered suddenly              unforgiving fate
                                entering our City                we stand with the fallen
                                 How to fix                            how do we Change 

            This can be read many different ways ~ This is a poem I am so proud to write ~


Copyright © Shanity Rain

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Ode to My Husband

Ode to My Husband
What a wonderful, magical surprise! Sometimes love arrives in disguise. I never saw this coming, Never anticipated such an awesome blessing. I was at the right place, When I spied your sweet, handsome face. It was at the right time, When you called me your goddess and I knew you were mine. Until I met you, I was like a sad, little bird with no songs to sing, With only broken wings, l had to work my way through some hurtful things.
But you came along, A real man, unselfishly offering me strong, broad shoulders to lean on. It was a long, slow process getting back on track, But you were patient and willing to take the burden off my back. When I was lost and alone, you showered me with loving attention, Tenderness, kindness, and consideration. You nurtured and cherished me each step of the way, Building my confidence and trust each day. Thank you for helping my fragile heart to mend, Thank you for helping me become whole and to love again!
Entered in contest "Best love poem #3" sponsored by Poet Destroyer A (5-26-2014)

Copyright © Pandita Sanchez

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The Last Gold Leaf

The last gold leaf hangs on the bough;
Summer is just a mem'ry now.
You, too, have gone, my golden friend;
Our summer days came to an end.

We said goodbye; our chapter closed.
 How I will miss you no one knows.
 On eagle wings you split the skies;
Your spirit soared. You had to fly.

My earthbound soul will bear its grief
Severed from you on mortal reef;
But returning from yonder shore,
Your love in waves will wash me o'er.

You've gone before, my trusted love;
I wait behind, your mourning dove;
Yet, from across the great divide
Your voice to me in dreams confides.

No, I think not that dreams they are;
T is communion of the near with far.
On such sweet songs I stake my claim
To know and love you once again.

Copyright © Faye Gibson

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Soul mates solace

When my final shadows cling on desperately
Where I fight formidable battles
to merely hold the light
I send you loving vibrations
and soul sustenance
Deep from the cathedral
of one heart to another
where today no choirs sing
nor symphonies play
Yet it is here where we meet
in spiritual solace
here to surrender 
and exchange inestimable treasures
recollecting memories 
like unopened letters
Galaxies are stretched
over chronicles of shared history
Nebula birthing stars
will be exposed
in forth-coming conversations
bringing short-lived fulfillment to you
Hungry to feast
now will be the time
to approve your blood art vision
and with my own haunting surrender
as dappled shades ink stain your chest
I will reside with you and share, mesmerised 
pens - by branding
as this will be your written reams to me
your artist's pallet or brushed canvas
no need for words
and yet creating
mysterious magical moments
Bitter-sweet the music
that dances taut guitar strings
but now blood approved
please go kick your heel up
return to your laughter
and ride on the breeze
for not all are lost
change not
for I am with you always
to love, listen and comfort as one
with you in me and I in you
as masterpiece

Copyright © Anna-Marie Docherty