Long poem by
Funom Makama | Details |
How the housefly gets attracted to organic decay
and an infant child traces the voice of its mother
are nothing compared to the intense attraction
Michelle and I possess on the guy owning not a strand of hair on his head
but is in command of all forms of feminine arousal
Our weakness was too glaring; our lust, too embarrassing
the chance to act rare and expensive we've lost.
All we've got is to dance to the tune of his authority
as he smiled and consented to our 'not so hidden' desires.
Now, he walks straight at us his every step, an additional load on me
I seem to carry the entire solar system on my chest.
My heartbeat, pulsations and breath are as loud as a live rock band
"I've never seen you here is this your first time?"......... He said
"Yeah, actually!".................. I said.
My friend and I responded simultaneously
our answers gushing out like a group of running horses,
mine seem to carry more weight as it tames any challenge from hers.
"So, how did two love Angels fall in such an unworthy place as this?"......... He said
"How unworthy?"........................................... I Said.
I've championed the game of words and emotions
and just as what inevitably defines the day is sunlight
so is my testament.
Michelle showed glimpse of disapproval to my replies
but my exclamation of her name gave adequate caution.
"yes, this place is unworthy, because I need to pass through seven Oceans
and seven hills to see someone like you"........... He said.
"Then you'll never find me there. I'm not a specie going extinct." ............................ I Said.
The gods of luck have smiled on the Lions once again
in preference to other cats.
The father of favour, shaking hands with the Eagle
while by-passing the other birds.
This is my exact situation as jealousy builds a castle in my friend's heart.
"So, what's your name, sweet damsel?"...... He said.
"Anna"........................................................ I said.
This is a familiar routine, his plan is as detectable
and as obvious as watered grass
but letting it turn green is what I must not allow
so that the security of my reputation is not compromised.
"Anna is a lovely name, do you like poker?"........ He said.
"No, I don't!"........... I said.
The looks of my friend, spoke 'awe' mine replied in aggression
then she flowed in complete understanding on its message on not acting cheap
especially to the one we've shown so much likeness.
"So what do you like?".......................He said.
"Going out to the Cinema or the beach or engaging in salsa".......................... I said.
Already scoring goals and dominating the game,
I felt my opponent was completely toothless and flattened.
But playing along is my aim to make him beg on his knees
which adds to my fame.
"Can we try any of those sooner?"......................... He said.
"How do you mean?"............................................... I said.
Another punch brings about another shield
and sometimes a strong defence feels more fulfilling than a heavy attack.
"Let's go out to the movies this night"............. He said.
"I'm busy tonight!"........................................... I said.
It feels like punishment to him but he takes it like a challenge
and this keeps me far from winning.
Being on top is my birth right and a step lower is deemed a sacrilege.
"What about going to the beach this weekend?".................. He said
"I'll be out of town"................................................................. I said.
Persistence could be rewarding but my protective walls
are just too thick for any form of penetration;
too high for any form of infiltration
and too deep for any form of condemnation.
"Then, when would you be free to teach me Salsa?"............................ He said.
"I'm not stable, neither can I determine my free time"..................... I said.
The game of attack and defense is never absolute
as the attacker may fall victim of a rare counter attack
or the defender, gets wary of his defense
with no chance to pull an offensive string.
Either, ending up as the vanquish despite the brilliant strategies being set up.
"Michelle, are you also unstable like Anna?"...... He said
"What!"............................................................... I said.
Envy plans on a historic transfer
while my friend poised not an aota of difficulty
and this makes me extremely furious.
She was just at the corner waiting for this opportunity
and even before it avails itself, she snatches it into her well guided belongings.
Looking at both in confusion and disappointment;
they share contacts and crack jokes.
"I'll give you a call this evening".................. He said
Nothing I said because now, Michelle is running the show.
Long poem by
Robert Candler | Details |
Fifty years, boy and man, I’ve been a Sooners fan;
And watched thousands of recruits try to make my Sooners Team.
Often, I’ve enviously wondered what it must be like
To be a touted Sooners recruit, living out his dream.
He’d had a great career through high school;
Made good grades, was a football star, played baseball too.
Coach said college recruiters were watching closely;
So, he tried his very best to make his dream come true.
You see, he’d played on the L’il Sooners as a kid;
Started getting serious about the game when he was only eight
Played with older, bigger boys and practiced hard;
Always told his friends, “To be a Sooner, ya gotta play great”.
Oh yes, his parents raised a football player;
And, even more important, a Sooners fan;
But he wanted more, to be a Sooner,
To feel the glory raining down from the stands.
Now, the Sooners’ Head Coach is in his living room.
“Son, you’ve got talent. We think you fit our scheme.
We’re offering you a scholarship, an opportunity
To be an important member of our great Sooners Team”.
His mother smiles her biggest smile.
His father nods proudly and pats him on the knee.
“Lord knows, son, it’s a dream come true.
Go be the very best Sooner you can be”.
He walks into the locker room,
Not quite sure what to expect;
But sure that to play for the Sooners
He will first have to earn respect.
He looks each man straight in the eye -
Other recruits, trainers, assistants, and every coach.
“Be proud, but respectful”, his mother had said;
Your character, more than your performance, must be above reproach”.
His handshake is firm and he smiles.
“Only one chance for a first impression”, his father had said;
"Always put yourself in positive light, on and off the field.
That’s what it will take to play for the mighty Big Red”.
He meets so many other recruits, each one a high school star.
He’s played against a few and knows they share his dream.
And, to a man, each knows before any chance for Glory,
He first must prove worthy to play for this Sooners Team.
He knows a few will fail to meet the coaches’ expectations.
For some, the scout team will be their fate.
Many will suit up, but rarely play.
Only the very best will ever dare to be great.
Coach says, “If every man learns and executes when called on,
Then this team, we Sooners, will win a lot of games;
But, win or lose, if you play hard and give your very best,
You’ll never have to hang your heads in shame”.
“But gentlemen, with or without you, this team will win.
Every season, the Sooners strive to win it All.
So, listen, work hard, and prepare yourselves. Each game is war...
And you must be ready when Victory calls”.
Through grueling practices, he finds himself.
As he walks to class, his closest friends are aches and pains;
But, just the other day, Coach helped him up, smiled, and patted his helmet.
“You’re doin’ fine, son. Keep pushin’. Remember, no pain, no gain”.
He sees his name on the "open scrimmage" roster for the very first time.
It’s a moment he’ll never forget, another milestone in his dream.
He calls his Mom and Dad, knowing they’ll tell his family and his friends.
He hopes they’ll actually see him play, proof he’s made the Team.
As he suits up for the last pre-season open scrimmage,
He wonders if the coaches would really let a freshman play at all;
But Coach puts him in for eight plays against the first team;
He makes two great open-field tackles and intercepts the ball.
He barely hears the roar of the crowd, as the whole defense “gives him five”.
He’s so excited, he forgets to ask if he can keep that ball.
Fans are buzzing, “Did you see that hit”!? “Who is that kid”!?
“Will he red shirt or will Coach let him play this fall”?
He sees his name in the Sunday paper, hears it on local sports.
He’s happy, but he doesn’t let it go to his head.
He keeps his focus and uses it as motivation.
After all, he wants to start one day for the mighty Big Red.
Yes, we’ll hear more of this young recruit.
Perhaps, one day he’ll be the hero of the game.
A seasoned veteran, maybe All Conference or even All American,
Who’s tasted Victory many times and helped glorify the Sooners’ name.
Oh yes, there have been so many who’ve aspired;
But many fewer who’ve actually made our Sooners Team.
They are our heroes, each and every one;
For it’s through their accomplishments, we fans can live the dream.
Billy Vessels, Steve Owens, Billy Sims, and Jason White,
The Selmons, Little Joe, the Boz, Josh Heupel, and “Q”
They, and so many others, were once touted Sooners recruits;
Who set a higher mark and built the Tradition that is OU.
So, c’mon! c’mon! all you great young football players!
Dedicate your talents to OU’s Team and OU’s Fans.
Make Oklahoma’s Owen Field your Field of Dreams,
And feel the Glory raining down from the stands.
Long poem by
Poet Destroyer A | Details |
Lost in a poets convention,
I can't recall every poem, I've read through the years
50518, unique comments I 'validate'---
Thank You For Sharing Your Happy and Sad tears
Since March 24, 2010 In the mist of every line,
I'm sending special hugs, for he/she that favorite me through the years
A praise to all poets mentioned and not mentioned
I will miss, the sweetest girl on this block LEONORA G.,
She treats me with love, adores my words and twisted poetry.
I will start with the soups famous October, 7th babies,
Frank and Kash, Debbie D, and myself, these lines belong to us,
Our best characteristic has everything to do with the mind
In our poetic hearts you'll find the symbol of justice and balance
This is not a song, it is not a poem, it's a free falling memo written with style
Back in March 2013, I said it then, I'll say it again
Andrea, you and only you are the Poet Queen
By the Queen, sits the Poet King of rhymes, Robert L. Hinshaw
Thank you both for never stepping on your loyal subjects
Carol B., & Linda Marie, no one can replace the hole you left inside
I will miss all the little poetry pups, who came and sat by my side
MAHIMA and Saanvi, and Sabrina, thank you for the encouragement
Phyllis, Joyce, Francine, Rhonda, Betty, sweet Karen A., and Catie,
Clap your hands for the lovely quiet soup ladies.
Okay, maybe not Karen A., and Catie, these ladies love speaking their minds:)
SARA K., a mentor to some, a Fairy Godmother in my book
I will miss her "Magic Pen like Wand" dearly.
Gail, thank you for spreading your wings, and teaching us how to fly.
Hopefully --wings are a nice gesture, --waving--
"One day I'll see you again, my friend."
Daver Austin, "Go ahead, make my day" thank you for the show
Now, you know why I referred to you as, "The Clint Eastwood of Poetry."
Russell Survey, encouraged my days and moods with his kind words
Scribe ML., where are you my friend?
Don't you know your BIGGEST FAN misses you!!!
Dr Ram, Bindu V, Litan D., Donna J, Shadow, Sandra A., Peter Durgan,
Giorgio V., Mystic Rose, BL Devnath and of course our Nette.
Thank you for being kind and rewinding and replying to every note.
Joseph M., Caleb S., Vincent F., Juliet L., Lucy Carrillo, Scott 37, Johnny R.,
Kelly D., thank you for the honor in always honoring my words
Roger Horsch meets Eileen Ghali, your smile, her smile always made me smile,
No matter how many miles apart, our smiles always met on the same page.
Jenish, Don J., S.Z. Kamoonpuri, Gideon, Gary, Austin E., and Jody M.,
Fatima N., Mark N., Aiyah B., Ralph F., Kathryn C., Elly, Ayesha A.,
Clay W., Erich, Syam, MIKKI, John B., Olusegun, *Sukmawati* Gwen,
Delysia H., Frederic P., Richard L., Brenda L., Keith, Debbie G.,
Thank you for painting the best IMAGERY
Michale Clarke, Charma C., Wayland B., Jancarl C., Carrie, and Harry,
M&M, Abdulhafeez, Michael B., Maria P. S., CHAN and Mandy T.
You are only the beginning of what makes this a good community
Arlid A., Dinda M., Silly Billy, Tim Ryerson, we go way back.
Ravindra, Kim M., Richard S., Honestly JT., Wade A., Dom-X.
The ingredients in your poems, makes the best soup remix
Joe M., Jack H., James H., James P., Tim B., Jon A. C., Allan K., Matthew A.
Deb Wilson, David S., David William, Thomas S., Cecilia M.
Keep that pen flowing for tomorrow needs poets like you.
Justin B., Laura B., your words will continue to be a part of me.
Owen Y., and John L., your visits, your friendship I will never forget
Yasmin and Carl F., hanging out with you on the soup was the best.
Cherl Dunn, and Colleen Bono, SandyIvy, I will miss everything about you,
Mostly I will miss your friendship and the way you took care of me.
Poet and sister Skat, keep rocking what I can't....
Copy paste your love, welcome in the new.
Show Edwina, Robin, Sam B., and all the NEW POETS they belong
Last but not least-- Behind every mess, they are the best
--Craig Cornish and Cyndi McMillan
What have you done, I admit without you this place would have been no fun.
Thank you for the spin, making every penny worth our paid premium memberships
Before I forget,
I want to take this time to reminisce and add two old friends to my hot list.
Nikko and Chris A..... My first POETRY SOUP FRIENDS.
I will never forget you, and all the fun moments we had,
Back when the soup was not like this:)
Chris, can you ever forgive me, I never stepped up to say "I was Sorry!"
As you know my kindness is my weakness
Now it's time to be strong and move on
If one day I return, then you know, I fell off the wagon
And, into arms and luring fingers of Team Poetry Soup
The Poet Destroyer
Long poem by
Prince Rage | Details |
Oppressor and the oppressed.
Who is the oppressed and who is the oppressor?
Who has the right to beat a random person on the street?
Who has the right when to pronounce a person guilty or to see that they is the victim?
Who has the jurisdiction to carry a gun and to unload on a random person because of the way they is playing life's game?
There is a president but he has a nation that needs to be run, there is a mayor but he or she needs to govern protection and education for every man,woman, and child. There is those who vote and those who do not, there is those who KILL for a FEE and those who KILL to protect those who threaten and attempt to poison their feed.
In the Crayola box there is over 8 colors and how many of them do you see fighting to maintain a piece of land that doesn't even have their name? These colors have managed to get along but why has us as artist slander there good name?
You may agree we should be free, others may agree to lock them away, the third party may vote that we should have a Hunger Game and declare a winner from each district and let them be reminded by name and plaque.
Will it not be funnier if things went back to being the same before the post-Europeans, before the ice age, before slavery, before time itself? Before evolution, before the industrial revolution, do you believe it will solve the conflict of today? Do you believe it will create a new name of a newer society that is under a different system?
The enforcers enforce a punishment that themselves would not want to see happen to people of there kind, the victim sometimes is the guilted, the drugs may make a person a bit deranged or even appearance may look strange. But deep within their brain hides another person who has experienced a pain that became so unbearable so they hid behind a false name. Drinking, smoking, feeling of looking at trees in 3-D is all the same when you are being called a different name, but let it not change you into something that you did not dream of to be.
Look at me, I am me, you may see prince, others may see another black person, another person may ask me name and they may read my palms and tell me that I carry. Both a Spanish and African name that I was originally given to from birth. But hey life is a curse. You can argue with what happened in the past but will that change the date of today's oncoming past!
But the most funniest thing about our past is how much we cherish it and pray for its ways to be continued on today. But look around you what do you see... I won't say any name for my name is not even copyrighted, BUT EVERYBODY WANTS TO START A RIOT! I look at the people around me and I think how can you say that we need to bring change when your thinking and doing the same as the person who once stabbed you in the back?
I'm not saying don't hate the Man, I'm not saying say **** THE POLICE, I'm not saying that the president is part of some dummy corporation, I'm not saying that their isn't a war that has begun, but if you choose to believe what you hear than you will get what you perceive to be your reality!
I'm not saying don't go to school, I'm not saying don't drink, smoke weed, or snort yayo, I'm not saying that you have to rob and be branded a theft, I'm not saying that you shouldn't give love a chance, but everything is up to thee on how thou wants to perceive the world.
I'm not saying that if you close your eyes you will dream, I'm not saying that if you smoke crack you will become a fiend, I'm not saying that THERE IS NO DEMONS ONLY REASONS, I'm not saying that if youse look into the mirror you will see another person in your eyes, I'm not saying that the soul lies behind the eyes. But if you believe the lies you will think that when the truth is told you will think that, that is the lie.
There is a oppressor and there is there oppressed. There is the depressed and there is the depression that we all feel. There is two eyes but they act as one. Nobody asked to be POOR, nobody asked to have WEALTH,nobody asked to have POOR HEALTH, nobody asked to be born with ways that needs to confine to limited space.
But hey the more you believe the lies. The more that you have to believe you will be confined Into thinking that this life is a lie.
There will be battles, but instead of battling and slandering. Why don't we make our voices be heard like that over a beat slapped with claps and a set of drums. Kicking the inside of ears.
Let us prevent the internal bleeding of our heart that is beating (BREATHING)!
Long poem by
Isaiah Zerbst | Details |
*There are only two damsels in this tale; all variations were simply for ease of writing.
Once Kate and Isabella went
To see the pretty fields of Gwent
And traipse through forest shade
They packed a picnic lunch for two
And skipped away in dresses blue
To find a charming glade
First tea and cakes, then off to play
They laughed and wandered all the day
'Till day was waxing faint
Then homeward faced, linked arm in arm
With never fear to cause alarm
Nor caution bring restraint
Alas! Alas! there lay a hole
With plot to swallow heart and soul
One golden-headed girl
That wretched hole may death berate
And end of being imprecate
That vile, vicious churl!
"Oh, help me, Kate!" cried Isobel
But fingers slipped and in she fell
'Mid shock and disbelief
Then Isabella, far below
Called, "Quickly, Katie! quickly go
For aid and sure relief."
Then Katie knelt beside the brim
Once sparkling eyes with tears aswim
And said, "I'll here remain."
But Isobel at once demurred
"Oh, Kate, some help must be secured
I cannot move for pain."
So off she went and searched around
But not one soul could there be found
Nor ever likely step't
She stopped awhile to sit and rest
Her folded hands to bosom pressed
And there she softly wept
A mounted knight then riding by
Beheld her tears and heard her sigh
And off his palfrey lit
Said he, "Fair damsel, golden-haired
Such doleful frame must be repaired
So speak thou whilst I sit."
"Alas, good Knight!" quoth woeful Kate
It may, I fear, be just too late
To save my friend to day
With haste, good knight, come, follow me
And see if succour yet may be
Oh, help me, knight, I pray."
The knight bestrode his lofty seat
Then set her aftward nice and neat
And off they set at trot
The knight she held with firmest hold
'Till at the pit both dark and cold
They Isabella sought
While night sped on at rapid pace
The knight set out to win the race
And save the damsel whole
A rope he from his saddle fetched
And tree to Isabella stretched
Then clambered in the hole
Right down the rope he quickly swung
And to her side he deftly sprung
He raised her from the dust
He tied a rope from waist to waist
And she her arms about him placed
In sweet, confiding trust
A span or two to hand he climbed
With Isabella right behind
'Till safety was secured
Then Kate and Isobel embraced
Said Kate, "What awful things you faced
And terrors you endured!"
Well, this was Isobel's reply
"Oh, Kate, I should not tell a lie
In word or even deed
Except to brave that curséd fall
It really was not bad at all
I knew you would succeed."
Then to the knight she turned and saith
"I thank thee, Knight, by all my faith
For saving me this night
Thus here I give my ring to wear
And trust that ye might ever fare
As well in ev'ry fight."
Then quoth the knight, "Thy ring I take
With faith that it myself will make
A nobler, better man
To fight for justice, truth, and peace
In hope that vice and evil cease
In ev'ry way I can.
"But let us neither tarry long
For hark! the cricket's evening song
Pervades the damp'ning air
So let me take thee, damsel, home
'Twould never do to leave thee roam
On halting legs to there."
Thus Isobel his palfrey rode
While Kate and he beside her strode
Right to their township sweet
"'Tis Belle and Kate!" the watchman called
And quickly down the drawbridge hauled
That they their kin might meet
The threesome turned from roads away
To streets of black and muted grey
'Till safely home at last
"Oh, praise the Lord," quoth Isobel
That though some trouble us befell
Those troubles now are past!"
"'Tis not so true," quoth Knight with grin
There yet remains to get thee in
And halting legs at that."
Then from the palfrey off she slipped
The knight her falling figure gripped
And bore her o'er the mat
His burden carried up the stairs
'Mid father's, mother's wond'ring stares
And gently placed in bed
Her father asked her why he came
She said that she was nearly lame
And dizzied in the head
At that he wished the knight to stay
But through the dark he rode away
His lamp the crescent moon
And though he had some deed to do
Those pretty maidens somehow knew
The knight would see them soon
Long poem by
Funom Makama | Details |
Finding a new hiding place
the grass cutters cherish
not taking advantage is deemed extremely foolish.
Taking note of the lady who seems Scottish
and protected by her beauty and charisma
is a situation meant for me to act upon
With my courage, her intimidation must vanish.
I sit on the available chair and reciprocate her welcoming smile.
"Your fixed focus on the meal
and comfortable sitting position
means you are all alone"......... I said
"So?"...................... She said.
Despite being famished
I needed some inspiration and creativity
to keep this hard to find wealth
rooted to my territory.
"But your moving feet and gentle
mastication shows you need company"...... I said
"Well! You may be right"........She said.
My gaze never left her blue eyes
as this ravishing being threatens
to tarnish my reputation.
"What brings a working class
attractive, young damsel
to a place like this?"........ I said
"to eat"................. She said.
Nature came to my rescue
as what arrived was my dish
garnished with vegetables and fish.
or is it just humility?"............ I said
As the Cheetah waits patiently
to pounce on its prey
so I am. Waiting for the right time to tick.
"Your short phrase answers
remind me of a princess from India"............... I said.
"Thanks, but who was she to you?".............. She said.
Now in a welcomed territory
with the precious gift of liberty and freedom.
the bee is about to dance with the rest
in their honey comb.
"My first Love but no more"....... I said
"What happened?......She said
It seems the path chosen is right
what is left is for us to walk through it.
Nothing else, just walk, walk and walk.
"She developed the arrogance of a Briton".....I said
"Just that! She's worth a second chance
if she's as tough as the Jew"..... She said.
Can the dog ever be the king of the jungle?
can the bamboo boast of deeper roots to the Oak?
That's me! Sitting on all of Nature's components right now.
"Oh my dear! That spoils it all".....I said
"Really? Tell me more"..... She said.
As my Tongue wags my brain remained blank
with its sensors dissipated.
"Are you saying she should be quick to
anger ?.... I said
"You mean the Jews are quick to anger?...... She said
The more the talk the more her welcome.
A pleasure to behold and an experience to die for.
"Yes and also very cunny"..... I said
"How's that?"......She said.
My mouth speaks of another
to an Angel who seems so human
while the mind is already in full possession
of this being so unfamiliar but dear.
"I was once given change
with two $4 bills inclusive
in a Jewish shop"...... I said
Then the Jews are indeed silly
and crafty"...... She said
Feeling already in the promise land,
I drink its milk without asking
and lick its honey without minding
"the deed always speak for the doer".... I said
"But it's still an assumption and not all may be same"..... She said.
A little current then passes through my head stimulating
the need to seal this opportunity.
"Forget about those devils!
What if I say we hang out tonight?"..... I said
"No, actually!".....She said.
Impressed by her feminine flame
which is not uncommon to gorgeouses of her class
I pulled the gear once more awaiting the motion to begin.
"After such an interesting chat you say no? Are you
seeing someone?"....I said
"No! But I am a Jew and one of those
devils"...... She said.
Starring in frustration and self-hate,
I stay inanimate, lifeless and dumb,
while she laughs graciously
which increases the already existent injuries,
cutting me piece by piece in the inside.
Nothing I said
Nothing she said.
Long poem by
Peter Duggan | Details | . You can read it on PoetrySoup.com' st_url='http://www.poetrysoup.com/poem/veras_first_write_560406' st_title='Vera's first write'>
This is a write that I helped Vera with, as many people have asked her to write something. I helped to make it a better read for her, though I did not think she needed my help….Peter
Hi everybody, my name is Vera as some of you already know, and I am the wife of Peter Duggan. I came on this site to cheer Peter on, and also to read some poetry which I do enjoy at times. I have made a few friends on this site and correspond with some, and a few of them have asked me to write something. Now I have never done anything like this before, but I decided to humor these friends any way.
I could not really think of anything to write about, but then I thought of a subject dear to both myself and Peter; the transformation that he has gone through in the last five years. This might be of interest, and indeed some help to others who are having problems within their relationships with others.
We married in London in sixty five, Then emigrated to Australia in 1967 and our marriage was going very well, filled with love and laughter. But then Peter decided to join the army, and volunteered to fight in Vietnam, because he wanted to do something to repay this wonderful country back for letting him live here.
When he came back to Australia, this was when it all went pear shaped. Peter started to change; he become very aggressive and Psychologically cruel to myself and our three children and was like a keg of dynamite just waiting to explode. He would argue about everything and anything, and got involved in many very nasty fights. No one could tolerate him for very long, and myself and the children often felt like we were walking on eggshells whenever he was around. He turned to alcohol, and cannabis, and he was always off his head on any one of those drugs. Having said all this, Peter was never physically aggressive to me or the children.
Anyhow, this all came to a climax, when he suddenly walked out on us all and decided he wanted to live like a bum. Said he wanted his freedom. This was the last time I saw him for a year. When because I loved him so very much, I asked him to come back to us again. He came back, but nothing really changed, in fact I told him he would never change, and I honestly thought our marriage was beyond repair. He had done so much counselling, read every book on self-help, and tried religion [all the major ones], but nothing really helped.
Then one day about five years ago, Peter was perusing through the net, desperate to find someone to help him get rid of this evil that lurked within him He came cross a man named John Sherman, who claimed that he could help people with this simple little action, that he gave Peter to do. In his desperation Peter put his whole life into this simple act.
He never strayed from this path, and after a month or two things started dropping away. Each day he seemed to get more, and more happy, so happy in fact that he seemed to bubble with happiness. His anger started to drop away gradually until it diminished completely. He still loves to argue, but he never has to be right all the time and treats it all as a game. How anyone can change so dramatically, is completely beyond me, but the miracle happened; the evidence is before me. If I ever won the lottery, I would donate half of it to the Sherman foundation, and would be totally happy to do this. But the only thing that we can do Is spread the Sherman’s work any chance we can get. We both owe them so much.
Anyhow, this is my first write, and I hope that many people might gain something from it. Peter and I are now the the happiest couple that ever walked the face of the Earth. I thank all of you that chose to read, this. Whether I’ll ever make a second attempt one never knows. But I surely enjoyed writing this. Peter helped me to arrange the words, as I had no confidence in my own abilities…..Vera
Long poem by
Verlena S. Walker | Details |
I AM HARMONICA DEONTIA BALDWIN!
Somebody said Harmonica Baldwin was a smart child.
That she would grow into her womanhood and set the world afire.
Her characteristics inform her personality.
Harmonica Baldwin is magnetic.
She is perceptive and mindboggling.
Within, Harmonica is alluring.
She is inspired by her need to discover cures for a universe troubled.
She knows her father’s Warlock Garden well and prepares her journey of healing.
Harmonica Baldwin enthralls a Nymph who gives her vision.
She shows her her future to come and tells Harmonica not to share this with anyone.
Engross, Harmonica sees herself at the age of three where she is given the gift of love.
In her visionary state, she leaves.
Harmonica absorbs her purpose and is mesmerized by her metacognition.
She knows her source will be Biology.
Life Science becomes Harmonica's focus.
She will be at the top of her class in all core subjects.
Harmonica Baldwin success is a nuclei of medical science.
She will become a top contributor.
Her gift of love will be seen.
As a spiritual healer, she has formed into a source of strength and compassion.
Within her father’s Warlock Garden, she thrives.
She reads Tarot and captivates the mind.
Diverse in her school of thought, Harmonica's neurological presence is cognitive.
Harmonica Baldwin is oblique.
She will become a wonderful human being.
Might I share the vision of the Nymph in its idiosyncrasy?
In the destiny of all is a vision foretold.
In that, vision is a trial and a purpose.
Only the holy knows if the crossing is safe.
Light of the day is as dark as the night, if that is what you have to face.
I am what many say I should not be.
That is an angel within humanity.
I am the third child of the Baldwin’s six.
My mother loves me senseless.
My father tries not to dote as much but he knows as well that I am chosen by God.
They name me Harmonica because I harmonize when there are problems.
Many do not even know I have done such, being that I am only twelve years old.
I know about my father’s Warlock world.
It is a part of God’s Divine Order.
My brother Fabien is supposed to be chosen by Lucifer but that is only God in reverse.
Do you know what I mean by that?
Well Lucifer Satan is the Angel God banish from Heaven.
However, God’s Angels are infinity throughout eternity.
This means God controls Satan’s equity and identity.
Therefore, my brother Fabien will be as his Father is a Master Warlock and Lucifer will always be Satan.
Now let me tell a little about myself.
In destiny I will achieve the presence of a Physician.
I will find the cure for some dreaded disease and become renown.
However, my prominence will be with Jehovah God Lord and I will speak to him via the mind.
As I become older, I will gain distinction in the neurological world as a top doctor.
So great I am that when I do marry, this man will not be able to be my soul mate.
I will go to my father and mother for advice and they will tell me to talk to God Lord Jehovah.
Within a dream, I will visit The Lord and ask for guidance.
As I ascend, there stand my husband, mother, and father.
Little did I know that this man was chosen for me when I was merely a toddler.
Therefore, as The Lord spoke, I touched my father’s cloak and watched my mother smile and my husband told me he was a God child.
That is just a glimpse in my destiny.
In closure, I will leave you with my complete identity, which is Harmonica Deontia Baldwin.
Verlena S. Walker
Penned on October 19, 2014!
Long poem by
Christine Phillips | Details | . You can read it on PoetrySoup.com' st_url='http://www.poetrysoup.com/poem/im_back_630084' st_title='I'm Back'>
Last year you beat me up
And poured vinegar in my cup
Last year you humiliate me
And hire criminals to torment me.
Last year you deny my friends and families
The natural right to be happy
My children went to bed
On Christmas day without food
While you drink and laugh
with your friends and called me a damn fool.
Last year I came to you for help
But you belittled me instead.
You spread out your sordid legs before me
camouflaging under white sheets
And grinning your tobacco stained teeth.
Last year you brought discord among my race
Thus inciting a worldwide disgrace.
You have dominated my house, infiltrated the churches
Spreading political propaganda from the pulpit
and preaching biblical hate while some
of your so call missionaries are spitefully
destroying homes and family.
Take your dirty hands off the innocent children
And allow them to grow and live like children
They should be tucked in their beds at nights
And not among fake mothers and delinquent fathers
who are posing as one big happy family just to
conduct unscrupulous activities.
Stay away from the daycare centers and stop
using warm hearted children as instruments
in your brutal and villainous operations.
I sat on the street corner observing you from a distant
parking your car at the front door
And leaving with another from the back door.
I stood right next to you at the New Years Eve party
Watching your glass going up in cheers
And making deceitful and ruthless plans for the New Year.
I was even sitting with you at the poker table
Listening to your big chat watching you
puffing cigar and exchanging big dollars
to fabricate and execute another plot.
I have followed you straight into your mysterious room
Where you convened your secret meetings
and formulate your business deals
I have taken notes of your evil and treacherous plans.
Wow! you believe that are so mighty and powerful
You can have everything taken care of in split seconds
Name the price and the job is done
Oh what a wicked and cruel generation!
I have infiltrated every community
Every estate, business and properties
your social clubs and extravagant dinner parties.
Last year you brought me down so low
You have discredited my office and block my ambitious
and generous plans just to have your way and dishonor my race.
But now I am back with strength and spiritual power
This year you cannot break me
Even when you out numbered me
I will still stand strong and beat you with a power
that has never been witnessed in decades.
This year I am back and I have no time to chat
The lame duck is dead that you have planted in my back.
I have full grip of the handle now and all the facts are known
There are evidences of accomplices and participants
Who have dipped their hands in blood to move to the top.
You have target honesty, accused innocency and harassed purity
You have demoted and promoted to conceal the truth
Used and suffer others to gain your blood stained honor
Do not take me for granted I am going to exercise my full authority
Every secret will be exposed and every act of cruelty will be deposed
And the hidden abusive secret power that is responsible for
The global misery and worldwide atrocities will be eliminated.
Love and peace will be restored to countries,
friends, homes, families and communities.
Get out of my way!
I am on my way to an emergency meeting
Repent before it is too late!
Because I am back!
©2015 Christine Phillips
Long poem by
Dennis East | Details |
From the first day that we fetched it home, that cat, it hated me.
We chose it a neighbour's farm and brought it home for tea.
It ran for cover instantly we placed it on the floor,
Just like hiding from a sniper on the rooftops in a war.
The days would pass and it would only come out for its food,
So we kept in the kitchen where it hid and where it pooed,
And the only one that it would come out gingerly to see
Was my wife when she picked it up and held it on her knee.
I'll make it flipping love me, as I'll show it who's the boss;
I'll hold it and I'll stroke it - even though it makes it cross.
And then when it gets calm and nice, I'll let you have a try;
We'll make it bloody love us or we'll have to say, “Goodbye.”
Then three times every morning and three times every night,
She held that feline on her lap and stroked with all her might,
Until at last she broke its will; it purred and loved her back,
It let her do just what she would and all without a smack.
So then, at last, it's my turn to force it into love,
But first I had to catch the sod by pouncing from above.
Then try and try the best I could, it never took to me,
And though I stroked to Hell and back, it wasn't meant to be.
You know, I never gave that cat the cause to hate me like it did;
Not once did I forget to feed or find it when it hid.
And when we moved to Scotland, she spent three long weeks indoors,
So I used the time to bond with her by buttering her paws.
It's a trick my mother taught me and it's sure to bring her home,
Come field or glen or mountain top, wherever she might roam.
Seemed she liked her new surroundings, and set off to explore,
And quickly found a mouse and left its innards at the door.
It's just her way to pay us back; it's her way of showing love,
Not a sacrificial offering meant for something up above.
And then, at last, the final straw of putting down her roots,
For to clearly mark her boundaries, pissed in both my walking boots.
Now living by a main road is a challenge to a cat;
With three long years of running wild, took one last stroll and splat!
And the Scottish lady driver who had ended Phoebe's reign,
Had gathered up the gruesome bits and put them back again.
She said, "I have a pussycat mysell, and love it so devout
And I'm really pished I ran yours doon and turned it inside out.”
So I gathered up the poor wee cat and set off with my spade;
I'd find a wet spot near the loch - a leafy little glade.
But just as I was on my way to dig the cat a plot,
My wife put on my handbrake, as she knew the perfect spot.
“We want the cat to feel at home- I know where it should be:
The grassy spot where she hung out to watch the birds and pee.”
The cat had picked its place to lay, to look down on us all,
That just left me to dig the hole and have myself a ball.
At first it felt quite easy, as the grass was nice and thick,
But underneath were great big rocks, so I had to swing my pick.
And when the rocks were out the way, I was halted in my tracks,
For huge tree roots criss-crossed the hole, and I had to fetch my axe.
So I swung the axe and chopped away at roots so hard and fat,
Until at last I'd cut a hole the size to take the cat.
I grabbed my spade and scraped away, then much to my surprise,
I saw a sight to chill my soul right there before my eyes.
For where I'd picked and chopped and dug as hard as I was able,
‘Twas all around, my instant death: our home’s electric cable!
I should have listened to myself and slung it in the pond
As I very nearly joined that cat as it reached out from Beyond.