Long poem by
little known nothing | Details |
She's dying over and over again
From the insanity of the missing
The heart will repair
Though I wouldn't dare say this
At the sky she stares
She says life must go on
I must go on
I don't want to be without him she says
As she opens the second bottle of vodka
If I'd had a choice I'd of gone with him
But I'd never wish for him to ever feel
This crushing feeling
Not for a instance
In the night she thinks I'm sleeping
But I hear everything
I was wondering if I could have a moment of your time ?
I know your a busy bloke and that,
your tired with all these voices shouting up at you,
I would be too.
But I thought I'd give it a go.
I know your the universal spirit and there's lots on your mind,
so I tell you what I'll talk and you can just listen,
give me your views at the end.
I was wondering if you've looked in on me lately
I'm feeling incredibly unhappy,
Distraught you could say,
I know there's millions probably billions
I don't know the average,
but no matter.
I know there's other's wanting your attention,
The people dying from cancer or
The African village women screaming for you to stop the men taking their kids,
Putting them on smack to fight there twisted gorilla wars.
Our boys in Afghanistan getting maimed and slaughtered.
So firstly I was wondering if it's normal to feel this way ?
You see I think of him so much he enters my dreams as soon as I close my eyes,
Is this your doing ?
Tell me what I have to do to stop this fog,
Tell me when I reach the other side I'll still be me,
Tell me it's ok to still cry silently, without even knowing,
Tell me how to stop the tears,
Tell me, if this ache in my chest relieves,
Tell me, I'm standing this pain to be with him again,
Go on tell me ??!!!
I'm so alone I bet you got all the Angels up there keeping you company,
Hay I thought they were supposed to be down here looking after us ?
Point is, the real point is
You got something of mine and I want it back.
You took all my grandparents without asking,
Let them all die of cancer slowly before their time, all of them.
By the way I think you've had enough cancer out of my family thankyou very much,
Do you feed off it ?
You took my dog when I was little,
Your know the one, scruffy little Jack rustle up there running about,
He's a proper little cracker.
Missed him awfully I did
You took my dad three times on the operating table,
but he's still here.
It was like holding your breath for six weeks every time he went through those shiny metal doors,
I mean what sort of a sick joke is that ?
"You can have him"
"No you can't"
"You can have him"
"I want him back"
It felt like I had aeroplane ear,
All five of us living in an empty house moving around each other like ghosts.
If the bible's true you should know all this.
But I got an idea you haven't looked in on me at all.
I'm not blaming you, well I am sort of,
I think your a really good bloke but took too much on,
We all do it now and then don't we.
I mean the church wrote your book didn't it,
It's really down to Matthew , Mark , Luke, and John,
you should really send them boys down here,
I know a lot of people who want a word with them.
They're responsible for war,
Famine and mass genocide,
Because be honest all wars start at religion one way or another don't they.
I bet if you felt one second of what I feel,
He would still be beside me, and the empty feeling,
I couldn't give a name to would disappear.
The aftermath of such evil wars wouldn't of happened.
I don't believe you would still let our boys in Afghanistan get themselves blown up and shot in the head
I don't believe,
If you felt an instance of this loss
You would've of let Osama bin Laden get away with all the lives he took on 9/11.
The Jews getting gassed and thrown in pits of thousands
I'm Sorry I've gone off track,
What I was saying is,
my dad told me if he'd of died when he got kidney failure
It's God's will.
Well if it's your will,
Do me a favour and send my husband back
I wasn't finished with him yet.
And if you can't do that,
Tell him something for me,
Tell him I love him,
But lie, say I'm ok.
Say I'm getting by,
I got sleeping tablets off the doc,
Say I'm almost happy.
Not to worry.
Tell him I'm rushing towards death for him,
That I've stocked up on vodka.
God, tell him I'll be there soon.
Long poem by
Richard Lamoureux | Details |
Time for a road trip, my dad, mom and us three kids all packed into our old station wagon. I guess it wasn't so old but it sure seemed that way at the time. We had 458 miles to drive on our trip from Virginiatown Ontario to Kitchener Ontario. For those of you who are not familiar that is a province in Canada. We were off to visit my grandpa and grandma on my mothers side. This is the first trip that I can remember. Excitement coursed through my little body.
It's strange the things that stand out in my memory from 46 years ago. My mom and dad were much slimmer back then. Mom had wavey black shoulder length hair and wore those cat eye glasses from the fifties. I always thought she was so pretty in a plain and simple way. Dad wore dark jeans rolled up at the bottom and had a matching jean jacket. He always had a certain swag and wore his belt buckle to the right side of his waist. He saw himself as an innovator. I also remember the cap that he liked to wear, to me it looked like a captains cap with the nautical symbol on the front and gold rope just above the black visor.
The trip felt like it took forever, we did our best to amuse ourselves in the back seat. We played licence plate bingo and sang songs until the sound of our voices was too much for dad to take and he told us to be quiet. The radio rarely played more than static and Dad turned it off until we came to the next town. I pressed my face up against the window and let it be cooled by the glass. I was prone to motion sickness and this made the trip feel excruciatingly long. We would stop occasionaly at a roadside park to use the rest facilities and have a snack. I was relieved to have these short breaks and quickly began to feel normal again.
As it became darker my parents layed out blankets and pillows in the back of the station wagon. The three of us kids were tucked in and we continued driving through the night. I fell asleep with the sound of the tires turning on the asphalt. We arrived in Kitchener in the early morning. Kitchener was quite a bit different than Virginiatown, our small town of 300 people. As my eyes adjusted to the brightness of the morning I was struck by how cool everything looked. I had been familiar to the rugged terrain of the north, mining towns with simple main streets and a restaurant, barbershop and perhaps a theatre. In Kitchener everything looked so big, department stores, more than one theatre, numerous restaurants and several banks lined the main Street. The buildings also looked so much higher. The downtown seemed to stretch on forever. We drove to Victoria park and had a picnic breakfast. On the way to the park we passed stately homes on tree lined streets. There were beautiful leafy poplar and oak trees spreading their branches over the road. They provided an interesting contrast to the pine trees that dominated the northern landscape. Victoria park had beautiful expanses of grass and more leafy old trees with exquisite bark. I watched as squirrels played running back and forth between the trees. The squirrels easily ran up the tree trunks into the branches; it was like a manic game of tag. I was also enthralled with the huge wooden gazebo, it was very ornate. The floor was raised and made out of wide planks, it had a white painted railing and was covered with a brown shake roof. I imagined what it would be like to make this magical place my home.
Once our parents freshened up it was time to go to our Grandparents farm. I quickly forgot about my magical home as we piled in the car. Their home was located just outside Kitchener near a small town called Roseville. After about 20 minutes we were driving in the country, expanses of open land filled with corn and wheat.there were very few trees except a few out in the fields. As we drove down the country road dust flew up behind the car obscuring the path from which we came. Finally the car slowed and we pulled up to a long rectangular gate. My mom got out of the car and opened it, my dad drove down a dip and through the gate, granddpa and grandma must have heard the engine and they came out to greet us. Grandpa had a sparkle in his eye and I knew this was going to be special place.
Long poem by
Just That Archaic Poet | Details |
A total Jedi mind f*ck from Hell is what this is. I feel like a nuclear bomb has exploded in
my mind of Hiroshima proportions and I am on the brink of a Chernobyl meltdown.
Bewildered may be the best description of what I am feeling right now. I cannot process
anything; I feel like I am in total and utter f*cking shock. I apologize for the expletives;
I normally never curse when I write because I find it uncouth, but I have to get these
feelings out; I know if I don't, I will want to cut, which is the last thing in the world I want to
do. God knows I have enough scars; I don't need or want anymore.
From great pain comes great inspiration, I believe. Even though my mind is positively
reeling at this very moment as I type, I feel exponentially inspired. I am completely
overwhelmed emotionally, and I have just now stopped sobbing and weeping enough to
write; to get these horrid feelings out of me.
Even the smallest of troubles or strife turn into absolute tragedy and catastrophe in my
mind; I cannot help or control it, and God knows I wish I could. I "catastrophize" everything.
My best friend of 15 years just called me and told me she was moving to Alabama. I
shouldn't even say "best friend" for she is more like a sister to me. Always, always she
has been close by and been there for me as I have been for her, and now she is moving
what seems like galaxies away from me, and the pain I am feeling is so tremendous and
shocking; so unnerving and vexing and tormenting and afflicting...I could go on forever
with melancholy and exasperating adjectives and descriptions. In my mind, she is dead
and I am hosting the funeral in my brain. That's totally insane; I understand that, but at
this moment I am NOT rational. For a moment after I stopped crying my eyes out, I
almost felt catatonic. In my partner's arms, I just wept as he held me; I was shaking
and shuddering furiously. I feel lost. I haven't felt this powerless or helpless since my
grandparents died. She is moving away and there is nothing I can do about it. I am
a horrible and selfish human being for I want her to stay, so desperate do I feel.
Wendy, my sister, my best friend, my partner in crime; my cohort, consort, comrade,
co-conspirator: you who know me best, inside and out, like a book...you are leaving me,
and my sorrow is swallowing me whole- devouring me like an angry, rabid beast. Don't
go; don't leave me. With every fiber of my being I wish you to stay, but you've made up
your mind and told me your decision at the worst possible time, when I am already too
stressed to deal with or process this kind of pain and anguish in a healthy way. I'm ready
to hit the bottles: whisky and Lortab. They will ease the pain and will quell the compulsion
This is the most personal blog I have written. I didn't know what else to do but turn this
despair into words to help ease the heartache and suffering. If anyone cares, I need
support right now. I need prayers and well wishes and good vibes; I am about to crumble
to pieces. I feel like the proverbial rug has been pulled out from under my feet and I don't
know what to do. This is the worst feeling in the world. Uncertainty is truly the worst of all
Long poem by
Sam Raj | Details |
Birth is the breath of life.
The first kiss of air that
Simulates the virgin lungs.
As the lungs expand and collapses,
a new life has begun, with a shrill cry.
Unlike like a shooting star.
that gloriously streaks the sky,
and vanishes in a moment in time.
Its like a drama that unfolds,
mysteries of life.
Its not static, ever dynamic.
Constantly changing the rhythm.
You transform, from your infancy.
When you were just a bundle of joy.
To the stage of little kid.
Who now represents the imp.
You, further get surcharged,
to the teenage state of mind.
Compelling facts and deceit,
progress the teenage ways.
Most confusing days of your life.
You loose the dreams of the teenager.
And never look back.
Graduate to your stage of adulthood.
This is the most fascinating days of your life.
You dream the dreams of dreamers.
Simulated by the love of life.
You want life to be never ending.
Riding the carousel of life.
Filled with happiness supreme.
Spiced with aroma of love.
Tantalizing thoughts of erotica flash by,
giving you sleepless nights.
Some where in the corner of your mind,
love has not deserted you.
In the latter days of your adult life.
Having established firmly your name to fame.
Its time you seek the companionship of a spouse.
You search for the one , you heart desires.
Elements of joy, peace and love sublime.
Your childhood sweetheart is within your reach.
But there is hesitation in your heart.
Then one day, like the shooting star.
You propose to your hearts desire.
She was thrilled to hear the words.
She dreamed one day you would say.
In early spring you wed.
You were in the twenty fifth Year.
Life joys, aches and pain.
Were rewarded by marital bliss.
You procreated two bundles of joy.
And gave them best you could.
Meantime the love of your life stood steadfast,
By your side.
Sharing the joys of life.
Your kids are now all grown up and well equipped.
Ready to face the challenges of life.
And the cycle of life continues.
Meantime age is catching up.
You enjoy your retired life.
Touring the countryside.
Enjoying nature and all her beautiful sights.
Life has been so good to you.
You give back a little of what she gave to you.
Your kids are now married and well settled.
Attained the glory of becoming grandparents.
Life has been so good to you.
Age is slowly catching up.
You can tell from your gait.
Grand kids are your greatest pride.
You take them for joy rides, and to the parks.
Watch them grow to be naughty kids.
You pamper them with love.
And one warm Summer night.
As you lay next besides your love.
You rolled over to her side.
And planted final kiss on her rosy cheeks and her sweet lips.
And thanked for all the love she gave to you.
And all the moments of joy and pleasure you shared.
She held your face in palm of her supple hand.
looked you in the eyes and said. "I'll always love you".
You said "I feel exhausted, I am going to rest".
She held you in her arms close to her chest,
You lived a glorious life
And vanished into the haze.
Peacefully, into the arms of death.
Long poem by
Marissa Faries | Details |
I love how you were my first friend
Right after I came into this world.
I love how you and I had fun
Until the end of our little childhood.
I love how you were another I’ve met,
Everything was good in those summers.
I love how you were like a brother,
Had often traveled to your home and we played.
I love how you were my second friend,
Someone who and I imagined together and communicated.
I love how you would allow me to come over,
And to even let me eat there for dinner.
I love how you were some other pal,
We enjoyed the company of each other.
I love how you and I were so young,
It was almost as if I were your role model.
I love how you were my third friend,
Truly was something wonderful we had.
I love how our bond once was,
Though no longer am I at all sad.
I love how you were all those cousins of mine
Were all young alongside me.
I love how you all made me feel happy,
Back in those days of my child identity.
I love how you were my fourth friend
Right after I reached out to yourself.
I love how I knew you at first seemed as lonely,
No matter how far apart, we have those memories.
I love how you were both born, my siblings.
Prayed for your births: to me that’s how it had to be.
I love how you turned to me for comfort and sleep,
Will always be there to care for you.
I love how you were my fifth friend,
Claimed to free me from what I’ve fought for so long.
I love how you gave me what I’ve sought,
Such fleeting evenings: our moments captivated me.
I love how you were all new people to talk to,
Every conversation helped me become who I am today.
I love how that no matter how I feel, I’m not alone,
Forever grateful for having others to talk to.
I love how you were all my other good buddies,
No life should be without friendly acquaintances.
I love how some of you are close to being my best friends,
You’re worth spending times with.
I love how you, my parents and grandparents,
Were there on my birthday: the sky was clear, sunshine.
I love how you, my family and friends,
Are all people I know and have raised me.
I love how there’s a number of people
I’ve known within my lifetime.
I love how there are those
Who still see me as I was and always will be.
I love how these people
Influenced parts of my personality.
I love how that no matter how I feel,
All those years were real.
I love how you all were there, but I feel alone now.
Every day’s not the same as it used to be.
I love how you’re also always around,
But now I’m strong enough to perceive even change...
Long poem by
Linda Witt-King | Details |
I would build a center for learning,
Working title: Community Wellspring
Where people would come to learn new skills and new ways
To earn a living in these times.
No one’s job lasts forever anymore.
We have no idea what happened to or what will happen to our monetary system.
As the saying goes,
When one door closes, another opens.
If we are to transcend economic devastation and collapse,
Affecting everyone everywhere,
We must learn new and different ways to sustain ourselves,
We must gather together in mutually supportive communities,
Kind of like here at Poetry Soup, only different.
No longer can we keep our cards
held close to our chest
lest someone guess
our next play
and block our way.
It’s no longer about competition
and who has the most toys wins.
The first step to any viable endeavor is cooperation
And viewing our contribution through a different lens.
Today there are more resources, more opportunities
Than our parents & grandparents could ever have imagined
Or even get their heads around.
But changing directions requires a major paradigm shift,
A cultural transformation of consciousness
From being dependent on the job
To creating the job & the life that we want to live
From a place of strength, not desperation,
From a place of joy in service, not obligation.
Here at Community Wellspring, we would teach
Internet marketing, affiliate marketing, network marketing,
Independent distribution, selling on eBay and Craigslist,
Explore the ins and outs of importing and exporting through Alibaba
Learn currency trading and form investment groups
We’d learn to become adept at building websites,
And using all the tools that have emerged
For operating and navigating in this new world.
No matter what their day job might be,
Everyone would develop and maintain multiple streams of revenue.
It would become the new 401K
the new social security
the new investment vehicle
What’s in your revenue stream portfolio?
We would have networking parties and events
Where we would all practice giving our presentations
In a safe, supportive environment,
Where cross-selling was not only allowed but encouraged.
We would have board game events playing learning games
Like Robert Kiyosaki’s Cashflow 101 and 202
and others of like kind and like mind.
There are few, if any, centers for learning this new integrated business model,
This center would become, could become exactly that.
If my dream could come true…
Community Wellspring would become a reality.
Long poem by
Brashard Bursey | Details |
All teenagers will have become parents at an early age, including the age of 14, after
giving birth to their offspring. It will have affected the lives of teen moms and teen
dads and the lives of their parents. It seems that once they become parents at a young
age, there's no more hanging out with friends, no more going to parties, no more going to
the movies or the mall, no more of any of that stuff. It also seems that their parents'
futures have been altered due to the fact that they were going to become grandparents
early. Everybody also knows that all teen parents can't take care of their babies and go
to school at the same time; it's a total waste of time. All of their parents still don't
understand why all teenagers have to be parents (a teen mother and a teen father) at an
early age, including 13. This is starting to look like a bunch of episodes of "16 &
Pregnant" and "Teen Mom" on MTV. Now that those teenagers are planning to become parents
at an early age, even in high school, they'll be forced to give up their dreams of going
to college, being doctors, being lawyers, or whatever; thereby dropping out of middle
school and/or high school. All of the parents should know that teen parenting is a total
waste of time and it's a heartache for all. No matter what the moms and the dads do, no
matter how hard they try to prevent their teen sons and teen daughters from ever being
parents at an early age, let alone 13 or 15, their futures will have been at stake. It
also seems that when the backs of all parents are turned, those teens start to have
unprotected sex and the next thing everybody knows, those teen boys will have gotten those
teen girls pregnant three (3) days later by those teen boys, and their parents will have
been outraged. There's no way that these teens are going to be parents at an early age,
let alone 16. They need to concentrate on their education and getting their high school
diplomas and/or college degrees. And those teen couples, they should've used condoms and
they should've waited until after they've gotten married. Teen parenting is starting to
make all of their parents sick. It breaks their hearts just thinking about it. All parents
really need to get involved in the lives of their teen sons and teen daughters and prevent
them from being parents at an early age. All teenagers are not to have children until
after their education is finished and their married. Teen pregnancy and teen parenting
must end right now.
Long poem by
Sabina Nicole | Details |
When my mother was at the age of thirteen,
A dirty old man asked her to come clean,
He invited her over so she could make a few bucks
When she arrived he was in a black tucks
He was the neighbor across the street,
His wife was at work and he viewed my mom as weak
This man locked the door when my mother arrived,
Went to go kiss her, to feed his sick drive,
My mom ran out the back door and went across the street,
Little did this man know he was in for a “delightful treat!”
My great grandma lived six towns away
My mother called her in a state of panic and disarray
A forty minute drive, granny made it in fifteen
Granny drove her old ford like a race car machine
When she arrived, she kicked that man’s door down
She did not care if anyone was around
That man jumped up by that loud sound
She hit him so hard he fell right on the ground
She slapped him around with her left shoe
Cursed him out in Italian, while threatening him too
Later that night my mother’s dad came home
He is a little man with a loud groan
He heard the story and went across the way
Took his shot gun and made this man pay
Told him if he ever touched his daughter again,
He would shoot off his little “private friend,”
He made this man cry in his own living room,
But I promise you this man never again tried to consume,
Every little girl on that street,
He knew not to look at or he would get severally beat,
My family has many stories of my Great Granny saving the day,
Never mess with an Italians family, they handle things in their own special way.
Every family has stories that get past down from one generation to the next. I was blessed to have had my mother’s grandparents until about 6 years ago. They did not speak any English and my great granny was a crazy awesome woman. She grew up on a farm in Italy and had to do a lot on her own. She raised all the children and grandchildren but was old school about a lot of stuff. I remember my great grandparents fighting with each other even in the nursing home. They were married for 58 years; they shared a room in the nursing home that had two separate beds. My great grandma use to hit my great grandpa with her cane from across the bedroom. It was funny to watch. They may have fought but they loved each other so much, my great grandma died 6 years ago and less than a year later my great grandpa died too. Now they are in heaven together, I don’t think there’s fighting in heaven, God don't allow that;)
Long poem by
Carrie Richards | Details |
My grandparents lived in a drafty old farmhouse.
Yet it was filled with a warmth, and stability that still lingers in my mind...
The days seemed sunnier, the breeze was brisk, the nights were cold and clear....
It took a bit of courage when bedtime arrived
For it was quite a cold affair
The back rooms of Grandma's house were never heated
The old bathroom smelled of orange Lifebouy soap
Which was cradled in the wire racks by the sink and the claw foot tub.
At night time, we would have to reach for the string by the door
that ran along the wall, over to the the fixture above the sink,
in order to turn on the light....
Must have been another one of Grandpa's great solutions!...
It was freezing cold...and no matter how long you let the water run
it would never seem to get warm.
Quite often, my brother and I would fib about washing well behind our ears.
My bed was next to the old treadle sewing machine,
A small daybed, in the corner of the dining room...
This was my place to sleep each time we visited my Grandparents.
Grandma would come in for a minute, before I fell asleep
And although she was stiff, from joints that knew when the weather was changing...
She would kneel along beside me, and together we would recite the Lord's Prayer
And follow by blessings on each member of the family...
of course that included the family dog, and the family cat too!
The old grey tabby cat, was allowed to curl up at the foot of my bed, and spend the night....
How I loved that cat!
A kiss on the forehead..."Sleep tight, Don't let the bedbugs bite" before leaving.
If I close my eyes, I can still hear the ticking of the old school clock
And the humming of the small refrigerator coming from the kitchen
I still hear the mummering of grown-up voices, laughing playing cards in the parlor...
I can still smell the fragrance of coffee, and cinnamon,
mixed with moth balls
and the Old Spice that Grandpa wore...
I would lie there, trying hard to fall asleep, ...yet much too excited...
Impatient for tomorrow's early sun to rise over Mt. San Jacinto
Another sun filled day, another memory to make,
another place in my heart to fill....
at my Grandparent's house....
Long poem by
Eileen Ghali | Details |
She held her mother’s hand
As tears made their way
Down the face called
“Exquisite, beautiful, charming”…
The face that had been her comfort
She could not absorb the pain in her words
If I could only feel a little of what my friends describe
That feeling of”…she sighed
They say it’s like…like…
The beating of a drum..faint at first and then
Beating louder and louder until…
Until you want to explode with the strength
of the vibrations
Tingling all over”…
She covered her face with her hands
“Instead…I try to imagine it as we lie together…
Hoping I can please, can satisfy…
Talking about private matters
Was difficult in her culture
Now, home on semester break
She heard her mother share
The horror of that night
When as a child they held her
Kicking and screaming
Exposing her most private parts
Cutting away the center of desire
The essence of her womanhood
That had been cloistered
In the folds of safety
She squeezed her mother’s hand
This woman whose every move
Made men stare
Exuding sexual charm
She was the epitome
Of every womanly grace….
Yet...unable to feel the fluttering
That some time ago
Had slowly awakened in her own frame
Her mother’s tears
Now fell from her own eyes
She bowed her head in shame
Wanting to blame
Her grandparents for following
The stupid traditions of their world…
Thinking it was best…
Her mother enfolded her in an embrace
And rocked her
It’s too late for tears now"…
“I’m so so sorry, Mama,” she whispered,
Her mother reached out to wipe her tears
“Feel sorry for your father
I see the pain in his eyes…
Knowing that I cannot feel what he feels…
Often, he won't approach me, but I entice him
I dance for him”…
She smiled…caressing a memory
“He stole my heart
The moment he looked at me with those eyes
How I wish he could see, the fire of his eyes
Burning in mine."
It that moment, it took shape
The career that had remained
Unborn…in the womb of her mind
She would be the voice…of every little girl
Who had ever screamed in pain...in shame
For the little girl her mother used to be
For all the others that were to come
So they wouldn't have to grow up
With eyes that reflected pain instead of passion
The pain she now witnessed
…in her mother’s eyes!
No, it was not too late to cry…
Her tears now would be tomorrow’s tears
Of some woman’s tender and sweet release