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Featured Poems

Below are PoetrySoup's featured poems for the week starting Sunday, April 22, 2018. Use the numbered navigation below to navigate through all of the featured poetry.

 1        

All I need to know:

As thy shadows cast gloom over my eyes, I feel my heart pounding faster inside, Telling myself I can't live by these lies, Wondering if times shall change this low tide. Searching for an answer I lie and wait, Aware only of thy pain that remains, Leaving my heart and soul to their own fate, I turn to you for comfort till this wanes. For in your eyes I lose myself it seems, Needing only your time and your sweet smile, When I'm with you, it's beyond any dreams, Please tell me you will stay just for a while. Together we'll find the answers we're due, All I need to know is that I have you.

Copyright © White Wolf | Year Posted 2017

Phantasmic Skies

Closing my eyes
I open the gate to the other world
arriving in the inside realm
where all logic is nonexistent

Gold grass dances all around
as moonlight shines onto me and the ground
I sprout my seraph wings
taking off into the highest heaven

Over the clouds in the ethereal nightscape
I see the pearl, pure and complete
as I witness lunar light gleam the sky
along with the outer celestial shines

Phantasmic skies,
a sight of inspiration
from where dreams are born
in the zone of illusive limits
soaring endlessly in the infinite realm

I explore the phantasmic skies
studying deep wonder
in their countless forms

Up here and everywhere
in this majestic place
shall possibilities flare
as they'll come out there

Copyright © Vermillion Scythe | Year Posted 2017

The Safe Zone

          SARAJEVO the safe zone
The missiles come down from surrounding green
hills made for home, but now are turned into
the hiding place for death that's always been
a part of life as life they always knew,

and when the sound of it comes to the mind
all Sarajevo hears the boom it makes
and wonders if there's any way to find
some hope, a bit of peace, as morning breaks;

the children close their eyes and make the run
not caring where their feet are running to
as shots ring out--some fired in just for fun
not caring what a little fun can do.

   And all the world it watches in surprise   
   if any falls, or any stops and cries.

Copyright © Vee Bdosa | Year Posted 2011

Flowers

Flowers

Palate of colors
standing upright like soldiers
saluting the sun

Copyright © Valerie Staton | Year Posted 2014

The Evolution of Music 2

Ludwig Van Beethoven played piano
with passion and sorrow,
But did he notice the crowds awestruck breath?
(For I heard he was deaf)

Ray Charles came some centuries after
bringing soul and laughter,
He didn't miss the sight of pretty girls
for music was his world.

Now there's Youtubers like Ronald Jenkees
expressing with such ease,
View by precious view, slowly tasting fame,
like Beethoven or Ray.

Copyright © Timothy Hicks | Year Posted 2013

the whale

                snow capped mountains gleem
                    Reflect on waters surface
                             whale breaches

Copyright © terry shuff | Year Posted 2017

Silence

Silence of words, yet not the heart that yearn’d,
patronised by the one once so sprightly,
to shy away from friends, ardour adjourn’d,
treason for love, not to be judged lightly.
The speech of soft silence, not to be heard,
for fear of embarrassment, of laughter,
in a culture new, with words that are blurr'd,
silence of the heart remained thereafter.
Silent remain‘d the voice, but not the heart,
the heart wept, it cried for the one to hold,
for someone to hear, to become a part,
with a loving soul share a dream of gold.

Yet the words echoed in the hollow core,
not being heard; silence forevermore.


April, 2013

For contest: Any Sad Poem
Sponsor: Broken Wings

Copyright © Teppo Gren | Year Posted 2015

chunari

flowing red
cascading in the 
Indian Sunset
chunari

Copyright © Team PoetrySoup | Year Posted 2018

Salute to the Rain

	I would like to start out
		In an innocent sort of way,
		Pointing out an instance
		Of a time far away.
		It is not tangible
		Nor blunt to be seen.
		It can not be snagged on a 
		Timeline.
		Nor condensed, except inside a 
			Dream.
		It is brightly beautiful 
	A testimony, how to be.
		Burning, ever so slightly
		In an ever burning kettle you see.
		Taut at its points
		Grows tighter-Oh how it bends! 
			This dream, a fantastic nightmare, 
	Will it ever end?
		Festival of the curious, festival of the damned 
	Broken at limbs, torn at our joints
		How then will it mend?

Copyright © Sydney Friend | Year Posted 2017

- One Little Peek Into Heaven -


Symbols like a feather
is important and meaningful
for the person who receives them

A white feather
I see a sign from the angels
from your loved ones in heaven

Like the souls of ours, meet on a wonderful day
A lonely feather floats freely,
like Voyager ... a man-made object

Not all meanings are meant to be clear at once
Patiently my friend, what you seek is in your heart
It's a lesson in everything

Angels are not imagination
There is much between heaven and earth
A true soulmate, but some people will never believe

Keep smiling and surely
the sun will shine through tomorrow
No language can express, it's all a part of a bigger plan













02.11.2017
Sun :) - A-L Andresen :)
Copyright © All Rights Reserved

* 3rd place in contest

Copyright © Sunshine Smile | Year Posted 2017

July Matinee

Tuck into the public
private seclusion.

My aversion to inclusion
includes a stub, a tub,
a carelessly careful curation,
a velvet rope, a hint of hope,
a folding chair, softened and stickied 
by foam and frothing soda spills.

A not soundless though talkless time.
My not soundless though talkless time.
My time oh my oh mine.  

A excusal from excess tides:
the comings-and-goings of 
give-and-takes that
never slakes my hermit needs.
Let me receive, no give-backs,
Just sit and accept.  You do the warp and woof
You spin the yarn and weave the world.

Carpet halls and carpeted walls
lead me to a time lapse apse
a time and space machine
Take me anywhere
but
leave me here.
 

The lights come up-
Why do they come up, if
the rays pierce unwelcomingly this
Dark...oh this dark...a respite of shadow,
a veil of sightless cool, a shared shadow
Where was I? Oh, yes...the dark
I am drawn to her like a moth to the...
Never mind.  Ok, where was I?
Distracted from my vocation distraction.
Ah yes.
The lightrays roll up, fall short of falling.
Soon enough.  Not soon enough and yet but
although they do...soon enough that is.
Fail to find me, dim, and disappear into
the recesses of the ceaseless and recessless 
plain plane of acoustical tile.

I exhale, return this borrowed breath.
Sink into my seat.
Sync into my mind.
I settle.
The next breath borrowed won't long be mine.
It's movie time!

The projector clickets and clackets. 
The reel spins its racket
on wobbly sprocket
while spinning its tales.
The light is colored, uneven:
A rainbow, trapped in a kaleidoscope,
on a merry-go-round-and-round-and-round.
Cinematic komorebi; cellulose is
cellulose. (or close, I guess.)  It's
unsteadily carrying sounds on its
un-there shoulders, throwing both at
a screen I cannot see.
I look square at it.
For hours.
Unobstructed, I stare.
And fail to see a screen.
Replaced as it is, there in the dark,
here in the dark, by bouncebacking 
Weightless and waitless.  Instant hinting, glinting.
The projecter pitches sound and fury
In a flickering circus of activity
It's throwing nothings in a palette parade,
a whatever-the-opposite-of-a-library-is of
Sounds...music, words, foley frenzy
Launched unemotionally and yet maddeningly at
A silent invisible visible screen

The thrum and flicker,
the Summer light.
The rising heat,
humidity,
career, bills.  Pick-up-milk.
Forgot.
The Candy Unwrapper, two rows down.
My sore rib.
All gone.
A story unfolds...
A story of a girl...

I am lost...
All is lost.
Only a story...
Only a girl.
Only
This

Girl.

Copyright © Stephe Watson | Year Posted 2018

Daniel Streeter - 1826-1904

Daniel Streeter

1826 – 1904


When you live as long as I lived.
When you keep breathing day after day after day.
You learn to not take life so seriously.
For alas, in this sensuous garden called Earth,
There are a multitude of flowers and herbs.
Of smooth stones and pungent shrubs and scented briars.
Of wild roses and prickly blackberry thorns.
I recall the faces, both masculine and feminine,
And I remember their words and muted whispers.
Sometimes they barked and beguiled.
And sometimes they hit you full force in the face
With their silent stubborn stares.
But we are all God’s children, here in his garden.
And I, for one, was the least with the most.
If I could live only one day over again,
I would choose the day I would have lived.
After I stopped living.

Copyright © stark hunter | Year Posted 2013



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