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Featured Poetry: Week Starting Sunday, May 21, 2017

Below are PoetrySoup's featured poems of the week. Congratulations to our featured poets. Poems are rotated each day in groups of 14-18 to give each poem an equal opportunity to be displayed. Those who post a lot of poetry and actively comment on the poetry of others are more likely to have their poetry featured. The only guaranteed way to be featured is to become a Premium Member Featured poetry is below.


The poems are below...


Click on the numbered navigation below to navigate through all of the featured poetry.

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Words Were Born

Words were born that they might find your ear.
A gentle breath against you, my lips brush your skin
with the desire to whisper every word you could
never hope to hear from another. 

Volumized in colorful meaning, adorned in gems of truth.
They sate and appease in the moments need
to be something more than words.
To be something more living.. Breathing.

Our gaze meets, a smiling comfort in your eyes
reprises a longing that remained
unspoken while conveying everything.
I'd gladly drown within the gaze that you reflect.

Spellbound trepidation founded in the unknown 
as my fingers linger upon you, heralding their intent.
The murmuring excitement rushing through your 
heart chords to strum in musical bliss against my touch.

If only every moment born of my impulse could
cause such stirs within a creature so exquisite.
If every aching entice of my hand and lips could 
bring you to move to my whim. I'd never need for food,
water, or shelter again.

Copyright © Jesse Zerlaut | Year Posted 2016

The Protected One

The Protected One Written: by Tom Wright 2/25/2017 Blocked from my memory, a segment of time, For Cardiac Arrest was then taking its toll. From above was music, to my ears, sublime, But God was not hasty in claiming my soul. The curtains of heaven parted just for me, No other could discern God’s angelic choir. Christian people were praying and did agree, God was in control though it appeared dire. Doctors have told me that I shouldn’t be here, That a miracle, that day, happened in my life. While my wife and others were sated with fear, God, the great physician, directed the knife. As I now look back at recent fields I’ve plowed, I’m told that my surviving was at ten percent. While physically battered my spirit was unbowed, For God was not ready for my Heavenly ascent. Since, Doctors and workers often refer to me, As a Fighter, The Protected One, or Miracle Man; But I’m only the vehicle that God chose by decree, And all things will transpire pursuant to His plan.
spent 2 months in hospital with back surgery and on Jan 1st open heart surgery.

Copyright © Tom Wright | Year Posted 2017

Shy Julie - Part 1

 
Shy Julie - A Punters Nightmare Part 1 They fancied themselves "Gurus of racing", this Ron and his best mate John So they sat down one day in an easy relaxed way And mused on the pros and the cons Of punting and racing, of adrenalin flow chasing To syndicates, systems and form And came to the conclusion under no delusion With brains like theirs they would make their millions How could they ever go wrong? So one Saturday night when conditions were right Armed with papers, computers and the rest With determined breath and excitement at height They decided to put to the test With odds in their favor and set not to waver On favorites systems and short sight Wearing magnified glasses and warm woolen beanies They were starting to see the light The air was electric the pulses a tingle The adrenalin high and in tune to this jingle Lets go get em my good man Ron Get on the phone and lay that bet on Now hang on there John and don't be a fool Calm down have a drink try to be cool So what will you have Scotch Vodka or Gin Scotch will be fine said John with a grin This is the big one all up on this pup A world record holder a bolter for the Cup The race drew near the air was electric The caller was good the crowd was ecstatic Shy Julie the select one was rearing to go Couldn't wait for the green light and the bunny to show The gates were lifted she was off like a shot Ten lengths ahead the pursuit running hot Then much to their amazement and everyone's awe She stopped short in her tracks-fifty meters to go One could almost hear the drop of a pin She'd decided to stop and throw it all in Sweet bashful and shy I always will be Serves them right for trying to make a Hound out of me T'was too much to bear Shock Horrors of Horrors The crowd was aghast our two punters in sorrow. What went wrong said John to that world record holder Would you think me less a man if I cried on your shoulder Not a word said Ron but by the look on his face You could see he thought her performance a disgrace
Footnote: This is a true story, where my husband Ron and my brother John decided to throw some big money on this World record Holder Shy Julie, who had won 11 of her 18 starts . The super stayer had this Semi final of the rich Association Cup seemingly "all parceled up". However without warning Shy Julie propped badly and failed to complete the course, much to the punters who had backed her into 2/1 favoritism I don't think they shared my view of seeing the funny side to it. Motto of the Story When a female says No she means No

Copyright © Maria Williams | Year Posted 2017

Duck Watching

How can ducks look so serene,
gliding swiftly 'cross the pond?
While just below the water's surface,
frenzied churning's going on.

Webbed-feet are all in action,
like old piston-pumping wells,
Not a feather -none is ruffled,
not a splash of wetness swells.

If ducks are left to just be ducks,
they sashay 'cross the pond.
They're never out of character,
just ducks -that swim around.

But if they see the breadcrumbs,
duck-watchers love to throw.
It's then they agitate the pond,
And it's a tsunami water show.

Intrusion -that's the fowlest rub,
ducks lose their duck resolve.
And in a hyper-state of quack,
ducks tranquil ways dissolve.

Do the moving ducks remind you,
of some folks you meet each day?
The quiet ones that seem so calm,
in their sad and empty way!

A few of them will slip through life,
as though it's just a tranquil ride.
But deep below their psychic surface,
Tsunami thoughts there-in reside.

Do not intrude as 'watchers' will,
Least you're ready to release.
A deeper -darker part of them,
what their minds let them unleash.




Copyright © Margaret Wade | Year Posted 2017

Used to it

The day will come, when all the songs have been sung.
All the flowers given.
All the poems written. 
The day will come, where handholding will be infrequent.
Hugging less frequent. 
Kissing a distant memory.
Passionate nights replaced by falling asleep on the sofa.
Romantic dinners yield to hurried fast food runs.
Grey will replace brown.
I love you enough to look forward to that day.
Getting used to you is an idea I can get used to.

Copyright © Joseph Vigil | Year Posted 2017

The Silence

Tell me, only tell me
 if I have ever silently
 mentioned you.

 I hear the bells 
 that knock a the door
 that come and go
 knocking my silence down.

 Oh! Immense sound 
 you that you show at my door 
 and makes me confuse my silence,

 Now that you go away
 do not forget 
 to return my silence.


Copyright © Charlie vazquez | Year Posted 2017

Immune

IMMUNE

I saw a crack-head lying in a ditch,
resting peacefully upon the soft mud,
scratching at what he thought was an itch.
It was a creeping and nasty bug!

A group of church folks pass by,
 and  looked upon him as an "it." 
They too were far from God’s love.
It went through my mind to ask the question, 
why, how, can a man accept to be so low,
to feel no guilt, or desire to cry,
no purpose to live, or no proof to show?

Immune! immune to these things you see,
had became a repetitious part of time,
 they became a way, or a part to be --
they became his "state of mind."

A cowboy who sees his father chewing;
he, too, chews and grows to accept it .
A black boy, who sees his father drinking, 
out of low self-esteem; he, too, begins to drink it.
America has cheated, lied, and 
  dealt a crooked hand; 
now, Americans have grown to love it.

We became immune to what is constant in our lives.
I smelled a rose, it was so soft to me ,
I picked it up and held it in my hand.
I wasn’t immune to its' beauty, and so,  I put it close to me,
desiring it to become a part of me,
 but it slowly died -
it wasn’t immune to me.

Copyright © Mark Turner | Year Posted 2016

A LOGICAL PURPOSE

Does everything in nature have a purpose
It would seem so just on the surface
By saying all had a purpose a creator is implied
Therefore it's up to each observer to decide
A system that runs like a clockwork design
Needs a masterful manipulator whatever kind
The term logic applies to this hypothesis
Without logic humans become their own apotheosis 
Giving the final meaning once and for all 
In the absence of logic the cosmos would fall 

Copyright © Elizabeth Smith | Year Posted 2015

Butterfly

You are like a butterfly,
You flutter here, you flutter there,
Just like a butterfly 
You flutter everywhere
And where you come to rest,
That's where I want to be
My pretty little butterfly.

To cage a butterfly or clip it's wings
Is not the thing to do
As I know you see that butterflies are free
And they are all the more beautiful because they are free.

But to be where a butterfly comes to rest,
Who could ask for more,
Except a fool who is too blind to see
How beautiful a butterfly can be,
Especially one that is free to be what it wants to be

Copyright © David Smith | Year Posted 2016

Bittersweet

Outside the city where the pomegranates grow
is where my dreary muse must go
to scout a tree that song-like speaks
of scarlet fruit on Eden’s Eve.

With blushing bulbs, one bushy shrub 
drones a dirge with leaning tongue:

The ancient apple’s several seeds
have pleased your buds with bursts of sweet
that splattered 'brane with each wet bite
and sprinkled earth with bane and blight.

For once the fertile fruit is snatched
the ravaged rind is quickly cast,
the sacred seed, forgotten pith,
full squandered pomegranate gifts. 

All have plucked, but pondered not
the way a bittersweet will prompt.
If you are such, from what I spoke
then take your leave a different route.

I took the fruit that’s left for dross.
My muse has come to prize the loss.


A First Line Prompt - Poetry Contest

Copyright © Rita A. Simmonds | Year Posted 2016

Triceratops

I was talking to a Triceratops, 
About the age-old, meaning of life.
He said, he didn’t have the answer,
But, would go and ask his wife.

Moments later he returned,
Disappointment, etched over his face.
She said, “it’s no good asking me,”
We got wiped out; 
by a thing, from Outer Space.

Copyright © Kevin Shaw | Year Posted 2017

YOU WORK YOU LEARN

I work with this girl that is not to bright. But that is aright because the more she works 
the more she learns. On our jobs we take turns we use alcohol any cut’s it will burn. But 
just for awhile we take turns so watch out for the alcohol it really burns.

Copyright © craig schaber | Year Posted 2011

PARADISE BY TULIPS

It's lovely when it's 
Loving like-licious 
Between two cotton
Candy jellyBean
butterflies I am kissING
eternally your tulips
by paradise that I am 
wishing.

:: 04-30-2017 ::

Copyright © Ernest Robles | Year Posted 2017

Random Thoughts 1

He may call you baby
But will he pick you up 
when you're down
And will he hold you when 
you cry?

Copyright © Alex Roberson | Year Posted 2015

Sharing the Promise

Something spoke a promise
Whispered by the sky
And nodding clouds then passed it on
To eagles flying high
Something told the meadow
And gave the sparrow song
Who sang it to the cottontail
Who spread the warmth along
The trees soon got the message
And swayed with new delight
The raindrops danced in evening breeze
And shared it through the night
Each lily and fair flower
Stood taller on the stem
The promise shared when darkness came
                   ........The sun will rise again

Copyright © Carrie Richards | Year Posted 2009

Priorities

Author Dana Redricks
October 22, 2016

Sometimes our priorities can be thrown way off course.
People care about things more than they care about people and praise them about anything else.
We seek for treasures that will gain us nothing but are willing to sell our souls. We should strive for the treasures that are eternal and love people more than things. Things will perish and be lost or stolen, but in Jesus we have eternal life, in loving others we find something much lasting and is the love return or knowing they have a choice. Loving people is to give a choice either they can love us back or reject us but at least there is a chance of knowing real love, but the greatest love comes from above. Keep our priorities in check, and we will know our worth and the worth of others.

Copyright © Dana Redricks | Year Posted 2016

Poetic Virtues and You

P is for the passion in our pursuits and patience in our frustrations.
O is for originality, open-mindedness, and optimism in a world of pessimism.
E is for the enchanting elegance of simplicity, empathy, and energy in expression.
T is for truth where your word is as good as gold and trust replaces doubt.
R is for being real and respectful for the words whispered from the soul.
Y is for yearning, and yes, always believe in poetry, dreamers, and you.

Copyright © James Ranahan | Year Posted 2015

The Battle

Contemplating if it's possible 
For someone to love me
When I'm in a Relentless battle 
to love myself

Always been a wild free spirit
Full of dreams and purpose
When did self-destruction
become the target

Insecurities along with hesitation
Stole a part of who I was
Whispers incessantly reminding
Of past failures

Somewhere in my time line
I was broken
Memories too painful to recollect
were buried

An uncontrollable craving
For affection
Every time someone got too close 
I became a ghost

Many have attempted 
to heal my scars
Though only I can find
the cure

I'm A Beautiful Disaster surrounded
By internal chaos
A secret turmoil
hoping to find myself

Copyright © Sofia Ra | Year Posted 2016



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