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Quote LeftI am grateful to the poetrysoup team from the depths of my heart for creating such a wonderful website, where great ideas comes from different directions of the world, forming everyday many beautiful poems. And a bundle of thanks to its founder who is creating a history of its own kind, very lucid, very emotional, amazing and beautiful beyond words. Quote Right

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Featured Poetry: Week Starting Sunday, July 16, 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.

 1      

Hidden Figures

I am black and I say to kindred spirits
Do not say "things are the same"
That is the ultimate dishonor to our fathers
See the hidden figures of the past
We no longer must hide, things ARE different
Do not keep blaming injustice, it is human
Wait for the help of the oppressor, madness!
Why would the slave ask the slave owner for the key?
Take it upon your educated selves, to advance
If one hidden figure can succeed, there are no excuses
If one hidden figure of hue has engineered, why not you?
Do not say "things are the same"
…it is the pinnacle of ignorance
           ….it is a disgrace to historical perspective
                         ...it is a dishonor to our hidden figures

Copyright © Akua Lore Zaan | Year Posted 2017

Peril Noctu

I stumble blindly in the night
Down a darkened hallway where
I'm drawn up short by a flash of pain;
Bitten by some monster there!

I've stubbed my toe, and something cries
I slip, and I've pierced my heel.
The light reveals: a doll, a truck, legos,
Is that a banana peel?

My sweetheart hears my curse of rage,
The baby in her arms,
As if her presence in the doorway there
Can shelter me from harm.

The floor is littered with children's toys
My woes; I'll not recite 'em.
A rattle clamors to the floor,
Add Infant Item!


May 1, 2017

Copyright © Dean Wood | Year Posted 2017

THE ALLIGATOR

One day I saw an alligator,
He said, "May I take a bite?
Your fingers look real juicy
And your legs will fill my appetite."

I said, "No way Al baby,
My fingers are so handy,
My legs I need for walking
In your swamp where it's so sandy."

I said, "What about you alligator,
Can you do without your skin?
You see I want an alligator bag
To put my school things in."

He said, "You must be joking
My skin's a very vital part,
It keeps the mossies and the snakes
From acting far too smart."

After that we were good friends,
Sometimes around the swamp I ride,
Although my seat is very knobbly
Al makes a great swamp guide.


-more poems like this can be found at: 

kidscomedypoetry.com.au

Copyright © john williams | Year Posted 2014

This Love Isn't Going Anywhere

This love isn’t going anywhere
It’s always and forever
Forever and always
In good times and in bad times
For richer and poorer
In sickness and in health
Baby, no matter what happens
This love isn’t going anywhere
Totally committed
Totally devoted
Faithful until the very end
This love isn’t going anywhere
Together we’ll grow old
Wrinkles and false teeth that’s us
Together until…
This love isn’t going anywhere
It’s always and forever
Forever and always
Totally committed
Totally devoted
Faithful until the very end
That’s us…

Copyright © Sonnier Williams | Year Posted 2017

I AM NOT HERE


I am standing there, upright.
For those to see, present.
My eyes are open wide.
But time and world are bent.
My eyes are not outside.

Time doesn't move, inside
Where who I am is sent
And nothing looks quite right
For every second spent
Triples my internal fright

Because everything seems so unreal
And I try so hard, but cannot deal
With a room that is a room no more

Please come closer, help me deal
Make me better, help me heal.
Because I am frightened to the core.

Copyright © Darren White | Year Posted 2016

Mystical Minds

As the healers prepare us for the worlds beyond
With words of wisdom do they respond
Mystical minds that reveal the realm
Ingesting and spewing Love they overwhelm

They speak of joys and life’s lament
As they engulf the energies that heaven has sent
They traverse time and space to bring us hope
As we battle with the elements and try to cope

They journey unbiased with solitude
As they fill our hearts with gratitude
Infinite thoughts that carry on angels wings
As they bow in solace to the one of all things

Mystic healers your hearts are pure
As they dimensional dance and must endure
The agony and triumph of the souls you touch
With the help of angels that love you so much.


Jan.28.2016

Copyright © Winged Warrior | Year Posted 2016

Life Is Strange

Life Is Strange

We don’t make a lot of money,
its okay, still getting by.
Taste of bitter with the honey,
life is funny, wonder why.

One day you have the spirit, hope’s
candle, a flame burning high,
all dazzled by the dangling ropes...
This strangled...innocence died.

Though rubbed and soothed, outlook remains
on guard with its shame for you...
‘cause twice is stupid without brains,
so the dreams are very few.

Now spirit seems to wax and wane
like tides on the drifting shore.
Weather marks leave an ugly stain.
a past that’s hard to ignore. 

Janet Vick

Copyright © Janet Vick | Year Posted 2014

Wally Weasel Goes Skiing

Wally Weasel Goes Skiing

Wally still loves painting, but he’s now discovered sports.
He made his reservations at a faraway resort.
He’s never skied but has a book with lessons showing how.
After reading it two times plus one, he thinks he’s ready now.

With wooly scarf around his neck and hat upon his head,
he picks up shiny skis and poles that lay upon the bed.
Heading out to hit the slopes, he stops - ‘cause he’s decided
to wear his wooly socks so that his toes won’t get frost-bited.

He puts his ski poles in the snow and gives a great big push,
but all his effort got him was a wet, snow-covered tush.
Brushing off to go again, he says he will not quit.
This time he flies right down the slope – yes!  All two feet of it.

He did it!  He’s a skier now, and feeling very proud,
but that’s before he hears the laughter coming from the crowd.
It takes a lot of practice, as our little Wally knows, 
and he’ll keep right on trying ‘til his weasel nose is froze.

With bended knees, he leans a little.  This time he will do it.
When he starts to fly downhill, he says, “There’s nothing to it.”
He turns this way, then turns that way, he’s graceful as a breeze.
He’s being very careful to not run into the trees.

With all the other things he’s learned, he now feels life’s complete.
He’s shown the world that weasels, too, can be good athletes.
We’ll visit him another time and hear his tales of glory.
For now, we’ll have to wait.  Another time, another story.

Copyright © Yvonne Uzzell | Year Posted 2016

Portree

Portree

Portree the tiny Capital of Skye
A special place for you and me
We purchased our rings
That would join us together
But no idea had I
Of your intentions that day
As we walked
Admiring the beauty of Portree
You were planning
A wonderful surprise
We arrived at ‘The Lump’
With its amphitheatre
And stunning views
Getting in a bit of geocaching
I was so overwhelmed
As you proposed to me
Right there by the cache
Oh wow, you blew me away
It was so beautiful
Perfect in every way
Thank you Babe so much
Can’t wait to be your wife
Portree our piece of eternity

Copyright © Gail Underwood | Year Posted 2016

Days

Younger days, were greener days
Silver memories on the shelf
Yesterdays, in many ways
So wrapped up with myself
Saturdays, were laughing days
When time was still in wealth
Every day, that passed my way
Slipped on by in stealth

Now these days, I hang and graze
No longer pull the plough
So eyes may gaze on coming days
Not yet thrown in the towel
All those days, left in a haze
Wont come back, no how
So I say, come what may
It doesn't matter now

Any day that I can stay
No need to wear a frown
Sunny days or rainy days
Just simply hang around
Lazing days, embracing ways
To lay my trophies down
When my days, all pass away
My poems are where I'll be found


March 15 2016

Copyright © Daniel Turner | Year Posted 2016

Blood

I can see your blood
And all the paths it takes
How fast or slow I takes
If it's bunching up in your neck
It is a stroke you can expect
When it's filling the paths hard and strong
High blood pressure is what's wrong
If you come from an exercise class
I see it flowing very fast
If it's moving fast I'm not clear
But usually I find it's because of fear
Sometimes I see things that don't belong there
Usually those people are somehow impaired
The bloods sometimes slow,
In people that are old.
I see blood, sometimes good
Sometimes bad
And that is the very super power I have




Copyright © Tanis Troutman | Year Posted 2016

I started as a joke

In the beginning, you thought I was a joke.
It was the essence that I was broke,
With shattered hope, revoked with a choke.
Without anyone, to revere me as close;
Foretold, unchosen, not bold,
I've been molded as a soldier of doom.
Screaming insanely, and used as a tool.
This isn't as wise, to mistake me a fool.
I'm a crowned jewel, covered in a pool;
Of blood and madness,
Discarded, my past in sadness.
But today, I'm a mage,
Rampage on display.
As the viewers turn the page,
I'm better than clay.
I wont be washed away,
Or used and thrown to waste.
I'm not stupid, or loose in chains;
I'll run, and I will paint this world a face.
Show them all, I'm not someones jester;
I'm not a joke, but I will fester.
Take me lightly, 
And I'll be laughing lastly.
A timely punishment, gone badly.
Ironically, you've been bested blindly.
Until the end of this riddle,
I wont be in the middle;
Pushed and used, I'm cynical.
The ends wont justify the means,
Nor be predictable.
This is my ritual, as I'm maddened with Issues.
Believe it or not, there's visuals;
Much like the ones in my head.
Like the time, I've been taken from my pen.
Let loose I'm out of my cage,
I'm crazed and decayed;
But I've still got rage.
Nows the time, to make them pay.
As I lay the entire world ablaze;
I'll be dancing mad inside the flames.
Though I am insane,
I'm not a dope.
Enflamed and up in smoke,
They'll all soon know;
That in the end, I'm no ones joke.

Copyright © Criss Tripp | Year Posted 2016

THE CHAMPION



                              Faith:

                         Soul's sword,

                        Doubt's slayer,

                          Champion of

                                God!





© Demetrios Trifiatis
         13 July 2017

Copyright © Demetrios Trifiatis | Year Posted 2017

Migaloo - The Great White Whale

Down below pelagic giant lids peep
  upon the watching boat's sea hunt and chase;
great barnacled seafarers of the deep
  a voyage of the Great White Whale retrace!
Beneath the waves in echolocation
  breaching bulls and cows dive the feeding pod,
where from its depths of ocean migration
  lives the ghost of Ahab and the Pequod!
Now age-old haunts and breeding grounds die out
  but not the chilling whalesong far reaching,
only cavernous mouths unmade to shout
  trapped by moon and tide on remote beaching.
Beware the flencer - the harpoon's death throes,  
and may long live the shout of "thar she blows!"



                    Written: July 1992
                    


Copyright © Keith Trestrail | Year Posted 2014

The Time of Autumn

I lay nude at sunset on a cliff above the sea.
Heaven and Earth erupt in red and orange brilliance.
A cool wind wafts over me smells of salt spray.
In this time of Autumn.

And at my side, a woman I still barely know
Caresses my quivering skin --
Filling me hard with her anticipation;
Her gleaming blond hair flowing over me.

I suspend a precious moment of eternity -- full that I am --
Immersing my senses in her womanhood:
	Her comforting smile and inviting eyes,
	Her clean unperfumed scent,
	I gently cup her tender small breast.
So I watch, I smell, and I touch.
I want this immersion to last.
For truly this is a celebration of life!
We share here in our time of Autumn.

Copyright © Sam Toil | Year Posted 2014

The Room Drains

 The Room Drains... 

The room drains to sepia.
A long distant relative
     in a bowler hat,
smoking a pipe;
     strokes your dog.
The one
on the couch. 

Copyright © scott thirtyseven | Year Posted 2016

Image

Don’t leave your shadow to the light
Image to the mirror
Footprints to the sand
Name to the census
Faith to the priest
Key to the door
Will to the bank
Vision to the future
Hopes to the pap
Body to the morgue

So your ghost won’t have to come back for them.

Copyright © Lansell Taudevin | Year Posted 2016

Grasping for Excuses

Lonely village, moonless night Coal’s acrid odor, breath white Meandering highway, the drunkard’s path Clouded mind grasped for excuses from wrath Unaware of the shadows His eyes on the long road Faint rustle of leaves, broke mind from it’s trance In hallowed acre, apparitions danced From corner of eye, glanced he Naught but the night could he see He stumbled forward not giving thought more Until eerie crackle brought pimpled pores His pulse and pace both quickened Not from booze, he felt sickened Past graveyard he slipped with recreant strides. Closing eyes and letting memory guide Into the wood his path led More noises heard, his fear fed Off to his left glinted a steel blade, bright Down dark lane he ran, his legs making flight Looking back as he bounded Hoping fear was unfounded Blinded by fear and the darkness of night He tripped and fell to a macabre sight A wet oily patch on road Had caused his hopes to erode As recognition of what lay before The remnants of a former man, no more Who it was he wasn’t sure Face was gone, only a blur A mangled mess, limbs de-sheathed and unpaired Blood, bone and skin twisted beyond repair Twin light orbs approaching fast He waved and yelled, wheels went past No notice paid by speeding traveler The grizzly scene left to drunken ambler He starts to the task un-planned Then sees a familiar hand He knew at once who’d been following him That glint was scythe of the reaper grim Then thoughts changed to his demise His life flashed before his eyes And excuses he grasped to avoid the wrath Of the One who would send him on southern path

Copyright © Joseph Soper | Year Posted 2017



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