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Featured Poems

Below are PoetrySoup's featured poems for the week starting Sunday, April 15, 2018. Use the numbered navigation below to navigate through all of the featured poetry.

 1        

Marcell

A ray of sunlight streams across the room
To light the raven ringlets of his hair,
As now and then he slightly sways, within
His artful hands a violin and bow,
From whence bursts forth the musings of his mind
In vivid tones with deep vibrato's power,
And there expands and swells to fill the void
Of empty space that dwells within the walls
Composed of stones, both grey and worn with age,
Their only saving grace the leaded panes,
Designed by some forgotten man of old.
There stands Marcell, a stranger to the world,
Absorbed in fantasies of melodies,
The phantoms of how things appear to be;
For in the notes he dreams and then pours out,
He cunningly reveals his somber thoughts
And feelings, while the world is stamped to dust.
They tell the mournful tale of one who lived,
And breathed, and thought, but was not understood;
A boy whose parents died before his eyes
For crimes they never could have helped commit,
The crime of being born the same as he,
Of race that every other thought as vile,
And now while all the world engaged in war,
Is hidden in an ancient, empty church,
His one companion held within his hands
And speaking, just as he, to empty air.



{Written by Isaiah Zerbst on January 2d. 
Published January 3d, 2015.}

Copyright © Isaiah Zerbst | Year Posted 2015

Use Time Wisely

Lord, Amid my hurry and my haste, let me be slow but time not waste. For time, is yours alone to give, I must use it wisely while I live. Time, is like an arrow once let fly, that makes it's way across the sky. Retrieve I can't, once it is gone, nor can I save or to others loan. For the time remaining allotted me, may it be used dear Lord, for thee. That as in life where ere I wander, time given me I will not squander.

Copyright © Tom Wright | Year Posted 2008

Riding the Bus or taking the Train

You know, the other day, I made a decision to ride the bus. It was so pleasant to see not only where one is going, but all the activities and fun in between. No, hurry or worry. Of course, I could have gotten to my destination much faster, had I taken a train, but then, I would have missed out on the sounds along the way. The Train: dreary subway stops to look at, crowds of people pushing to get in. No sights or sounds, just the roaring of steel against steel. A sudden jerk -- and you are at a stop. And so, one must decide, whether the ride or the getting there faster is best.

Copyright © Marilyn Williams | Year Posted 2016

I am Me, Set me Free

I am given to you by Creator Himself My Limbs long to grow straight and tall Bathed in sunlight from above, paying homage Fulfilling my God given task From the dawn of creation, in the Holy Books I’m told A gift was given to all nations to hold The Tree of Life to feed and cure and clothe. I am Me – Set me free To live in a world- your world, to be appreciated I am needed by you and the multitudes Use me, Recycle me again and again Plant me in your soil, I will take root I live to Heal you, to Cleanse you To Rebuild you to Purify you I am Me – Set me free Do not believe the lies in your ears they whisper Free me from my confined goal, Where troops have placed me Sullied my name, Denied the Existence of my core I am Me – Set me free Yet I am you, and you are me Vital it is for us living beings Your DNA and my RNA- we talk -we communicate I am not only here to just take away your pain But here to let you - Live Your Life Again I am Me – Set me free Do not be stripped of your human privileges The Greedy will always deny Man his God given rights In the name of Democracy, Controversy, Hate, Idiocrasy, They are chained in their Bureaucracies and Hypocrisies And do not see the woods for the trees I implore you do not be Of a ‘Sheeple’ people mentality I am Me – Set me free In a world encased with chemicals, plastics, synthetics Created in the name of greed, A world that is stifling, suffocating, stagnating Poisoning you and your children Let your Farmers Plant me, grow me as in days of old, I am no weed I have been here since time has begun My leafy fingers and my palm point up to the sun Absorbing and turning it’s energy into a life giving elixir I purify the very air that you breathe I am sustainability, I am Life I am Me – Set me free I can offer you the finest spun threads of my being Does not the Japanese Emperor look good in his ceremonial clothes? And did not ‘Mona Lisa’ smile - as she was stretched on my canvas? Glowing from the oils of my seeds are Van Gogh’s ‘Stars’ And my finest for Raising Lazarus by Rembrandt My spun cloth has stood the test of time Carrying your very first Stars and Stripes still in existence And did they not all feel proud when the Declaration was signed But like Judas they turned their backs without our acquiesce I am Me – Set me free Haven’t my ropes tethered and towed ships from Days of yore Until synthetics came along and put a stop to it all My woven fibre sacks once carried your food? But now with synthetics, I lie totally unused I am self sufficient I am your nutrition I am Me – Set me free Use my Oil and Mill my Seed My healing powers are all you need Leave the chemicals for the powers that be My gifts are bountiful - I give with grace Strength is in numbers - I rest my case The way for us to become stronger United we stand - we will conquer I am the Tree of life I AM ME – I AM THE HEMP TREE A Gift from Nature - Healer of Humanity
Footnote: A poet from Poetry Soup read my poem and the Footnote of ‘Christmas in July’ and was curious about the cure for Dementia with a certain Oil which would have prolonged my Mother-in-laws quality of life and indeed her life. She emailed me to write a poem and spread the word about this species. Thank you sincerely. Our family company in Australia and have been pioneers of not only Organic Skin Products but of Hemp products. We encountered resistance but were successful in countering it and were able to bring it to the people. Including a special oil. We have witnessed miraculous results with the marvelous, fine food tasting oil and products of this plant ranging from Epilepsy, MS, Parkinson’s, Dementia, Nerve related conditions, inflammation, auto immune and the list goes on. It has even been shown to make cancer cells literally commit suicide. You can freely view research results on the internet. Hemp is not weed but a species which does not contain the all feared THC. It is a total nutrition in itself and is delicious food product that can be used for culinary delights as well as smoothies. A specific Oil that is extracted and has very special properties.

Copyright © Maria Williams | Year Posted 2017

LATE NOVEMBER

                                 LATE NOVEMBER


                                    Now a season
                for desolate ambers to quilt worn pastures
                            as harsh north wind songs
                          scold lonely Sycamore boughs,

                                       Whose
                ghostly silhouettes beckon endless horizons
                                arching gaunt fingers
                    to one lonely but swaying colding sky,

                                       Heavy
                                grey-misted clouds
                        threaten a promise of yet to be,

                                           I
                                see withered grasses
                     embrace worn tangled corn skeletons
                                   to toss to dance
                                    silent whispers
                              upon an earth, carpeted
                                         so void,
                                        so barren,
                                            All
                           awaiting shrouds of hoarfrost
                                           soon
                              sprinkled to their bosom,

                                   This dismal stage
                          defied by stark whiting birches
                                 astep soft firs, there
                                        and there,

                                       But beyond
                              nothing, but nothing stirs
                      save some eternal vow of golden days
                                      that will yet
                                           -NO !
                                     must… to be,

                                         But now
                         of my dearest of mine children
                                         repose 
                                 'tis your time only,
                                          Only,
                            that thee must slumber.

Copyright © EARLE WEISS | Year Posted 2018

Paper Arc de Triomphe

He made a paper Arc de Triomphe,
And the horses went through one by one
Paper clouds were in the sky

No ceremonials at this Arc,
And the horses went bare back, seeming
The paper clouds, they had no sun

No tourists at this Arc,
Not even Japanese with cameras tuned...
Just a paper Arc for no one's Joan


----------------------------------------------

4/3/2015

Contest  - 1-10 lines, Old or New

Sponsor - Rick Parise

6th place win in this Premiere Contest

Copyright © Julia Ward | Year Posted 2015

Where White Crosses Grow

Rows and rows and rows of white crosses,
Like sentinels -stone-fixed to the ground.
The wind like a shroud wraps around them,
Enshrining each space where they're found.

Stone guardians stand at attention,
Into the distance -row after row.
O' mourn those hallowed internments,
Where our heroes are resting below.

Rows and rows and rows of white crosses,
With their numbers increasing with years.
And graves that are drenched by the weeping,
Will never run dry of our tears.

Now the soil is the dead's lonely blanket,
Below - and everlasting - at rest.
Those keepers -yes -all those white crosses,
Announcing -'Here lie the Best of the Best.'

Rows and rows and rows of white crosses,
All those warriors were yields of our lives.
And the harvest of what all wars cost us,
Are plowed under and nothing survives.

There is green lawn laid like a carpet,
That covers our heroes repose.
Outstreched are the arms of the crosses,
In a garden where nothing else grows.

Copyright © Margaret Wade | Year Posted 2017

Two Paths

I fight in a war that none can see
An internal strife between myself and me
Will I fall to the dark or walk in the light
give in to despair or stand up and fight

Two paths lie ahead and I must choose
which way to go there's so much to lose
Will it be the one that is narrow and straight
or is the winding one going to be my fate

One leads to death, turmoil and strife
the other to God and eternal life
Through traps and snares I must fight
I'll win this battle through God's holy might

mkt
2016

Copyright © Michael Thompson | Year Posted 2016

Hypocrisy Regarding Terrorism,...or is it Stupidity Regarding Terrorism?

If a group of religiously fanatical Muslims blow up a building, sadly
many then think that all Muslims are all terrorists too.
I've only one question to ask of them with that backward way of thinking,
"What in the bloody hell is wrong with all of you!?"
By that standard I guess that all Christians most certainly are all terrorists too,
since some have been known to take innocent lives, blowing up an abortion clinic or two.
Those who do evil deeds in the name of God are just that. They're evil. Evil is all that they do,
or most probably severely, fanatical, ignorant, irrational, emotionally and mentally disturbed 
fanatical zealots who think that they'll get into heaven by blasphemy of GOD's Word.
So judge wisely who is terrorist 
or one day soon you may find this very thing happening to you.
You may find yourself being a victim of a hate crime because this time 
The Suspected Terrorist Was YOU.

Copyright © Billy TheKidster | Year Posted 2009

I am Poetry

Feel me like an autumn breeze 
Dancing easily through your thoughts
Let me stir that hidden part of your soul
That part that you've forgotten long ago 
Experience me, deeply breathe me in   
Attempt to capture the essence of who I am 
But know that you will never pin me down
For no one is able to capture the wind 

Be ignited by the flames of my passion
Frolic in the radiance of my vibrant colors
Let my heated whispers call out to you    
Embrace me, and slowly remove the layers 
Leisurely explore every subtle nuance
Attempt to discover my deepest secrets
But realize that you can't fully know 
For no one is able to grasp a fire's glow  

I am waves of pure intensity   
I'm sincerity, passion, pain, and pleasure
With glimpses of clever, reticent, and demure 
Swim into my crystal clear epiphanies 
Bathe in the spring of my sensuality 
Drink and be refreshed by my offering 
You'll never grow tired of tasting me
For I am timeless .  I am Poetry

Copyright © Becca Teagan | Year Posted 2017

Immortal Torment

"Immortal Torment" wolves would howl and demons would prowl as gold full Moon invaded a starless sky hushed a muffled cry as human spirits evaporated. pathways of gold grew decaying mold once old clock chimed dark midnight hour visions from Hell cast gory spell flying bats from belfry tower. fangs fell free 'neath dead skeleton tree as creamy clouds turned to misty dust a beast of dread rare form, undead, swooped in on wild wind gust. enraged in craze it struck in rage a sweet young thing was blood drained a bright soul lost for centuries cost a lifeless figure in bondage, chained. a wooden tomb secured her womb caged by a vampire seed her joy was none as she bore a son who ... on her bones ... did feed. she writhed in pain an evil stain left her a hollow shell immortal torment grew as each breath she drew she hoped she would expel. but time stood still and broke her will doomed to a hidden life her darkest dreams erased sunbeams as she prayed for feel of knife. *For S.K.A.T.'s Eerie Poem Tale Contest. *Please read my personal comment for more details.

Copyright © Linda-Marie SweetHeart | Year Posted 2012

The Colors of Love

My vision cleared the moment he took my hand,
and this drab world became a colorful wonderland.
Summer grasses became a soft carpet of green.
Eyes full of love painted a canvas of hues, serene.

My heart turned the sky blue and clouds into crowns.
Robins were singing, bells ringing in harmonic sound.
The warmth of his touch rivaled the heat of the sun,
a golden circle to symbolize our love had begun.

Trees blossomed in brilliantly colored flowers.
Love has such extraordinary mystical powers.
I felt so light and happy, I might have been floating.
Forgive me if my new-found love has me gloating.

If holding his hand in mine made me feel like this,
I wonder what emotions I'll feel with our first kiss.


6/8/16

Copyright © Marti Sutherland | Year Posted 2016



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