-A poet in heat-
Ink carries its own tale,
When moonshine intoxicates your pen
Bottles of ink fill your mind
Composing symphonies on every line
Drops of passion all over the mask you wear
Nothing compares to black stains and broken nails
This part of you
"A CAN'T BE REMOVED" tattoo
The tough skin you'll ever live in
Fountain pens of split identities
Who Are You?
Sinking words like no other
Poisoned ink piercing every rhyme
Inferior poet, making the heart pure
Anger plus anger "GIVE ME MORE!"
You have a desire to paint all day,
Breathing and beating in every way
Toxic lines, from which ink flows
Inhaling images from the world
Deep and cold sorrowed emotions
True love is always easy to poetize
Dear Poet: "Ink Never Lies."
Pretty pink acrostic ink when she's nearby
Sugar and salt, Epic taste of reality
Ballads sang under the full moon
Sunny Sonnets, on any rainy day
Ode's of rivers from your past
A dark smile jotting down memory lane
Monologue tears brought under pressure
Loading cartridges of fresh Senryu and Haiku"
Dramatic red runs through your veins when all is done
Unfolding old and new propaganda's
POET: You are my favorite verse in every stanza
((Only this, and nothing more))
Writing is like giving birth
Copyright © Poet Destroyer A | Year Posted 2013
In memory of----
Solely in my room, I can't stomach the sound of my heartbeat.
I sit here alone to forget the taste of air,
Overwhelmed by the scene -unbelievable footage
18 seconds too long, "I can't breathe."
My judgement is gone, stressing all night long
I use to fear dark colors, now I fear spinning bright lights
Red, White, and Blue, I spew the NY Police crew
What's wrong with your blue eyes?
You see him, you want to mess with him
What a day to trade -- a life for illegal cigarettes
Persecution and judgment day, a sweet life taken away
"I can't breathe", executed in broad daylight!
Bullies left and right
What happened to minding our business?
Moneymaking, refusing to be singled out
A hurting voice tackled by racism
Free to see, pouring his heavy heart,
Oinker's demand the ground, leaving out his testament
8 times too many, "I can't breathe!"
Where did his vitals go?
Can someone please pound the pavement!
Stress, anger, madness, the voices of the innocent
"I can't breathe." the volume of Valium
"Officer, did you not hear the man?"
Are you deaf, have you forgotten how to save a life?
Is it just the NYPD or is it every other badge,
Insinuating crime's a one-color show.
We are all criminals, why the excessive heat?
Shot, tasered, beat down, pepper sprayed, now on the ground
The choke hold of all choke holds, murdered and out numbered
The echoes remain "I can't breathe!"
- The truth!
Eric Garner robbed of his own natural path and youth
One man down eyed suspiciously
Perplexed minds suffocating him instantly
The mistrusted, the fear, the hate,
So tangible, uniforms using deadly force
One asthmatic in a choke hold
Slamming his head on the flooring
Open wounds, worldwide tears
My heart goes to the family and friends left behind
A courageous last breath, for the first and last time
"I can't breathe," now deceased.
You left this world unwilling, waking up a strong community
Strolling in a better world, where racism don't exist
"I can't breathe," Eric Garner Rest in peace!
Copyright © Poet Destroyer A | Year Posted 2014
He speaks with measured dignity,
one silent word at a time
His palmetto pen tells us:
Tune out the cosmic background noise,
and focus your mind
on the sound of the silent voice
You most certainly will hear this ...
... did you hear it?
Oh, perhaps you got distracted by the sounds of emptiness
His message in a void
comes with clear poetic instructions:
Avoid all unnecessary malaise ... cap the chaotic noise
Have a willingness to learn
one silent word at a time
This will teach us how to unclutter our mind
Using poetic telepathy,
his priceless pen brings that silent word
to the surface of our consciousness
Not every sound we hear in this world do we need
The Silent One says:
take it one silent word at a time
True understanding comes
when we allow expansion of the heart
Enlarging our capacity to transmit love,
allows us to hear
the best unspoken words we never heard of
One silent word ...
when spoken at the right moment of time
can be so life-changing sublime
Poetic telepathy ... gives us the ability
to understand every unspoken word
written between the lines
One silent word
to another unspoken word ...
Pure poetic telepathy in our mind
Enlarging our capacity to receive love,
allows us to speak
the best unspoken words we never spoke of
Where his silent pen stroke stops —
at the sacred melding of two minds ...
let these silent words
be spoken in unison, always at the same time
This is a tribute to my talented poet friend, Silent One
Copyright © Freddie Robinson Jr. | Year Posted 2017
Look into my eyes
Follow me into a world of ecstasy
There and only there
Will you find the peace to unwind
Beautiful brown eyes not blue
Shady lids, stunning ocean view
Embracing every word
Hear the wind whispers your name
Come with me
Drown with me
Into the abyss of loving rain
Embrace this moment as I draw you in with words
Release you with the warmth -------I was there
I Share--I take
I LOVE--I HATE
Into my arms
I am the charm
Around your neck
Around your wrist
Listen to the voice from my beating heart
The freedom of touch
The freedom of speech.
Like the wind
I'll find my way
Into your heart
Arouse the cheerful energy
Of your insecurity and pen
Follow me into the sea
There we will fall into the deep
Build sand castles
Around dreams of reality
Slip into my aura light
Set to the rhythm of the oceanic night
Now, listen to the breeze
It's called out your name
It's only a matter of time----------------
You'll find yourself calling out...... mine
Dedicated to all my loving friends & fans :-)
Copyright © Poet Destroyer A | Year Posted 2013
When I saw that young muscular man
standing, hand on hip, in the driveway
four flights down from our balcony,
I was instantly attracted before I
realized it was you...my sweetheart,
so unaware of your electric presence.
You were speaking to our neighbor,
and though I couldn't quite hear your
conversation, I heard your laughter.
You were just being your dynamic
friendly self, one of the many reasons
I fell in love with you so quickly; your
passion for life, your willingness to
aid anyone who needed a helping hand,
and a sensual presence larger than life.
All my female friends I introduced you
to secretly called you a 'handsome hunk',
meant in the most complimentary way.
I reminisce on cool spring nights like this
and when you smile or laugh I still see
that handsome young man I married so
long ago when our time was not fleeting,
and we were both in the prime of our lives.
© Connie Marcum Wong
Copyright © Connie Marcum Wong | Year Posted 2017
When my final shadows cling on desperately
Where I fight formidable battles
to merely hold the light
I send you loving vibrations
and soul sustenance
Deep from the cathedral
of one heart to another
where today no choirs sing
nor symphonies play
Yet it is here where we meet
in spiritual solace
here to surrender
and exchange inestimable treasures
like unopened letters
Galaxies are stretched
over chronicles of shared history
Nebula birthing stars
will be exposed
in forth-coming conversations
bringing short-lived fulfillment to you
Hungry to feast
now will be the time
to approve your blood art vision
and with my own haunting surrender
as dappled shades ink stain your chest
I will reside with you and share, mesmerised
pens - by branding
as this will be your written reams to me
your artist's pallet or brushed canvas
no need for words
and yet creating
mysterious magical moments
Bitter-sweet the music
that dances taut guitar strings
but now blood approved
please go kick your heel up
return to your laughter
and ride on the breeze
for not all are lost
for I am with you always
to love, listen and comfort as one
with you in me and I in you
Copyright © Anna-Marie Docherty | Year Posted 2013
You never really knew the beauty of your soul.
Of how it is possible to be both old and young
within the same body that tells about the years past,
but can put to shame so many of today’s indolent youth.
How were you able to retain such innocence,
for only a child can categorically say such abhorrence
of one type of food even with the knowledge that it is good?
Yet words of deep understanding pour forth from the same mouth.
When the gift to listen was showered upon the earth
you must have paid attention, for you have it in abundance
“To hear is normal, to listen, a gift, to understand...a miracle”*
One who would care to keep these words would understand. You do.
You are sensitive. Who would have thought it so?
You have that amazing capacity to command words to your bidding
and just the right touch of irreverence to twist them when it suits you.
Still and all, you feel the wound deeply and I’d hate to be the cause of it.
I tried to look into your heart through your words.
Words which were already read by many before I entered the scene
yet they did not see the sadness, the dark that lurked in the corner of your light -
They were too mesmerized by the laughter, to see the crosses in your eyes.
*John W. Wulf, author of the book The Lady Who Loves the Whisper
1. The Poetry Soup Poem of the Week - 02 August to 08 August, 2015
2. The Crosses In Your Eyes Contest - 3rd Place , 29 July 2015
Sponsor: Justin Bordner -
Kim Patrice Nunez
27 July 2015
Copyright © KP Nunez | Year Posted 2015
Like garments of
Gold and silver thread,
Shimmering in sunlight
Or bathed by moonlit glow,
Leave me breathless,
Caught up in their naked truth
And timeless flow—
And I become aware
Of nothing else.
Copyright © Connie Marcum Wong | Year Posted 2012
If tonight I could paint a moonlight
sprinkle it with endless love and childlike magic
sail away with you across an azure sea
on a vessel to happiness
If tonight I could close my eyes
dance with you through the chambers of my heart
wrapping you in the endless emotions of my soul
and let all my Pasionata set us free
If tonight, just like the wind
felt on your moon glowed cheek
through the silent distance
would you remember me
a fresh sweet scent
of last gardenia
on yesterday's linen sheets
a wonderland of happily ever after's
through fields of daisies
where the river meets the sea
little by little
dare to dream a dream
wonder a bit longer
where the crimson bleeds it's rose
Tribute Contest hosted by Silent One
Copyright © Tim Smith | Year Posted 2015
You hard-wired me awake,
pointed your Badmotorfinger at a softened lock—
I mind-cut through rusted steel
unlike motors that run on crucifix pitch
and exhumations of dinosaur bones
Seattle was the garden of sound:
a down-tuned spark
for a daydream nation
trying to outshine the blisters
of forests that burned at both ends
Anthems for an alienated youth
who no longer saw God
in the preacher's cataracts,
didn't nibble on dangled, plastic fruit,
and melted full metal jackets
into foggy distortion pedals
We outlived Kurt, whose blue still remains
in bleached mud beneath evergreens
And after it all (in all),
you crept back into the rusty cage
you'd warned us about in four octaves
I'm gonna walk the river down to muddy waters
where its rust begins to stain the shore—
follow its reflections like a pack of wolves
May 18th, 2017
"When the forest burns along the road
Like God's eyes in my headlights
When the dogs are looking for their bones
And it's raining ice picks on your steel shore
I'm gonna break I'm gonna break my—
I'm gonna break my rusty cage and run"
Lyrics © Sony/ATV Music Publishing LLC,
BMG RIGHTS MANAGEMENT US, LLC
Chris Cornell, July 20th, 1964 - May 17th, 2017
Rest And Rust (your metallic blues) In Peace
Copyright © Chris D. Aechtner | Year Posted 2017
"ode to the little one"
on this night I sit and stare
to my surprise such illumination I see
a glorious clear black sky
countless shining stars
showing themselves for hopes and dreams
such glitters this night know not why
they reveal no resolve for my life or path
in my heart I know they're placed for me
they whisper your strength is true
giving recognition of pain gone through
I continue to stare and hear their call
both sky and star tell me to ask not why
why black clouds and life have neglected me
tenderly whispering this you are not defined
I see the changing sky as moments pass
ever gently it moves and shifts back to me
telling me worry not little one you're never alone
never have you been or will be
one day all will be answered and revealed
until then hold strong be strong be you
continue on little one through pain or tears
SkyWatcher - 03-06-17
the above entry was inspired and dedicated to the
"Little One" and "Lost Childhood" series written by Darren White
Darren I hope I wrote with honor and dignity to your series
and to the "Little One"
there are no words to express the beauty of such a series shared by you
Copyright © Lisa Ricci | Year Posted 2017
America the Free ~ America the Brave ~
Freedom with price Capitalism attacked
the many taken hearts broken still
one World try to rebuild
sadness and tears fall hard with fears
guilt by association many accused still
souls evaporated shattered dreams
tears fall on innocence left with anger
The proud fearless knew the inevitable
policeman fireman many lives lost
grieving does not stop 12 years later
New York city once proud & shameless
refusing to let fears in protecting ours
left in shock still question's unanswered
nothing learned nothing gained
ready to attack many left behind
anger greets denial anger meets rage
unacceptable still refusing new love
wanting days to rewind let us go back in time
acceptance allowing the victims leave in peace
the brave taken young leaving us sadly old
haunting dreams lost spirits dwell
no answers to hate never forgetting that day
Evil entered suddenly unforgiving fate
entering our City we stand with the fallen
How to fix how do we Change
This can be read many different ways ~ This is a poem I am so proud to write ~
Copyright © Shanity Rain | Year Posted 2013
Beneath the opal white moon, the crying doves shed their precious tears,
Causing the purple rain to fall, melting at the lavender notes of musical dreams,
Camelot’s illusionary ivory towers of brilliant colors, seemingly fades unto the
Violet shades of gray, as the minstrel’s music grows silent for the last time!
The pied piper’s fluted guitar, remains stilled in the silence of a generations
Mind, the world weeps in fuchsia stained technicolor for their slain prince
Of rock in roll, plays now within the heavenly band beyond, rocking the
Ages, lost amongst the spiritual stardust from which creations mystical
Legacies are born!
In reverences musical temple hall of fame, another name is added
Amongst the universal giants, that have crisscrossed humanities
Triumphant vast historical tides, rolling ever onwards within the waves
Of the timeless rebel, jamming with the beating rhyme of the
Human soul forever!
Gentleman’s coterie of lace and satin’s refinement, is this instrumental
Conductor strumming, at the inner finite strings vibrating within the
Harmonic orchestra of an eclectic mind, a whispering dreamer whom
Heard an expressionistic tempo hidden within the color purple,
And thus wept in the violet rain!
A flickering candle quivers within the moistures clouded wake,
The concert master stands alone at the center of the musical hurricane,
Untethered from his slave marked chains, the band leader strikes against
His podium of freedom at last, rock-n-rolls final creshando, echoes
Within the winds of destiny, carried upon the voices of his generation!
Legends burnt ashes rise above this fiery phoenixes’ resurrection,
For in truths resolve this singing firebird’s melody, shall play forever
Onwards, as the doves cry in flights eternal soaring!
Where has the musical voyager gone, the visionary fuchsia master,
The soul captain hailing the distant shores of rock nirvana,
By playing mystical notes of color illusions, on the blank canvas
Of the horizons musical sheets, beyond mortality’s everlasting
Window of social acceptance!
Let the elegant birds of peace fly forth, with their wings appendages
Extended upon the breezes of this artistic grand master, set blazing
In lavender flames, quenched only the falling of the purple rain!
But even then harken, listen my generations of rock fans,
Can you not hear the wailing guitar, of the musical force, known
As prince the visionary revolutionary!
BY: CHERYL ANNA DUNN
Copyright © cherl dunn | Year Posted 2016
He makes me see in color
when I’m enshrouded in my grey.
His hues of happiness twirl and dance
and my life takes on a different stance.
~~~Beauty birthed in blessings believed~~~
He gifts to me...
reassurance in reality’s revelations!
His color blind eyes
make my truth blind ones see...
My words are wonderfully wise
Oh la la lacious…simply delicious
vibrantly colored in vivacious!!!
These are the word colors
he mixes on my page’s palette
with his own signature artistry.
He embellishes the plain canvas of my mind
a kaleidoscope revelry….I see
This color blind poet,
this mentoring friend
is a man who carries a name
which says it all...
Lamoureux: the one who loves
He's a lover of colors he cannot see
because he’s gifted them...
He’s gifted them all
Eileen Manassian Ghali
For Richard Lamoureux's Contest
Who Do You Think I am
September 26, 2015
You paint your pictures, on the canvas of my mind.
Ebbing and flowing, as your thoughts become released.
Texture and color, are displayed with every line.....
From another poem
If I could see in color.....
Copyright © Eileen Manassian | Year Posted 2015
What if Mother Nature
and I applied for her position?
How would I dare
her un-ending cycles;
her secret duties?
Could I invoke such power,
or must I simply become her?
into a cocoon of natural faith.
Let the atoms of the cosmos
transform my light into spirit.
Would I then emerge,
complete with every force of mystery?
Awaken each day with pink mist,
and burn each evening sky
Command each leaf, each breath
and every symphony
Would I wear her gowns
of argent, lavender and aqua;
step lightly on mossy stones,
and dance upon silvery meadows?
Grace the heavens
in cloud-white glinting wings
the depths of darkest night
bear stars, filled
with the promise
of every beginning?
Copyright © Suzanne Delaney | Year Posted 2013
It’s okay to leave the dishes in the sink,
to wash your hands with sanitizer instead of soap.
Your mother will joke
about how it doesn’t get your hands clean enough
but when was the last time you listened to her anyway.
It’s okay to cry today,
to use your sleeve instead of tissues.
It’s okay to take that thing that hurt you
and throw it out of the moving car,
just don’t go back to pick it up,
it’s not lost luggage,
it’s buried tumors.
It’s okay to hate God today,
to change his name to yours,
to grab the headstone with your mitten covered hands
and try to knock it over.
Throw the snow at it,
the roses have died.
It has been too long since the passing,
but I give you permission to hate God today.
It’s okay to break into the liquor cabinet
and medicate peacefully,
to drink too much sometimes
and not know where you’ve been
because you’ll eventually find yourself.
It’s okay to walk alone sometimes,
sort your thoughts,
to clear the air with air,
and dry the wounds with salt.
It’s okay to climb into bed early
and stare at the ceiling,
to just tell yourself that it’s okay.
Bold lines are taken from the poem Letter From My Heart to My Brain by Rachel McKibbens
Copyright © Katie Pukash | Year Posted 2013
Ay Chihuahua what a hot enchilada
Beguiling in her Dallas Cowboys letterman jacket
Flicker starlight in her eyes angel in beauty
Raven waves of silk long hair
Will torture your soul for just a small taste of her
A girly girl born to embraces her femininity, but a free spirited mujer,
Burning the darkness riding her Unicorn
Through the calm majestic presence of the night
As music follows through the sky with a thirst of her poetry
A woman with lots of passion, sweet wishes, and wings for the night
A Tribute to a lovely person and poetess.
Mujer- Spanish for woman
Copyright © Eve Roper | Year Posted 2016
How do I begin to describe you
Such an incredible person
Yet even now you doubt your abilities
You lost your own mum when you were eight - you never ever got over it
You worked all your life, started off by working in a bank for almost 20 years
Then when you had children you ran a village shop from home
But also helped run the smallholding where we lived
You even had an evening job to bring in extra income
Then you began working in a care home and that had a big impact on you
At 50 you changed direction in life and studied and trained to be a nurse
No mean fete with two children to bring up
When you retired you continued to work in a care home
Then you undertook charity work every week still continuing well into your eighties
In fact you were on your way to work at the charity shop when you fell
You were found lying in the street …
Two bleeds on your brain and over three months in hospital
How you pulled through I will never know
Yet you battled on and are still with us still
Now you have short-term memory issues and are going blind
Fate struck a cruel blow when dad was diagnosed with terminal cancer
He passed away in February
Your lifelong partner for nearly sixty years
Your world turned upside down and now you live in a care home
We are selling the family home - gosh I find it tough emotionally
I know we have lost dad but I feel like I am losing you too
You are helping me clear out things from the house
Items you have known and loved for many years
Sadly we can’t keep everything
It must be so so difficult for you, yet you never complain
I just want you to know how much I love you
How much you inspire me
We only have one mum and I am so lucky I have you still
Written for a previous contest but too late to be submitted
Placed in Judy Konos' Contest - tell us about your mom
18th September 2015
Copyright © JAN ALLISON | Year Posted 2015
His talent as a Bard explodes
From an exquisite mind it flows
Through an instrument of script
Flooding parchment reverberating
Through the psyche creating waves
Reaching the far ends of the universe
Words of truth deep sentiment flourish
Propelling legitimate personal emotions
Giving due praise to brave loyal and true
To God nature his love and fellow Bards and
The magnificent highlands he loves so well
Always uplifting inspiring and sharing
Accept this tribute from an amateur a friend
With gratitude for reading commenting for
Being just who you are, The Highlander
Copyright © Annalise Brigham...a.k.a. Audrey Haick | Year Posted 2009
The song that moves and
touches my heart is dance
with my father again.
Because I will never forget
the man my father was.
Back when I was a child
I longed to be in his
He had a larger than life
His nieces and nephews
looked at him as a father.
“Oh lord I’m dying to dance
with my father again”.
Everytime I hear the song I
begin to cry.
I long for his hug
I long to hear his voice
“Oh lord I’m dying to dance
with my father
“ Oh lord we’re all dying
to dance with my father
Inspired by my favorite song
Dance With Father Again
Written by Richard Marx And
Copyright © Alexis Y. | Year Posted 2017
In advance, I wish to heal the mind, body, and soul
Thanking all God's creatures
Coating all my expressions from-
-Yesterday, today, and tomorrow
Conceal every worry,
Focus on the goodness that fills my spirit with thankfulness
And, well, honored comments.
This is a rich tribute to:
All Poetry Soup Poets, with grateful and appreciating hearts
Enjoy the time, you give each and every Poets
Copyright © Poet Destroyer A | Year Posted 2013
Heroes of my age in their morning mourn,
Filled with teardrops of pain and sorrow,
They'll be now part of the epic history,
But the cloudiness of who ones's fault still remains a doubt for justice,
When all lies in secrecy,
Can we blame peace and harmony?
Where we are all thirsty.
The masters of war behind the walls,
Safe and sound from the bullets of death,
The heroes in order and duty,
When guns can't do anything for victory,
When bullets can't do anything for survival,
They hide behind the seeds, behind the prayers
Behind the first fallen hero.
They, who are grabby for one's life, for one's blood,
Thirsty for distraction of one's covenant,
They, who pulled the trigger, who ought killing is a game,
Shooting one's body as if a little toy,
Like the Trojan war of old, was trapped and deceived.
Will their consciences arrest them?
Will forgiveness forgives them?
When they will die?
In service, for security the heroes died,
To sacrifice one's life in the name of duty,
A peace we wish is a peace they're yearning?
Or an inside job for another piece of power?
Who knows, we only care
But the Man can see them behind their masks,
Through their eyes, inside their brains.
The agony and heartaches they leave behind,
The scars that'll bleed for justice and life,
For the woman of love, alone in coldest times,
Somehow tears may dry by the aging of time.
For the cries of baby longing for daddy,
Searching for brawny arms that will lift them,
The baritone voice that will laugh with them.
Now change of path, life will never be the same,
The light will also be now the wall.
All will pass, all will calm like an ocean after the storm,
But justice still pursuits justice, must not hide from another demise,
Will give them the truth? Will the lives be not wasted?
Afraid for this will be one of the unresolved cases,
Repeats the failure of my Country,
Their coffins, their graveyards, in memoirs for the heroes
Once the stewards of us, once the fathers of Country
Worthy of prayers -for them, for families and for justice.
We salute the Fallen!
Copyright © Reuben Escarlan | Year Posted 2015
A solitary piece the diamond
precious rare gem most treasured
by those lucky enough to hold
Once in possession it is rarely out of grasp
Like the gemstone the mother
requires very specific conditions
in holding fast her (family/) childrens love
Treasured forever in her heart
she will go out of her way
to preen and protect them
holding them dear to her
deep within her maternal safe – the heart
closely guarded by the mind
Her infatuation of all treasures to her
are totally understandable
especially when you think to the complexity
of structure and process taken in creation
Just as from the ‘unbreakable’ in ancient greek
this allotrope of carbon
with strength of bonding between atoms
is representative of that strong love
between mum and child
The maternal being could be compared
to the superlative physical qualities of the stone
Even the characteristic luster
of this gem so prevalent from its ability
to disperse light and colour
compared to the many strengths
roles and qualities of the mother
seen by the many she deals with daily
A most high pressured job
versus the high pressured temperature
within the Earths mantle
that forms the delightful rock it gives birth to
Infants delight and ignite the forbearer
just as the jewel would dazzle the room
a mother’s love encaptures the magical luster
of those she’s birthed and nothing
stands inbetween this richest of cargo’s
Copyright © Anna-Marie Docherty | Year Posted 2013
R.I.P. William Dale Eubanks
d. July 1, 2012, aged 68 yrs., Tennessee Ridge, Tennessee
Death came as no surprise
the first Sunday in July;
it claimed you, on a ridge in Tennessee,
with kin who took you in and waited with you
through the last hard days.
You kept what fears you had well hid,
did not betray with loud complaint
the fate you could not but know awaited.
A smile, a joke, a hug – exotic meals –
And genuine interest greeted all you met.
And you were, certainly, never boring
but well-traveled and smart
beyond the telling.
We’ll miss your wit, your bright demeanor,
and will remember all you freely gave ---
and what you took from us
with your passing.
Copyright © Leo Larry Amadore | Year Posted 2012
Now they say that girls are made of sugar
And spice, but good girls finish last my friend.
For there is one truth for all women kind,
Come hell or high water we will fight
For our right to indulge ourselves in
The need for perfections greatest
Yes we will take down that cookie
Puppet clown, dressed in blue,
For there is no fiercer monster known
To man, then a women who’s cookie
Faddish is left unsatisfied.
Peanut butter to chocolate chip,
Just pass the milk and watch out dude,
For women shall be the first to dip.
Call us the two fisted women of the
Raw dough generation, we don’t
Really care, just pass grandma’s old
Roll me down the bakery sweet,
No fragrance smells finer then freshly
Baked what ladies, COOKIES.
Sugar me sweet it’s the ladies favorite
Treat, by the bucket or truck load it can’t
Be beat, frosted or plain, it matters not,
But without Milk its sacrilege that is
Now chocolate maybe the vise five to
Seven days a month, but cookies rule
As the male race drools, because honey
There is no doubt women will take you
Don’t for what, lets all say it ladies around
The world, all together now, SAY WHAT
By the way did I tell you my favorite
Food in the world, of course it’s very
BY: CHERYL ANNA DUNN
DEDICATED TO POET DESTROYER
And to all women
Copyright © cherl dunn | Year Posted 2015
THE DALLAS COWBOYS
Can you not hear the rumblings of that distant herd coming,
The loud thundering of destiny’s champions crossing, the NFL
Field of dreams, beware the rampaging lightening team known
As the Dallas Cowboys, for they are the hail storms victorous
Breed, the eye of the hurricane riders, searching for their
Well-deserved trophy of fortunes honor!
Remove your cowboy’s hats of respect unto them, ladies
Curtsy with reverences motion, for these athletes are
Endurance’s best, and they shall overcome against
Any opposing finest challengers, these rangers of the
Old western traditions, that carry this country’s time
Honored name of the cowboy to the ultimate extreme,
Of skill and strength’s dexterity!
Dallas all plain drifters of purity’s valor, head to head
No bull horns about it, these are the champions of the
Gladiatorial games in the world of sportsmanship!
Yielding unto no oppositions combatants, these warriors
Hold their ground with distinctions sheer magnificence!
Let those world famous cheerleaders scream with every
Field goal achieved, for these beauties know that no
Other team in footballs annals will score, to the level
Of these good old boys, named by fame's hall of records,
The famous Dallas Cowboys, heehaw and God bless hum!
Now listen you city slicking team of sports hall of fameing
Seekers, you’d better go back to your home fields of
Advantages, for hear in this lone star state, we take no
Prisoners, and show no mercy to out lander's!
Here in the ALAMO state of freedoms calling,
We remember our heritage standing tall and
Proud against all odds, blazoned in bullets
Historical legends, our grand team barres
The name of fore-barriers proudly, those
Pioneer’s men known, as the all American
These six-shooters whom rode the die hard tails,
Across a new world creating a country of freedom,
Where only the tumble-weeds rolled, and desert dust,
Coached a man’s thirst almost to madness!
Now in traditions sport of men, a new team of desperado’s,
Threatens this lone star state, but have no fear my fellow
Texans for our Dallas Cowboys will send them packing,
With a good old boy’s field goals smacking, so I’ll cheer
Them on, waving my hat in the evening air, yelling heehaw,
Go get hum boys!
BY: CHERYL ANNA DUNN
FOR LINDA THE DESTROYER
ROCK ON SISTER POET
Copyright © cherl dunn | Year Posted 2016
THE NIGHTINGALE LOST HER LAMP
Anita’s eyes were brown.
She was the kindest of angels.
Her speech firm with authority
but reassuring with a glass- like
sensitivity; she seemed to know all.
Prompt as a rooster's first crow,
that's how she is.
She stands like a lioness
ever ready to act, a channel
to prolong the patient's life.
Her heart is a captive cog
of dedicated compassion:
as a wife, as a mother, as a Dean,
Professor, and as a nurse.
She stood always regal in white.
Bearing a sanction of life and death
with each shot made by her gentle hands.
She had Tiger eyes for signs and symptoms;
sponges to absorb order and pressures,
she was simply a lamp for a sick person.
Our batch, she handles with iron fist.
Labeled as "black sheep" – for some of us
are noisy cans but empty inside.
Black sheep but later turned into
the cream of the crop. She stood as
our Samson pillars then despite canyons of
doubts and critiques, our batch defies the odds.
Yet, one day a snapshot happened –
She fainted while teaching.
She was brought to the hospital,
scrutinized and observed like
the frog in my sophomore year.
I was one of the nurses who rendered care.
I watched, how the shining light in her eyes
turned to stormy sadness. I have heard
how her sturdy voice now sounded
a tattered tape only syllables and groans,
no more. Her before supple glowing skin
turned a wrinkled ash — all tautness gone.
Finally, she needs only bags of blood
in two days her life passed my Anita...
Sponsor Thomas Martin
Contest Name Show but Don't Tell
5:15 pm, May 19, 2015
Copyright © Olive Eloisa Guillermo - Fraser | Year Posted 2015
A Tribute to Jayson, My Brave Warrior
My dear son, Jayson
When you called late last night to let me know
You were deploying to go overseas tomorrow
In spite of my great resolve
I broke down and sobbed.
The little boy I lovingly nurtured
So witty and good-natured
So kind, compassionate, and loving
You’ll always be my sweet boy
Even though the world now sees you as a grown man.
Recalling special times when I showered your baby face with kisses
Or tickled your armpits
Howling with laughter, you would beg me
“Do it again, Mommy, I love it!”
I remember all those moments we had
At times rocky, sometimes sad
But most of all memorable and enjoyable.
I remember your growing pains
All your questions, anxieties, and mixed-up emotions
Yes, we made it through hurdles you and I
Making me laugh, making me cry
But taking that journey together was quite priceless!
You’re now a strong, valiant, young man
Willingly putting your life on the line
Many have thanked you for your service
And, my brave warrior, I am so proud of you
When I hear your humble, heartfelt reply, “Glad to do it!”
You’re just simply the best!
While you took a minute to leave the nest
I’m grateful for the extra time we were given
But I know
It’s time to let you go –
Go take your rightful place in the world.
You’ve grown wings like a fierce eagle
It’s your time to fly high! Now soar!
But remember that you are always a part of me
And even though we may no longer hold hands
We are still holding hearts.
These tear-splattered pages
Reflect my anguished heart
Knowing you’re prepared to make the ultimate sacrifice for your country
I pray that you will return to me safe and sound
I love you, my hero - my precious son.
¡Vaya con Dios!
Copyright © Pandita Sanchez | Year Posted 2014
From the wild western plains, I call unto thee my sister of the poetic heart,
Where have thee gone, swallowed whole by a desert storm, or lost amongst
The tumble weed of discontent.
Let the blazing heart of Texas yield thy freedom’s liberation, come home to
The pages of this sacred internet outpost, we miss your shining star, called
Friendship that you gave unto us, Linda, the poet destroyer.
From the depth of the very waters of the Ohio Basin I do call,
Let my voice be heard unto one and all, against the breath of the
Winds of dust, hear me my sister poet, let the soundings crash ripple
Like a wave upon the ocean of sand, echoing across the aroid landscape
Of Houston, we miss you come home!!
Oh upon hell’s storm the night winds do shudder and shake, with
Leaving inspirations heart to ache, what festering wounds have thy
Left behind thee, without our muse we are just the blind wondering
In the darkness of our own thoughts, unable to write with strengths endurance,
Behold a phantom shade am I, a thin wisp of breeze melting beneath the
Desert sun, seeking a mirages illusion known as my sister poet, Called
Linda, the poet destroyer.
A vintage portrait of my former self, without your words of wondrous
Expression my colors run together, and bleed asunder from my canvas once
But here in my winter of ice cold, in this chamber of the frozen soul,
I call unto you, with one last icy blast of breath come home, unto us,
Don’t let us freeze in this dungeon warm us instead with your words
Of kinship, and friendship.
Let my words echo unto Houston, Texas, let our Linda answer our hailing,
So inspirations sisterhood can breathe once more a sigh of relief at last.
BY: CHERYL ANNA DUNN
Copyright © cherl dunn | Year Posted 2014
A sigh escapes still, immune to overt silence, unabashed...justified
Another teardrop enters the infinite pool of resilience, uplifting...reinforcing
Another hand empathizes--
touching, impulsively putting one's heart unto wounds, alleviating pain
enfolding memories into paper, ostensibly vigilant
Unborn dreams awaiting fruition.
empty streets, impacted pieces: occupied lives, unwavering spirits
Arighting the entropy--
"Not Impossible!" Heaves Obstacled Nation -- Untiring, Persevering!
A lone emboldened seed is planted, objectifying hope,
ushering life amidst rubble,
engaging tenacity inherently within overburdened, yet undauntable voices
Ardently surging, emerging from insidious waves of chaos,
ultimately touching azure
Time effortlessly moves, insensitive to ordeals
nonetheless, undoubtedly healing...
As wings echo distantly, irradiated winds oscillate
blush unfurling light...
Arise, Sun! Embrace the illuminated blossom. Orbit Love's universe.
11th March 2011
**It has been two years since Japan encountered
such a devastating triple tragedy
of the earthquake in Tohoku, tsunami and
the Fukushima nuclear plant disaster...
They are still slowly picking up the pieces,
so much needs to be done,
so many are still displaced, uncertain of their futures, of their lives...
hopefully they are not forgotten.
It may take long, long years,
but I honestly believe Japan can rise over this, I honestly hope so.
****Thank you David for this enjoyable challenge.
It has pushed me to approach this topic in a way that
I would have never thought of on my own....
Copyright © kabuteng P.iNk k. | Year Posted 2013