Creation Child Poems

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Details | Free verse |
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

Details | Rhyme |
I often wondered why it is that so many people don't believe
Life's a test, each day a quiz and yet themselves they deceive 
I could never even imagine where I would be without His Grace
He paid the price for all sin as you define your heart in this place

I often thought long and deep oh how good the Lord's been to me
How good it is to just steep and why can't all these others just see
I myself unable to understand what came so easy to one as such
The Creator of all that is grand yet capable of an individual touch

I felt it in my heart, seen it with my eyes so clear I could not miss
But as satan goes about and tries, many people succumb to this
Yet I did nothing different than you no this was not of my own
All of your sins will come due since it's Jesus you've never known

I did do one thing though something you might want to also do
I started to praise His Name, but I did it in sincerity, it was true
His eyes are on the sparrow but His Love is always there for you
The path will be narrow yet He will always be in all that you do

Copyright © Vincent Flannery | Year Posted 2017

Details | Lyric |
Our picking pail is full, my son

With ripe and green and past their prime;

I'm not quite certain what we've done

And what has happened to the time.

In cents per pound we're lunatics

To pay the same for sweet and sour.

Let's say our eyes were playing tricks,

And blame it on the darkling hour.

How else describe the magic sense

Of things as they were meant--

Or how it made a difference

In being indifferent?

The pragmatist could not appraise

The worth of things so seen--

As though before created days,

Like Being before it's been.

Yet that's how fresh the berries seemed--

Or so they did to you.

And their so seeming did redeem

The old and make it new.

Copyright © Joseph Pedulla | Year Posted 2016

Details | Rhyme |
~I n  m e

There is a heart of glass—
That shakes with the contents of the past,
And so a cutting away with you—
Now have shards of my glass, too.

I fear the emptiness that comes after the blood—
There a child playing with like red mud
From the glass dark in my chest--
This partial fullness.

Hang up my heart for a looking glass—
Reflect onto others, while they pass
Moving into their dreams—
The glass of them, the glass in me.

~I n  m e

Copyright © L. M. | Year Posted 2017

Details | Triolet |

yall devilish creatures tried to take away my family
My family is my world 
let me take yall 
back in time 
were creatures of my 
land riped out my heart all of a sudden 
out of the. Crupted blue crowd of ugly creatures
with dead hearts.
literally tore my whole world almost apart.
they snatched my golden little angel
from my heart . they made up all these lies.
to try to get my family torn apart .
these creatures must have no heart , to drag a 
family of gods creation straight into the dark.
creatures of hell , you dont snatch away god's
little angel from the original creature creator .
she was choosen to be with me heart to heart  .
funny how the devil works he keeps pickin us with his
pitch fork.tryn to make us burn with them .
no ,  when we didnt do any kind of unholy sin.i hope someone out here can relate to satins workers like what they put my family through loops and circles of Satins unholy cobered up lies lies lies.

Copyright © ashley rainwater | Year Posted 2017

Details | Ballad |
As the sunsets at the end of the day,
And the night begins to fall,
So, does all the dreams of all the little children,
In their own wonderlands of their own,
Wishing and thinking of great things to come,
Hoping their parents will make these dreams come alive,
Cause dreams to children should become bright and gleam,
And all to them more than just alive,
All children want is hopes and dreams to become true,
But if you can teach them how to work hard at them,
They too can make their dreams become their own reality,
For any one person works hard enough,
At what they want in life,
They can have any one thing they want,
All they have to do is work really hard to make it real,
For believers can believe in themselves,
And strive to work toward making their own goals,
Their very own come true,
Which gives more satisfaction in life,
Than things being handed to you,
So always strive for the best,
And all your wishes and dreams can come true,
In your life if you want them too.

Copyright © John Hembree | Year Posted 2013

Details | Rhyme |
I do so love harvest thanksgiving, 
That time of year which celebrates agriculture, 
When church flips from being god-centred, 
To remembering farmers and good food manufacture.  

It’s not an Armenian or Amish allusion, 
‘Cos tins are given no problem; 
Natural remedies aren’t primed as better, 
Than medicines, to the mind and body superior. 

As a child who regretfully attended church, 
I thought on that day of poverty and Christian giving:
That their offer was kind of a respectable food bank, 
A silent redistribution of wealth, income and living. 

No food bank is respectable, of course, 
But they can channel wealth efficiently and appropriately;
And that the Church offers such for just one day, 
Should be celebrated as a positive sign most definitely. 

God is sometimes just such an abstraction, 
Academically, he’s for the objective mind; 
He’s not comforting when your needs are just so real:
Physical, emotional, psychological: he can be so unkind. 

When you just need a meal on the table, 
And need it supplied by someone else, 
Whether by government, food bank or church, 
It’s a person that's there, not divine impulse. 

I thought it was moral to impose that on believers, 
As a kid who just so wanted to talk and shoot, 
About real mechanisms, real structures and methods, 
Which made life’s systems, dynamics, art and roots.  

Being grateful for food, diet and health, 
Eclipses salvation humility and responce;
Eternal purpose lays as distant and non-tangible, 
To people and belongings which have an unimpeachable force. 

Farmers need to be remembered, given relevance, 
For their labour, dedication and sheer love of the job; 
It’s that occupation and training which ensures, 
Our basic daily needs are met not just with contours.

The harvest basket every year means to me hope, 
Nourishment for those who starve and scrape;
Church wealth rides so high and mighty on average, 
That this real examination is something to advocate. 

Copyright © Rhoda Monihan | Year Posted 2015

Details | Free verse |
            My Son Moon and Star ~

        Approaching the celebration of his Birth 
                cherishing the gift I received 
           within weeks of conception I knew
            something amazing was in Creation ~

            the Stars held a party
            sending me with one of their own  
    Gazing at 3 shooting stars twinkling crossing the sky   
       It was magic  It was destiny taking its flight.  

           In love with an October full moon 
               drawing and painting I liked 
             thinking of Vincent Van Gogh ~
                caught in a loss of time 

          Hours going by as choosing my color  
           a wittness to three falling stars 
             A clear night sky sparkle's
           A once Famous Star was sent 
            inspiring the tiny child inside ~ 

           Never a doubt in my mind at all     
       child bearing was worth any pain received
      yours will be in a pursuit of a dream ~
             one to cherish and hold
          My Son was born the following August ~

    working on the set of Grimm 3rd season this year  
         as the set of Leverage for 3 years .

              Has done a Indie movie here  
             In Paris it was seen and honored
             coming soon filmed in Portland ~
                 "The House of Last Things "

        awaiting the credits , you will see
    1st Assistant Director ~ production assistant 
                 My Young Lion Mans dream ~
        A proud mom I watch every show and the credits 

        as foretold in a whisper to me 25 years ago
              My Son &  Moon and Star  
               A name you will all know ~

            Happy Birthday to my creative Son
             you will exist in my heart forever~
                        and thereafter               

Copyright © Shanity Rain | Year Posted 2013

Details | Free verse |

Life begets life.
A Miracle takes shape 
beyond thinking, 
creating blessings. 
Bathe in its aura and
let the joy wash over you.
You are the recipient
Of the Creator's great glory.
flavored with amazing grace.

CAK 2-10-2013

A poem written to my niece
of the birth of her son.


I'm thankful not to be in Canada
Where sad memories live
it asked me for and demanded more
of what I could not give
if you ask what was it worth
for me to have taken the lower berth
I will not hesitate nor eplicate
the answer would be yes.

The lower berth is America.
I love this country and it gave
me the opportunities I needed.

CAK 11-16-2012


Wrong-right, being equal sides of the same coin
when tossed ends up blown by a blast of wind
and falls out of sight.

So who won the toss? Did it matter?
Knowing and not knowing, 
questions and non questions, 
to the flipped coin each has a truth all its own.

C.A.K. 1-10-2012


Could it be that the many sides of destiny are
found in other dimensions?  

Copyright © Allan Koven | Year Posted 2013

Details | Free verse |
Reflections of imperfections have shown me a way that I can move mountains through my power of faith even though I can't see him I know he is real through the power of prayer and a Love that I feel It's growing inside me like a flower in bloom shall I reveal my powers or is it too soon I am reading the signs through my darkness I find a reason for belief in the light of mankind that I know shall overcome the greatest of odds the Love I seek amazes me especially through the flaws because now I am inspired through the hero's that bring my throne through the darkness on which I return on as your King.

Copyright © Bj Fard | Year Posted 2013

Details | Blank verse |
For nine months I carried you beneath my heart
Felt you growing and moveing, feeling such Joy
Eagerly awiating your arrival, knowing you will soon
The day  you were born was  filled with happiness
As I held you in wonder, my little miracle, my little babe
Counting toes and fingers, seeing your little face
Love just bursting from my heart as I just gazed
I watched you grow in time, first smile, first tooth
Crawling, walking then running, always curious
Holding your hand walikng you to school on the first day
Taught you to ride a bike, picked you up when you fell
Kissing the hurt away, just to see you smile that pretty smile
Seeing you grow and mature, into a young adult 
Starting high school, learning to drive, dating
Now here it is juinor year, one more year and your gone 
To test your wings, to fly away and learn even more new things
I hope my love is enough to guide you on your way
To give you that sense you can do anything you set out to do
Always remember that I love you and you are my little one

May 5th Written for my beautiful daughter

Copyright © Teresa Lindsay | Year Posted 2013

Details | ABC |
The Little Heart
by layman on Nov 8, 2011. © Madhusoodanan Kizhakkepattiath, All rights reserved THE LITTLE HEART
A little, little girl
Looking very smart
Come, come, come
Dear little heart.
She is like a rosy rose
Dancing like a lovely plant
Come, come, come
Dear little heart.
Her voice is like a cuckoo bird’s,
Her speech is like a little parrot’s
Come, come, come
Dear little heart.
Her world is like a princess’ world,
Her parents, like a king and queen
Come, come, come
Dear little heart.
Though, her world is like a princess’ world
Her parents like a king and queen,
Dark, dark, dark,
Every ,every where.
The Innocent Culprits
by layman on Jan 25, 2012. © Madhusoodanan Kizhakkepattiath, All rights reserved
Except you and me,
Everyone slept in midnight.
O, lovely, Nolhivaram,
... what is left, me alone.
Vultures of universe,
Flying around,
Left a little,
for you and me.
The innocent children,
Mind tortured,
Roaring at me,
A taste of passion.
Me, a lover of thy beauty,
Never pinched a little,
In shadow lights.
Beauty of ocean,
Beautifies not,
The men of broken heart,
A lost paradise.
The roaring tides,
Blows at beach,
Never be happy,
In vultures peak.
The unknown beautiful,
To the known painful,
Does it in nets,
A little in seas.
The soldiers of seas,
Solitary in heights,
Webs their morrows,
In night's paradise.
A Little is left,
To me, a unknown,
By the heart of beauty,
With innocent culprits.


Details | Free verse |
  There once was a playful little boy his imagination 'Oh' how it would soar
  dreaming of nights of dragons and forts becoming the warlord of his blankets
  and cardboard.

  On a weekend day he requested to build a fort so the dragon he could slay
  all the time his little mind running into overplay.

  So being a kind mother him having no brothers or others 
  I gave him free rein not knowing his fort would look so strange.

  From room to room he ran with delight grabbing any item in sight 
  preparing for his brave and final dragon fight.

  Chairs were moved and tables were flipped even our cat would hiss and spit
  while Polly our parrot sang Oprah in the background with a nervous twitch.

  Finally, hours later and all out of breath he runs to my room his small hands
  tugging and pulling yelling for me to come see his display. 

  With a large gasp my breath had escaped, what a colorful sight I did see
  as he jumped up and down screaming whoopee!

  All my panties were hanging at the top each one a special window
  so he could see the dragon coming for him to slay all looking like a windsock.

  His choice of weapons with colors of red, black and pink were all
  of my thongs he had carefully turned into sling-shots.

  Each one holding a hard candy he had proceeded to suck on 
  so they would all stay in place and lined up ready for his offense.

  With a gentle pat on his head and a forced smile of dread into the fort we slid
  while waiting on the dragon we ate candy looking out his windows ahead. 

  T Reams 10/11/2015    Contest Sponsored by: 'Team Poetry Soup'



Copyright © TAMMY REAMS | Year Posted 2015

Details | Free verse |
I Love the elderly so full of history I love my generation who kept me a mystery I love the children who's future, now bright for I have died for them to capture the light for i understand pain more than ever once I released it the anger got better as it went away from the people and into my music without a single reason to prove it without a reason to let Love's light in I didn't, it found me and lesser I sin God and my father both let me know it would all be okay so very long ago even tho the road would be full of pricks even back then I'd tell them you can all suck my dick. -Bj Fard

Copyright © Bj Fard | Year Posted 2013

Details | Prose |
Writing about daisies roses rainbows and waterfalls helped me
Escape the madness of the city LIFE.  The JUNGLE. 
Whenever I wished to return I laid my pen down and
Anticipated the next siren.  So...

I laid back and reminisced for most of the day. Now, time for
Concrete and asphalt.  Cement and metal fire escapes.  I
Screamed more times than not with every passing siren.
I wanted to admire  the faults in the pavement  close up.  I
Missed  NEW YORK when I stayed  half the Summer at my
Aunt's  place in Brunswick, Georgia.  So I've  been away for
A while,  just My style.

In this aisle!  That's my CHILD! My mother screamed in the 
Local SUPERMARKET with her thick Caribbean accent.  It seemed
As though her voice boomed  through every aisle in the 
Market.  She would  search the security monitors  when ever I
Wasn't at her side.
YEAH,  I'm   pretty regular  now.
Not  versatile anymore at all. 

I dance SMALL.  EXQUISITE.  I've had about enough of
This.  O.k let me  entertain you."  I'll put. On a skit."  Then
I said " I know. Look out of the window.  I'm going down 
Stairs to dance barefoot!!"
If you danced barefoot  You're sure to Gather a huge crowd.
"I HOPE they throw money at me."

Dressed in Jean shorts and a new green T-shirt,  she 
Pursued her money making scheme.
I was thankful for that summer.
9 years old and bored in NYC.
IT'S  only a matter of time before I found trouble.
Little child running WILD with brick feet.

I had to get their attention.
"This here Is about to be a  TREAT!!"
A teenager had a boom box with him.
"Hey  yeah, that sounds nice. Turn that up"
He increased  the volume as high as the sky.

She tapped her feet listening for the beat.
A slightly raised portion of the stoop was her stage.
Before  anyone knew it she whipped the crowd with 
The NAE  NAE for at least 8 to 10 minutes and the
Crowd grew as they oohed and aahed.

Someone in the crowd asked her what her name was.
"Licia."  She smiled breathlessly.
"My name's Licia", she repeated.

They responded just as she hoped they would.
They threw money at her.
Yeah! She danced more and heard the excitement of her cousins
Racing down the stairs to her aid.
That was fly LICIA.
No one ever called her Val, her first name.
FANTASTIC!! When ever we.
 Needed money all we had to do was dance.
Sometimes my identical twin cousins 
Damian and  Dezrah joined me.

That was a little adventure.

THEY bounded the  stairs swiftly, anxious for an accurate count.
That was it she had a rep now.
Her three cousins cheered her as they entered the 
Apartment still the only ones home.

She lived with her mother. A nurse at the local 
She wouldn't be home until twelve tonight.
The four of them sat on the bed counting what looked
A bit like bank robbery stash.
It was $137 and 50¢

Copyright © VAL BROOKLYN Rogers BLK PANTHER | Year Posted 2016

Details | Personification |
God made each Child unique.
Some can soar higher than an Eagle, and can meet life storms head on,
but each Child can fly the best they can.
My prayer is that as a Child grows into Adulthood, that they will continue to 
see each person as a human being.
God has made each one of us differently,
Each Child is special, with different talents and gifts.
For each Child is fearfully and wonderfully made by the Lord, and 
that each Child is a beautiful creation. 

Copyright © Kimberly Lowe-West | Year Posted 2015

Details | Blank verse |
The wild berries of the Northwest 
it seems every path you walk on , they are there for you to sample ,

Almost as The city of Portland  itself is welcoming you with astonishing beauty, the view of a snow tipped Volcano , as if greeting you  with a basket full of fresh wild Marion berries 

The beauty, just picked plump , the color of dark purple 
a fragrance to savor , what will I do ?
will I make a pie or preserves ?
Oh the pancakes and waffles , the Tillamook ice cream is a must ~ 

After rinsing the fresh picked Berries with water and dusting them with fine Sugar , a hint of cinnamon  , if pie , waffle , or cake . maybe just plain ,
serve with whipped cream made from scratch and a leaf of mint .

The Salmon , the berries , roses and apples all in the Great Northwest ,
You may visit however be warned , for many have come this way
Many have travelled a far , 

For the great Spirit of This Northwest will encompass and astound you .
Begging your soul to stay and  live the way of a Portlander .

Give me rain I say , for the green here will blind you, it is
 like walking off the black and white set of Wizard of Oz,
and opening the amazing door to Colors .

Copyright © Shanity Rain | Year Posted 2013

Details | Rhyme |
                     HALLOWEEN NIGHT
                        WHAT A SIGHT 
                       IT TAKES ALL MY MIGHT 
                      TO GET UP FROM MY FRIGHT

Copyright © Elizabeth Negrete | Year Posted 2014

Details | Free verse |
Big blundering beast
Poor fish have no chance whatsoever
Neither does the slowest runner in your group

Copyright © Smail Poems | Year Posted 2013

Details | Rhyme |
The peaceful, humble beauty 
of a white lily drifting on reflective night
hums a sweet melody 
of contrasting light.

Trusting the darkness 
to be his throne
and the moon of loneliness
to crown his soft, unheard moan.

I watch from bushes of scorn
that mock him cruelly.
His fragile crest is pierced by the thorn
of rejection and bleeds its sorrows silently.

The rejected jewels of nature are mourning
for the king of the skies to raise his wings
but he can't see beyond remembering
and can't see past the thorn's stings.

Oh, scarred heart of grace,
spread strenght and flee with wild freedom
unto priceless solace 
away from this desolate kingdom.

Oh, jewel in creation's crown,
look not to stirred reflection
for it is mere perversion, a frown,
of the white rose of perfection.

Go now, leave behind only
a legacy of despised beauty.

Copyright © Robyn Thomas | Year Posted 2013

Details | Free verse |
His fingers left blood on the strings 

but, come time to walk away he hadn’t really learned anything.

Course and dried brushes sit atop the rubbish,

His mind held a perfection too delicate for his clumsy hands to create.

He opened his mouth to sing like a jay but, instead of notes it was rust that fell out. Part of the wear and tear of early adulthood.

But then, this same boy picked up a pen and found some paper. The pen in his hand felt as natural his own bones and he began to write.

He wrote every tear

He scribed every star

He built towers from mountains with every line

High enough that the angel’s just might hear them.

He made pages for chapters of his life that could make those seraphim weep sapphire tears.

He could write the wind blowing across the nape of your neck in Autumn

And make you feel the chill on your skin.

He could articulate the sad beauty of a lover’s quarrel that ends in tears

If they cry, it makes it all more real.

He documents the history of a war inside himself that will never end.

The loss and the gain,

But not those of monetary nature.

When life begins to scream around him

All he must do to silence it is to put it in a stanza.

The boy’s tongue can pave the way for good intentions, and we all know those can fall South. He finds strength. And with this Strength a power.

Finally the boy knew his gift. But how is he meant to use it and who will truly listen to the personal strands of his soul he ties together with punctuation?

And now that he has tasted the pleasure of his power, will that be enough?

Copyright © Alexander Schwartz | Year Posted 2013

Details | Narrative |
Your children can't find work
they wander the streets 
form up as groups 
those groups become gangs

people introduce drugs
if you get a child hooked on drugs
you have a customer  
for the rest of their live's

teenagers the years 
where we make mistakes
the years where we get addicted
smoking drinking drugs

teenagers make the decisions
that we as adults live with 
for the rest of our lives
yet give a child a job

and the road is vastly different
give a child a job
they get married start a family
save for their home

Children fight, to prove themselves
a child lost, in a fountain, of confusion
ready to prove themselves a man
yet we ignore their needs 

to many lives are lost
trying to find the inner man
trying to cope
with the broken hearts of love

in the wild the male stag
fights to prove he's come of age
fights to prove his right to mate
we think ourselves above 

yet nature still holds sway
the birth of life the summer stage
we but actors in life plays
the male stag has come of age 

I remember my youth
when we as a group of four
planed to defend ourselves at a dance
parking the car blocks away

who would stand and who would leave
each to head in different directions
only to find the dance had been shut down
to much violence in the town

In my teenage years
I started smoking 
enjoyed a drink
suffered pain lost love complete

Teenagers the time 
where mum and dad
are no longer the gods of advice
as we develop the adult mind

start to believe that we know better
remember the arguments
all my friends will be there
yet how much more we have learned

How do we protect our youth 
if we leave them roaming the streets
we talk about abuse
yet not having work 

not having a career
is the greatest mistake
help get the youth off our streets
build jobs for all our people 

Copyright © Bernard Barclay | Year Posted 2015

Details | Free verse |
(in your cells)
that we are made of each other
(woven, weaving)
we deepen
we drink in
we divulge 
(arms linking
ties binding
more than becoming)
with the space we fill
the ways
we move
(woven, weaving)
patterns of encoded mystery
(down and out and down again) 
into new

Copyright © Jenny Dumaine Backlund | Year Posted 2013

Details | Lanterne |
oft quickly
‘fore harvesting

© Eugene Harvey

Copyright © Eugene Harvey | Year Posted 2016

Details | Verse |
Something that stuns me from revelations awakening 
All good people of the world see you Isis 
clearly diamond cut your scale tips heavy 
with the wealth that's stolen from foreign lands 
to build weapons of mass destruction 

Adorning the cup of twelve jewels 
surrounded by my many seas 
filling this world with misery and suffering 
supplying arms to terrorists as in confederate times 
lucky Russia stepped in truth your grudge is still held 

I read the evidence what an impact truth has 
Dark entities you have the purse to buy armies 
crossing silver over palms 
your trying to rise out of your pit A-bad-don 
read between the lines three sixes hidden 
a bad don drinks from a chalice of wrath 
again through your spawned seed 
stealing souls of the weak minded

Babylon the great has fallen 
in verse these words holds me 
within thought deeply disturbing facts 
an outsider always views it with an open verdict

My view in the seventh vial 
comes to a point to express concern 
openly worried for our children's sake 
Seven towers came down one in front of my eyes 
a reporter said it fell and was still standing 
as her soul identity slipped when she looked around 
it was still standing she looked stunned to me her mouth fell open 

That day watching this 
first thought came to my mind
a setup like she was drip fed false information 
then bang before her eyes I felt a gut feeling 
Then it fell so accurately 
almost looked controlled 
like dark magicians working their evil magic 
because this was aired quite a few times evidence 
where has it gone secret society 

The Bible says when it comes 
devastation will take place leaving the place to demons

Now this opened my eyes completely up politics forbidden zone 
All those who reject your bank Ceasears law get invaded 
Strange yet very true 
in truth and hindsight 
we have been warned by God 

Punishment will come in a cloud of smoke 
When the red moon's bled
A strange occurrence back to back appeared 
from scripture readings back in time 
history do we learn nothing from past sins
The refugees before the second eclipse 
began flooding all over the world 
Because pride took centre stage 
Worshipping the golden calf again 
stealing treasuries and precious minerals 
from lands invaded under a falsehood 

Crosses over seeking the promised land 
now that has been stolen from underneath their feet 
bombed freedom became a slave born to such sickness
Three weeks before Christmas 
the three stars lined up in the Heavens 
proof is in the pudding mix
According to the wise men 
before the birth of our Saviour 
It was either the birth of a king or Babylon rising

Imagine how ironic predator drones kill on Christmas day 
authorised by the powers on earth's domain 

The water has become contaminated 
facts remains forever hidden on such soil 
soddem and gormoragh living proof 
Life becomes non existent barren 

As many of her soldiers suffer radiation poisoning 
on a daily basis swept under the carpet viper 
all the victims of this have a voice unheard 
under such hate filled actions 
one genocidal regime acts possessed 
in a group of mass murders 
totally corrupted by greed 
thousands I mean involved daily killing 

Hypocrites unholy ground hallowed not consecrated to our king 
And I heard another voice from heaven saying
Come out of her, my people 
that ye be not partakers of her sins
and that ye receive not of her plagues

Erecting a temple to an abomination 
cast down from heaven 
Like the holy book says 
eyes are being turned around 
looks like Lord of the flies and demonic locusts 
is already here a henchman of the devil appears 

His name is signed on stone 
Cold the mark is in it 
plain sight a signature on trading adds up 

To be seen clear if your not blinded 
looks like the Inca demon has been resurrected 
from the valley of the dead graves crying humanity 
in ugly sickness empty vessels 

As they are inflicting mass human sacrifice 
on a large global scale daily and tortures 
equivalent to Hitler's claw under the eagle 

Freemasons it's time your chaos was addressed 
by the richeous who call out to God inside sufferings 
victims weeping at his feelings towards such a vile beast 
expelled for his wickedness towards the sons and daughters of Adam 
and Eve through jealously because we were made in his likeness

For her sins have reached unto heaven 
and God hath remembered her iniquities.

Copyright © liam mcdaid | Year Posted 2017

Details | Free verse |
Surely to know the ambrosial quiver
Of stiffened fruit, ripe and swollen
With stolen fragrance and lovely flush
Of seeded solvent all down a furtive face
And up the greedy pink arms of cloud-ward reaching children

Is to know also the jealous rain
Her green glances gorge on mellow delight
Indulgent and impatient with quick eyes
Snatching strokes of waxy flesh
Torrid caress under an austere guise of gray
She is a lean and idle glutton
Who lashes in strife with quickness and lusty strikes

It will be a feast of soul
If you do not slay her first

Copyright © Chelsea Westerfield | Year Posted 2013

Details | Rhyme |
Hopelessness was drifting in, 
That’s when new life begins. 
The life is from the One above! 
His Spirit is in the form of a dove. 
His grace will give you life anew, 
His love and mercy pulls you through. 
He will always be by your side, 
In your heart He will abide. 

-Inspired by Psalm 139

Copyright © Hanna Potter | Year Posted 2013

Details | Haiku |
A million men marched;
I merely asked for one, though.
God said of it, "Be."

Copyright © Mark Morris | Year Posted 2015

Details | Ballad |
Simple things like love arent easy to understand
My pen trembles, my thoughts scramble 
All my monsters are weak in her presence
Its sad how they no longer seem ugly
she says I do not write poetry for her no more
I found simple pleasure in her presence
Thieving a man from his madness
Like a candle forcing the darkness to speak
We still play but no longer keep score
She is my poetry but...

But she says I dont write poetry for her no more
I left that role to my daughter sitting in her womb
Her tiny fingers like thunderbolts and tornadoes
She catches placental waters like raindrops
And scribbles like her father
Silent as the night before a revolution
At a bonfire listening to insects recite their stories
About their evolution and our revolution
She says I dont write poetry for her no more
In a world full of fury, sin and silence
Choices choose us. We got nothing to lose except strangers
I live poetry through her beautiful life
The beautiful matrix of our creation embedded in her belly

She says I dont write poetry for her no more
I let my faber castell assault the paper
I write about non existent revolutions
Spread propaganda like a library of lovers
No full stop to my literary nonsense  
I m like tepid pause in a witch's cauldron
I m a poetry proctor peddling my stories to wishing wells
I m a failing bridge giving her away to the chasm below
In one life there is a trillion choices
But in two lives there is none
She says I dont write poetry for her no more

Her feet burden with the weight of my world
My secrets and sins between her toes
I rub them off whenever I get a chance
Her legs long and divine like the history of my lineage
They follow behind the absence of my steps
She says I never write poetry for her no more
In my head I found answers, tenfolds of answers
Answers too complex to pronounce
So I decided to scribble this love poem on her maternity dress
She says I dont write poetry for her no more


Copyright © Prince Katlholo | Year Posted 2013

Details | Free verse |
Joy, happiness, pain, sadness, love, passion, hatred, greed, tears, pleasure, grief, lies,
regret, pride, addiction, suicide.... 

Lots of emotions
Lots of feelings
Lots if confusions
Some are nothing but act, lies and performances
Some are truthful and painful
And Some are helpless and hopeless

I stand as a baby bird ready to fly
I blunder forth and back, Left and right
Where ever the wind takes me
 Just like the voices in my head moving inside my mind
The sound of the screaming nights, the stormy lands, the raging hungry oceans, the cries
in every drop in a rainy day and the broken heart of the earth.

The floating sea animals, the burning forests!! Because of the intelligent acts of human!

Thoughts, poetry, stories scrawl across the white empty pages... Meaningless words!!

Safe, secure!! Look at them no houses, no families, no shadows... Nameless!

They're hungry for hugs and kisses for a bosom and we get angry for getting a bad payday
and they aren't getting any!
Their only shield is the naked trees!!

The mask of blessings and the beliefs of belongings are wilting with the fires of
loneliness and guilt.

The music of the weddings
The screams with every new birth
The voices of the crashing bones when a body hits the ground...another suicide!
The shouts of a girl lost in despair holding her father in her arm screaming for help to
save him...another heart attack!

War, human, peace, god!!

Voices of thunders - god creation - Reach from the farthest, vast skies burning houses
trees and cities.

Human creation crashing the skies blowing homes, women, babies... Blowing them into pieces!

Soulless men!!

Somewhere in this world in this minute a girl weeps
A child cries
many dies
somewhere in this world humanity fades
Some are killed
Some are hurt
Some lost in dreams 

Lots of voices I can't handle 

The thoughts of an addict living with a blue hole in his arm barely losing it
The thoughts of a daughter brutally beaten from an alcoholic father
The thoughts of an hungry child of war dreaming for a family to love him
And the thoughts of many more

I should have helped them all, but I can't! 

Copyright © Nesma Alnsour | Year Posted 2010