-Dear, Mr & Mrs Poet-
Do you ever question where it comes from?
This poem's about you, sit down and get a load off
Tranquilize your pen, take heed to the ecstatic applause
The things in life we take for granting, in time get worse
From WHICH' our lives transverse, ascends a deep poetic curse
You write almost everything, rehearsing every living verse
Embezzling words, like Martha Stewart, ---NOT YOURS!
Withdrawing from your substance,
--yielding it to others, who aren't devoted lovers
Spacing your lines, ready for reader's digest,
Educating the mind, like Albert Einstein
You paint a different horizon for the color blind,
Drop a note, forecasting the news, that brings, Spring to mind
Your adrenaline, leaves people with a feel good faint.
At this level, Poet you're better than high speed Internet,
Anything that makes you feel this is the real deal,
Today, you write like there's no tomorrow, borrowing yesterday's clay
Inspiring ink, left to right, feeding the need to breed a poetic degree
Your dramatic dialogue, deserve 'The Peoples Choice award."
I love the sweet audio, when you lowercase every word
It's done so well, hell, let's never capitalize another word
Reaching a point across, when capitalizing every letter,
This is your world, take it, manipulate it, with the perfect stanza
Produce it like a poetic film, imagery, action, CUT it like Jerry Bruckheimer
One day Hollywood will incite a roll, looking for the best poetry soup rhymer
Your tears and affection, you pour on partial paper,
Showing every word you want to enunciate
A SHOULDER-- gone cold, drowning, forgetting the normal way
Writing about the pure religion that meets your light,
A beautiful flower under the moonlight
Hear the bells, Poe wrote about, adding sprinkles to the twinkle in your eyes,
A redolent scent not meant to be forgotten, from Eden's garden
Taking nature, by course, granting her a crown, before slamming us down
I will call her out --The evil and the fury of a goddess, a beast
This is my feast, I welcome you to my jungle, and the outer bounds of time.
If you ever question where it comes from?
Sit down and get a load off, listen---Where's the ecstatic applause?
I'm not afraid to say, -----I'm Proud to be A Poet Without A Cause
I do it for fun
Copyright © Poet Destroyer A | Year Posted 2014
If you sow seeds of kindness,
Then kindness is what you'll reap.
If you sow seeds of forgiveness,
You'll reap untroubled sleep.
If you sow seeds of anger,
of hatred or discontent,
You'll reap a crop of violence,
Discord and evil intent.
If you sow seeds of brotherly love,
Then love you will receive,
But if wickedness is what you sow,
Then wicked you will be.
The lesson here is pretty clear:
You reap just what you sow.
Therefore, strive to sow only good seeds,
And spread them wherever you go.
For SandyIvy's Seed contest
Copyright © Kim Merryman | Year Posted 2013
A Rainbow’s Magic
A rainbow’s magic reflects God’s majestic and divine touch,
Giving us a panoply of colored images which mean so much.
The wonder of God’s enchanted pictorial missives here on Earth,
Gives us an ethereal pause as we reflect on each rainbow’s birth.
A rainbow is God’s celestial medium of His images to treasure,
To help Man better understand Him and meet His deft measure.
The power of a rainbow is its picture-perfect aura of pulchritude,
Dazzling our visual senses and assuring us of Heaven’s certitude.
A rainbow’s very visage mesmerizes our human senses complete,
And embeds in us all God’s spirited message of His love replete.
A rainbow is a noble and supreme reflection of beauty at its best,
And of shades of heavenly images on Earth meeting God’s behest.
A rainbow’s magic is the power of God’s message to us on Earth,
Subtly preparing Man for his heavenly ascent and his soul’s rebirth.
Gary Bateman, Copyright © All Rights Reserved, August 13, 2015
Copyright © Gary Bateman | Year Posted 2015
A void of Facebook
Creativity dies here...
Copyright © Dan Keir | Year Posted 2013
The days seem to go by so fast. there is a void in the air, the birds have lost their vibrant beat, the ocean has lost its luster, the soil feels solid and dry.
My soul feels as if it has left my body before my death, my dreams haunt my day, the tears stain my steps, my doctor says that it is depression, I say that it is reality, I am intoxicated by society,I am numb by perscriptions.
Why do I feel so isolated within myself? is there no one in my painfully tight shoes? can anyone understand my pain? can anyone melt in my sorrows? why am I this way? why is the world so cruel? why can't I be normal?
Wait! I am normal, what am I saying, I know now, the veil has been lifted, humanity is my enemy, the sins that drip from their sweat, the dread that follows their shadows, their souls of black, their intentions of greed pull a shade across their eyes.
They are destined for doom, they will not be saved, they will not find salvation, they belittle me, they curse me, they shame me, but they are right about one thing, I am different, unlike them, I will be saved in the last days.
Copyright © stephanie hanvey | Year Posted 2013
Slate gray streets made even darker by cutting raindrops
Umbrellas popping up everywhere, people seeking shelter
But I stayed put, wanting to get drained with the rain,
then I hear this tinkling voice that says, “Don’t you just love it when it rains?!”
I look at her wearily and her eyes actually gleam with laughter
Oh geez, this lady was my total opposite. I was brooding, she was brimming.
I power-up my go away vibes, but she was like a darned magnet…
Was I the ferromagnetic one, or was she?
She gushed on the metaphor of rain in her life, and I didn’t feel like drowning.
Listening to her amidst the onslaught was so refreshing, making me thirstier…
There we were, two drenched souls, sitting on the pavement, chatting up a storm.
Of all her descriptions of rain, one in particular stood out for me…
Pearl drops strung on silver strands …
She said, “Rain for me would be silver strands streaking an otherwise somber sky…
pearl drops strung on silver strands, broken by the heavens to share with us.
See how precious it is?” Then she continued on with the metaphor for pearls…
Her words felt like windshield wipers to me, and I could see clearly now
By then, the rains had softened, and a lone pearl drop landed on her eyelashes
-that made me look closer at her eyes… her beautiful, wise, yet cloudy eyes…
I have never looked at rain the same way since then.
For Andrea's and Susan's Silver Strands contest
Copyright © kabuteng P.iNk k. | Year Posted 2011
Money money, ringing in your tills,
Calling us to worship,
The hundred dollar bills.
Bend our knees in wonder,
Bow our heads in awe,
At the power of the liar,
Who now controls us all.
From the darkest deep caverns,
To the stars in the sky,
From the infinite universe,
To the strangers passing by.
From your inner most conviction,
To your laughing in the night,
From everything you 're seeing,
To everything out of sight.
The new God has risen,
To claim the holy throne,
The one that we have emptied,
Our hearts all cold as stone.
The throne that we have emptied,
We killed the rightful king,
Sold his crown an sceptre,
Pawned his sacred ring.
Raised his bleeding body,
Up on that bloody hill,
The silent lamb still bleeding,
As the money fills your tills.
Copyright © ness tillson | Year Posted 2013
A dream can grow in the darkest places,
even when others lay shattered and dead,
no matter how long and twisted the roots,
dreams can still grow when tears are shed.
It will flower out of the muddy ground,
no matter how impossible it may seem,
and vine and wind around the stoney paths,
as it flourishes to chase the sunbeam.
A dream can grow from almost anywhere,
stunted only by what imagination can feed,
the vision becomes planted deep in the mind,
and will live when your heart is the seed.
Copyright © Kelly Deschler | Year Posted 2015
I am Reality’s angel
resting on the broad shoulders of discovery
the truth feeds darkness and engulfs its target
ideas and concepts in turn become meaningless to you
there is a creator of all things
He is just and patient
many still have fallen into the masses of shadow
wrapped in their own filthy idols of philosophy
I have seen grown men fall like rose petals
and weaklings rise into unjust leaders
forever the follower of furtive evil
dominating only to remain inferior
the most important answers lie in the unseen regions
where no sense can fully give assurance
the mind that so many unreasonably twist and turn
grows weary because of the distance it must take
and truth be told the distance is not what frustrates
it is knowing we are seeking something far
that could very possibly not exist,
that our minds can twist into theoretical, idealistic nonsense
it is knowing all we really think we know
and yes—even a lie
all that has been written thus far rests under my wings
under the warmth in which you refuse to feel
can you believe in me—
though I am completely unseen?
how much more difficult would it be to see
Copyright © Laura Breidenthal | Year Posted 2013
Enter a storybook tale
Where I can be
The heroine you hail
Lucid dreams of soft reflection
A touch heated with lust and desired protection
A breathe a gasp as we succeed
Join the fairytale with me
Valiant night within dark eyes
the right movement and I make them shine
like moonlight on the steamy hot spring
care to follow for a little dip with me
Trailing like the water at my fingertips
Grasp me around my hips
As close as the breeze on my skin
Whisper lies as I let you in
Lips mumbling up my thighs
bare heart exposed to the sky
fire burning in my veins
Am I a mistress of this lust or simply a slave
Trembling with desire
Take me till we've lost count of the hours
enter this storybook tale
Where I can be the heroine you hail
Copyright © Jay Loveless | Year Posted 2012
It's said joy is like a river
that runs just where it will.
But sorrow is a river too
and it runs deeper still.
For times of joy are welcome
and for them we give thanks.
While sorrow cuts right to the soul
and overflows its banks.
Seeds of joy are raindrops
that feed the river wide.
While rivers fueled by sadness
are fed by tears we cried.
Still with each are memories
and lessons that we learned.
And bridges that have washed away
and bridges that we burned.
Still better are we for them all
with joy and sadness we now know.
Joy inspires dreams within
and sorrow helps us grow.
Like a tree out in the yard
providing wood to keep us warm.
Trees would one day cease to be
lest they survive the storm.
Or like the flower bent down low
as it's beaten by the rain.
Soon after it's much stronger
for its temporary pain.
Be strong and of good courage
joy known is never lost.
The river you now face
your joy already crossed.
Edwin C Hofert
Copyright © Edwin Hofert | Year Posted 2015
This poem is a farewell piece of advice to a group of students I have taught over the last four years. I do
hope they find the metaphor meaningful and believe that they are the "architects of their own future."
Spread before you is a canvas of hope and opportunity
Waiting to be painted with strokes of what you are and can be
Waiting to be filled with colours that define you and the life you live
Waiting to be stamped with the personality that only you can give
To the portrait of your life, by itself a work of art
A work which, on this day, with vigour you will start
Spread before you is a canvas of vision and desire
Waiting to be sketched with shades of passion and fire
Waiting to be decorated with a story and theme
Waiting to be etched with ambition that is now just a dream
Of a picture whose tone, texture and style
Would have made this work worth all the while
Spread before you is a canvas, empty, yet full of space
Waiting to be stroked with your wit, charm and grace
Waiting to be brushed with strokes daring, vivid and bold
Waiting to be painted with a story that can be told
Of a life whose essence is one of sublime beauty
Of a person who lived his life and did his duty
Of a person who lived life the way it should be
Of a complete canvas that will reflect many a memory.
Copyright © Alister Renaux | Year Posted 2009
A weak worm hatched
From an egg that is fragile
Trying to survive the world
Full of predators and guile
Romanticsm has been just an instrument
To be confined in the ego
And a faint serfage
On behalf of love upon herself
So she claims herself
No longer merely a companion
Metamorphosed as time goes by
A mild steel butterfly
Copyright © Shirley Candy | Year Posted 2013
Silent Secrets. Rumi
First time I ever saw you
I could not say a word.
But somehow in that moment
my love is what you heard.
So drawn to one another
and the love we'd come to know.
Hidden in the silence
was the love that we watched grow.
Times of hardship found us
with sadness and with gloom.
We found the comfort needed.
A single look across the room.
Surely there were whispers
like promises we made.
But it's in the silent secrets
that I would never trade.
The way our souls connected
and the love that we had found.
The words of love we shared
when we never made a sound.
Like a flower loves the sunshine
and a dream loves coming true.
That's the way you love me
and the way that I love you.
Edwin C Hofert
Copyright © Edwin Hofert | Year Posted 2015
Voice: Sara Ella
The road ahead is winding,
And curving, never straight.
From far, light shines the way,
And I’m forever finding,
The distance that I made,
Will not lead me astray.
The voice of truth is calling
Inside my chest, it beats
A fast and steady drum.
And when I’m almost falling,
When everything defeats,
It whispers, a soft hum.
I want to reach that tree ahead,
And hug it’s truthful trunk,
And rest my aching neck.
And everything ever said,
In truthfulness has sunk.
And finally, I am back.
And beauty is not what I see,
But I found inside of me,
That everything I want can be.
January 17, 2017
© Darren White
Copyright © Darren White | Year Posted 2017
Noah’s ark was real not a fiction
It had a door to escape God’s affliction
Noah delivered a warning message
But the folks mock their own presage
Men grew in sin and matured in transgression
And ignored Noah’s loving confession
The Door stood open a long time
Until time begin to climb
The Lord finally shut the Door
And the rain begin to pour
120 years of grace finally came to a halt
God administered judgment by default
The Door was a glorious type of Christ
He was the Lamb of God who was price
Jesus said “I am the Door of the sheep”
He is the only Door of that Great ship
Jesus is our Door of salvation
Wherein we enter and float as new creation
Behold He stands at your door this day and knock
Let Him in, you’ll find pasture as a partaker of His Holy flock
Then said Jesus unto them again, Verily, verily, I say unto you, I am the door of the sheep- John 10:7
Copyright © Gideon Foli | Year Posted 2013
Once there was a youthful, bubbly butterfly.
Who loved to fly under the sunlit azure sky.
Colors of joy reflected from her iridescent wings
as she fluttered in the breeze to dance and sing.
Through the lush meadow full of fragrant flowers,
looking for the sweet nectar she gyrated all over.
Cherished by all, her company, her presence.
An epitome of beauty, elegance was her essence.
Such was her charm that nobody could ignore.
Slowly vile gazes followed her to ruin her demure.
Many tried to force on her their lewd advances
but she somehow managed to escape by chances.
Soon enough she learned about the preying mantis,
the ones that cruelly victimizes others with tactics
Never did she think her charm could be a trouble
by turning her joyous life into a daily struggle.
Disturbed by her vulnerable being she sat on a rose
to drown her worries with a drink of nectar dose.
Unaware of the decoy she sipped the whole drink.
A potion mixed in it made her conscious shrink.
Out came an evil mantis hiding behind the leaves,
who wouldn't take her no, took her to the sheaves.
She woke up with horror to figure what happened.
By now her body was bruised and her wings broken.
Her agony was mourned by nature as she cried
leaves full of dewy tears as if a part of her died.
She wished death; to be devoured by that mantis.
Bearing such pain is not easy without practice.
Time passed by as she learned to survive the odds
and transformed anew from her old arthropod.
She is no more a shy butterfly but a fearless eagle
with no broken wings neither with a body so feeble.
Her unfortunate fall made her stronger than before
and now again into the sunlit azure sky, she soars.
Such deadly huntress she is with her watchful eyes
that every preying mantis now fears her despise.
Date : 01/04/2017
Note : For the contest ( Form C ) by Broken Wings.
Placed - First
Yes women are butterflies in terms of their feminine frailty, beauty and elegance. But if you mess with them, they could be as fierce as an eagle to fight back the crimes of abuse, assault and racy comments against them. Sexual violence against women needs to be stopped and dealt with and we men should fully support women in this fight for justice.
Copyright © AFZAL NUSKER | Year Posted 2017
A young oak grows in our garden.
It is sturdy, though leaves fall down.
After all, it is autumn,
So there's no need for our frown.
Poet's Notes -
This oak represents a young person. The leaves falling down are the mistakes that the young person will make. Just as in autumn, we expect the leaves to fall down, so we should expect these mistakes, for he is still learning. Just as we do not rebuke the oak for not being a perfect example at that time, we should not rebuke the young man, but gently guide him.
Copyright © Julia Ward | Year Posted 2017
In this world of Uncertainties
I’m the man that you can trust
And in my words of sincerity
That my love would never last.
And if you could only feel, what i feel for you
You can ask me “why?” so you can see the truth
Like our love that tightens the rope,
Like a light that would give us hope.
As you watch the dark skies
Let me grab the moon for you,
And as I catch the bright stars
That’s the way you can see me through
As this planet turns as it always will
And things go wrong and you don’t know what to feel
Hold my hand for it will make us strong
Like a wind, we will carry on
The wind blow that sings a hymn for you
For they know what does love means for the two
Love is blind, and not deaf
So how’s success if you’re not ready to bet?
In this poem with full of rhymes,
A full of love, Babe can you be mine?
I don’t expect too much from you
Why should I? If you complete my whole.
“Till death do us part” that’s what they have said
But why do struggles crash them ahead?
Don’t ask me when my love will last,
To count all of our quarrels, is that a must?
Now and Forever is all that I promise
No day dreaming and without reminiscence
As the matter of time, as the time passes by
Together we stand, together you and I
A poem for my Girlfriend for our anniversary :)
pls comment and rate... you are free to judge and criticize my work :) God Bless
Copyright © Emmanuel Fajutagana | Year Posted 2013
Struggles and success,
Sufferings and happiness,
Dreams and Goals building to life;
Like colours of the rainbow making light.
A blessed day for you my dear readers :) Cheer Up, God bless
Copyright © Emmanuel Fajutagana | Year Posted 2013
We must seize the day is what they say,
We are here but for a moment, here but for a day,
We must awake and not forget to contribute, love and play,
We know that none of us are here to stay,
So go share your love there's no time to lament,
You can then lie down knowing your day was well spent.
Copyright © Ed Belcher | Year Posted 2015
generic minds listen to generic music
have generic thoughts that are unknowingly abusive
watch generic things talk about generic things
gee this generic *****is spreading like a disease
better get your flu shot
thats what they said to me
a suicidal vaccine
a subliminal killing spree
its contagious and the outrageous
thing about it is that the people are blind in an eye
that they didn't even know they had
it's sickening to watch these clueless civilians
inside the looking glass
with nightmares of being free
without a key to their mind
for it is trapped in the frequency
in the illusion of time
bathed in our universe
killing all that refuse to see
those that admit to hypocracy
or see the message in hip hop
how cant you see
the message in the lyrics that
bring adolescents to their knees
from bullet wounds conflicting their flesh
contradicting that they're the best
but the songs keep telling them that they dont need no rest
that they dont wanna go home
that they should ride alone
with the gat as their only companion
and so the only path they choose is the one that they're told
until they grow old and hope turns to a window pane
inside a window pane, until all they feel is pain
they realize that the music itself is ashamed
so whats to look up to
when you cant even speak when you cant even walk because you look so bleak
your eyes are sunken from the tv you're infested with the dee zees
now its too late to turn around and live for your conscious
so when youre screaming oh please
close your eyes and bring your mind to life
open your eyes for the first time
and never wonder why
since the answer this entire time
has been inside
and you better find it before you die
you dont want your soul to be in a pool with all the others
a buncha brothers missing their mothers
but only seeing strangers
only feeling the haters
wishing they would have used their minds when they had them
and now its too late,
now it's time for another new born fate to grab them
Copyright © Green Trees | Year Posted 2012
My life has been one enormous charade,
A make believe game,
A play I have played,
A story I tell myself, day and night,
Hidden from myself, out of sight,
A game of hide and seek,
While searching for something else to eat.
A cosmic game,
A comic game,
A bad joke,
A puff of smoke,
A lonely path,
I used to take it so seriously,
Think it, feel it so real, so perfectly,
So certain I that was right,
That I lived in the light,
So convinced that I knew the rules,
So obvious I had all the tools,
That I saw the truth,
That I saw the light,
Would win the battle, win the fight.
Heard the sound of the distant drum,
Calling me to battle with the devious one.
The walls of my ego were high and mighty,
My dreams and delusions danced in front of me,
Their smooth dark surface impossible to climb,
Images I swallowed and thought were mine.
I made them alive, moving and real,
Twist and turn like a slimy eel,
Just to tell myself that I was still someone,
Playing in the game and having lots of fun,
Just to tell me and to tell you,
That I wasn't a loser,
So I wouldn’t hear the words game over.
Check and mate,
Here's the gate,
You have to take,
Out of the Game,
The game of shame.
The game of avoiding being blue,
Of dogging the bullets they shot at you,
The atomic bomb they drop on your head,
The monsters that they put under your bed.
The game of hiding away,
Live to play another day,
Even if it's only make believe,
The prizes in plastic,
And not worth a dime,
At least I have the impression that they are mine,
At least I don't fell the pain,
The pain of shame,
In this perverted game.
So that I don't feel I'm a prisoner,
Tied to this post,
Don't even realise that I'm only a ghost,
That the truth is well hidden,
On the board of the game.
That the prizes are in plastic,
But they are shiny and new,
The paint hardly chipped,
The emptiness hardly shows through,
The laughing is loud,
The smiles are all warm and friendly,
And we are all together,
Joyful and happy.
The illusion is REAL,
And only the mad man knows,
That it's a rotten deal.
more of my poems at http://labyrinthoflies.com
Copyright © ness tillson | Year Posted 2013
He was always so happy
strong and bold.
He'd give you the shirt off of his back.
He had a rough life
growing up through the depression,
but like he always does,
he got through it.
He has two boys, of whom he is so proud.
Moved from Regina, to Victoria.
He had the best life anyone his age could have wanted.
But ever since his wife died,
he has not been the same.
But like he has always done,
he got through it.
just a little forgetful.
That's how it always starts out...
But like always, he powered through it,
He is not the same person that I used to know.
He been sentenced to the prison in his own mind.
Possessed by the thoughts of his dogs ashes.
He likes to play the blame game,
but we know he doesn't remember that it was him.
He wakes up in the night
shaking with pain,
tears streaming down his face.
There is nothing we can do,
Two more tylenol.
Hold on to hope
for as long as you can,
It's only a matter of time now.
He gets vocal, a very loud tone.
He'll block you in your room
and make false accusations
But we know that it's the pain induced monster in him.
Tick tock, tick tock...
You can't handle the stress anymore
you have to leave.
Just hope for the best,
maybe it will get better.
Surprise, it doesn't.
Your denial is foolish, everyone knows
what happens next.
All results of
Copyright © Laura Hamilton | Year Posted 2013
Sometimes I admire the littlest things
A simple rock. A blade of grass.
They need no future goals, no tax exemptions
They don’t need to go anywhere or be anything
They just are.
Sometimes, especially when I’m reading life insurance policies,
I envy the rocks and the grass
And try to be like them for a moment.
I sit perfectly still and give myself to the wind-
And it whispers in my ear:
And for that moment I don’t need to go anywhere or be anything.
And at the snap of my fingers,
All the complex widgets and gizmos that make up my life
Fold into paper airplanes and fly off in the wind.
Copyright © Jacob Reinhardt | Year Posted 2013
Shadows and murky darkness deep
Describe the depths of lonely hearts
That lie in wait and icy chill
For fiery love to burst in flames;
That empty chests may be refilled
And taste sweet love again!
Copyright © TE Andre | Year Posted 2013
The sun has learned
to nevermore interfere
with the moon
and its stars
To give it a whole world
because the sun
doesn't need to stand in the way,
when it has free reign
of the entire universe.
Copyright © Danielle Wise Baxter | Year Posted 2013
A superb virtue—
Use for good, and not evil!
Smart is always good . . .
Man’s differentiation . . .
To be nurtured at all times!
Gary Bateman, Copyright © All Rights Reserved,
May 15, 2015 (Tanka)
Copyright © Gary Bateman | Year Posted 2015
Let the Deicide commence.
You're a voyeur at best!
Your vampiric heart is beating out of your chest!
And you have slayed the ones whom would love you for anything less
Ready to consume the final fragments of innocence,
And for you there is no forgiveness,
On your knees pleading, screaming to a tyrant in the skies;
The father of lies.
I will never be enslaved in your superiority
The people agree: jaded of your false dichotomies.
Know: I will be whomever nature intends to be
Apollo and I will share our dreams,
and you will be forced to see
I know who you are...
Readily the first to present your scars
Chained by some despot or mental czar
An emotional homunculus in your mind, behind bars
Reluctant to escape - even when proven fake
Your demented mind - depths no one will penetrate!
...And you see me suffering
Not caring of any casualties
Just as long you recieve your safeguard of sympathy
So very wary of the masses and their Anarchy; Liberious ways
Solipsist - Is there no one you can see?
Even if she was presented burning?
Solipsist - Is there no one you can believe?
Even if Sophia was screaming?
Solipsist - Know you have killed and abused me
Imprisoned in your own personal reality
Copyright © Wyatt Loethen | Year Posted 2013
God made all people
But some better than others?
Stop being silly.
Copyright © Dan Keir | Year Posted 2013