Narrative Name Poems | Narrative Poems About Name

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Details | Narrative |

The L In Da Name Linda Stands For Love

"Shhh,  look there they are. 
No one believed me. 
Now you see them too.
 A blessing of Unicorns. 

 If anyone knew where they were
it would be the end of the Unicorns.

 The one with the wings is the Queen. 
See how sad she looks. 

She has separated herself from the blessing. 

She loves the other Unicorns 
but she is dealing with her own issues.
They love her, she knows that.

This is different.

She has to deal with this herself. 

She knows she is loved.
She knows they all care for her.


She is their Queen after all. 

A song? 
I don't know. 

I brought poetry.
I brought soup. 
I have to try. 

I hope she believes me. 
She is going to be fine. 

I dreamt about her. 
In the dream her wings were spread.
You should of seen them spread 
they must of spanned farther than the horizon 
higher than the milky way. 

In my dream her magic horn was a beacon,
 it was leading her through the dark
but she was also a beacon for everyone else. 
Everyone who was trapped in the  darkness. 
She led them too! 
She always has. 
She is our Queen after all.

 I stood there amazed 
she was magnificent.

 She waited patiently and the light filled her. 
She knew it would happen and she was right.

That hand from up above 
the one she always trusted
filled her with light. 
She is the Queen and in my dream 
she had returned in her full glory."

Linda was back. 
It starts with an L 
L stands for love.

Maybe It's not a dream.

 'Fairy tales can come true - 
It can happen to you...
life gets more exciting with each 
passing day...!' 

I believe dreams are 
just a window to reality. 

I believe in Fairies.
 I believe in Unicorns. 
And I believe in Linda!

Sponsor: Shadow Hamilton
Contest Name: Fighting Depression(poems for PD) 

Copyright © Maurice Yvonne | Year Posted 2014

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Well guys I’m going to tell you a secret
You don’t really know me
I have not been honest 
I am not who I say I am
Yesterday I discovered the real me…
I’m a ninja – yes honestly I’m a ninja
I have proof from
Ninja Salol …………………….…..Jan Allison

So I thought I’d have fun with a few names here
Hope no one is offended.. but they are quite amusing!

Casual Pull …………………...... …… Paul Callus 
Diarrhetic Ande ….…………….Andrea Dietrich
Archaean Cans …………… …….Casarah Nance 
Ard Man ………………………….......……. Armand 
Hmm is Tit  ……………………....…….Tim Smith 
Savour Hart ……………………...…. Arthur Vaso 
ill can Jokes ……………………....….Jack Ellison 
Hencoop Arse ………….….….…..Shane Cooper
Horny Rash Ram ……….………Harry Horsman
Lycra Nim ………………….…......……. Lyric Man
Go Mercurial Ire …………….….Maurice Rigoler
Peer over………………………......….….Eve Roper
Ramshackle Cure……………. Earl Schumacker
Salutes Sir…………………………....….Lei Strauss
Mercy Tis So ………….……....………Mystic Rose
Can Hear Microchip………Charmaine Chircop
Upgrade Gent…………………….….Peter Duggan
Warrants Done……………..….. Darren Watson
Sit Leprechaun................... Paul Schneiter

9th February 2015

Copyright © JAN ALLISON | Year Posted 2015

Details | Narrative |

the visitors

knock knock knock
on my front door
i get up to look
it's lonliness at the door

but quite and still
i would not let
lonliness in so peacefull i slept

morning came
and with the knocks once more
but i kept my temper
and evened the score

inside i sat quietly
wishing he'd go away
but he yelled from outside
he had something to say

i said "go away"
and i put a record on
something moving and grooving
i played it all day long

but when evening came 
i put on a sweater
and decided to play 
something much better

something smooth
something sentimental
something with lyrics
that are very gentile

something with words
that don't dare remind
of terrible incidences
recently left behind

constantly reminding me
it should be a crime! 
it should be a crime!!
it should be a crime!!!

anger was present
he had a key
i was glad to see him 
and he was glad to see me

but lonliness
though being out side
made his presence known
in certian shadows
in certian rooms

anger said
"have a drink" 
and handed me a bottle
"listen up. i know how to fix that flirt. 
slap her in the face.
rub her name in the dirt!"

and with this 
my imagination ran wild
drink after drink 
we talked a while

but i remembered myself
this wasn't my style

and once again lonliness 
knocked at the door
i let him in and fell
crying to the floor

why, oh why must you visit
once more?!

he said "to try to give you wisdom
where you broke down before.
to try to give you knowledge 
before you go through the door. 
to try to make you stronger,
if you should do it again.
and to always let you know 
that i am your constant friend. 
i am with you in your solitude
i am with you while you sit 
surrounded by friends.
i scream my name LONLINESS!
in your ears very loud.
never forget my power 
or giving me my hours."

and with that 
he sat his fat ass down

Copyright © john loving iii | Year Posted 2009

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The Irishman


This is who I am
My name is Stanislaus J. O’Connor
Born on April 17th in Belfast, Ireland
Youngest of eight children
My father admired the Polish people
The way they fought 
During the last Great War
When the odds were against them
Wanted me to be strong
Like them
So he named me Stanislaus.

I carried that name  
Not without some teasing
Took it in stride
Solidarity came along
Organized by Polish dock workers in the 1980’s
Ended Communist rule
Father remembered stories 
Of 1910
When ten thousand dock workers went on strike 
Closed Belfast down
Taught the Brits a lesson. 

Young, unemployed and drunk 
I saw an artist friend of mine
He worked on me all day
Not stopping except to wipe the drippings on my back
I felt no particular pain
Jut laid there flat on my stomach
When it was over 
I had the color and imagery
From the tattoo 
Of a Polish Cross.

Listened to the people
Took to the streets
In the struggle
Against the Brits 

One night 
Strangers jumped out of the shadows
Put flashlights to my eyes
Stood me up  
Led me out
In handcuffs.

At HM Prison Maze I was kept in a small cell
Occasionally let out to walk in the prison yard
One summer afternoon 
I took off my shirt
Paddy asked me what’s that on your back
Polish Cross I said
Murmur of voices
Fellow inmates hesitated
Someone near the wall broke the silence,
“Let him be. God is in every cross.” 

In despair a cell mate said he couldn’t take it anymore
Afraid that he would die in prison
Recalling words
From an old Catholic catechism
I said
“No man can learn what his heart cannot hold“.
I made up the rest
“Tell God what you stand for
He’ll understand
And forgive you.”

Ten years later 
Dragged from my cell
Feet barely touching ground  
I was released on amnesty.

Coming home
Family met me 
Open arms
Some traveled from faraway
Felt good
To touch warm hands

Climbed to the top of Cavehill
Glide in lazy circles 
Twelve hundred feet above sea level
Overlooking Belfast 
From its heights 
The world can be seen  
Across a wind swept ocean of  dark memories
Of what once was
My youth.


Copyright © Edmund Siejka | Year Posted 2009

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Her name is Lovely part 2

Suddenly a very soft and familiar voice spoke to her conscious saying “Lovely”
“Yes” she replied   
“Tomorrow you are coming back home”
“OK” she said breathing heavily
The conversation ended right at that instant 
Seven minutes later the unpredictable happens and Lovely dropped into a short comma.
A new day arrives.

Date: 01/01/1788
Ding dong, ding dong, sounds the door-bell
Lovely wakes up; open the golden windows the sun is raising
Knock, knock someone is at the golden door
She didn’t know what was going on this time
She walks all the way to the door not noticing that her house was made out of the finest
marble, and the finest gold that ever existed.
Lovely answers the door thinking is the mail man with the missing letter.
When she finally opens the door instead of the mail man was her husband with open arms and
a smile on his face.
Saying “welcome home baby” “I had been waiting for you”  


Diogenes Zuniga

Copyright © Diogenes Zuniga | Year Posted 2009

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Her name is Lovely part 1

Date: 12/31/1787
Ding dong, ding dong, sounds the door-bell
She wakes up; open her window the sun is raising
Knock, knock, some one is at the door
She rushes to the door thinking is the mailman 
She is expecting a love letter from Iraq
She finally answer the door but stead of the mail man is an officer from the army, he is
well dress and carries a small box with him and inside of the box is an American flag with
three different medals.
One medal is for being a soldier of the US Army, the second medal is for being a national
hero, and the third one, is a medal of honor for dying for his country.
She goes crazy crying out for help, screaming all out that she was expecting a baby.
“I’m really sorry” the officer says
“If there anything I could do please call me” he reached his wallet and pulled out a
business card and gave it to her.
“He was a brave man” he said
The officer turned around and left the house with out hesitation.
Poor girl was drowning in her own tears; she still didn’t believe what just happen 
“Lord please help me”, “help me go through this horrible pain” she cries out.
She goes back to the bed and tries to sleep it off, but it didn’t work out, the pain was
too much just to act like nothing didn’t happen.
She finally falls as sleep after several hours of crying painfully.
She tosses and turns all night long, sweating like crazy with massive pain on her chest 
While she was having a horrible nightmare; dreaming about the death of her husband-

Copyright © Diogenes Zuniga | Year Posted 2009

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vignette-WHAT'S IN A NAME

Often a parent cannot know
What seeds of anguish they do sow
When a name on offspring they bestow
Teased by army pals whilst abroad
Oscar ,became Claude !
This soldier, painter ,who changed his name,
Later found world-wide fame;
So if you find an Oscar Monet, today
Keep it safe,don't throw it away !

Copyright © Brian Strand | Year Posted 2009

Details | Narrative |

Girl of Mine

When I first saw her 
She was only a few hours old 
Instinctively kicking her long legs 
To escape 
I knew then 
She was 
A fighter. 

To an old drawer 
I found 
Faded photos 
Forgotten pieces 
Of crumpled notepaper 
Their energy 
Taking me back 
To a time when 
Her hair was brownish gold 
Round face 
Took baths in a yellow tub 
Cradled in the kitchen sink 
And cried 
When her mother 
Worked on weekends. 

Eyes closed 
I remembered 
When she was seven or eight 
I would read to her 
While she played 
With her dolls 
Occasionally stopping 
To look up at me 
With her big brown eyes 
One night she asked 
Daddy do I have any friends? 
I told her she had many friends 
Imaginary friends too 
Like Ooh Poo Poo Doo 
Who would always be with her 
That’s a strange name Daddy, she said 
Brushing the hair 
From her eyes 
I said 
It’s not the name or how you say it 
It’s the friend that counts. 

One Spring day 
She came back home 
Well dressed 
Her friends crowded the living room 
As my wife and I left 
I smiled 
Remebering the words
It’s not the name or how you say it 
It’s the friend that counts. 
My daughter 
Kept in her heart. 

Copyright © Edmund Siejka | Year Posted 2009

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Oh well I got an angry email to begin my day
Because of my last post on the Jabidah thing yesterday
Galit sa akin but greeted me with Assalamu alaykum.
And kung personal Moro friends ko naman ito 
They know I don't criticize Moro leaders
I always leave that to them to criticize their leaders
According to my friends baka nasa gubyerno or something
Next time I'll write na lang about the sea and the palm trees and the beaches 

Pray and pray nalang para walang provocation
ako nga ang daming nag-message sa akin nagalit sa issue ng Sabah standoff
Ikaw pa kaya na wala namanng masama na sinabi dun
Alam mo ‘buti na lang you verbalized that kasi iniisip ko rin ‘yun
I know you have reasons and you know better kaya; I just read your posts
I don’t have to go against parties kasi both have rights
And the issue must be solved

Wala, kasi sa akin kundi independence lamang ang kailangan
May ganyan din kasing realities? 
Minsan you are being asked or expected to take sides
Yes, my side is peace – with peace is independence
Yes, I heard that sa dating Jabidah Massacre celebration
Somebody said that, “Walang kapayapaan kasi walang kalayaan”
And that is very universal, kapatid.

Moro or non-Moro and writing should always geared towards humanity
That’s why for me it “anti-humanity” if you will not listen 
Or suppress when somebody will talk about freedom.
That’s the problem with Filipinos, they don't listen.
Kasi the leaders may sarili ring interests.

How do you see being Filipino?
Ako, it's a cage, Filipino nationalism 
Agenda ng mga oligarchs and landowners 
Filipino nationalism is violence against Muslims and lumads
Kasi ‘pag ako ang tatanunginmo I will never say I am Filipino
Because Tausug it’s not a name but an identity...
I understand but kaunti na lang kayo

Ako sasabihin ko na I am a Filipino but I have reservations
When I was a teenager hindi ako tumatayo ‘pag Lupang Hinirang
ngayon tumatayo na kasi napapaaway ang mga kasama ko sa sinehan
Yes and identity should be critically assessed and examined.
Kaya if they say Filipino ang mga Tausug masakit sa aking loob
But not all, kapatid. try mo pumunta sa Manila
Yung mga Moro na malalapit sa mga institusyon ng Pilipinas
Bakit iba ang Moro at ibang ang Tausug
kaya sila naging Moro at masaya na tawaging Moro 

May identity na naiiba sa Filipino
Pinag-aaralan ko rin yan and ino-observe ‘yung pag-yield sa 'Filipino'
‘Will give Filipinos a disservice
Because it is tantamount to be an accomplice to a corrupt system
And this system is the one that oppresses Muslims
At alam natin ang Tausug di lamang taga-Sulu
Pati Bisayan, Tausug din

As much as possible I am trying to make my writings 'away' 
Away from Filipino nationalism
That's the right way for me and my writing
I will ask first, “How it is to be human?” 
At super last na ang, “How to be a Filipino” 
And the Bangsamoro struggle is the greatest critique to the violence
And failures of Filipino nationalism

Ang problema kasi kaya di successful ang Bangsamoro struggle
Dahil nagdadala sila ng pangalan na di naman originally sa kanila
How come ang pangalan ko ay Abdul sa rights
Gagamitn ko ang Juan para sa aking bayan?
Kaya war of ideas ito and alam mo naman sa akin, ‘pag ideas 
And perspectives walang kompromiso and peace talks 

I do not compromise my language, my craft and myself, my writing
Filipino is an imagined nation, as well as Bangsamoro
Bakit di natin magamit ang orignal nation natin 
Na based sa Sulu archipelago and Mindanao
Yes, actually diyan ako papunta - papunta

Bakit hindi i-Bangsamoro-ized ang buong Filipinas?
It doesn’t mean na i-convert ang Pilipinas 
But the spirit, the struggle it should mean something to Filipinos
It should kasi ang dami na nagbuwis ng buhay
Kaya ko pa na tanggapin kung Maharlika

‘Yan ang gusto kong ma-achieve: Filipinos should listen to Moros
Siyempre marami pang madidiscover along the way
Indeed. Ikaw ba ‘pag sasabahin ko na ‘Tausug’ ano ang maiisip mo?
Tausug is Moro and Moro for me is something that predates 'Filipino'
But now, I would like to know the concept of “Lupah Sug”
I want to know it, I think there are more and beyond Moro on it

Before ‘Moro’ was named to Mindanao and Sulu people
It was first name to Aceh people, Melaka, Brunei and then Manila
Sulu and Mindanao were the last places to have been called the name ‘Moro’
Sulu archipelago was united under the name Sulu archipelago 
The name of people is Tausug. 
Tausug is composed of different ethnics:
Arab, Banjar, Dampuan, Buranun etcetera.
The concept of Sulu as part of dar al islam 
Is already a nation and state 
Where the government is the people and itself headed by sultan or raja

Yes, and I would like to feel this from the ordinary Tausugs when I get there
I would like to experience this from ordinary Tausug and on from place itself.
In the hinterland of Jolo, their laws still on the ground not of Philippine law

I believe in narratives
I want to hear and feel this from the place and from the people.
And then capture it; I have these thoughts 
That Lupah Sug has something that the Moro concept does not have
And it’s a bit metaphysical but sige lang.

I know my craft can capture it.
I think there is a language that can capture it 
And specific craft that can carry its soul
Not fictionalize but put it in a form like a novel or a narrative
Which have their own logic and truths as crafts.

This poem is made after the conversation and sharing with Filipino writer Rogelio Braga who also serves as the editor of the poem. He is currently in Mindanao, travelling and writing; he will then proceed to Sulu Archipelago soon. 2:28PM, 19 March 2013, Facebook Chat across Sulu Sea!

Copyright © Neldy Jolo | Year Posted 2013

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LOVE Conquers All - Scene 3

Scene 3 - Easy Rest Adult Care Fascillity - Harry's Room

     "Do you know this Young man; Harry?" Yes his name is Kenny. "Where did you meet him?" We went to School Together. "What was the name of the School?" It was umm, I don't recall. " You see Mr. Potter he can't place Faces to his past. He may recognize your face but does not know Why or where. Let's go down to the office now, You can sign the intake papers. "NO no! Chef who won the World Series in 2004??" " World Series that's Baseball right, I should know this, was it the Yankees or the Cardinals??" Mr. Potter you told me yourself ; if he doesn't remember the 2004 World Series then he should be committed" " Chef please Think: surely You haven't forgotten "Ma Rock, Barbara Jean, Liz, or YOUR LIFE, Your Existence, Your FOREVER, Your Wife LENORE"
Tick-Tock, Tick-Tock Time stands still for no one, but memories of Time, are never buried 
"Ma Rock, finally a Mother that LOVED Me. Barbara Jean Gorelick, the Woman that Holds my Heart, the POETESS that healed my Broken Heart, Liz, my best student in 12 + years
of teaching, She died in a car accident 2 months before Graduation. LENORE my Most Only beLOVEd, soon we shall join as ONE with our GOD. Dr. Mendelsohnn I'm going Home Where I can be With All I LOVE"

Copyright © HGarvey Daniel Esquire | Year Posted 2013

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We are kenyan superstars,
That is what we are,
Kenya our mother land and pride,
Shines so bright that it cannot fade,
Today we hear,`Kenyan athletes bring home,
Bronze,Silver and Gold,'
Tomorrow,``The Kenya Rugby 7's defeat New zealand again.''

The Maasai culture came up with the Akala sandals,
Which are made out of rubber,
The  luhya introduced  Bull fighting,
The Kalenjin made `mursik' or fermented milk,
And to name but a few communities,
With their diverse cultures.
I believe that kenyans were born great,
To grow up and achieve greatness. 

To become one of the most formidable
Intellects of our time,
Just like the late Mzee Jomo Kenyatta,Dedan Kimathi,
Tom Mboya,Kijana Wamalwa to name but a few,
To change people's reasoning   conclusively,
And make them see reality and not building castle's in the air.

Kenyans were born  great,
Because greatness was thrust upon them,
To change Africa's impoverished state,
And make it a better place,
For you and for me and the entire human race, 
To raise heroes and heroines,
To conquer social evils in the society.

If  we  were born great,
Let us believe in ourselves,
Be contented with whatever we do in our lives,
Let us love one another, live in unity and work
together as a nation,
Let the past be a stepping stone for us to succeed in future,
And leave the rest, to the Almighty God.

Copyright © Kaiga Sandra | Year Posted 2013

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My Name Is Jack

My name is Jack but who am I... really I'm not a famous personality I haven't made any outstanding contribution to science I've tried to be a loving caring human being But will I be remembered after I meet my maker Or will I soon be forgotten as I pass into history So many famous people who leave us Are remembered for a while But then fade from our consciousness I'm sure I'll be remembered for a little while But dear life continues And soon I will only be a distant memory Only those close to me will carry me in their hearts That's all I wish for, all I would expect My name is Jack but who am I... really © Jack Ellison 2014

Copyright © Jack Ellison | Year Posted 2014

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One Old Farmer-With No Name


He was a maverick on a country lane
A bit peculiar, but not ashamed
He never said much to make us stare
But, quietly lived with a certain air
His story, kept private, known by a few
Not much to say, but he paid all his dues

We are the neighbors who lived down the lane
We heard all his stories again and again
He knew what the sun had intended to do
With curly white clouds, and why rims of blue
His talk of Nebraska, and horses and grain
Discussed all the crops, and the darn lack of rain

We had seen him many a sun-drenched day
Standing in the field with the horizon to gaze
Perhaps he dreamed of the prairie skies
With secret story and with knowing eyes
Lightly as leaves cling, the quick years clung
About his shoulders, till his songs were sung
Kept to himself for many a year
...but today, his story has ended here

There is left behind such sad disbelief...
Surprised, and unexpected,..immense is our grief
For what had begun eighty years ago
There is still so much we will never know
Who was the man who had no name?
He paid his dues, but no one knew

Exiled he was, but never his words
Words "fell to the a the morning dew


Copyright © Carrie Richards | Year Posted 2011

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My Real Name Is Charles

All you Souper know me as Jack But in reality, my real name is Charles I will try to explain this seemingly strangel turn of events I was the last of ten children in our family The first nine offsprings were girls And then came a BOY... li'l ole me! Well the word quickly got around our small town The Ellison girls have a baby brother, WOO HOO! Word also got around that all nine sisters and my Mum Agreed “Jack Norman Ellison” was to be my name However, on the way to the church for my Christening My Grandmother changed my Dad's mind at the last minute And convinced him to christen me Charles Byard After my Dad's brother who died a hero in the First World War My sisters were livid with anger And decided from then on They'd call me Jack irregardless of what my birth certificate said! And they did... so now you know the rest of the story Strange or what??? © Jack Ellison 2014

Copyright © Jack Ellison | Year Posted 2014

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The Unknown Gardener

“I’m the unknown gardener my name is mentioned in the bible, but no one need honor me. 
Just a pauper, I was in the garden that day, but my only contribution to grace works was filthy 

Hearing a rumbling it seemed from deep inside the ground, I looked toward a tomb which had a 
huge stone place over it’s mouth. As I looked I saw a steady lighting flashing, so bright it 
dimmed my sight, emitting from the tomb around the rock’s edges.

The lighting stopped as suddenly as it had began, as once more I heard a scrubbing noise and 
saw two celestial beings in shining apparel, as they rolled the huge stone away from the mouth 
of the sepulcher. I was amazed, made weak in the knees, my countenance was overcome.

One of the celestial being said, “Fear not I am Michael, the archangel, I came to attend the 
Master. This day thou also hath somewhat to offer unto him.” I wondered, amazed within myself 
as I pondered in my feeble mind, ‘What on earth could a meager pauper have of worth to 

A beautiful being stepped forth from the tomb, such the like I have never before seen or after! 
When he spoke his voice was as the sound  of many waters, such as a gently rushing water 
fall. He said, “Behold I am the first, and the last, I was alive and was dead, and now I am alive 
for evermore. It is finished!”…The two angels, I saw no more.

“Thy name is called Ishmael, born after the flesh, I have heard thy afflictions. This day it 
behooves thee to be a signet necessity of my Father’s will, representing all of mankind,
 for their righteousness of concepts be as fifty rags. Give unto me thy clothes and I will 
cleans them for thy are metaphoric of the fleshly unrighteousness of all humankind.”

I gave him my clothes and I understood not, but I felt amazingly clean. He clothed
himself with my clothes and said, “Remember this day, for flesh will prophesy this truth in the 
last days. In an inspirational writing that I will give thee utterance to write. You will entitle 
it, ‘The Unknown Gardener’ then you will understand the signet!”

With this, He vanished from my presence. This same day has became know as Easter morning, the day of resurrection. 
And the fleshly concepts of sin as the casting off of filthy rags! My natural senses returned and I arose from the vision. 
I was astonished for seven days. At the end of which I wrote the understanding of the vision. This is what Easter means to me!

For and in Honor of Gwendolen Rix
And Contest: What Easter Means to me!

Copyright © john freeman | Year Posted 2011

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name that tune

you light up my life
and have made me compleat
the one i would kiss 
each day of the week
a year and three months
to this very day
i spoke to you last
before you went away
many tears have sence fallen
and screams i let out
just like laughter
uncontrolably out of my mouth
my greif scourges me
every where i went
yet to others i looked content
each day i kiss your picture
and say i love you to your name
i guess they're the thing i do 
to keep from going insane
all these thing must have added up
to a small message from the God i trust
early early this  morning 
after i woke up a music box
played just a few notes
you light up my life
were the notes that it played
shocked and awed i was dismayed
but when i found the box that had played
it was the one i gave you 
because of the song it played

(This is a true story)

Copyright © john loving iii | Year Posted 2012

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A Man called Joe

Lend me a listen
And hear this tale of woe
The life and times 
Of a man 'called' Joe

Keep still, keep quiet
Hush, listen to the sound
The silent footsteps of a man
As he walks his native ground

Joe was born long, long ago
Across the waters blue
In a land of plenty
There, Joe the babe grew

Five generations deep
A lifetime of needs supplied
Hard work, respect for self
Full of heritage and pride

Now, Joe's given name was 'Shakka'
A father, a husband, a strong man
One day while hunting
Was snatched from the 'Motherland'

In a ship made of wood
With white sails full mast
Joe and fellow countrymen
Were in the deep below casted

Please, listen a little longer
Can you hear the pain
The fear, the confusion
The frustration of chains

Landing on the auction block
Stripped of humanity and pride
There, Shakka's name was lost
And all his rights deprived

The years were hard, the master cruel
In a strange and foreign land
With obstacles to suppress
Still Shakka (called Joe) remained a man

The whip couldn't break that freedom spirit
Held deep within his soul
Joe vowed that freedom dream
His people someday restore

Listen, can you hear the silence
As his people struggle on
Keep still? ...Keep quiet?
Has all the work been done?


Joe's dreams
Shakka's screams
Mother's crying
Children dying
Policemen hosing
Prison doors closing
Dog attacks
Refusing the back
College sit-ins
Integration begins
Malcom's plight
Martin's fight
Jesse's stand
Mandela's victory
Apartheid's history

A borrowed ear, Joe's tale's been told
Yet the struggle remains
Speak Out! Shout Loud! the time has come
Total freedom we must regain

Copyright © Hattye Jones | Year Posted 2006

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Our Shining Star

Impatiently we stand in line, tickets in our hand
At last we are ushered inside, hoping for seats up front
But people push ahead, we wiggle into row two
A tall head sits in front of me...............................................oh well, never mind.
Crowds fill the chairs, and chatter fills the air
Small children held up high for better view, mothers hold small bouquets in their laps
Fathers hold Canons or Kodaks, with extra rolls of film
Opening my program...I look for her name
Her name should stand out like neon....brighter than any other!  Oh yes! there it is!
But her name is printed like all the rest.................................oh well, never mind.
With a dimming of the lights, the first chord of music meets our ears
The show begins.  We clap politely, and watch patiently
It's not yet her turn.............................................................oh well,   never mind
Finally we realize her turn is near!  Anticipation is building!  We sit straighter in our chairs!
We crane our necks a little higher, camera is ready.....YES! THERE SHE IS!!
Oh dear...she misses a step...................................................oh well, never mind.

Her hair touched with sprinkles, her smile is glowing
A little wrinkle of concentration on her brow, ...
Taking care that she makes each move on cue
She is shining, amazing, and wonderful!!
Doesn't everyone see it?  How could they miss it? That she stands out from all the rest??!!
We clap madly...why are the others only clapping politely?
Our camera flashes brightly!  Why aren't other cameras flashing too??
Could it be that all these folks....all these other mums and dads, 
All these other grams and gramps, brothers and sisters, aunts and uncles
Do they see different stars than ours?  Perhaps.
Oh well.....never mind.   We know those other stars can't possibly, no not possibly
Shine as bright as ours............................................................oh well,  never mind. 

There's a star in the heavens we'll name, 'Sweet Claire'  for don't you ever mind...   

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .  . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
For Linda Marie's contest..."Shining Star"

Copyright © Carrie Richards | Year Posted 2010

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Approaching Hoof Beats of the Apocolypse

In the distant thunder I can hear the sound of riders drawing near
A gathering storm that will soon hit with great force
The first rider will ride in on a white horse a bow by his side
He comes in the name of peace and good will, but he practices to deceive with 
flattery and great skill
A red horse follows close on the first riders heels
He comes with a sword to take peace from the earth and cause men to kill
War shall ravage the land and the blood of men will flow as a river across the desert 
A black horse closes the distance
He will cause a great famine to spread over the land
Many shall cry out in hunger and pain as food shortages cause great strain.
Many shall die in this dark hour of need for there shall be found no grain or seed 
Riding in at full gallop the fourth horsemen approaches
The name of this rider is Death and Hell follows close behind him
Men shall watch in defenseless terror, for unto the pale horse 
Power is given to kill by the sword, with hunger and the beasts of the field
The time has come to sound a warning through the land for the approaching hoof 
of the apocalypse is nigh at hand

Copyright © Lori Lucas McClure | Year Posted 2011

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A letter from a Father to his Daughter

My dearest Cordellia, I miss you, so I thought I would send you a note
Telling you all that I have been going through and asking you to give me hope
I walk this dark and lonely road carrying all this pain
Wondering, were all these tears I have cried simply cried in vain
Using my heart and not my eyes to navigate the darkness in this place
The only thing that remains clear to me is the memory of your face
I have missed you since you have gone, I have to confront this on my own
Can not put into words this pain I feel it is something I have never known?
If it were not for all the love you poured into my heart
I would have no strength to keep myself from falling apart
You have left this life and have gone to where only the angels are permitted to soar
But the love I have for you has allowed me to open up another door
The love this father has for his daughter has consumed his very heart
And all these memories of you have allowed me to make a brand new start
Daddy’s little hiny, that was my name for you, because of your tiny baby butt
How you use to make me laugh, you were such a little nut
Cordellia Miriam, your name was as unique as you were
A piece of heaven on earth is what you were to me and that is for sure
I never knew that I was capable of feeling a love as strong as the love I felt for you
And now since you are gone I become confused at times for just what I should do
I could gain pleasure for hours just by sitting and watching you play
I would try to understand everything you had to say
So my sweet child I hope you can hear me when I speak to you each night
I hope that you are listening and I hope you understand my fight
This pain and love seem to be tearing each other apart, leaving me as a shell
I pray each night to God in hopes that you are doing well
I miss all the times you would run down the hall just to greet me
You would jump into my arms to give me a hug and tell me how much you missed me
Well my little one Daddy has to go for now but I shall certainly visit with you again
I will talk to you everyday until we shall meet again

The End
By Greg P

Copyright © Gregory Procopio | Year Posted 2011

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A nameless face but I remember,
In my childhood years but still so clear;
In times I'm in trouble he appeared,
And did his best so I was saved.

I never mind of him before,
I didn't even bother talking to him;
I really never talk to any stranger,
I just leave and never ask his name.

He knew me 'coz he called my name,
But when he did I just stared at him;
He smiled at me and ask "are you okay?"
I just nod and turned back to my way.

One day, I tried to find him in school,
Thought we study in the same school;
But I never found him in any room,
And nobody knew him, even in my classroom.

Then I started to wonder how he knew me,
When I'm in trouble, he appeared right away;
I didn't even scream for help of anybody,
But from nowhere, he was there to save me.

Now, I regret why i didn't talk to him,
Didn't try to ask even his name;
Didn't ask how he knew that I need help,
Why he's always there for me & keep me safe.

I want to tell him, how thankful I am,
And sorry because I was so damn;
And blind to see the things he did for me,
I took him for granted and walked away.

I wish to see him again by now,
In his real image with his wings but how?
I want to touch and embrace him truly,
And whisper those words that I want to say.

Copyright © Rube-Anna Jamot | Year Posted 2015

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Princess of the Sky


Like the disappearing sun of yesterday                          
So has her childhood dissolved away                         
With two white steeds that are the trees                      
She is the leaf, marauder of the breeze                             
She rides against the wind
Her name is Rain
Born with the grain of knowing
Sight to the blind who cannot see tomorrow
Or view the valleys of the past

Be not envious of her rampant blood!
Where origins are buried in another world
Where voices speak in lost syllables
In a language of no forgetting
Where the laughter of the birds is still
And clouds shed only a torrent of tears
For she would rather turn her face to the sky
And feel the gentleness of the mist
She has a burning desire to be free
Free of the gift
Free of the burden
Free of the knowledge that has taken her innocence
A voice of the thunder calls her
Invites her to fly beyond the clouds
So the earth can be beautiful                                    
Where sun comes after the rain                         
Where the drought is over at last                       
Where the rain creates a rainbow                                   
She is the leaf.....maurader of the breeze                   
Her name is Rain     
But they call her Zodiac,....Princess of the sky


Copyright © Carrie Richards | Year Posted 2012

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And his name is Moses

His father named him Moses.
Devoid of speech yet blessed.
Doctors said he would live thirty years hereafter.
Buoyant nature and carried a smile always,
With sense of humor lived through derision.
On the day his father passed away 
He sat still and hid his tears within.
Not long, few years later
His mother who would voucher him,
Understand the complexity of his heart
Laid on her final resting place,
He sat still and hid his tears within.
Later his bosom friend moved away,
He sat still and hid his tears within.
Enervate and lonely orphan he became,
Dolefully he wept when none would see.
Albeit the great sorrows of his heart, 
No trauma ceased him to live mirthfully.
After thirty still he lives.
And walking through the paseo every morning,
They who pass him by with admiration schmoose of a man
Who can’t speak and had great sorrows;
Nonetheless so twinkly he lives on,
Knowing not yet parfay wishful,
when he would wake up one fine morning
And meet his loved ones again on the other side.

Copyright © sukkum chang | Year Posted 2012

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There is a name falls on my ear,
Like an aria, so soft and clear.
It rings with a melodious sound
With vision of maiden quaintly gowned.

I never saw my Grandma Hannah.
She lived far away in Indiana.
I knew her by picture on the wall,
Demurely dressed in gown and shawl.

My daddy spoke so fondly of her,
I wanted so to know and love her.
I was just ten the year she died.
I remember how my daddy cried.

At advanced age of eighty-seven,
The angels took her up to heaven.
In modern age it was deemed absurd.
The name of Hannah was seldom heard.

Like all things old, it was reborn
And early on a frosty morn,
A bundle fell like Heaven's manna
And lo and behold, they named her Hannah.

On my grandma's picture there's a smile.
It's been there now since first the while
I whispered that we had a Hannah
Who would some day go to Indiana

To find the stone that marks the place
Where Hannah of the lovely face
Was left so many years ago,
Before this namesake she could know.

This great, great, great granddaughter who bears her name,
Has dark eyes very much the same
As she in the picure on my wall.
I've met my Hannah after all.

A Rambling Poet's contest "Even a Name Can Be Poetic.  took 6th

Copyright © Joyce Johnson | Year Posted 2010

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The unforgettable rant from a drunk Lady contest

It is five minutes to two
I don’t know what to do
It looks like I'm the last person this evening before you close
But can I have another, and possibly a minute to expose
You must get this often you’re really sweet
Cute as a button, to bad I don’t cheat
You see I am procrastinating to get back to my house
I live with a man; no he is not my spouse
Five long years, do you care that I share
Oh hun, watch out a flies in your hair
But seriously, it’s bad; we fight all the time
I haven’t the courage to tell him I am sick of his kind
Do you have a woman? oh you must you’re so cute
So what do you think should I give him the boot?
Oh and work is getting to me, my boss in always on my case
Sir what’s your name again? you have a mighty fine face
Can I get one more? that will be all
Good thing I live down the block in case I trip and fall
Can I give you some advice; you should finish your degree
You don’t belong here at this hour serving me
Last year I went away, when I got back I caught him cheating
I gave this guy one serious beating
Oh look it is raining
Am I complaining?
I know it’s time to move on
But it’s hard when someone is finally gone
Do you work every night?
Could you lower the lights?
I am getting a headache
Last night I went to a wake
It was my Coworkers sons, girlfriends, Aunt,
I am sorry did I just go on a rant?
What are you doing after work?
You must think I am a jerk
OH NO here come the tears!!!
Sir, it’s been so many painful years,
Why can’t I just leave him?
What is wrong with me?
can I get just one more, my glass is empty,
Wait, what are you doing?
Is that coffee I smell brewing?
Are you shutting the bar down?
I see no one is around in this town,
OH no I just dropped the glass on the ground
Boy!!! that made a really loud sound
Let me pick that up
I’ll buy you a new cup
That’s all I seem to do, clean and cook,
I deserve better right? I read it in Dr.Phil's new book,
Sir, where are you going?
Did you tell me your name?
OH I don’t feel well, can I puke in your drain?
Much better, oops sorry, I made a mess
This was a new dress,
Thanks for listening,
Did I tell you you’re cute?
I bet you make a tone of loot
My man has no job
and he wonders why I'm a bitter snob
Ok Im leaving, its late my new friend,
what did you say your name was again?
I want your number, Let me get a pen
Oh no my purse fell all over the floor
Sir Sir, did you just slam the door?

“I am not a sir, I am a Woman, and you need to Go the hell Home!!! ”

wriiten 10/21/11

Copyright © Sabina Nicole | Year Posted 2011

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Still Whispers Her Name

Pain, my enemy and my closest friend
please I beg of you, spare me your presence this day
I'm tired and lost the will to fight you off any longer
Please; just hold me tightly, comfort me if you will
so I can feel the warmth of a touch
fill a void, well at least temporarily 
Can you answer a question for me
Why do I torture myself like this
why do I subject myself with prying eyes
to watch her, Penelope, enjoy life with a tremendous smile
while mine is swinging on a grandfather clock
attempting to buy time
Everything she's shared with me, all we've been through
won't fade from me, I refuse to lose it
How did I fall for her complicated splendor
maybe it was all in her eyes or maybe she caught me by surprise can it be over after everything I told her
What do I hold now since she's forbidden from my presence
The thing that still beats her name softly like a whisper
calls to fight for her, calls to spin her around and kiss her
yet I'm too inexperienced, too much of a coward
so I let it all implode while I'm a neutron star on the outside
She's all I cared about. my dear Penelope
but I pick up a leaf
no significance, just for some peace
just to have something to rip and tear apart
Watch and be amazed
I'm the human paper boy
being ripped and torn apart to resemble a dying man
resting on the bottom of the ocean

Copyright © Russell Banks | Year Posted 2016

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Sam, I am

If I had a secret that I wanted to share with you Dare you open your mind and let my creativity ensue? I don’t build bridges with bricks, I hang them with rope I can generate your fantasies and incubate your hope Open the pages of my mind, reading the fiery words of my heart Enter Pandora’s Box, and the epic journey will start! Follow me down south, through the mirror of liquid glass You’ll feel the calmness take over and watch the fear pass What a wonderful feeling, letting your inhibitions go into the night Now step forward onto the phoenix, as you drift into the light This journey isn’t everlasting, you know that it comes with a price? What? Did you think it was free? wouldn't that have been nice Open your eyes from delusion, and friend you will piece things together My name is Sam, Satan or The devil, that’s how I'll been known as forever! OK, so I tricked you, with my words and devilish charm What were you expecting? I’m frigging Satan dude, my job is sadistic harm! You look at me with those puppy dog eyes, you realise you've lost all of your family ties My head tells me to give you a second chance, double or quits is where my desire lies Do you accept the new twist, on my board game that is your life? I’ll take that hesitant nod as a yes, and commence this game of strife Give me the name of a family member and they can take your place However I will warn you, if you can’t then I win this twisted race No! You scream, and that’s your final answer which I’ll have to take Now I own not only your soul, but your families when they next shall wake He took my hand and promised peace for my sisters and brothers Now I’ve gambled with the devil and he owns my beloved others The deal is now done and a fiery rain begins to fall Burning me down to ash, disintegrating my world and all

Copyright © Nathan Kelly | Year Posted 2011

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Samauri, Back in the Saddle

Brick had seen his share of hospitals 
and had been to Saint Cecelia's more than once,
on occasion, a perp would get banged up
you know, during an arrest... on occasion!

He was just waiting for the X-Ray results
before he made his way home, but he had
to make a couple of calls after he got kicked loose.
First he had to make a call to Bill Lipton,
one of the suits from the 31st had seen him at the hospital

Now it seems that Bill's Lieutenant was leanin on Bill,
guess his Captain was runnin for some office and was
afraid to have one of his boy's involved in the
Shadow vigilante case, in case it didn't get solved
and tarnish his record, Like I would ever let a case go cold! 

The second call, was gunna be to a pretty Blond 
by the name of Erika La Plant, an EMT who gave him 
her number in the bus on the way to Saint Cecelia's 
But first.....Brick! the Doctor said as he entered the ER room
look's like you have a couple of bruised ribs there.

Just keep them wrapped up for a couple of weeks
or so, and you'll be fine, if you take it easy that is,
But I spoke with a Sgt. Lipton when they brought you in 
and he said you were kind of stubborn and rough on yourself
so it might take a little longer, try not to get into any more fights!

Ok Doc! You got it! Can I go now? Yes Brick you can go!
here are your discharge orders, and a prescription for something
for the pain, I suggest you get it filled, you'll need it!
within a wink of an eye Brick found a phone and called 
the Cowboy, the phone only rang once, Hello Bill Lipton here!

Hey Cowboy, I hoped I'd catch you, think you could come
get me, and give me a lift home, so I can get my car?
I may have a date later! Who would that be with Brick?
oh let me guess! the blondie from the bus , right?
Her name is Erika Billy Boy, and yep, that's the one!

Oh hey! what's this I hear your Boss is up your
keester about our Black clad ole buddy? 
You ain't thinkin about pullin a runner on me are ya?
Now just hold on to your suspenders pardner! I ain't 
a goin no where's we got us a score to settle with our
ole pal. I'm on my way...Click..the phone went dead.........

  We're back in the Samauri Saddle, Watch for Robert Dufresne's reply..

Copyright © Richard Pickett | Year Posted 2011

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physical pain as a luxury

So i inhale, and almost choke trying to breathe out, when i realize;
i'm the physical couonterpart of this emotional wreck
I crash into him someway loving the pain we seem to create
Sanity will never define this, the definition is insane
Wanting to let go, only if you will allow me to become what you've made
Whats the extraction of my pain?
Engraved onto my heart the story of the game
Addicted to the plays
An attic of the rules we've made
This blade watched him carve his name into my heart
No explanation as to why his voice pumps blood into my veins
You broke the rules and left the blade
My mind a maze; 
Now every corner i turn i see his face or hear his name 
Please leave, just let me be
Even now that your gone your in every one of my dreams
How could this be?
This hurts more than any physical pain; i would die for that luxury
Infatuated with his love
Never thought to be a need
My tears a mute witness of my screams
Why me?

Copyright © Napua Nelson | Year Posted 2012

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My Current Betty Boop Avatar

My current avatar has a story:

I once posted this avatar and someone sweet (Craig Cornish) on the SOUP 
blogged about it and named me Betty Boop. Since then...the name has stuck. 
I don't know if I look like Betty Boop, but here's the scoop...that woman is 

So, My name is BETTY BOOP FROM BEIRUT. In honor of Jack Ellison, who has 
a poem up by that title, I put the avatar back up. I call him Kenny! Short for 
Kenny Rogers! Yea...I love that guy...His snow white hair is 
amazing...and JACK is SO similar, so...I named him Kenny. There...the secret 
is out.

Please check out Jack Ellison's Poem of the same title! :) You'll know what I 


Big smooches from sultry sexy sizzling and scintillating Betty! (Let me dream, 
will ya?)

I've also been named the following:

Queen Eileen by Flo (FJ THOMAS) but I can't put her poem up because she 
has left the soup! :( Her poem was entitled...The Kingdom of Ghali

Queen of the Romantic Pen (Richard Lamoureux has a poem by that title up 
about me)

The Warrior Princess (Richard Lamoureux has a poem up by that title as well)

Desert Orchid (Richard Seal)
Agony Aunt (Richard Seal)
Hurricane Eileen (Richard D Seal has a poem up by that name, and since he 
has been MIA...I will say that it I think it is a literary masterpiece!)

And more than one, Kenny included! ;)

AND....HOT VELVET!!! By none other than LYRIC MAN! Well, y'all know where 
to find HIS writes! ;)

Each is dear to my heart! :) I'm happy....Like a room without a roof! ;)

Copyright © Eileen Manassian | Year Posted 2014