Narrative Write Poems

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Details | Narrative |
It was on a Christmas Eve
early in the morn
into a world so often cold
a little girl was born.
Her parents, they did love her,
the way that it should be
but her father, who's a good man,
had been raised with cruelty.

When he doled out punishment
for all her childish ways
the lessons that he taught her
would stay with her all her days.
Growing up was never easy
and she grew up so confused.
Other kids did more than tease her
and at home she was abused.

But she grew up all the same
then came to that time of life
when she thought she was ready
became a mother and a wife.
They faced a lot of hardships
but tried to love anyway
and her husband, who does love her,
has been so mean along the way.

Yes, life is hard for everyone
this woman surely knows.
Hate and misunderstanding
seems to follow where she goes
with so many quick to tell her
that she is always wrong
so many times she has been shown
that she just don't belong.

She tries so hard to understand
the reasons for her tears
and is punished for her feelings
as she has been all her years.
She knows that there is more to life
than what always seems to be.
All she wants is to be loved
without the cruelty.

Note:  My dear friends, this is not an easy write for me but a necessary one.  I was at a very 
low point in my life and I prayed for God for direction or to let it end.  I wrote the poem I Am 
then joined PoetrySoup.  I know God led me to this wonderful site for a reason.  I may still 
have a long way to go but I am starting to move forward.  I want to thank you all for your 
encouragement and kindness.  Being able to write again is helping me and as fellow writers, 
I know you understand.  Thank you for sharing with me and teaching to become a better 
writer.  God bless you all and Happy Holidays!  Love, Robin.

Copyright © Robin L. Gass | Year Posted 2008

Details | Narrative |

I am dating a young woman and we are deeply in love. However, no matter what I do sexually, she never achieves orgasm so we decided to ask a sex therapist for advice. The therapist listened to our story and suggested the following; 

"Hire a strapping young man and while the two of you are making love have the young man wave a towel over you, as though he is fanning you both. Make sure he is totally naked and she can see his manhood as he fans you both with the towel. That will help your wife fantasize, and should bring on a full-blown orgasm." 

We went home and followed the therapist's advice. We hired a handsome young man and he stripped off and enthusiastically waved a towel over us both as we made love. But it didn't help and still my lover was unsatisfied and frustrated. 

Perplexed, we went back to the therapist "Okay" he says, "let's try it reversed. Have the young man make love to your wife and you wave the towel over them." 

Once again, we followed the advice. The young man got into bed with my lover and I waved the towel. The young man really worked with great enthusiasm and my lover soon had an enormous, room-shaking, screaming, orgasm. 

Smiling, I dropped the towel, tapped the young man on the shoulder and said to him triumphantly...."NOW THAT'S how you wave a towel, son!!"

03~12~2014 dadickerector

Copyright © Maurice Yvonne | Year Posted 2014

Details | Narrative |
In a new road,
Rain will fall,
Wind may blow,
Swifting our woe.

The road forever on and on,
Many paths to choose,
Many paths to take,
Home behind,
World ahead...

Through the shadows,
Through the night,
Clouds going by,
There we will lie,
Very deep,
Seeing shivered land,
Seeing the dead seas...

Through the edge,
Miles to go,
Singing by,
Darkness rising,
Vanishing light,
Hollow flourishing,
Going by,
World ahead,
Home behind...

Rain may fall,
Through the nightfall,
Through the twilight,
Through the dusk,
Through the dawn,
Beyond mountains,
Beyond stones,
Standing strong,
Wandering lost,
World ahead,
Home behind,
Paths on and on,
'Till the road comes along...

Copyright © Ruben Alejandro Hernandez Diaz | Year Posted 2013

Details | Narrative |
For thoose of you who may not know.
Just call me gonzo I write the absurd for life is insane and sometimes 
it takes a madman to speak the truth so very clear.

I write for the broken vacant faces that have lost all hope.
To the dreamer who's well is slowley running dry from everyone
telling him to stop wasting his time.

I write like a endless highway fueled by whiskey and wild women 
every adventure leads to pain but life is pain and i love in spite of it.

I thirst for every unseen mile the desert my brother it's people dwell
in the spirt of the west the opium parlors and brothels spirt still linger.
I write with a hint of danger and a promise of disaster.

Im a blues player whos trying to out run the devil.
Im a outlaw riding to cross the border a woman looking to the 
empty range for my return.

I write because I breath in a world were the creative air has gone 
The bottle sits apon table and I welcome any strangers company
I just rather that stranger be a warm woman instead of a 
unfriendly amigo who is a little jelouse.

Write to be more than just part of the highways landscape.
Some may call me crude crazy insane some even vulgar and 
liar and thief.
But aside from thoose compliments.
No matter what you may call me.
Dont ever forget to just call me gonzo.

Copyright © DR Robert Gonzo | Year Posted 2010

Details | Narrative |
Under the microscope we are under watched by a near by species

For some reason they think we are a life form that takes it to easy

Over the years we were abducted; that was a mistake the aliens became uneasy

Unique in several ways we are human and that they see we are strange

Fooling them we act very hostile yet our mindset needs be rearrange

Opening our minds they started to look, but our minds seems to weird and derange

Upset, the aliens take our species to try to understand

Freaks of nature we seem to gather with costumes and sounds of band

Old as time they been coming to our planet and this is what they found, like us, land

Unrelenting we humans seem to focus on a different path

Feelings we have the aliens do not understand what we have

Odd we are, we are the only species in the galaxy that really know how to have a bath

Unrealizable that we do adore the stars and lights in the sky

From all our studies we look up and see the lights that make our world, we cry

Only now we reason with the aliens we are fools in our world and we sigh  

Copyright © Reynaldo Mast | Year Posted 2013

Details | Narrative |
My love of poetry started when I was still a five- year old child When my parents asked me to memorize verses and rhymes With all my feelings and actions, I recited my poems in front of a crowd Innocently receiving adulations but not a handful of dime The first piece I memorized was entitled, “Cradle Hymn” I was a small girl sent in a poem competition, so naïve When I’ve grown up , I realized it’s a song lyric with Christmas theme So, I sang it and started to develop my good voice quite a bit When I was a teenager, I memorized speech and declamation pieces My teacher sent me in a poem contest for a campaign against drug addiction I tried to deliver my piece like a candidate for a star award actress Acting like a drug addict teenage girl longing for parents’ love and attention As years went by, I turned out to be quite a flirty lady With puppy love and sweet crushes to some guys around me When one of them got me, so happy until I forgot all about reciting poetry Relationship went long but when we broke up, it created another life’s story All my heart brokenness has turned me out to be a poem writer I also wrote few poems for my family, dreams and for close friends’ requests My passion of poetry blazed and turned out to be greater When I found a writing spot, motivated and inspired by my friends-the great poets
Feb. 6, 2013 First Place Contest: Who What Where Judged: 4/23/2013 Sponsor: Poet Carol Sunshine Brown

Copyright © Galeo DS | Year Posted 2013

Details | Narrative |
A new path is what we seek.
The surroundings are taking a peek,
Going through, very meek,
Seeing no bleaks,
Getting piqued,
While hearing creaks,
In the new paths that we seek...

The new path is what is found,
Going through forests bound,
Going through the path inbound,
With soothing and raging water sounds.
Walking confound,
Silence profounded,
Sight astounded,
Passed through burial grounds...

Seeking for another way around,
Noises resound,
Spirits surround,
The paths newfounded,
Our instincts compounded,
Followed by the hounds,
Echoes in ultrasounds,
Passed through mysterious breeding grounds...

Going to stamping grounds,
Trying to get off this ground,
With those burial mounds,
Death moving the wheels around,
Silhouettes running aground,
Trying to leave safe and sound,
Passing through some hunting grounds...

Seeking for common grounds,
The mistaken path redounded,
Regretful screams abound.
Plans propounded,
Though some are fouled,
Throughout the paths that were found...

However, most are lost and wounded,
Most tended to walk out,
Some minds and hearts full of doubts.
Hearing salvation shouts,
From all these new paths walked and found...

Copyright © Ruben Alejandro Hernandez Diaz | Year Posted 2013

Details | Narrative |
Jack and Jill went up the hill to fetch some pails of water
Jack climbed some trees while Jill was picking some pretty flowers

After some hours Jack realized that he was wasting time
So he called Jill to hurry up before ‘tis half past nine

So off they went to continue their very long journey
‘Till they passed by an old beggar and gave him some money

When they both reached the well Jack and Jill filled up their buckets
Near the well were some berries which they put in their pockets

When they reached home their momma and papa were so happy
For dinner they had meatballs and soup and chicken curry

 And five bags of bananas which a rich neighbor gave them
The good that you do to others will always be returned 

Copyright © Mariam M. | Year Posted 2013

Details | Narrative |
People are my weakness and hidden fear
I just feel that some words they say set me in tear
For example I gave a person a smile one day and they gave me a glare
I did not know that smiling in the world today cause people to stare
These types of stare gave me chills down my spine a feeling that made me blind
Why? why is my weakness the people who are very unkind
Hiding is all I can do when people give me a unkind view
I get to a point that my fear seems to wonder and stew
People are who they are and what should I even do
I don't understand that they are evil and some times nice too
My hidden fear are people just because they are always around
That is no argument and my feeling are perfectly sound
The hate builds up in my mind, but does not bother, how my heart feel
I learned to undergo a change that my feelings become like steel
Hard as it should be in situations needed I forget how to use it
So it becomes my weapon and it is to some people heartless just a bit
My hidden fear is what I see in people today
They harm others and they think it is okay
That is why I fear my feelings for others at times because it is so confusing
My hidden fear is some what bad and some what a blessing

Copyright © Reynaldo Mast | Year Posted 2013

Details | Narrative |
With pens as our paintbrushes 
and the world as our canvas,
its our hearts,
that provides the ink to our pen.

The only way to make the world change ,
is to change their ideas 
of what makes a real man.

Of course this all starts off with
the slightest drop of ink 
from our pens.

At times our pens will leak
with our blood,
sweat and tears.

But that just shows the world 
that we are man,
and that we have real feelings.
It's more honorable for us men 
to show more of our humility,
rather then to show more of our abilities .

Yes this might sound silly,
but remember, a man's humility 
can always over shadow their insecurities .

Copyright © Mark Gravett | Year Posted 2014

Details | Narrative |
Gun fire all around, bombs going off in the distance
It was some of the angry mobs and resistance
Father was the king of SafeHaven a small kingdom
Like all other kingdoms it fell in random
Fire started in the castle
And along with it came a battle

It was a distance memory now because the child has now grew
Many things in this child that made memories stew
My name is Mastrey, a young orphan who was there that night
Mastrey saw her in the distance and her father and mother in his sight
Everyone was loud that night and made all the children hide
But that evening Mastrey saw her mother and father die

She ran into the bushes in such a fright
And evil doers were running around with flashlights
Mastrey remember it as he distracted them 
Her eyes was so confused with problems
Mastrey new that it was because of what just occurred
His feelings of what those people did was not awkward

The distraction worked, he went back to were she was
Hiding and very scared she was, he asked her, can you trust me just because?
Her answer that night depended on her lively hood
As Mastrey was their with his hand reaching out to her as he stood
Pulling her up from the ground he looked into her eyes that were SeaBlue
Mastrey had made a life long friend and love, She knew it was true

Next: My Story Telling,  Who is this Princess

Copyright © Reynaldo Mast | Year Posted 2013

Details | Narrative |
The night air made her feel tired
As she looked out side all the fences were wired
In the distance she hears crowds yelling
As she was to young to know they were rebelling
Father she asked where are we going?
Mother said to keep quiet and keep walking

Mother yelled in the night air
Father gave out a blank stare
They yelled run my princess run as far as you can
As that moment past her little feet pushed off and she ran
She ran to the nearest bushes and crawled into it to hide
She never smelled the air before as if someone just had died

As she lay on the ground under a bush she heard 
A loud yell in the distance almost to absurd
My name is Angelica, I am just a young girl who does not know 
Angelica just wants to live her life with help to grow
Angelica did not know what just happened she notice a figure in the distance
A little person just like her, a strong but gentle presence

Angelica saw the people who were shouting run off toward the voice
She was scared and she knew that she had to make a choice
Angelica fragile state was so confused and lost
She knew it will take burden on her at a cost
But in that moment of quietness a young but strong voice called out
Can you trust me just because? will you come with me with no doubt

My Story Telling  Together In A Strange World

Copyright © Reynaldo Mast | Year Posted 2013

Details | Narrative |
And so, I have made up my mind, once more.
I have decided to depart, to bid this husk farewell.
In order to do that, I must save coins if I desire to save myself.
For with it, I will be able to buy my ticket out here to a more blessed realm or the eternal void. Either way, I will be winning.
I mustn't, any longer, feel the starvation of affection and no more I shall be fed by the crumbs of fleeting joy they toss at me.

Thoughts of finishing are always in my mind, flooding it, making hard to go day by day, making hard to sleep, to have hope.
I fail to see where the hope is, I like to think that it can be find inside of one's heart.
But even so, I think I am mistaken, and when I glance at myself in the mirror, I quickly lose any spark of what could-be hope.

With the aid of the metallic sling, I shall leave this husf behind, heavy with its sins and sorrows, to no more nourish hatred.
For it does only to hinder my advance towards elevation.
With my metallic sling, I shall pierce, first, my heart, where lies the sorrow, then, my mind, where resides the sins.
Whilst the life in me start to wane, regrets I will not have, when my consciousness fade, my spirit will be no longer be trapped inside this imperfect cage of flesh.
Being free, my spirit shall roam far and beyond to, before, unseen places by men, to  untouched places by men.

Another day,someone inquired me "Are you happy now?" and for that I just said "Yes". How else could I have responded if not with a lie?
How could I tell them that I yearn for a premature closure in order to stop thinking and feeling but I also yearn for love.
"I am not absolutely happy, as per say, but I do suffer less when I am asleep" I could never say that to anyone...

Copyright © The First Born The First Forgotten | Year Posted 2012

Details | Narrative |
He betake himself to his room
Does a clear blue sky betokening a bright day?
His motivating memory needs to retrace the day,
The reverberating revival and the doom.
In the boulevard, sloppy and slippery
Derelicts yet living on the streets
Where are the members of the expedition?
Buster! Prominent players on the pains.
In his fatherland, full of luxuries,
Where he is used and kicked
With nothing like honey moon or period
His readiness is there forever,
Like compatriots who look to their history.
For words he wails in himself is not of doubt:
What goes around, comes around
And what comes the world goes the world.
A deranged attacker, could he be?

Copyright © Abdulhafeez Oyewole | Year Posted 2013

Details | Narrative |
And so I write. 
I come to terms that commas stop to begin, 
full stops to an end, 
writing with all I've said. 
Don't mind it if its not made sense. 

I continue. 
Questions to what I may not ask 
Scripting to what someone may read as the past 
Thinking to thoughts towards thickening plots 
Time ticking 
I'll remind you of this nonsense 

At times I'll be by my table 
Alone because it is what I am able to 
Regardless of anyone else's thought 
Silent as though I have fought 
Till it starts with a thought 
Then I'll write, what ever comes to my mind.

Copyright © Luwi Titus | Year Posted 2015

Details | Narrative |
How is it that I feel this way?
I don’t even know what kind of feeling it is
But I know it’s not a good one
I can’t even begin to tell you
Because I can’t even explain it myself
All I think about it you
I start to get these thoughts
They won’t go away
I wonder if you feel this way too
Like something’s missing
I re-read your texts to reassure myself
We lay on the bed in silence 
 I desperately want stories and laughs
I feel physically connected
But not mentally connected
day after day I’m the one puts in the time
Goes out of my way to make sure you’re ok
Why doesn’t it bounce back my way
Arnt I the one you said I meant the world to you
Then why don’t you show it
Im the girl that needs to be shown that what you say is true
That’s all I ask
This to me doesn’t seem like a big task

Copyright © Madison Mittelbrun | Year Posted 2014

Details | Narrative |
How can one easily express the emotions intact within?
Every day we are tackled by various emotions
I imagine just how strong they would be
If the entire world's emotions were all squished together into one
Surely it would be more powerful than any nuclear bomb...
Oh, when our emotions are expelled from being bottled up within for so long...
My, how strong they can be? 
I don't believe my volcano of emotions has erupted yet but, man,
Something has definitely been cooking from within... 

As for one individual, Laura Elizabeth Breidenthal, ("Breanderthong" for others...)
I have been juggled about by new emotions lately
Some really nice emotions, and others downright, miserably...
Indubitably,(had to use the word)...impeccably... horrible
But, you know, I can't possibly have the worst
I know others out there that seem to have it so bad...

I won't go into what I've been feeling lately
Because that would take longer than a sermon at church
And who really wants to hear a ranting preacher? 
—Or read work by a ranting preacher for that matter... 

But really, imagine having to calculate every emotion you have felt in your life
Imagine one person doing that
...would it leave an impact? 
Imagine everyone calculating their emotions
How similar would we be to one another?
How different?
I've wondered this often...
It just intrigues me how intricately tuned we are...

Hm... not sure how I veered off like this, but I just want to say...
Appreciate this opportunity
Appreciate the fact that we HAVE emotion
And through art…through poetry, we can show our true sentiments
...our amazing imaginations....our true, beautiful emotions
Even the negative ones, when we express them through art,
You can see the true beauty of having the freedom—
...the GIFT,
to FEEL. 

The emotions of one life can affect the entire world...
But most importantly they can affect YOU
And they have; whether through indifference,
Or inspirational happiness,
We are a fortunate race

Copyright © Laura Breidenthal | Year Posted 2013

Details | Narrative |
The Vice Poem shall serve,
without regard to need
or time of day,
being in line of succession,
should the Poem be 
unable to fulfill its ditty

The Vice Poem will be 
required to preside 
over the sonnet
and break any ties
that come upon it

As is customary,
the Vice Poem shall be
required once a term
to debate the opposition
on the respective merits
of poetry versus prose

The Vice Poem shall
be sent, on a moments notice
to travel wide and far
to deliver the eulogy
for dead, leading authors,
and to do so with euphony

The Vice Poem can
anticipate being the object
of scorn and ridicule
from the wider citizenry
regarding the merits of 
being a second rate poem 
while anticipating to
someday achieve eloquence

© Goode Guy 2013-01-21

Copyright © Goode Guy | Year Posted 2013

Details | Narrative |
Life is lived as a book, so I’m told
and we live out this story in chapters.
And we even write of the stories we’ve lived
and regale with tales of our adventures.
Our childhood is a myriad of stories
filling chapter and chapter with discovery,
wonder, angst, joy, everything in growing up.
Our teens are chapters of pain, confusion and
experimentation. Temptation. Rebellion and growth.
Young adulthood … ah, sweet love. Career, family.
First foray into independence and building a family.
Then chapters for kids, school, braces, college …
Then they grow up and move out. Weddings, grandkids
retirements and IRA’s. The book is expanding.
But this book is predictable. This is the Brady Bunch.
Where is the crisis, the divorce or the addiction?
Where is the mental illness or the adulterous affair?
Where is the poverty, the abuse, unknown calamity or death?
If life is truly a book, then we write our chapters as we go.
There is no cookie-cutter life to stamp out and imitate.
Life is fluid, moving, changing, consuming, powerful,
destructive in its unrelenting, impersonal path.
This is the end of this chaotic chapter, a fresh page awaits.
Too many of my chapters are chaotic and destructive.
While the next chapter can’t be written until it has been lived,
I will make it a chapter worth remembering.
One I will want to read again, and again.

Copyright © Anthony Amero | Year Posted 2010

Details | Narrative |
The day seems long and very bright and the sun light is strong, 
I do not dare to stare at the window, because I feel wrong.
My feelings of the morning is quite intriguing but unbelieving,
That the morning dew is just a calling for how much the day is stealing.
The sun above comes out to make it warm and revealing,
I of coarse have studied this and I myself like darkness for achieving.
Life in the dark is so pleasant at times that I do not dare think of day,
So my night becomes a twinkle of little lights that I feel is okay.

Copyright © Reynaldo Mast | Year Posted 2013

Details | Narrative |
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© Goode Guy 2012-12-02

Copyright © Goode Guy | Year Posted 2012

Details | Narrative |
When it pains very hard
And when eyes can no more cry
The poet in my mind whispers
The words that I write

When I am happy and gay 
And when my soul wants to rejoice
The poet in my mind hums
The words that I write

When I feeling discouraged
And my spirit is very low
The poet in my mind croons
The words that I write

When I am serene and animated 
And when the child in me is boogie
The poet in my mind sings
The words that I write

The poet befriends my heart
And listens to very thing he say
Resonances of my heart are 
The words that I write

Copyright © Fatima Bhopali | Year Posted 2010

Details | Narrative |
The sun was just rising over the moon as Monday’s gloom fell upon the earth 
I rolled over in my bed and pushed the pillow aside as the sun rays brushed my skin from the open window

As I opened my eyes and looked out the window and saw a sight I had not seen before 

My eyes saw a Japanese Cherry Blossom blooming in the spring

Its beauty seemed to speak to me and say everything was going to be ok

Vibrant colors that gave life to the weak and a strong wavy trunk that gave a voice to those who could not speak

And as I gazed up the tree my mind began to open up to so many new things

Love seemed attainable and money was not a concern

Thoughts did not make us ill and words did not kill

The world spun on genuine joy and the only thing that held weight was trust because gravity didn’t exist 

Just as I was about to reach the top the bottom became higher and my mind woke up

It was just a dream in which I noticed the inspiration I had within me

Life’s new beginning are unlimited

p.s. so I’ll keep dreaming until I don’t wake up….

Something Seemingly Insignificant and Unexpected Changed My Life. 8/21/16

Copyright © Post Script | Year Posted 2016

Details | Narrative |
Torn in all places It’s a whole in my heart 

A box full of thoughts but empty promises equal too this awful crisis can you find the solution? How much dividing and multiplying do I need to add too put smile on your face? You bother my conscience which result in silence you confused me with your lack of emotions / communications became unbalance like a seesaw/ Pain is the weight I carry on my shoulder love is a word that trigger  my Soul.

Torn in all places It’s a whole in my heart
  Now you try the balance the weight from this free-fall/ Is your glass too full now I give you something too chew on You eat up I hope it’s sweet in your mouth like velvet cake now you just wait have you shaking like a penguin. Can you feel your feet dangling?  Have you ever felt cold air in July before? too many people out here play games its chess not checker Jokers! Now what your next step because now you walking on suicide precautions. Have you feeling like a blind man with no directions. I kept my eye set on my targets/ This not practice shot/ I am at the range like NRA instructor 

Torn in all places It’s a whole in my heart

Wake up   fall asleep back in the same position laying in this king size California bed.   Rotate  back in the same stands where I left you in see you are like a Street Corner you never change your location same step same person same position same mindset. Now the Preacher Preach the sermon out of Psalms  the choir sing the same song every Sunday  can I get “A MEN”  JCMT


Copyright © christopher michaels | Year Posted 2013

Details | Narrative |
A Poet may think, he or she is good
A Poet may write of daffodils of white,
or a roaring stream, capped, enraged
running for a quiet place, a solemn place

A Poet may dream of higher aspirations
of floating on clouds of powder cotton candy 
while riding a Bull, in it's stride to rid the rider
then turn suddenly, to a field of umber wheat

A Poet may wish for greater things to come
when in reality, wealth will only come when
The Poet is dead and gone, more remembered
in death, than in life so aimlessly lost

 A Poet may think they are at their best
in younger years, when thoughts are fresh
new, and easily come by, yet form experience
I find that not to be true, This is what I have found,

A True Poet is wise, whether from age or the 
experiences they have lived, and died for,
A true Poet, Has a heart, Lives their heart
and can tell their Heart from all others,

I am a Published Poet, yet I am a Poet
I am a Poet Laurette, yet I am a Poet,
I am an International Poet Laurette,
To me,I am just a Poet, with a Heart

With all my Kudos and all my friends, 
the Kudos I have thrown in a trunk,
My Poet Friends I hold dear, I say this
Do not write for acclamation, Indeed no!

That will truly, only come upon death,
Write from the Personal, your Love,
Your Heart, Your Heart break, Lust
Desires, Lorne, Beauty, Ugliness 

These things a Poet makes, Not Glory
Not Fame, Not institution, Heart....
Write of yourself, Your weaknesses, 
Your Strengths, Your Desires..... You!

You will come to know who you are
others will come to know you,
Your Fame will come to be in that which
you tell, And you will have PEACE!

I have Learned.... God Bless all my Poet Friends...... Live .... God Bless you all!!!!

The original.........TAZ

Copyright © Richard Pickett | Year Posted 2011

Details | Narrative |
an exerpt from a love story I am too lazy to write

She found him outside her small flat
he was in the bloom of the old lamplight.
she noticed the grey flecks in his beautiful eyes.
he whispered softly like honey falling from a spoon.
She flashed her prettiest smile
And tossed her hair back like she used to.
You look as beautiful as I remember.
She looked at him for some small signal of remorse
but she could not see it.
He wanted her 
she felt his need even in the cold night air.
There’s a hole in my existence he said.
His mouth almost smiling.
The smile that had her undress
for him a thousand times.
Why me?
I was never enough before she retorted.
Wanting to hurt him as badly as he had hurt her.
I did not know I loved you
until you were not there he said.
A sadness glowed in his eyes.
And if you remember
it was you that left me.
Why did you leave? He asked
Because you never asked me to stay
she said quietly.
I am asking now he  answered.
She let him into her flat
They undressed and made love.
When she awoke she heard
the click of her door as he left her.
She knew her heart would ache
Just as it had before.
And she knew he would be back again.
And she would let him in once more.

Copyright © Jude Kyrie | Year Posted 2016

Details | Narrative |

It’s so hard for me to focus 
When my poor hear is broken
I’m just a socked down 
in my own loneliness 
that is taken over like an old sad song
while my life keeps passing love by
I see all my pains I have written down in ink 
so long ago for others to read what it is I bleed
the ruins of me I written down in poetry
my tears hold so many years of my own fears
while others were out shaming my name
just to keep me quite 
where they could take away my fame
of my own life time pains that others gave
my letters I had written in my own blood stain ink
the pleasures are all mine that I write
tomorrow will measure its own cries
but tonight I will write about you
a love I will always crave
and one day love will be with me
but until then I will stand up to all my bullies
I will make that a part of my own profession
I will stop the in their tracks like a heart attack 
and I will reach deep within my soul
just to find my greatest passion of everlasting love
that will be my own testimony that will track down
my every word that bleed out from me
just for the entire world to read
damage is me
the one they call queen of darken dreams
I set upon a dying throne 
that triggers at all my feelings
this isn’t an easy scrip to put into rhyme 
but it is a crime for others to take what is mine
this is my own responsibilities of my own testing’s
my haters provoked shame and blames
that strained the mind most of the time
they never seem to change 
they are like a torn region 
to contribute their malice ways
sowing more black seeds that makes rotten roots
they always try to misrepresent my life time talents
I’m so very buffeted for so long
I don’t know why my heart sill bleeds
lost in darken dreams.

Poetic Judy Emery © 

Copyright © Judy Emery | Year Posted 2017

Details | Narrative |
 or The Mysterious Lost Love Quest

The old man dusted himself off and quickly started on his merry way
 this his last port was where his desperate soul sought to forever stay
Decades of sailing ships from far flung distant foreign shore to shore
 now to settle down, live happily the wealthy large life he always swore
This London town was so very large and busy , seemed just  so right
 no more dueling spirits , common sense had won the mighty, bitter fight
A huge bag of gems he had hidden in his weathered and trusty old sea bag
 great massive and fabulous wealth of which he dare to never ever brag
Tomorrow he would soon seek out his trusted old London banking friend
 buy that great huge mansion , so very much money he had to now spend!

Years had flown buy and his name and fame had so very greatly grown
 so had the dark rumors, gossip of his wealth and all that he owned
He laughed heartedly as the overly outlandish , mysterious tall tales
 was he a mercenary, a murdering pirate or lost son of the Prince of Wales
Had he not just bought a fleet of the fastest ocean going merchant ships
 hustling back so very many costly wonders in dozens of daring trips
Now his very bold plan was just about to bear it's much sought after fruits
 a legend he would birth and forever establish his name , fame and roots!

In secret he alone would assemble this very massive, awe inspiring gift
 to better serve this great city, the nation, the world, and to so uplift
Much more time was all he was praying for and ever going to now need
 such fame was sure to come for accomplishing this truly fantastic deed
Months turned into years as he worked intensely, franticly night and day
 never allowing too much rest, sleep or pleasure to ever impede his way
So very close was the great journey coming to it's blessed, joyous end
 soon, so very soon, the world would welcome this magnificent Godsend!

At last, Eureka! the massive undertaking is finished, so very well done
 all sweat , pain , great costs aside he had now finally, finally won!
Never again would people look down or insultingly call out his name
 the nation , the world, all mankind would declare his great fame!
Life would finally mean something and his long lost love would now See!
 she had chosen the wrong man and now together they could finally be
Early next morn he flung open the massive double wide solid oak doors
 revealing genius, the gift that all the world would now so richly adore!

Just then the moment became far too much for him to ever withstand
 the success, the great crusade, the magnificence of his winning plan
First the dizziness and dull roar blasted deeply into his aching head
 calamity struck so quickly , he fell knocking over the lamp instead
Flames now raced around his body lying face down and so very small
 nobody saw the gift he had moved heaven and earth to secretly install
All burned to ashes, the success that his "lost love" was never to see!
 such love, force of will came to naught, that's how wicked Fate can be!

A tale that a grizzly old sailor drunk on whiskey once dared to tell me
 finished with the declaration that only He knew what that gift be!
For many hours I bought my new friend drink after drink to cleverly find
 the secret , the secret he guarded so well and held deep in his mind
As the tavern was about to close he leaned over to whisper softly to me
 mysteries abound, life is hard and devils hide in the deep blue sea
Hardly a day goes by that I don't remember his last words and smile
 life is a loud roar on a mighty wave , so ride it in good cheer and style!

Robert Lindley,  06-06-2014 

Copyright © Robert Lindley | Year Posted 2014

Details | Narrative |
Igniter the Diver

Once upon a time, in a time next to mine,
A writer named Igniter decided to become a diver.

All he knew was writing, but no one cared about that,
not even his admirers. For they didn't know how to read, you see,
so the light in his passion for writing subsided abundantly.

And it died as quiet as the flame of a small candles fire, sorrowfully.

But diving wasn't hard,
although the swordfish promised to be unarmed.
And the loud hiss of conversing dolphins could not be 
missed however hard one tried.

So soon he got the hang of it,
and soon he became of it,
The oceans King Poseidon.

And all the living, swimming, shimmering fish
that were inhabitants, gave Igniter the tang he lost 
when he was just a dumb writer on fire.

That old dream was shattered when he climbed the social ladder,
for a more valued title, in a tide more powerful.
And isn't that all that matters?

Copyright © Jada Ames | Year Posted 2014

Details | Narrative |
My queen, come to me
Not only in your dreams,
If I must I will cut out my heart
Where you won’t take it apart,
I was once you knight
I never left your side,
Until that cold September night
When Dark Angel given, you fright
He took over your life,
He had taken away my queen
And that wasn’t no dream,
But you forgotten me
If only you could see,
I can see you still 
And even hear your voice,
At time, I could hear you call out my name,
I can hear you
Feel you
See you
But you look at me as if I am no longer there,
I have two feet
but I could never approach you,
I could never get close to you
But I can still feel your love from far
You are the queen of my heart,
I cannot go to you
But I want too,
I still crave your lips
to kiss all your sweetness,
I’m speechless,
It’s you I will always miss,
One day I will take hold of you
I will grasp you in my heart
In my soul 
In my arms 
And never let you go,
My heart will always be strong for you
Because we are not two 
We are one in love 
You are all my emotions
You are the breath I breath 
Oh, my dear queen
come back to your knight
and dance with me for life,
you run through my mind
from my blood that pumps to my heart,
I carry you everywhere I go
Your love is the key of me.

Poetic Judy Emery © 2017
The Queen Of Darken Dreams Poetic Lilly Emery
The Queen Of Darken Dreams Poetic Judy Emery

Copyright © Judy Emery | Year Posted 2017