Poetry Courage Poems

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Details | Light Poetry |
We are the Children

Bombs fall from the sky
The little children wonder why?
The night is mixed with blood and tears
Screams that deafen the little ones ears

In the name of what God or religion?
Is this killing seen to serve a mission?
In the name of what Tribe or Country?
We the children ask you humbly

We used to play and run all day
Now we hide fearing bombs come our way
The days we wander in search of foods
Hiding from soldiers intent on blood feuds

Bombs still falling from the sky
The pain and terror, when shall we die?
There is a gun on top a dead soldier there
I myself ended this pain that I could not bear

The bullet saved me from more despair   

Copyright © arthur vaso | Year Posted 2016




Details | Rhyme |
Too hard for me to say goodbye
For all apparent reasons why
Even though we all know it must be
Each heart will someday stop the beat
When the rhythm of life, and silence, finally meet
.
Yet I always seem so surprised 
To find that death is part of life 
Knowing that regret, will now haunt my every rhyme 
The specter called "if only", will inhabit every line.
Wish I could arbitrate a deal to have gained a little time
Just one more talk with Sissy, to ease my guilty mind. 
.
And the sun now sets on my regrets
I gamble on time and lose each bet
Thinking I'll move on and yet, 
here I set . . .
Wishing for one more time 
One more pun
One more smile 
That will never come 
.
If I could just recall the things you said that mattered to you most.
Memories un memorized
That now I'll never know
Years of conversation when I didn't pay attention
Times I should have said I love you 
And somehow failed to mention
.
Then when you tried to tell me you felt your time was drawing near
Your selfish little brother pretended not to hear.
Even when you did your best,  and tried to let me know
You'd made your peace and you were ready, and that for you . . . 
It was simply time to go

Copyright © Kelly Crenshaw | Year Posted 2015

Details | Rhyme |
I wish to Relay To all of my people the importance of sticking together as a team And that Because we have run through the preliminary trials as selfish individual, goal seekers we have barely made it to the finals, as if, winning our, “Race” is undoable or un-triable Have all but silenced the roaring power we gain from our people united cheering in the bleachers from plodding along as the dauntingly misdirected at a tortoises pace without holding ourselves accountable or reliable Almost destroying the chances of the enslaves life-long dream You see This Race Will be considered, Earths Final Race A Worldwide Event A sport in which our True Star Players are violently removed from the game by the officials or made to disappear without a trace Displaying our opponents, un-sportsmanlike conduct, their incapability for fair play And revealing foul play as their true intent Winning Earths Final Race will be determined by How well we get along Not by How divided we will stay weak How well when pushed down or held back we back down or turn the other cheek Yet How together we will stand strong Not How well we hold on to our opponents arm in case we fall and something goes wrong To which or how many of our opponents, charities we give to, or social groups we belong Nor what side of their political eagles shoulders we are flapping on No This is not the event where one runner runs for glory gains the gold medal and one soloist gets an award for best artist singing Their National Song This is a team effort Greater enslaved men and women have killed and died for lesser To run behind our people, in our “Race” for freedoms sake holding the stick of ambition and determination only to catch up with their own front runners and pass it on Yes This “Race” needs to relay How well we pass the baton If one runner falls, we pick him up and pass the Baton If another runner falls we pick her up and pass the Baton If another runner falls and so on we go on But not until our race is done We continue to pick our people up teaching each and every one of us how to, run’ our own “Race” without falling or having to say we’ve “slipped’” through the cracks And so on we go on Until the sound of the Starter pistol doesn’t have us scattering for shelter away from the tracks in fear of a gunner’s bullet being lodged in our backs And so on we go on Until the sound of the officials whistle isn’t a call for more troops to gather around our runners awaiting the signal to attack And so on we go on Until we have learned that to tie with those of whom have Beaten us at every turn in fact means we will never truly when our “Race” So to run for equality means we will always be running to meet the qualifications of another “Race” at a much slower pace Making the run for equality, a stumbling block cast before our feet, blatant stupidity, and utterly wrong Something of which we ignorantly insist on trying to accomplish or gaining the knack Implying that the proficiencies needed to stand as winners in first place of our own Race Are that in which we lack No By no means should this race be run Until the ability to act and respond as a unit is wholly and completely practiced and shown We pass the baton Until we have runners in place that will race to the finish-lined Up to receive the baton and are capable of competing at the highest level of every “Race” the world has ever known We pass the baton until we are at the beginning of our renewed race and every one of us is running along We pass the baton until we have a new Nation of our own We pass the baton until we all stand as a quire applauding each other for singing our own National song We pass the baton Until we are all united to stand as one people to race the finals and have won And can once again run our own “Race” Proud free and strong Yes I wish to Relay To all of my people the importance of sticking together as a team As we “Race” The Finals

Copyright © AC Benford | Year Posted 2016




Details | Acrostic |
L-iving in a world of vast 
souls formed from 
another voided world,
E-ntering thru portals 
from their world to earth.
O-ozing spetacular smell 
and wail when the chips 
are down.
N-urtured from cradle to 
adulthood-independent
entity with a new world 
to face.
O-rganizes oneself for the 
task ahead,passing thru 
hurdles of life unabased 
and unabashed.
R-eaps the fruit of labor 
with joy or heavy heart.
A-ge sets in,mission 
accomplished or not will 
dawn on the entity.

I-n retrospect,he thinks 
about his childhood and 
how life was to him.

L-iving in confidence or 
shame,he bows his head 
in victory or defeat.
O-nly the taste of time 
will tell the durability of 
his achievements.
V-oid of preference the 
aim result bears the 
foundation for his lineage.
E-njoyment or lack lies 
with the works of the 
man,for there is no food 
for the slothful.

Y-oung ones,a stitch in 
time saves nine,make 
haste while the sun 
shines.
O-iling your lamb always 
like the ten virgins is the 
key to success.
U-rging you to shun peer 
pressure and focus on 
the course marked out 
for you by fate,so a 
fulfilled life you shall live.





An acrostic for you 
Leonora Galinita.

Copyright © Ifeanyi Bob Ekechukwu | Year Posted 2013

Details | ABC |
Alphabet Constructs 3 2 1

Annotated Achilles amends fallen frame amputees

Bulimec Barbies browse media monkey banalaties

Cameo clouds cling to beaded breath curios

Dopamine dreams dilenate check cash desires

Echo endorfins eulogize bullet brain excrement

Fecal folly fantasies reveal relevant frivoloties

Gonadial grownups gulp secret scrotal generosities

Helical hemorriods hinder senior stricken hemocraps

Idiotic ideals idioiosyncrate post partem iconoclasts

Jack Jill juxtapositories seek sexestential jouveniers

Kryptic killer kisses ascot arrogant kingdumbs

Liquid lipid loiners fear frontline lucklullibies

Malovent mommies masterbate rich reflective mommocules

Nevertheless nightengales nourich ruby rich noonbeams

Ovulatory occults outsource torrent tofu outrages

Pensive picses picnics lovelorny passions 

Queer quiet quintensials release rancid quotients

Rape ripe residuals nullify nimble reprocussions

Silky seafoam silohouttes fornicate frothy sandlets

Tepid torch trilogies belie beligerent tourniquets

Useless utterences utilize organize orgasmic utopias

Venimous vixens violate cruel.com visions

White willow wombs softly seed hospice hell winds

XY XX xfactors envision extracurricular xraydoms

Yearning yoyo yesterdays calculate clearcovert yeilds

Zen zealous zions mirror maginfy Zoneotones 

Copyright © Dave Collins | Year Posted 2013

Details | Light Poetry |
Dragon fell asleep at his nappy time, and his dreams were so sublime.
He’d just heard the song, ‘Snoopy Vs The Red Baron’, one more time.
That Plus ‘Snoopy’s Christmas’, both were… very old… favorites of mine!
And, I swear to you… this is how his dreams… Really… did align…

Snoopy’s Dog House was in for repair. His little mechanic bird friends…
Were working feverishly making repairs for Snoopys’ next battle to begin.
But as the time drew near… Snoopy couldn’t wait… He couldn’t be late.
A Duel of honor had been struck, and it was time for the Red Baron’s fate.

He’d AGAIN appear! Snoopy had to be there at dawn, to fight for our team. 
To save our beloved Life, Liberty, Freedom, and the great American Dream.
The Red Baron was never late, or missed, this duel! He yearly repeated…
It was the anniversary of his greatest loss. This, he wanted! No! He needed!

This was, once again, his chance to Win! So Snoopy did the amazing thing! 
He called on Dragon to see him thru! Yes, Dragon would supply the wings.
He’d be in a dog fight with Snoopy, against the Red Baron, to the bitter end.
What the Red Baron didn’t know was… he didn’t stand a chance, my friend.

Not with these two Super heroes, together, and they did start out, so true!
At least, until Snoopy’s machine gun jammed! Oh! What would they do??!!
Freedom Simply Couldn’t Be Lost, when it didn’t go, as they had planned!
But never fear, with Dragon here, at Snoopy’s inventive, brilliant command!

Snoopy called on Dragon’s most wonderous, Top Secret Strength, acquired! 
Yep, you guessed! He had Dragon spit out, Really, Great, Big Balls of Fire!
Naturally that couldn’t be beat! Better yet, as The Red Baron leaned in…
Diving from above! Dragon did the greatest Loop de Loop EVER SEEN!

Yep, He ended up, right behind the Red Baron’s illustrious, flying machine!
Then Snoopy let his Dragon of War loose, to do his special thing, so keen!
And as you guessed, the tail of the Red Barons’ plane, caught fire, so sweet!
Sending him home… in a massive, humbling, complete and utter DEFEAT! 

The moral of this story is: Never Mess with our… American Super Heroes!
Dedicated to the True Heroes of 9/11, the First Responders, and our Amazing 
Soldiers… They’re the best the World will ever see!

Written 9-11-2015

Copyright © Carol Eastman | Year Posted 2015

Details | Free verse |
Calling oneself a poet takes unmitigated gall and guts  
And he or she should be prepared 
To throw oneself off a high cliff
Or under the proverbial bus
Whenever the expression of innermost thoughts,
Emotions, ideas or beliefs are concerned 
Those who lay it all out on the line often times
Get busted, beaten, belittled or burned.

Speaking straight from the heart 
And soul typically involves taking 
A road less easily traveled 
Or mountain made steeper to climb   
From those who read but cannot see  
Beauty if it hits them between the eyes.

To write of an ex-lover may tend to uncover 
Bones buried deep in the past
Which are better unearthed for whatever they’re worth:  
Old nightmares rarely fade fast. 

Or perhaps you agree with riots in the streets
And nothing is worth more attention 
Than a poet who subscribes
To every person ought to strive 
Towards the greatest good for self and other friends 
While you might think it better to mind my own business
And stop writing about reality and make pretend…     

Penning one’s personal moments 
For others to debate 
Is akin to placing their head on a stump 
While waiting for the blade to penetrate
Skin and bone and taking us home 
To a place where no one laughs
At anything we say or think 
And our poetry will forever last. 

Longer than the blood-letting that oozes from our brains 
While others stand outside of us laughing in the rain
As we foolish, fussy writers keep on 
Twisting words and phrases
And the world keeps right on turning 
Like our pithy, poetic pages.    

12/4/2014

Copyright © Terrell Martin | Year Posted 2014

Details | Rhyme |
A solo pilot, lost in snow,
in a jagged mountain pass.
His eyes are trained upon each tree,
and the shape of each crevasse…
In an open-cockpit time machine,
the winter wind does howl,
but a mighty fire’s burning bright,
inside the engine cowl.
The fog and flurry blinding him,
he searches for a trail,
running late, and miles behind,
he’s employed to fly the mail.
He looks for clues to lead him back,
like ancient, sunken wagon tracks.
A mumbled cuss, then shouts out loud,
he’s heard that mountains hide in clouds…   
Now’s the time to pay the toll,
for conversations with his soul.
One way in, and one way out,
it’s true that mountains hide in clouds.
 
Copyright © 2013
 

Copyright © Cole Banner | Year Posted 2013

Details | Free verse |
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 is meaningless 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 Him?

Copyright © Laura Breidenthal | Year Posted 2013

Details | Prose Poetry |
'' I love my country! I love my India! "
We hear slogans loud and clear,
On 15th August, on 26th January,
When the days of celebrations are near.

Where do these promises die?
Are these patriotic feelings a lie?
Or just to make an impression,
And snap pictures as tri-colors fly.

Apart from these days,do we see the need?
To apply these emotions, do we pay the heed? 
Or just a way to celebrate something,
Like every other event and gathering.

Remember that ugly era,
Where days were like nights,
Where no one was allowed to dream,
And were suppressed when there were fights.

Remember the atrocities against which,
Our previous generations suffered,
The whips from the '' Outsiders'' 
When rejected '' Their '' rules offered, 

From heinous crimes against goodwill,
" Jallian wala bagh"  to "Simon go back!",
After so much struggle and so much pain,
To fight for freedom which we lacked!

Sacrifices which cannot be measured,
Patriotism where sky is the limit,
Refusing the injustice and opposing the system,
To free the country from the"foreign" hit. 

Gandhi, Nehru, Patel or Bose,
Difference in name, feelings the same, 
Salute everyone and the sky glows,
With only respect and not due to fame. 

Why do we forget our history of freedom?
How can we not respect and honor its prestige?
And witness our nation in such a dirt? 
Of politics, corruption, crime in fatigue?
Why not raise your voice? 
Against these social evil deeds?
And give our patriotism meaning,
To the nation on which we feed. 

Its October 2nd some days from now,
And no one would admire Gandhi's work,
A formality completed, a speech given,
While actual celebrations are somewhere in cirque,

Friday it is, the new film day,
And We ll watch movies in this holiday,
Give a thought to what you do,
Give a sense to what you say,
Slogans and tricolor turbans wont help,
If country's rising generation is watching movies in national holiday,
Be responsible and step up for the nation,
And make it a country, you can be proud of,
Where women are respected not only on women's day,
But with true sense of love in each and every way.

Copyright © Suraj Grover | Year Posted 2014

Details | Light Poetry |
Tick-tack thy sound of the double-edged hands Stand strong with mother-nature's deep roots Big Ben wakes ye typhoon then started to dance Awaits for the sunlight to bear fruits Tick-tack thy sound of the double-edged hands The rain will come to wash the blood Big Ben alarm the dead men from the graveyards To a new seed of gain en love Tick-tack thy sound of the branches Checkmate—and time at rest http://agnoztik.blogspot.com/

Copyright © Keith Narne | Year Posted 2013

Details | Prose Poetry |
Mr. Bravery
By Curtis Johnson

There once lived a very decent and brave man who was promised three keys.
“One of these three keys, said the key holder, will unlock the door to happiness”.
The man bowed his head and prayed silently, “Please Lord, allow me to pick the right key”.
As he raised his head from prayer, the key man said, “There is more that I must tell you”.
He proceeded to tell the brave man that there were also three roads from which he must choose.  He was also informed that all the roads would lead to ‘a door’, and all the keys would open ‘a door’, but only one thing would lead to ‘the door’ that would bring him true happiness.  That one thing would be understood when he arrives at the door.  “One thing, one door, three keys, and three roads?”,  the decent and brave man questioned to himself.

The man was still determined to find happiness; so he continued listening to the ‘key man’.
The key man then led him to the end of a Southbound roadway that broke off into three separate roads.  One was a paved and winning road toward the West; another was a graveled  uphill road pointing East; and the third road was a very rugged and dusty road heading Southwest.  He was left with the task of choosing  which thing, which key, and which road would lead him to the door that opened to true happiness.

He soon came to know all too well that his challenge was beyond any he had faced before.
Nevertheless, with ‘the one thing’ on his mind, three keys in his hand, three roads just ahead, and a locked door to happiness visualized in his heart, he bravely launched ahead with never a complaint.

His driving experience was equal to the task of either of the roads; but for reasons forever unknown, he chose the graveled uphill road going East.  Mr. Bravery drove a path of gradual elevation for about six hours.  The sun was beginning to set behind him as he noticed a building a couple of miles ahead.  He was elated when he arrived, and without hesitation, he exited his vehicle.  Slowly, and with eager anticipation, he approached the door.  At the door he realized that he had yet another important task.  He had to decide which key to pick.

Mr. Bravery then remembered his first prayer that God would allow him to pick the right key.  He looked to the sky and took confidence.  He chose a key, and bingo, the door opened!  There was a large mirror right in the doorway, and all that he could see was an image of himself.  In the mirror at the area of his heart was written these words: “True happiness is to be found, not with keys to a door at the end of a road, nor in or from another human being, but within yourself.”  

Within minutes the key man arrived with a smile and commended  Mr. Bravery for his courage and determination to complete the task.  He informed Mr. Bravery that either key would have unlocked the door, and either road would have led him to the door to happiness.  In an instant!  In a flash!!  Mr. Bravery realized that his personal relationship with God had already given him True and Eternal Happiness.  His heart within him had made the choice to be happy.
07042016 cj PS

Copyright © curtis johnson | Year Posted 2016

Details | Prose Poetry |
What is poetry, I must ask? Writing poetry can be quite a task. Still I struggle and continue to write, Hmmm, for my delight, or  do I write from insight?  Although I get frustrated, very agitated, can"t  bring myself to hate it because I"m also captivated. You see, poetry is something very new, something I thought I would never do, yes I thought nothing of the kind, poetry never even crossed my mind. Until Rehad. I was jotting down stuff that was really drab, while in my mind I was repeating a phraise while giving The Lord praise. Then a voice I heard, "you can do much more with those words" I didn't have a clue of what I could do.

So I started to think, I started to strain but the more I strained the further away they became. I was completely baffled, it had stopped me cold, so I stopped trying and behold poem's started to unfold. Now the tide has turned, no more free ride it's time to learn, so some candles I must burn, like everything else poetry too, you must earn. Instead I duck, I dodge, I hide, thinking of anything to put them aside. With all the great poets how can I compete, I feel as though I'm already beat. So I get afraid and into the back ground I fade, trying my best to evade. But that's not the case for every morning I awake they are right back in my face. I'm thinking, this is not the norm, should I grab the bull by the horns. My head started to spin, thinking how do I begin.

And from out of my heart, following the other poets is a great place to start, in order to proceed you must not only write, you must also read and reading is showing me it takes special people to write poetry. Which also keeps me in check and for all you poets I have the utmost respect. So whether good or bad, I will nether smudge nor carry a grudge for I am not here to judge. I just want to be a part of these wonderful works of art. But Poetry, I wonder, what will I aquire and what will transpire? I guess I must travel the unknown but it's good to know, I don't walk alone. So I say again my friend. What Is Poetry, I Must Ask, Writing Poetry Can Be Quite A Task?

Copyright © Milton Robertson | Year Posted 2016

Details | Prose Poetry |
CALIBER

The mental quality of spirits is unveiled.
Anne saw them in imagery.
They were in small shapes as a displayed mural.
A bust of lives demised with estate being conveyed as an inhabitant or the occupier.
Their capacity was that of full animation and stream.
Anne watched the mystical images that were once all men.
Their colors came as black, white, and olive.

Attuned to their surroundings, they did not alter their position on the wall.
They desire was to rectify a wrong.
Calibers are competent to their form in which Anne was not afraid of being forewarned.

Anne began to name them the ones that she saw.
The black one was called Magic because he was the leader of them all.
There were two level of white men seated by rows.
Anne named them Parchment because of their lab coats.
The olive one was called Mixed-Blood.

Stature they formed with ability to construct.
The degree of their mental capacity paraded the capability of the physical you being possessed.
Might they enter via an oval of the body?
They haunted this house to influence cognizance.
Anne’s knowledge is such that she may not be aware of their existence from where they exist.
Ignorance is the perception Anne lived in.

Anne and her family moved from this house in her seventh year.
She saw their presence first when she was four.
Once Anne and her family left, she did not see them anymore.

Anne moved on Briesch when she was an infant.
She never spoke of what she saw until she relocated.
Anne’s mother stated that a veil was over her eyes, a pall of despair trying to develop premonition.

Caliber is a degree of mental capacity or moral quality.
Anne cultivated this identity.
_________________________________________|
Penned February 17, 2014!
For Anne Currin Contest Any Poem/Any Subject! 

Copyright © Verlena S. Walker | Year Posted 2014

Details | Rhyme |
5/24/17



Not going to adjourn
Since you never learn
Going to make you squirm
More than a worm
With a stance that is firm
Then make you burn
So that you never return
Showing no concern

No more chances
Or free passes
You'll find out what happens
Over such foolish actions
When you are thrown into sulphuric acid
Or taken out through using gases
Then put below the grasses
And any branches
The universe continues on, as the scales tilt or balance
Whether it was done in good will or from being callous

Once or twice
Might not take your life
But make you pay the price
With the ultimate sacrifice
The outcome chosen by a roll of the dice
Since you never took advice
I think this should suffice
And if not then it will not end nice
Getting eaten alive by rats and mice


Too late to take back what you said
Going to bring you to the edge
And toss you from the ledge
Doesn't matter where you land or if it's on a hedge
So long as you remain dead
Oh well many other lifeforms will get fed
Body parts including the head, brought back to a den
Never seen or heard from again

Copyright © Dalton Ogletree | Year Posted 2017

Details | Carpe Diem |
       
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                                                            - ??????

Copyright © Aparna Neha | Year Posted 2014

Details | Light Poetry |
THE ONLY THING I KNEW, BUT IT WASN'T SO NEW
TO THE WORLD BUT TO FEW, THOUGHT OF BRAND NEW
LITTLE I KNEW OF MY WEAKNESS, I THOUGHT IT WAS LIKE STEW
GOT ME TRAPPED AND INTO THE MOUTH IT GOT ME CHEWED
THOUGHT I OWNED IT, BUT IN REAL I HAD LOST IT

TO ONLY THOSE WHO'RE FOCUSED
THEM LIFE IS NOT LIKE MORNING DEW
DETERMINED AND WITH ONE AIM LIKE DORCAS
STICK TO ONE SINGLE AIM OF SUCCESS LIKE JEWS
TO WIN I THOUGHT I OWNED IT, BUT I REAL I HAD LOST IT

THE GENIUS IN EVERYTHING THOUGHT  I WAS
SIMPLETON THE WORD I USED IN REFERENCE TO OTHERS
KEEPING TO MY SELF AND PRIDE AS CHARACTER I WAS
AND MINE TO THINK WAS ALL THE BEST TO HIT THE CRACKERS
PRIDE MADE ME OWN IT ,BUT IN REAL I HAD LOST IT.

NOW LEARNED IN FULL AND  IN CAPACITY
REAP BEHAVIOUR AND EARNED A CHARACTER
HIT WITH THE ROD OF CHANGE  AND REALITY
BACK TO TRACK  FULLY LOADED LIKE A ROAD-STAR
AWAY WITH I OWNED IT,NOW WE OWN IT.

Copyright © LEE REUBENS | Year Posted 2013

Details | Prose Poetry |
I Shall Never Love Anyone Like You


My heart ache as I watch you fall for another.The pain hurt so much I felt sick.I didn't have the courage to tell you my feeling I din't have the courage to tell you what my hearts feels.But  I can't refuse to watch you fall into he hand of another.May i blind myself may i break my own heart may i give relief to the feeling that I had when i could no longer hear your laugh no longer see your smile and no longer feel your touch.To me being alone and feeling nothing is worthless I shall miss what I have lost but this I have done to protect what little shard of my heart remains.You feel another never knowing my feeling for you.but it fine now for I shall never love another like I loved you.

Copyright © Marcedies Rhodes | Year Posted 2012

Details | Sonnet |
Your precious youthful portrait you polish,
Till thy cheeks dye rose and yellow seems gold.
Seeking praise her truth she shall embellish,
Concealing blemish under manifold
Brushes in prayer for brief perfection:
“Make lush my lashes, allow my eyes allure,
 Veil in vanity this unloved complexion,
Feature me anew to comely contour.”
Who fed her the lie that her flaws were foes?
Who whispered she’d die unless she attain
A visage pure as those in heaven’s host,
Wherefore she sees her face and can’t complain.
     Pretty pictures indeed a frame deserves;
     Artless love, she ought learn, no mask can earn.

Copyright © Pariah Love | Year Posted 2016

Details | Free verse |
Running to nowhere, 
Racing the clouds; 
Sweating and out of breath . 
To pass him quickly, 
And not to speak to him . 
But he still makes time and effort, 
To say hello . 

HELLO ! , hi? 
But no answer. 
His face looks sudden and questionable . 
Why? Why wouldn't she speak? 
He thought to himself. 
Only he doesn't know, 
She's racing the clouds from east to west. 

Racing the clouds, 
Because she's shy and nervous . 
Just to say, what she really wanted to say? 
It's hard to say... I love you! 
His face, she can read him! 
He knows, oh he knows! 
 but still  he wants her to confess ? 
Confess that she, she loves him . 
But it takes pride and bravey to tell 
So again, she race the clouds moving east to west... 


©Jessica

Copyright © Jessica Harbaran | Year Posted 2017

Details | Bio |
Writing poetry isn't easy, but a 2 year old can rhyme.
It's all about rhyming, I assume.
It's what everyone keeps telling me.

But then, I look at art.
And the comparison of both journeys.
What is it that binds those two ?

Maybe, it's the expressions, the feeling it gives.
Or maybe, the freedom in letting your mind take the sips.
We do both with our eyes close, we can do both with eyes close.

So the next time you feel like your mind needs to go on an adventure.
Go ahead, make that structure, make it rupture !
Spill your mind out on that paper, let it paint all your wonders.

And write all your desires. Don't bother with those deniers.

Copyright © SILLO ANDERSON | Year Posted 2017

Details | Light Poetry |
courage is the ability to live
while others die
the way to stand
while others stand by
the way to speek
and not be denighed
to work at something
worthy 
while others cry
to speek in a tone
that must be heard
to stand ready and alone
while others go home
to trust in God
when there is no one else
to keep on fighting when
there is no one but self
courage is the possibility
to live

Copyright © john loving iii | Year Posted 2010

Details | Light Poetry |
Even though
I have no idea
What tomorrow will
Bring.......

I'm going to think
Positive and hope for
The best

Copyright © JEANNINE GLEN | Year Posted 2016

Details | Light Poetry |
I put my money to work
I put my words into action
Turning my thoughts into reality
Screaming the power of one 

We are misled by the world
Adapting wrong information
Refraining from our own destiny
People telling us we are nothing
Laughing at our crazy dreams 

I use my head for correction
Let my mind wonder a little bit
Mixing all the chemicals in the reaction
I don't need any approbation
Screw the world, if it stands still
Till the end of my days 

New star every week
Old star gonna perish
New year with a new weep
Let us stand up as the world 
Help women and children
Put wrong doers into prison
Liberty for all the people

I put my words into action
Let alone no perfection
The world needs affection
Working with the law of attraction

Copyright © ben ngaka | Year Posted 2017

Details | Free verse |
You never listen
Yes I know it's true
I see you try and deny it
How's that working for you?

I will say one thing
You will hear another
I will try to fix it
The misunderstanding you see

I just got in trouble
(Sigh) I told you so
They never listen to me

They say they do 
And I know they try
But all I want to do is scream
"JUST LISTEN TO ME SOMEONE PLEASE"

All I asked is that you think
What is real?
Do I ever ask this?
Will I ever again?

All I really did
Was ask
For friend

All I want
Is to be free
Free to listen
And free to be me

Sadly though
You'll never see
Just how much your 
Not listening has killed me

I have tried
Really I did
I know that I'm not eighty
I know that I'm not nice
But the only thing I asked 
For was five minutes (at the most) of your life.

I'm sorry that you failed
I'm sorry that I tried but
Mostly I'm just sorry that
I'm not sorry,
Not anymore.

Copyright © Rayne Thomas | Year Posted 2013

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

Copyright © John Hembree | Year Posted 2013

Details | Rhyme |
They were Meriwether Lewis and William Clark,
Her name was Sacagawea.
On an expedition they did embark
Finding the passage to the sea.

Down the Missouri they traveled, 
Then slithered 'round the Snake River bend.
Rocky Mountain weather and sickness battled;
At the Columbia River they'd end. 



©2013 Honestly JT

Copyright © Honestly J.T. | Year Posted 2013

Details | Free verse |
"I Do Believe" 

The purpose of LIFE is to {Living In Faith Ever} 
to enrich God within us 
to an optimum level 
so that We as Humans 
can be guided by God 
to fuel out brothers and sisters 
with the same driving force 
to connect with the living God, 
to His existence and 
to See the Invisible, 
Believe the Incredible, and 
to Receive the Impossible 
to our everlasting journey 
to Heaven.

Rev. Samuel Mack
Copyright 2013

http:paladinnews1.blogspot.com

Copyright © Rev. Dr. Samuel Mack OMS DD | Year Posted 2013

Details | Rhyme |
Within The Trenches

911 Dispatcher Tribute

Nine one one, What's your emergency? Keeps replaying in her head.
When she lays down at night and she can't sleep instead.
Her mind keeps going backwards to when her heart began it's fall.
Memories of the other end the night she got the call.

She could hear a woman screaming, was it a husband and a wife?.
Then she heard the gunshot the night a woman lost her life.
There were many times before when on a call she'd wait.
But she prayed she'd never see the call that came too late.

Nine one one, What's your emergency? He said into the phone.
“I can't find my mommy and I think I'm here alone”.
He tried to reassure her and to keep her on the line.
One more family murdered there wasn't enough time.

So he lives his life these days beneath a blanket of the shame.
As he now bears the burden of his own misplaced blame. 
The rise and fall of all mankind right from the very start.
Buried deep within the trenches inside a dispatchers heart.

Praying still with all their heart someday the world will see.
All that's taking place today is not how it has to be.
Like a ship safe in the harbor still subject to the fall.
Each day a brand new heartache as they're witness to it all. 

Depravity in someones mind who's passions have run wild.
Buried in a shallow grave, now remnants of a child.
Haunted by what's taken place they never will be free.
As they wait for the answer to, what's your emergency?

Edwin C Hofert

Copyright © Edwin Hofert | Year Posted 2015

Details | Light Poetry |
WOMEN IN COMBAT

By Leonard Kleeman

Women in real combat, can that really be?
The news article had a great big headline.
It stated that when outdoors, women can't pee.
And, even if it's true, that's no business 
of mine.

The Pentagon will now rescind its combat ban.
Which means all the danger doesn't belong 
just to a man.
But there are many opponents who say
that women are too weak to have it 
that way.

That's very funny 'cause I never thought women 
to be weak.
Many gals that I know are stronger than some men.
It matters not how big they are or what kind 
of physique;  
All the strength that women have or need is 
within them.

To pee outside is not the thing they need
 neither is skipping showers or pee in the wild.
They just need their brothers and sisters in arms 
to cover their backs and not think of their charms,
and to accept them in combat and not think they're mild.

They are brave and courageous if you think 
what they do.
They can give birth to babies and then 
help you too. 
They have strength in their hearts and smarts 
in their head.
And if you get bad they'll beat you instead.
 
Where women have fought before
During peace and mostly at war,
They have fought well and won for their side
and had no reason for anything to hide.

So they can pee outside or pee in the wild.
Or even shower where men are beguiled.
Now that the Pentagon has made its analysis 
that women fighting at war would not be calamitous, 
They should not hold them back just because they 
have no *****es.


Copyright © Leonard Kleeman | Year Posted 2013