Poetry Education Poems

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Details | Light Poetry |
This beautiful journey begins
From a courtship routine
The male perch themselves on leaves
And create a glorious scene
Waiting for a female 
Just to fly on by
Now he has his chance
But, she’ll be the one to decide



The male needs to find out
Whether she’s been fertilised
If she’s already pregnant
He’s soon going to realise
She’ll release a powerful chemical
Which is called ‘pheromone ‘
That tells him she’s unavailable
So he might have to fly and roam



Soon after they have mated
She looks for a place to lay
Laying her tiny eggs
Mostly oval in shape
She can lay two hundred or more
Just in a single day
But she needs to find a milkweed
On this beautiful sun spring day



The tiny little caterpillars
Start to grow inside
Eggs no bigger that a pin heads
And thats no word of a lie
They feed on the milkweed
And the enzymes in the egg
Until these little caterpillars
Start growing up really big



Now when they hatch
From their eggs
They will eat and eat and eat
Eating up everything
Of those milkweed leaves
They will start expanding
Getting bigger and bigger
Shedding their skin several times
Now that is really clever



Then they just stop eating
And know their time has come
For their stunning transformation
Four stages have begun
They’re find a special twig or leaf
And hang them-selves upside down
Then spin a silky cocoon
Where they won’t be found



It’s called metamorphosis
Turned into a shiny chrysalis
Inside the caterpillars’ changing
Into a beautiful butterfly
It dissolves itself into a soup
That’s truly organised
Inside a process is taking place
It’s forming disc’s, a body, a face



This wonder of nature you can see
When they emerge victoriously
This transition takes some time
For the birth of an exquisite butterfly
One of nature’s beautiful scenes
Celebrating new birth in spring
The reproduction of a butterfly
A remarkable cycle, that does not die




© Copyright KC.Leake
6th April 2015
All Rights Reserved




  

Copyright © kevin leake | Year Posted 2015




Details | Light Poetry |
The British call it maths,
but the Americans ditch the s
causing much international scorn.
But for our sake, p'raps it'd be best
to keep subjects
only halfway grasped
in the singular form.

Copyright © Timothy Hicks | Year Posted 2016

Details | Prose Poetry |
You grow so fast, already showing glimpse of awesome creativity and transform discoveries from the industrious nature of your observations so squat at my feet and raise your attentive head up high to be equipped for this compulsory journey oh sweet creature of my seed. My hands of your molding and chastisement are already the processing engine of your refinement my strong willed mind and love soaked heart complete the stages as you hold steadfast to the train I’ve prepared for you Listen attentively as I perform this segment of my duties and lets take a tour round the routes of wisdom and gallivant the landscape of experience while I pedal your feet and smoothen your soles Seasoned flavored virtues are an armour through which life’s shots are overcomed and a colourful behaviour becomes a saviour in times of need Labor not your whole life in chasing vapour for out of vigour, flour is made from wheat, Bread from flour, but all for a time of enjoyment and satisfaction Guilty syndrome is exhibited when a person answers unasked questions and don’t force out jokes from your head or else people will think your sense of humor is on a life support Sunset is no accuse for the clock to stop running ad infinitum thus, an excuse is like a punctured umbrella it’ll still not stop the invasion of raindrops Your natural desires are borderless, but your ability to strongly control them is what makes you distinct from other species in the animal kingdom Love has no prefix, suffix or adjective it is what it is and as powerful as causing natural instincts to be abdicated in favour of kindness just for the carnivore to embrace abstinence. He who begins a tale becomes its reference don’t say what you cannot defend in court rumour is a bad odour which spreads beyond the neighbourhood and puts a noisy siren on your personality Bad companionship will lead you to the garbage and corrupt friends will join others to marvel at the immortality of your adopted stupidity Wash your face every morning with these words and take your every meal with these lines then would they be spices to which your life is preserved.

Copyright © Funom Makama | Year Posted 2015




Details | Rhyme |
Dear Alliteration, 
First friend, foremost;
Forgetting not,
Shy Allegory, 
Dressed in Allusion; 
Sweet Anaphora, 
How I need thee! 
How I need thee!
 
And Assonance; 
Never deep asleep, 
Nor rest Refrained, 
By Caesura; 
Clever Chiasmus; 
Who has pause to write, 
And write to pause; 
Cheeky Consonance, 
Agreeing;
Time needs its tick-tock, 
Rocked at chimes; 
How Didactic, 
An Ictus, 
Ellipsis, 
Is that?
 
Clink — tinkle; 
Cubes in a glass; 
Bourbon mist; 
Hello; 
Onomatopoeia is back, 
From visiting, 
Palindrome, 
At Lake Oxoboxo, 
Madam Eve, 
Our favorite, 
Paradox, 
Not pair a ducks, 
Nor Parataxis, 
She quacked not; 
She waddled not; 
She flew not; 
End stopped; 
Did not, 
Run into Enjambment, 
Iambic, 
Pentameter, 
On foot nearby; 
Rhyme Royal chanting;
Prose babbling, 
Out of line, 
Screaming;
Vers libre!
Vers libre!

Pathos, 
Pity me; 
Scan not,
My prosody;
Bravo!
The coins are tossed;
O my dear friends, 
In poetry, 
Therein lay, 
Our Eulogy, 
Paradise Lost.

Copyright © Claire de la Grange | Year Posted 2006

Details | Light Poetry |
Another day
Another memory fades
Le jardin que toujours existe
Has disappeared, disparu

An army of 40,000 destroyed
All that my childhood held dear
They arrive in planes and limos
Coal fired three piece suits

They lectured the poor
They sold platitudes like souvenirs
They had Trudeau promise all and yet nothing at all
They had the press, polluting just as the rest

Paris 2015
The grandest of caviar conferences
Performing Eco terrorism in front of your very eyes
You all applaud when in fact you should all cry

They will tax you until you die
As you breathe the fumes of their failures
They are the magicians of false hope
Singing to the masses of global complacency

I will not dance or sing
This clown as left the ring
The carbon you all hate keeps seeping in
The cows and goats feel is no sin !

Copyright © arthur vaso | Year Posted 2015

Details | Prose Poetry |
The last time I had seen this particular cousin of mine, I was still in college and he had a head full of hair. In between, there had been three funerals, two weddings and four births in our Trojan royalty of a family. I had been a university graduate for a year, and the prospect for a job, a decent one at that, had started to grow dimmer by the day. He asked, “Will you tutor my daughter?” “Yes!” I said. And we set out immediately. He, on his bike and I, on my motorcycle following him. We took a right turn at the famous landmark of the statue of demoness Putana, sitting on the grass with her bosom out and legs spread forward. He introduced me to his wife and daughter. Telling them to stand side by side, he told me, “She's only eleven, but look at her! Already equal in length and width to her mother, who is no delicate petal herself. Do you think you can teach her GK?” 

The universe wasn't made with dissent. Plus, the chicken samosas were really delicious. I tried on a grin while the overachieving pre-teen bustled around the room showing me her accolades for painting, singing, studying. As I left he pointed at a tree, “Do you know what tree is that?”

“Bael?” I answered thoughtfully. 

“Apple. That's an apple tree.” 

“Oh! Does it bear fruits?” 

“Not in this climate!” He laughed out loud.





---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Date: 30 / 11 / 2016
Contest: James Tate
Sponsor: Space Cadet

Copyright © Tamal Kundu | Year Posted 2016

Details | Prose |
The greatest minds are mocked and heckled, but are usually right. The greatest knowledge, is usually found, in the simplest places. Dreams if not a catalyst, to initiate the revelation of truth; often contain the truth. Look within for the golden chalice; the legendary “Grail”; you’ll find it wrapped in the “golden fleece”. Wisdom is gleaned in flight across the veil; no soul, seeking light, is abandoned to the dark. Mind comes from mind, returns to mind, lives in mind. The enlightened never use the word, can’t. If “ignorance is bliss”, skeptics must be the happiest creatures on Earth. The gift of denial never pays to light one single candle. Light is provided free, to the open mind; the greatest minds are the wires, through which, the human batteries are charged; universal mind initiates the transfer. The light in the darkness, the dreams that come true, should never be doused by the waters of ignorance.

Copyright © M. L. Kiser | Year Posted 2015

Details | Tanka |
Recycled souls have Many chances; many lives The wheel of life turns Education takes some time; Humans are quite forgetful.

Copyright © M. L. Kiser | Year Posted 2015

Details | Light Poetry |
Dragon is such an adorable and, yes, kindhearted, dear, little soul.
But he has a few, very, important lessons, that he has yet to learn.
Like what he can do to help our the birdies, we feed in these tales.
Temperatures plummeted deeply down, as the wind blew in gales.

Dragon became very distraught as his birdies huddled in our eves.
Dragon loved them so, that he couldn’t watch them sit, in the breeze.
Their water became frozen, as they pecked at the seeds, in the snow.
So he decided to save his birdies from the elements found in the cold.

He gathered them up, rented a plane, and sent them to the warm South.
He thought to be saving them from a brutal winter, stirring here, outside.
But low and behold, his tired birdies came back home, the very next day.
They’d flown hard to get back, never wanting to go, come what may!

Home is what, this is all about, and the decisions that we tend to make.
And that we Can’t make decisions for others every moment of the day.
Yep, you can’t micro manage the world, for others, deciding Their lives.
Telling others what to do, that’s right, can turn out so wrong, not right!

You see, they were busily employed in building their beloved little nests.
But next, Dragon brought them inside, way out of that icky, frozen mess.
But they wanted to be outside, where their feathers protected them sooo…
They made a mad prison break escape, when Dragon opened up the door!

They needed to be where they belonged, as Dragon cleaned up their mess.
Now, even Dragons’ penguins went into hiding, fearing they would be next.
So we got all together, for a family intervention… for him and his friends…
All explained that they liked their lives, exactly the way, it has always been.

The penguins are happy playing at the lake; the birdies huddled under our eves.
They love the excitement the weather brings, and have work to do before spring.
Feeding them is really enough, and giving them the occasional water to drink.
For they are entities unto themselves, enjoying all that life can truly bring.

Dragon learned a lesson that day, that God has made us each, in unique ways.
But that didn’t stop him from knitting the birdies warm little booties to take. 
They immediately hung them in trees, then took apart, to add to their nest.
But what they really wanted was sticks and twigs that moisture never held.

The moral to my story is: Let others be who they are, offer help, don’t insist…
We were not meant to micro manage everyone else’s total existence.

Written  1-7-2017
Writers' Statement. A fun loving Fable.

Copyright © Carol Eastman | Year Posted 2017

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 | Light Poetry |
School
       Wood stove
                     One big room
                           Teacher, six grades, love
                                         Chaos, respect, learning, fun
                      Dodge Ball, lunch box, blue crayons, Huckleberry Finn








For Nigel's contest, sigh...way back when...

Copyright © Barbara Gorelick | Year Posted 2009

Details | Light Poetry |
A,B,C alphabetic
1,2,3, arithmetic

Two eyes of academic 
Alphabetic and arithmetic

What logic in alphabetic?
What Ethic in arithmetic?

No letter comes prosperous
No figure goes dangerous

No letter brings luckiness
No figure brings luckiness

God given the time
Don't blame,it's crime

No letter writes divine
No figure counts not divine

At seven counts of teen
Gate way is thirteen

A,B,C alphabetic
1,2,3 arithmetic

Two eyes of the academic
Arithmetic and alphabetic






Copyright © Muhammad Safa Thajudeen | 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 | Light Poetry |

Simple promises that I have made...I really did mean it, yet they were never sustained.
Never think more of myself than I am, somehow my unconscious vanity has betrayed me once again?
Never put someone down unless it serves some greater good, somehow my mouth never got the memo?
Never take more out of this life than you need to sustain you in your daily life, somehow my greed has over taking my virtue and I find myself buying stuff I don't really need?
Never miss a day to thank God for all that he has given me...yet I sometimes put food in my mouth and never give it God's blessings.
Never mind...my good intentions or my moral convictions, damn my heart means well but somehow I lack in my commitment. I thought a desire to do what you say was all I would need to have...but the truth be told, everything you want in this life requires much time and dedication.

Copyright © Jay Anderson-Taylor | Year Posted 2012

Details | Light Poetry |
‘ A  Metaphysical  Moment ’

A Metaphysical Moment
Electrifying To The Touch
Breathless, Thru The Clouds
Can My Heart, Take So Much

… Can My Eyes Endure
All This Vision, I See
Can Voice, Even Speak
Over Roaring of This Sea

… Can Ear Even Listen
When I Am Flying So Free
Soaring, So True With You and
Metaphysical Moment and Me …

A Metaphysical Moment
Will I Ever Understand
This Mystery of Our Universe
The Mystery of Woman and Man …


(And I End This with an Haiku for
The Haiku Master ‘Raul’ Moreno and
Metaphysical Poet Extraordinaire’ (smile))


Metaphysical Moment (The Haiku)

          Understanding A
      Metaphysical Moment …
      … Nature’s Mysteries


Metaphysical (definition) as an adjective:

Metaphysical of early 17th Century Poetry
Relating to the poetic style of John Donne,
George Herbert and other early 17th Century Poets
Who used consciously intellectual language
And elaborate metaphors that compared things

Copyright © MoonBee Canady | Year Posted 2009

Details | Prose Poetry |
READING

Always have a book at hand,
In the parlor, bedroom and loo.
Condensed thought on paper,
This is the world for you.

My daughter loves to read,
Must have something to hold.
No cover or pages,
Not even a center fold.

Electronic books these days,
For the person on the go.
Flip it on for convenience,
Living color, like a show.

Reading can entertain,
Delight the lonely heart.
Those without education condemn it,
The learned ones tear it apart.

The many pieces of the written word,
Bring light to those in the dark.
Challenge the mind of the curious,
Give your life a spark.

No entertainment is so cheap,
No pleasure lasts as long.
Your mind flies o'er the pages,
The words are like a song.

The love of reading,
Challenges the soul.
Nothing else given to man,
Can make one whole.

There are those who read,
To know what the world has done.
Others to enhance their personal life,
To be the brightest one.

RAYMOND V. MORGAN
Master Sergeant, USAF - Retired





Copyright © Raymond Morgan | Year Posted 2016

Details | Light Poetry |
the world go up snd down
sex makes it go around
some peole frown
act like a clown
when they have to get
well you can bet
i tell you them too
 know
WE ALL NEDD SEX

Copyright © kurtis scott aka curtis futch jr | Year Posted 2014

Details | Light Poetry |
   DURING MY WORLDLY TRAVELS, I MET ARTHUR ITIS. 
   TO TELL YOU THE TRUTH HE WASN'T THE BRIGHTEST. 
   HIS GOAL IN LIFE IS DISTRIBUTING PAIN. 
   HE LOVES TO ACT UP DURING WINTER AND RAIN,

   I WAS ONCE AT A PARTY, HOSTED BY MR. GRIM REAPER.
   I WAS BOUNCING AROUND WHEN I SPOTTED A KEEPER.
   FASCINATINGLY ATTRACTIVE, WITH A SCIENTIFIC TYPE NAME.
   SHE SIMPLY PREFERRED, BEING CALLED MARY JANE.

   HER PURPOSE IN LIFE IS TO DRIVE AWAY PAIN, 
   FROM THOSE PLAGUED WITH ARTHRITIS EVEN MENTALLY INSANE.
   HER WORK IS AMAZING, ESPECIALLY HER JELLS.
   QUITE THE RELIEF FOR THOSE LIVING IN HELL.

   SHE'S THE LIFE OF THE PARTY, WITH A BAD REPUTATION.
   IN THE MEDICAL WORLD, SHE'S KNOW ACROSS NATIONS.
   SO HERE WE STAND BETWEEN RIGHT AND WRONG.
   AND ALL WE WANT IS ARTHRITIS BE GONE.

Copyright © Michael E. Harris | Year Posted 2017

Details | Rhyme |
Sensitive ears of nature I have 
found.
Poetry is not the sight of words 
but the sound.

Spoken,sung or played on a guitar...
Human, machine,instrument or nature.
Any of these are cool as long
as they're written down.

A flute playing, a bird singing ,
a car engine starting. 
Someone whipping , chopping,
cooking in the kitchen.

Hear it first, then write it down.
For what is poetry but the text 
of 
the sound that you've found?

Copyright © Mariana pavlich | Year Posted 2005

Details | Light Poetry |
Clouds burst
   Crops thirst

Copyright © Katherine Stella | Year Posted 2010

Details | Free verse |
Don't teach me nonsense
Seed my mouth and amplify the need for rare manuscripts 
100 % my degree in exams 
Spelling my conversational law facts 
Teach me more sense 
Release and ease my lazy spirit to tongue twist my images to the right sense 
Teach me less law stress 

Fade away chapters covered in adult pampers
Baby rhythms leaning on group fan fantasies 
Slow mode every click in my tongue twisting slam illusions
Deep kissing my future pictures inspired by scriptures 

Pro Pro Prosecute all free verses escaping jail exams
Pro Pro Professionals don’t live long in prisons premeditated to cage kids
Your lessons will child baby writers
Kids connecting former and future electrified fighters

Their fake ideas were all original 
Teacher don’t teach me nonsense
They spoke so we can speak for all uncaring letters 
Un-curving letters rebuking licences of nonbelievers

Alphabets that endlessly group hug messages in passages 
Words singing bullets pointing to kill silence
Learn to teach lessons with judgments on stillness
Teacher how can i fail your corrections, 
please ease my worries i need protection
I think I am qualified to be a poet though i failed my people 

I wrote exams and failed to finish my languages about punctuality 
Your stop watch gave no sympathetic second chances 
Intelligence is for ever tested but never forgotten in sentences
Your judgments are too hash for our passion 

Teacher don’t teach us your accent
Your language is connected to those ancestors wearing mini skirts 
How can i judge with no law degree? 
Teacher don’t teach me nonsense
Seed my mouth and amplify the need for fresh manuscripts 
100 % my degree in exams 
Spelling my conversational law facts 

© Raymond Ngomane 

Copyright © Raymond Ngomane | Year Posted 2014

Details | Light Poetry |
They say education is the key. 
A key that can open all closed doors. 
A sharpener to our minds. 
Provider of brighter life and expectations.
	it's like a shining lamp in a dark world
	even better than the shining stars in the sky
Different parts of the world,the key takes us there. 
The key doesn't choose religion,race, tribe, class or where you come from. 
You just see it and take it. 
Grab it with your hands and don't let go. 
Explore all parts of the key.
Understand its richness and wealth.
 	With various  ingredients like maths, languages, sciences, 
geography, engineering among others.
	 It makes you the most intellect in the world. 
Greatest scientist, engineer, doctor, teacher, leader among many. 
	With the key: 
You talk, they listen and understand.
 That knowledge of the key is a weapon. 
A weapon that can slush dragons into pieces.
 	The key is a healer of diseases.
 	A solution provider. 
It aggrandizes unimaginable things never seen before.
 The key is like a drug that never expires.
 The greatest inheritance of a child.
 
To get the key is a process.
 Step by step you learn. 
Never give up when the going gets tough.
 Don't stay down if you can get up.
 Gather all your strength and move forward. 
Wipe out the sweat and tears. 
Don't lose focus keep going.
 With hard work and discipline you will finish the race.
 Sweeter than honey are it's fruits.
		 Who wouldn’t want this key? 
			I ask! 
Go get the key and don’t look back.

Copyright © DAVID WAWERU | Year Posted 2016

Details | Prose Poetry |
Lord God,
Stretch our mind/s with deep understanding of Wisdom
To obtain positive understanding with every complications
Counsel us with guidelines in our work

Give us Fortitude, strength, Patience and Tolerance to finish in peace successfully
Deliver knowledge in our mind/s
For us to receive Piety, goodness and devoutness to get satisfaction
With Holy Fear of the Lord-God, I/we ask in the name of Father Christ Jesus to be with us now and forever.

Amen 
09122012

People can change the “our” to “their”, “him” or “his” when praying for others.

Copyright © Jacqueline R. Mendoza | Year Posted 2012

Details | Light Poetry |
School black boards,
No dusters!

Copyright © Muhammad Safa Thajudeen | Year Posted 2014

Details | Free verse |
Inspired by Deborah Guzzi’s Blog ONAM / INDIA

The Indian Rangoli or
Colorful Poetry on floor


This is the story of the poetry of 
Ancient Indian Women,
Who were less blessed to get,  
The knowledge from the learned Gurus.

They were living before marriage
With their parents, 
And helping their mothers,
In household affairs,

Or looking after their husbands,
And his great families, 
After their marriages, 
In their early tender age.*

Finding no ways to express, 
The feelings of their hearts,
One of them took a chalk in her hand
And made a sketch on the floor like an art,

There was no canvas and no brush,
To fill her great artistic skills with colors,
Emotions were flowing in her mind,
Like a rainbow with alluring colors,

The talented one among them,
Collected flower petals of different colors,
And took many flowers to fill and decorate,
The sketches of Rose, Lotus and others, they had made on the floor.

Gradually she started putting,
Color petals in those lovely designed sketches,
And filled all empty sketch figures she had made there,
She was astonished to see that it came out like real Lotus flower.

The painting of petals on the floor was,
So alluring and enchanting that even its,
Beauty and fame, one day reached the heavens,
And Goddess Lakshmi* was too pleased to hear

That some one has made figures of Lotus,
More beautiful and colorful than her favorite,
Seat of sitting on Lotus, 
And she immediately decided to visit that house,

Where the young girl had made such alluring beauty of colors
Like poetry flowing on the floor, every where before Dewali*
When she visited that neat and clean house,
Decorated with enchanting beauty of Rangoli

She was so happy that she blessed that girl with 
Immense wealth and happiness.
Which always comes with the coming of
Lakshmi or the sign of wealth, every where in the world.

She also said, that day,   while visiting the place of that girl
“Who so ever makes and keeps her house neat and clean
Any where in the world and decorate it with Rangoli
Will get my blessings of happiness and wealth”

Ravindra

Kanpur India   18th Sept. 2010

Clarifications:
The above is the brief story of the origin of Rangoli, which
must have started more than 2000 to 5000 year back. 
Now Indian woman is active in all the fields of education 
&  social uplifting. 
*Although the early age marriages has now been made 
illegal but in some parts this bad tradition still exists. 
* Dewali or Deepawali is the festival of lights, joys & 
happiness, which falls every year around 5thNov. 

Copyright © Ravindra K Kapoor | Year Posted 2010

Details | Prose Poetry |
We have been together
treasured joy now for many years
we trust each other with our
emotions, with affection, tears,

Any day when you are sick or hurting
I feel your pain - significant other,
when eighter-one needs attention
we help one another...

These mutual friendly feelings
for assistance, approval, support
form our tight bonds,
usually never broken

Sharing visions, time together
we respect each other,
regardless of shortcomings
I know you, "I love you anyway"

Copyright © Perry Campanella | 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 | Personification |
They want my thighs/ 
So smooth and innocent feathers flying across broken brunches of skeletons/ 
They want my rhymes/ 
This is no poultry for poetry/ 
My poetry is no coward type chicken/
My words are salty/  

I’m a bird i fly on top of state’s real brains/ 
Consuming meat and eggs of past fellow cowards/  
Omnivores lines/ 
These earth i scratch with my mouth/ 
Is a prostitute/
Tougher than concrete lines/
These earth i scratch with my mouth/ 
Is everyone's Present Day Hell 
Serving tissues/
My thoughts are concrete tears like rebels/

Poets
scratch and sing mirrored messages in flocks/ 
This pictures are born from chests incubated second hand writings/  

Smell my symptoms/
Stainless inks/ 
Blinking one eye ink/ 
Eyes wide open never see compost in words/
Aimed at fertilizing unattractively skinnny promises/

O gosh Chickens/

Shoes of chicken view touch souls with my hand clues/
Cowards spray away chicken slams/

They want my thighs/
In holidays they slaughter families born in days of slavery/
They want my rhymes/ 
They want my thighs/
(c) Ray

Copyright © Raymond Ngomane | Year Posted 2014

Details | Light Poetry |
you see you can be
put this underneat
to walk sucessbeat
and feel free
EDUCATION
IS THE KEY

Copyright © kurtis scott aka curtis futch jr | Year Posted 2014

Details | Narrative |
Theatrum Mundi

Theatrum Mundi, derived from the Latin as: “Theater of the World,” was famously incorporated by William Shakespeare for his well-known metaphorical world-view often referred to under the rubric of “All the World’s a Stage,” as it applied to many of his famous romantic themes and works.  For me, however, beyond the romance genre specifically, I take Theatrum Mundi a step further at a macro level and consider it under its more precise definition* as “the world thought of as a theatrical presentation of all aspects of human life,” while considering all of us who live in this world who are, in a sense, on a stage as our very own actors in different roles.

I believe that many modern day poets tend to follow a multi-faceted approach to compelling and captivating themes and problems that form the verbal and written mosaic of what we call human life or the human experience.  This is not so different from poets of a bygone age; yet, we tend now to be more influenced by the technological age we all live in, but this should not at all detract from our poetry and how we frame and stage human events on paper with our pens.

Despite our technological prowess nowadays—courtesy of the twenty-first century—the genesis and exposition of what we poetically write and how 
we write it should continue to follow the traditional formats and structural methodologies passed on to us from poets of past centuries.  In this sense, 
Ars Poetica (or the Art of Poetry) will always be in the same tradition; yet, 
it’s worth noting that the increased proliferation in the use of “free verse” is
indeed more telling today in this modern literary age. 

That’s what makes writing poetry indeed so special today in comparison to strict prose and journalistic writing.  Really good poetry invites the reader to think, and at times, for he or she to use their imaginations and to venture into the inner sanctum
of allegory, assonance, imagery, metaphor, metonymy, onomatopoeia, and so on.  And so, we poets tend to have a virtual unending group of themes and subjects to consider for our writes when we look at the vastness of the human experience in society today in this century.  

Theatrum Mundi is very much applicable to an all-inclusive view of themes and works across all genres when one considers the veritable magnitude of the human condition in today’s world.  We poets are also actors on this global stage—and we’ll always have much to observe, discuss, and write about—no doubt whatsoever.                                                                                                                                                                                                                                    
Gary Bateman, Copyright © All Rights Reserved (May 3, 2015)
(Narrative Essay)  

*This definition is taken from The Oxford Dictionary of Foreign Words & Phrases (New York:  Oxford University Press Inc., 1998), 431.

(Release Date of this poem in my new book was on February 11, 2015)

Copyright © Gary Bateman | Year Posted 2015