A poet, you say? Oh no, not am I,
There's only ONE poet, He writes on the sky ...
Of sunsets and stars, of space without end,
A dazzling bright ink, an ethereal pen ...
Rainbows and sun dogs, anvils and rains,
Mists from the moors, breeze-tickled plains.
Haze-shrouded hills, cloud-crusted peaks,
Sunrise horizons with blush on their cheeks.
Green flash, auroras, comets, and moon,
Fair constellations that rollick and swoon.
Bright, stabbing bolts that pierce the dark skies,
Spiraling storms with the sun in their eyes.
All that He writes is authentic and true,
Far beyond what MY words can construe.
But every-so-often, He blesses this fool,
Imparts me the mercy to make me His tool.
I'd love to take credit, but I must keep in sight,
That I'm just a pen with which He may write.
So, I may seem a bard, with the verses I've spun,
But regarding TRUE poets, there's really ... just ...
* Submitted on January 30, 2018, for the "Premiere Contest Number 16" Poetry Contest, SKAT A, Sponsor. *
Copyright © Gregory R Barden | Year Posted 2017
Lost in a poets convention,
I can't recall every poem, I've read through the years
50518, unique comments I 'validate'---
Thank You For Sharing Your Happy and Sad tears
Since March 24, 2010 In the mist of every line,
I'm sending special hugs, for he/she that favorite me through the years
A praise to all poets mentioned and not mentioned
I will miss, the sweetest girl on this block LEONORA G.,
She treats me with love, adores my words and twisted poetry.
I will start with the soups famous October, 7th babies,
Frank and Kash, Debbie D, and myself, these lines belong to us,
Our best characteristic has everything to do with the mind
In our poetic hearts you'll find the symbol of justice and balance
This is not a song, it is not a poem, it's a free falling memo written with style
Back in March 2013, I said it then, I'll say it again
Andrea, you and only you are the Poet Queen
By the Queen, sits the Poet King of rhymes, Robert L. Hinshaw
Thank you both for never stepping on your loyal subjects
Carol B., & Linda Marie, no one can replace the hole you left inside
I will miss all the little poetry pups, who came and sat by my side
MAHIMA and Saanvi, and Sabrina, thank you for the encouragement
Phyllis, Joyce, Francine, Rhonda, Betty, sweet Karen A., and Catie,
Clap your hands for the lovely quiet soup ladies.
Okay, maybe not Karen A., and Catie, these ladies love speaking their minds:)
SARA K., a mentor to some, a Fairy Godmother in my book
I will miss her "Magic Pen like Wand" dearly.
Gail, thank you for spreading your wings, and teaching us how to fly.
Hopefully --wings are a nice gesture, --waving--
"One day I'll see you again, my friend."
Daver Austin, "Go ahead, make my day" thank you for the show
Now, you know why I referred to you as, "The Clint Eastwood of Poetry."
Russell Survey, encouraged my days and moods with his kind words
Scribe ML., where are you my friend?
Don't you know your BIGGEST FAN misses you!!!
Dr Ram, Bindu V, Litan D., Donna J, Shadow, Sandra A., Peter Durgan,
Giorgio V., Mystic Rose, BL Devnath and of course our Nette.
Thank you for being kind and rewinding and replying to every note.
Joseph M., Caleb S., Vincent F., Juliet L., Lucy Carrillo, Scott 37, Johnny R.,
Kelly D., thank you for the honor in always honoring my words
Roger Horsch meets Eileen Ghali, your smile, her smile always made me smile,
No matter how many miles apart, our smiles always met on the same page.
Jenish, Don J., S.Z. Kamoonpuri, Gideon, Gary, Austin E., and Jody M.,
Fatima N., Mark N., Aiyah B., Ralph F., Kathryn C., Elly, Ayesha A.,
Clay W., Erich, Syam, MIKKI, John B., Olusegun, *Sukmawati* Gwen,
Delysia H., Frederic P., Richard L., Brenda L., Keith, Debbie G.,
Thank you for painting the best IMAGERY
Michale Clarke, Charma C., Wayland B., Jancarl C., Carrie, and Harry,
M&M, Abdulhafeez, Michael B., Maria P. S., CHAN and Mandy T.
You are only the beginning of what makes this a good community
Arlid A., Dinda M., Silly Billy, Tim Ryerson, we go way back.
Ravindra, Kim M., Richard S., Honestly JT., Wade A., Dom-X.
The ingredients in your poems, makes the best soup remix
Joe M., Jack H., James H., James P., Tim B., Jon A. C., Allan K., Matthew A.
Deb Wilson, David S., David William, Thomas S., Cecilia M.
Keep that pen flowing for tomorrow needs poets like you.
Justin B., Laura B., your words will continue to be a part of me.
Owen Y., and John L., your visits, your friendship I will never forget
Yasmin and Carl F., hanging out with you on the soup was the best.
Cherl Dunn, and Colleen Bono, SandyIvy, I will miss everything about you,
Mostly I will miss your friendship and the way you took care of me.
Poet and sister Skat, keep rocking what I can't....
Copy paste your love, welcome in the new.
Show Edwina, Robin, Sam B., and all the NEW POETS they belong
Last but not least-- Behind every mess, they are the best
--Craig Cornish and Cyndi McMillan
What have you done, I admit without you this place would have been no fun.
Thank you for the spin, making every penny worth our paid premium memberships
Before I forget,
I want to take this time to reminisce and add two old friends to my hot list.
Nikko and Chris A..... My first POETRY SOUP FRIENDS.
I will never forget you, and all the fun moments we had,
Back when the soup was not like this:)
Chris, can you ever forgive me, I never stepped up to say "I was Sorry!"
As you know my kindness is my weakness
Now it's time to be strong and move on
If one day I return, then you know, I fell off the wagon
And, into arms and luring fingers of Team Poetry Soup
The Poet Destroyer
Copyright © Poet Destroyer A | Year Posted 2014
Staying near to light my way
now that there is no more day
You're needed to so brightly burn
before to black ashes you return
Flames dance high upon your wick
and fall across the well-worn brick
Like those flames once in the hearth
when you go out there is no rebirth
My mind alight with persistent thought
beaming from an inspiration caught
In ink my quill takes another dip
my eyes watch your melting wax drip
Furiously now my script does flow
to finish the lines before out you go
I can do no more, there is no time
my slowing pen can no longer rhyme
The ink still wet, not even dry
as your glow continues to die
Words on the page begin to fade
while creeping darkness starts to shade
Wax and ink overtaken by night
and devours all your candle's light.
Copyright © Kelly Deschler | Year Posted 2016
I couldn’t understand the language she spoke,
at least not all of it,
but the emotion pouring past her lips,
the tears in her eyes, her clenched and shaking fists
enunciated more clearly,
than any piece of English Poetry I had ever read,
and grabbed me, held me still.
…In that moment, her soul was in my arms.
In that finite, tender breath of our lives,
she was my mother, my best friend…
but I could not console her.
I didn’t have the words;
and my heart sank into the
concrete between us,
wet with the pain of God’s rain
and her tears.
…Were my tears
So, I simply opened my palms
toward her crouched form and
spoke the only words I could
fathom, that would be accepted
by a stranger on a dangerous street.
"I am sorry, It will be okay. God will bless you."
I knew she did not understand…
“que va a estar bien”
“Dios te bendecira’ “
the words were as messy as the overturned
duffle bag at her feet…and fumbled, slowly
from my lips, as my knees hit the street.
Two strangers, cried in the rain,
knowing nothing of each other’s suffering,
and yet we shared the weight,
together, for those few moments;
the barrier of language was broken.
Love spoke for us.
-James Kelley 2014, All rights reserved.
…Love transcends any language
Copyright © James Kelley | Year Posted 2014
Well, it has been one year since I joined Poetry Soup.
I smile now, because I have met this wonderfully diverse group.
August 7th, 2013 was a day that would change my life.
I finally found the place where I could express my cares and strife.
I know that I say this often, and yet it is still not enough.
Thank you all for bringing me happiness on days that were rough.
To Linda, The "Poet Destroyer" and her sister SKAT.
You both welcomed me warmly and I will never forget that.
To Chan Hurst, who is much more than "Just That Archaic Poet".
We will always be friends to the end, and you know it.
To Nature Boy, .... well ..... what more can I say?
You have helped and inspired me to blossom in every way.
To Gail Angel Doyle, Debbie Duncan, Cheryl Dunn, and Michael Clarke.
Thank you for knowing that good things can come from the dark.
To John "Jake" Posey, who mentioned Poetry Soup while on another site.
You were actually the first person to tell me that I could write.
To Isaiah Zerbst, with whom my first collaboration would be.
Thank you so much for seeing the poetic potential in me.
To Mustapha Mohammed, a true "partner-in-rhyme".
Thank you for allowing my poetry to take up some of your time.
To Peter and Vera Duggan, Liam McDaid and Carolyn D.
Your kindness and friendship always meant so much to me.
To Bindu Vijayan, Johnny Rhinem, Yasmin Khan and Becca L.
Thank you for truly understanding my words so well.
To Andrea Dietrich, Nette Onclaud, Debbie Guzzi and Giorgio A.V.
I truly appreciate the encouragement that you've given to me.
To F.J. Thomas, Mystic Rose, Richard L., and Anne-Lise A.
Meeting kind-hearted people like you has made me want to stay.
To Thomas Simunsen, Karen Anglesey, Dr, Ram Mehta and Drake E.
I think you have read almost every poem ever written by me.
To Matthew Anish, Charmaine C., Shadow H., and Dave Wood.
Thank you for making me smile more than anyone ever could.
To Robin Davis, Danesh Morgan, Roger H., Litan D., and Sara K.
I appreciate all of you visiting me nearly every single day.
To Christopher Thor Britt, Carrie C., Justin Bordner, and Craig C.
None of your written words have ever failed to inspire me.
To Casarah N., Robert Lindley, Paul Callus and Arthur V.
Thank you all for just being so friendly to me.
We all share a common passion through the writing of a poem.
I am so lucky to have found a place that feels like home.
There are many friends that I have met along the way.
So, thank you all for brightening up the last 365 days.
Copyright © Kelly Deschler | Year Posted 2014
I don't have nothing really to post right now
However, I will read your poems first,
In hopes inspiration follows and falls into place
Please do not think I'm here to drop a bomb
It's just a fair warning on how, I'm here
"To Rock Your World"
Allow me kindly to introduce myself,
I'm as Sweet as they come
I'm not the enemy, but a poet friend
In time you will see, and hunger my name
I'm not new to any poetry world
In time you will notice I am not your average girl
I will play fair, If you do
I'll be true to you, if you are true
I'm not here to judge what I can't see
However, I will reply and enjoy the imagery
This Destroyer is not like a lawyer
However, mess with me or my sis
I'll chew you out like the D.E.A.
I'll mess with your mind
A brain storm cleaning you from bottom to top
I am the POET DESTROYER
Admiring those who love the world of wordplay
Today, I will end my WORDS
With the quote I've always wanted to say
"I am no poet!"
Copyright © Poet Destroyer A | Year Posted 2010
The best advice came from my hero
since our very first days on the Soup,
he said to me ....be true to yourself
don't try to blend into the group.
When no one wants to write in rhyme
you told me ....write it anyway,
when no one wants to read rhyme,
you said to me ...write it anyway.
If this is your passion, why let it go
all opinions will be hit and miss,
poetry is not what others want you to do
only Heart and Soul make up the artist.
Did Poe try to follow the rest ...oh no
being unique makes any artist great,
perfection is what it is .....to you
only we can control the hand of fate.
So what if we are being a little archaic
by respecting those who came before,
the elders are remembered for a reason
they opened up the modern poet's door.
Thank you for teaching me to believe
because back then I just didn't see,
the talent, the potential, the poet
... that you somehow saw in me.
I have many Poetry Soup heroes....
but this poem is for Chan Hurst, "Just That Archaic Poet" ....RIP
Written on November 10th, 2015
Copyright © Kelly Deschler | Year Posted 2015
His poems created melodies
Of angel's wings and restless seas,
Of crisp blue mornings and cloudless skies,
And pearls of wisdom that help souls rise.
This all was written from the heart;
No less pure than Raphael's art.
He stroked the canvas of our mind,
And helped the searching soul to find;
That we can learn life's melodies,
And fly above the restless seas;
Into the cloudless morning skies,
Until at last we realize.
We all are artist in a way.
We mold our lives with heaven's clay.
Though many brushes stroke our mind;
The final picture, we've designed.
Copyright © Robert Nehls | Year Posted 2014
Uninvited you come, oh Erato*, muse of poetry, the
Majority of times,
Knocking at my soul’s door at any given moment
Insisting to let you in, your message to deliver
Disregarding at what state my soul is and if she could
With your request comply
Oh, muse of poetry, when with my soul’s inspiration
You are flirting all the time
Whispering in her ears words of wisdom, coming
From your divine essence
My soul, mesmerized, tries the words of wisdom,
Lingering in her depths, again to remember**
A difficult task it is indeed, I admit,
For the language of heavens that my soul, once
Knew very well, now she has forgotten**
Because of her association with her mortal body
For that reason, oh divine muse,
Be patient with her and give her just
A little more time
The time that my soul needs, divine muse, to learn
Or rather to remember
How to talk and to express herself in writing the
Way you would like:
In accordance with universe’s harmony and
Its eternal laws
When this blessed hour comes, my soul able
Would be, poems to compose
Her writings, her creations and her poetic epics,
The work of you would be, oh muse,
No credit would, my soul, claim
She knows very well that only an instrument she is,
Oh muse, into your godly embrace,
Just to be used according to your desire
Because only you, oh muse of poetry, know
The universe’s poetic language should be used
And how, in verse, it has to be
© Demetrios Trifiatis
30 SEPTEMBER 2014
* Erato, one of the nine daughters of Zeus and Mnemosyne (memory ).
She is the Muse of lyric poetry, love poetry and marriage songs.
** Socrates, Greek philosopher 469-399, believed that the soul knows the truth but because of her association with the body, after her incarnation, she forgets therefore what we call learning is in reality a process of remembering as it is indicated also by the name of Erato’s mother, Mnemosyne, (memory).
A poet should always follow Erato’s instructions that comes in the form of inspiration, in order to reach the desired result. This is because erato’s knowledge is unadulterated for it is divine!
Copyright © Demetrios Trifiatis | Year Posted 2014
Angels flapped their wings
Stardust fell from blessed sky
© Demetrios Trifiatis
21 OCTOBER 2014
Copyright © Demetrios Trifiatis | Year Posted 2014
You came when I needed an etheric friend,
though I never knew you in life.
An angelic guardian I see in dreams.
You died just before I was born yet,
it feels like we've spent a lifetime together.
Protectorate, eternal spirit, arriving when needed;
an infinite connection.
Cartoonist that you are;
in childhood, I knew you as a giant panda bear,
my invisible playmate after grandma died.
You understood just what my
child-mind needed to heal.
Others only labeled me a,
You inspired me and gave me hope.
To you I attribute my imagination and creativity;
from you I inherited my love of the arts.
Now, astral visits give birth to fresh ideas.
Being an adult should never be boring,
grownup or set stagnant.
If “faith is believing”, then I am rich.
I believe in spirit and soul.
Yes, you came when I needed a friend
and now I believe I can truly be me;
without the condemnation and judgments of others.
You came and you gave me…
back to me.
Copyright © M. L. Kiser | Year Posted 2014
Rosette tapestries of unparalleled glamour
Embroided thoroughly by the wittiest clamor
Magnanimously amorous in grace and wonder
Bewitching and charming though so yonder
Rhetorically out bounding my frugal thoughts
To be "irresistible", my flawless pure cause
Starlight's amiss your ornate romantic spell
Driving me sweetly to madly deep to compel
Handful of metaphors and highfalutin words
Illuminating. Inspiring. Invigorating.
Incubating anyone with one unique style
Wonderful, beautiful, matchless, they foretell
Vividly inventive and bombastic with each stroke
To hardened hearts, you can surely start to stoke
Erratically tender enough to adagio break the silence
Drawing anyone for more and more to your essence
Revised April 24, 2014
CONTEST: ANY POEM #24
Sponsor: POET DESTROYER A
Copyright © Olive Eloisa Guillermo | Year Posted 2014
Into my mind the letters chase
All jumbled up, scrabbling for space
Like naughty children in a race
To see who gets the better place
And who’s to choose from that melee
And set them where they ought to be
We hope the Muse will soon INSPIRE
With words to set the brain afire
Copyright © Margaret Foster | Year Posted 2011
MY UKHT AL-KUBRA
I have one sister in my home
Sweet, loving, with open arms and heart
With dark brown eyes
And an inviting laugh
And a passion
I have a sister at Soup
Sweet, loving, with open arms and heart
Both my sisters are so different
Yet one thing is the same:
I love them both
With all of my heart.
My sister at home has her Arabic name.
My sister at Soup stil hasn't.
To me she is an inspiration.
So, my dear inspirational sister,
Below your name in my language:
ILHAME - INSPIRATION
The picture is Ilhame in Arabic calligraphy
Copyright © Darren White | Year Posted 2016
The island birds have done their work,
Fed their young, and now take roost
In swaying palms with the setting sun.
I too have filled my sunny day
With mundane chores, I've toiled away
Until this magical twilight hour...
When I drink my tea and wander
Over reams of creative poetry.
Your romantic words have inspired me...
Let me fly freely... through the galaxy.
Though evening news causes much disdain
Your brilliant words bring delight again.
Romance blooms from pen to paper
In such vivid and fragrant floral bouquets.
So many forms and varieties I am astounded,
I can't take my weary eyes away!
The night is virginal and humid
As Jasmine releases her sultry scent...
Romance me with your tales of love
Which I respect as heaven sent.
As I read poems half through the night
They color dreams in dawn's twilight.
© Connie Marcum Wong
Copyright © Connie Marcum Wong | Year Posted 2017
2014 Robert Frost Poetry Contest
I am proud to announce once again
I have had the honor and privilege, have had/ had
to be allow to line the trashcan of the allow/allowed
Poetry Judges office at Robert Frost Farms.
An Honor I look forward too next year !
This Year' trashcan liner Year'/year's
The Poet Frost
That poet lived not far from here
But I could not see, nor hear him talk
I read about His chopping wood
And Mending Fences make of rock make/made
I heard that he had pasted away
When many eyes gave birth to tears
I was only six, that fateful day
Now, five more score in years
But through the passing of the seasons
His rhymes and verses have remained
A guiding light, that I find pleasing
And as for this, I count it gain
I did not meet the man called Frost
But know him well, for words he penned
I try sometimes try to think his thoughts
And walk his fields from end to end
I feel his presents, while on his farm Presents/presence
Where nature speaks his sonnets so
With loving hands he planted words
Then stood and watched the poems grow
If I could only farm, like this
to draw from natures inspiration
Then writing poems great like his
Would be my cherished occupation It's no wonder I end up in the can
lesson: Never proof read alone
by JT Curtis
Copyright © Jerry T Curtis | Year Posted 2014
Muse's tender whispers
© Demetrios Trifiatis
27 June 2017
Copyright © Demetrios Trifiatis | Year Posted 2017
Poems flowing from my heart
Words filling sheets of paper
Feelings pouring through stanzas
Until rhymes make sense
Who says what should be written
Who says what should be felt
Only who writes knows the first
Only who reads capture the last
My words can resonate in some hearts
It can pass unfelt through the rest
It'll grow roots in someone's lives
It'll be ignored by the mass
And that's okay, you see
Because it's impossible to please everyone
I hope who matters will read
And my words will have a life of their own...
November 11, 2016
Copyright © Claudia Polydoro | Year Posted 2016
I know a very fine poet, a dear colleague, who’s so exquisitely talented and bright,
And has a superb facility with words and themes making all fit perfect and right;
She has an unrivaled mastery of the poetic art and writes with the best approach,
And has an unparalleled ability to write the finest verse beyond any reproach.
This poet’s sense of depth, empathy, and poetic variety is quite splendid to behold,
And she brings such compassion and power to her work worth its weight in gold;
With well-conceived themes and images she invites readers to her special dimension,
While enchanting them magically with sublime verses and holding their attention.
This poet communes with Our Poetry Muse, seeking her scope and enchanted vision,
And shares amply all with her readers with enraptured intent and a perfect precision.
Our friend’s poetry reflects always the human dynamic with such power and grace,
And she finds the right tone, tenor, pitch and rhyme—putting them in proper place.
I must say I’m very proud of our colleague’s work and appreciate so her fine poetry,
And I’m so glad she’s with us and gives us such beauty and elegance in her poetry!
Gary Bateman, Copyright © All Rights Reserved, Schoeningen, Germany
(November 9, 2014) (Shakespearean Sonnet in a Rhyme poetic format)
*****Written for the “It’s All About Me Contest,” December 4, 2014*****
Copyright © Gary Bateman | Year Posted 2014
Mountain Lake is my favorite place to write
under shade tree are my pencil, paper, and pole.
Scribble down words while waiting for a bite
fishing my most popular angling hole.
Fish are jumping all around hook and line
small cork sits still and does not move or fade.
Patiently I sit in wait for that fish to dine
beneath weeping willow of cool tree shade.
Inspiration overwhelms biding snare
while creative mind laggardly transcends.
In far distance I see lone grizzly bear
and leave a good fishing pole to his friends.
Copyright © 2011 By Caryl S. Muzzey
Fourth Place Winner ~ "Inspired” Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Miranda Lambert
July 20, 2011
Copyright © Caryl Muzzey | Year Posted 2011
Does not the pen yield its ink unto the bare page,
For expressionism to spill forward expelling inspirations
Liberal curve, it’s the power of freedom of speech is
How many have died for what they believe in,
What weight in blood soils, have these brave
Individuals has cost in life’s causes of the justice
These voices sounding can be heard even though
The flesh flame has been extinguished, hope light
Flickers in the darkest corner of silence, and it’s mighty
Winds wave can still be felt amongst the living.
Know one stands alone in a justified cause, if the truth
In the written words is spoken out loud, and is proudly
Bared by the author.
The next generations seeks our kindling fire, to inspire
There small embers to burn more brightly let us encourage
Such raw fuel to ignite, not smother it by smug self righteousness.
Set ablaze the pages of the future generations, let their inspirational
Spark spread, setting the very heavens a fire with enlightenment's torrent.
In this world we are given the gift of speech, thought, and wisdom,
For what other reason but to share the best of ourselves with others,
It is the gleaming light that sizzles in the eyes of the human spirit,
And severs us from the beast of the fields, and it is called Intelligence,
Compassion, and the freedom of speech.
BY: CHERYL ANNA DUNN
Copyright © cherl dunn | Year Posted 2015
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
Sneak up on their prey
very silent and deadly
don't get in their way.
Copyright © Cynthia Jones
Copyright © Cynthia Jones | Year Posted 2015
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!
Copyright © Carol Eastman | Year Posted 2015
Wind so cold.
Fondles my face.
The tears from heaven.
I wonder if i wish
to stop them
The little voice in me says,
Wait, don't go.
Stay a little longer. I plead.
Sing for me today, rain.
With the gliding rhythm on my piano,
Chilly Wind, caress my bare skin
with the pure coldness that you bring.
like it's my first time in the snow.
the fire tree never fades in the picture.
The yellow sunkissed leaves, too.
What is it about Summer and Fall
that I can't forget?
Memories. Sweet imaginations.
The chilly rain. The misty wind.
You are here.
Freeze me with the sharp coldness you give.
Calm me. Maybe, comfort me.
And, if you leave
Will you visit me when summertime comes?
Before it gets too late
And again I fold.
Copyright © Wendy Meyer | Year Posted 2013
We're leaves upon the wind it seems,
That somehow find a way.
Observers of a world with dreams.
That long to have their say.
Our thoughts like rhythmic water flow
Into the ocean's song.
And we create the boats that row.
So all can sail along.
We're laureates and troubadours,
Writers of the woe.
Ancient sands upon the shores.
Wind and rain and snow.
Pleasure, pain and misery.
Reflections of the mind.
We're all of life, a potpourri
Of verse for all mankind.
Copyright © Robert Nehls | Year Posted 2014
Cross eyed woman had a nasty fall
after running into a brick wall
she was hit over the head
with a big loaf of bread
while trying to play basketball.
Copyright Cynthia Jones
Copyright © Cynthia Jones | Year Posted 2015
You cannot articulate in words
To the one that is glancing from the outside
The total chaos on the inside
Because on the outside you wear a smile
Of order and calm
In silence you mull over
The I “wishes”
And the I “could haves”
Even though deep down you know
That is burnt ash
That it will never come to live again
But it is the only thing that keeps you going
At times the in between moments
Are the ones that take your breath away
Because they happen unplanned
Those tender moments of joy
You know you can have again
So this is not you throwing in the towel
This is you at rest
Preparing yourself for the next step
Because when you eventually get through
All the chaos
You will smile with your soul
Copyright © Wilma Neels | Year Posted 2015
I found poetry soup several years ago,
And it has been a wonderful journey;
Sharing poems of sadness and eternity,
Only here, can I let go of all my emotion.
But treat me with respect so I can grow,
Reponses to my sad writes are wonderful;
But, there are two sides here, one beautiful,
The side where we share poems and words.
With lovely comments like musical cords,
I want support not rules from administration;
And instead of demands give me direction,
And the blog side- well is quite dreadful.
Oh, the beautiful side is where I wish to dwell,
Administration, be fair so I never say farewell.
December 21, 2015
For the contest, Why Are You On Poetry Soup
Sponsor, Jerry T. Curtis
Copyright © Broken Wings | Year Posted 2015
The wait was eternal for inspiration -
minutes ticked by with gripped pen,
and seated without hitting a stroke.
Closed eyes submit nothing in a world adrift in opacity.
Somewhere between midnight noir and the rise of morn's fog,
I'd fallen into an abysmal necrosis, deprived of light.
I'd built a fortress that shut me in and the key to my cell was me.
I brandished a pen that became a sword
that hacked and sliced at my every word.
My dreams were gone along with life's sensations.
No wonder I could not find causes for inspirations.
A poet who doesn't write is of no use, none at all.
At the edge of a cliff - should I jump or fall?
The sound of laughter caught my ears
and through eyes blurred with tears
I saw children running free along the water's edge.
There I stood, undecided, upon the ledge.
I sat on the cliff with legs overhanging and watched them play.
"Well, poet, have you nothing more to say?"
A scolding for thinking of naught but notions of doom
A spanking I needed for being in doldrums of gloom.
"Now see what you've done," said my Muse. "Your crime
seems to be that you begin in free verse but always end in rhyme."
My laughter was louder than the children at play
who now stopped in the surf and looked up my way."
A wave of my hand and down to the beach I ran.
Inspirational thoughts filled me like waves crashing upon sand.
Copyright © Lin Lane | Year Posted 2016