Poetry Success Poems

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Details | Rhyme |
Ana
She writes her songs and her poems,
not one person know 'em.
She listens to the sound of her music,
she's stuck to it like a tick.

If someone took the time to listen,
her true colors would glisten.
She's put on a mask,
and hid everything when someone asked.

She was the type of girl who would always laugh,
making you wish it would last.
She was the type of girl who would smile the day away,
too bad it is no longer that way.

She is now the girl who is depressed,
I bet you're impressed.
Since no one could tell
that she was going through hell.

Everyone thought she was happy, 
when really, she felt crappy.
Everyone thought she was having the time of her life,
who would have guess her best friend was a knife?

She spent her days alone,
she seemed to do everything on her own.
Never once wanted help.
Thought she could do everything herself.

Then the day came,
when she lost the game.
She fell apart,
and everyone saw her broken heart.

They saw the way she overreacted.
Oh, if only you saw the way she acted.
She bruised herself, scratched herself, and made herself bleed,
no one knew what it was that she needed.

They saw her tears,
and that was what she feared.
They found out she wasn't okay,
oh, she hated that day.

Everyone found out about her secret,
and she wish they'd just forget,
but she knew they couldn't,
and that they wouldn't.

She left that town and started over,
no one knew she went undercover.
She said she got better,
when really... something else occurred. 

She secretly hurt herself,
and walked away from help.
Everyone thought she recovered,
when really, she was undercover.

She secretly wanted to get worse,
no one knew of course.
No one cared to ask,
if she was wearing her mask.

Now it's too late,
she locked the gate.
Killed herself,
everyone had forgotten she needed help.

Goodbye cold world,
this was a story of a girl
who once loved everyone
then feared who it was who won.

Copyright © Ana Jusino | Year Posted 2013




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 | Light Poetry |
THE QUESTION MARK


Our life-
A question mark it is-
Struggling 
Into an exclamation point
To turn
But
After numerous battles against
A series of: 
Commas 
Semicolons
Colons
Brackets and
Dashes,
Exhausted;
Ends up-
In most cases-
A…period "." to 
Be.


© Demetrios Trifiatis
       11 JUNE 2013


Copyright © Demetrios Trifiatis | Year Posted 2013




Details | Verse |

My poems are like creeping vines that I have planted well,
I tend them in my garden of evergreen poetry to be strong;
They are waiting quietly to release their swirling spiral tendrils,
Tendrils that will adhere and entwine and entangle you in my words.

You have whispered to me a challenge and I quiver with joy,
My need to capture you is overwhelming, I am driven to win;
I will do anything you request of me to impress and to please you,
But to lose, it is unfathomable and I can become hostile and clinging.

Can you not see my words so lovely, like wandering thread,
I am tranquility and you can rest in my coolness and my shade;
Hugging, caressing whispering to your muse my beautiful wordiness,
Come wrap yourself in my words, be entwined, there will be no escape.

I was born to write innocent words, to give my writing power,
My need is great, to be acknowledge and known is my one goal;
Nothing else will be acceptable, I crave your muse to hear my cry,
Take my wild poetic words and poems high and let me shine in the sun.

Let's make a deal, if you release me on my upward journey,
I will not encircle you in my wandering seeking green tendrils;
Withdrawal of my choking, hanging greenness will be your reward,
You will be quite safe after I withdraw my clinging hold on your muse.


______________________________
September 23, 2015


Verse

For the contest,  You Want It Bad, Then Bribe Me, Casarah Nance

4th Place

Copyright © Broken Wings | Year Posted 2015

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 |
HEART OF A CHAMPION

When you see someone all alone doing 
what no one else even tries to do,
Take note of the person you are seeing
making something really special come true.

For when they self push all to the limit,
where they never have dared gone before,
they increase the strength of their spirit
that will allow them to always do more.

For deep in them lies something special,
a heart that will never be beat.
A fire burns brightly within it
of determination you cannot defeat.

And when their great challenge is over,
when finally they have conquered their test,
they stand at the top of the mountain
much higher than all of the rest.

So if you are waiting for someone
to force you to work hard today.
You’ve lost to the heart of a champion
that works all alone everyday.

Tom Krause - 2015

Copyright © Tom Krause | Year Posted 2015

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 | Light Poetry |
I was just trying to remember the past
 trying to remember the good people
 and the bad people,
 that i came across on my way,

i want you to know
that you are among the good people
 that left a good trace in my life,

once again i just want to say thank you
for passing through my life,
is so short but is wonderful
i want you here forever.

Copyright © VICTOR BUN | Year Posted 2012

Details | Prose Poetry |
A FARMER
A farmer is in a village .
24 , years , is his age .
He cultivates under rays .
One day , he meets with a sage .
Then , he says ,
‘ you will be the world famous , in future days ! ‘
Then the farmer becomes surprise !
‘ How is it possible ?
Is it true ? ‘
He thinks too and too……………
Next night , the stars rise .
An old man comes in his farmhouse .
He is too fible !
He gifts to the farmer , a white mouse .
And says , ‘ it is too lucky , really , truely !
Keep it carefully ! ‘
Then he becomes dead .
Then the mouse touches his head .
Why ? the farmer does not know it .
Later , one dawn , 
It is a spring morn ;
The farmer cultivates on his field ……….
He gets from the field ,
A big box  , made by gold ;
Too old !
He picks it up , then ;
He breaks it’s lock , then ;
He sees that , in it , here is 3 manuscripts of 3 books ;
The farmer does not know reading ;
So nothing understands ;
Only he looks and looks ………………
Yes , then all are in his hands ;
Later , he reaches in that cortage ,
Where meditates , the old sage ;
Then the farmer shows the papers to the sage ;
And then , the sage is reading and reading…………………
Oh ! the old medical  discoveries ! 
Yes , the medicines of the cancer ;
In 3 manuscripts , here are 3 names of medicines of the cancer .
And also all about , in details……………
He becomes surprise !
Then , he tells ,
To the newspapers ;
All read the all papers……….
Yes , the new stars then arise ;
No death ; 
Oh ! then the forcast of the sage , becomes true ;
Oh ! the old faith !
Yes , then the farmer becomes the world famous man !
The whole world , then , becmes his fan ;
All say , ‘ I love you ! 
Too ……...too ………too ………………………………….’
Then that white lucky mouse says ,
‘ I stay in the cortage of the sage ; ‘
Then the farmer says ,
‘ why ? no ! you stay with me ! dear ! ’
Then the sage says ,
Hey ! from today , we all stay together ; too …… too near ! ‘
From that day , they all stay in a very big , new , palace ;
Yes , yes , yes , 
With bless …………………………………
With success …………………………………………………

Copyright © ANJALI DENANDEE | Year Posted 2016

Details | Free verse |
Sometimes I am happy, sometimes I am sad.
Sometime I sing, sometimes I stammer

Sometimes I dance on the music of my soul, Sometimes I dance on the fingers of 
one single person
Sometimes I expect so much from others; sometime I myself can’t meet my own 
expectations.

Sometime I make fun of others and feel bad later, sometimes life makes fun of me 
and I smile
Sometime I win and sometimes I lose, sometimes I don’t even understand whether I 
won or lost.
 
Sometimes I laugh as if whole world is with me,
Sometimes I cry as if I am alone wandering in a strange land

Sometimes I give up so easily
Sometimes I work so hard that no one can stop me to achieve what I want

Sometimes I am dynamic person, who wants to change the world,
And sometimes I am a kid who expects anyone to embrace him tightly.

Sometimes I feel happy about the achievement of my enemy
Sometime I feel dejected with my own success.

Sometimes I help others and show them the right path
Sometimes I feel totally helpless and don’t know where to go

Sometimes I ask god to please give my past back
Sometimes I pray to show me the way forward


Life is composed of SOMETIMES and I just flow with that.
U admit or not but you are also sailing on the same boat.
So join me and enjoy it EVERYTIME as SOMETIMES life is very short!

Copyright © Rajat Singhal | Year Posted 2014

Details | Free verse |
I opened my eyes,under. 
A bleak atmosphere-
deserted I beheld.
Sinuous channels flowing.
Whimpering           
Sounds escaped,
As I walked on vast layer 
Of permafrost.
Beyond the horizon,the 
World lay bare.
With my heart in my 
Hand,I passed thru 
Argyle And Hellas,amid 
eerie Sounds echoing as 
dust
Storms circled,forming 
Shadowy figures.
Storms etching
The terrain,light   
Coloured dust particles
Created shifting light
And dark patterns.
How came I into this 
Voiceless world?
Three thousand miles, 
Across is chasm;beneath 
Lay the throne of Hades
I thought.
Drawing near,I jolted
As I heard a voice.
In the ship, this voice
Echoed in my ears-
"Welcome to earth!"

Copyright © Ifeanyi Bob Ekechukwu | Year Posted 2013

Details | Free verse |
            My Son Moon and Star ~

        Approaching the celebration of his Birth 
                cherishing the gift I received 
           within weeks of conception I knew
            something amazing was in Creation ~

            the Stars held a party
            sending me with one of their own  
    Gazing at 3 shooting stars twinkling crossing the sky   
       It was magic  It was destiny taking its flight.  

           In love with an October full moon 
               drawing and painting I liked 
             thinking of Vincent Van Gogh ~
                caught in a loss of time 

          Hours going by as choosing my color  
           a wittness to three falling stars 
             A clear night sky sparkle's
           A once Famous Star was sent 
            inspiring the tiny child inside ~ 

           Never a doubt in my mind at all     
       child bearing was worth any pain received
      yours will be in a pursuit of a dream ~
             one to cherish and hold
          My Son was born the following August ~

    working on the set of Grimm 3rd season this year  
         as the set of Leverage for 3 years .

              Has done a Indie movie here  
             In Paris it was seen and honored
             coming soon filmed in Portland ~
                 "The House of Last Things "

        awaiting the credits , you will see
                        
    1st Assistant Director ~ production assistant 
   
                 My Young Lion Mans dream ~
        A proud mom I watch every show and the credits 

        as foretold in a whisper to me 25 years ago
              My Son &  Moon and Star  
               A name you will all know ~

            Happy Birthday to my creative Son
             you will exist in my heart forever~
                        and thereafter               
                             Mom

Copyright © Shanity Rain | Year Posted 2013

Details | Light Poetry |
The HR person called me in… I was turning gray… Was he even twenty-one?
I wondered if the interview would go well, as he did fung shui the chairs around.
Offered a caramel expresso mocha late decaf, I told him I took my coffee black.
Alas my friend, it got progressively worse, this: our proverbial generational gap.

He asked me to explain, how I’d be the best personnel fit, for this illustrious job.
Ah! Experience I had in abounds, as I pulled out a 100-page resume, neatly bound.
That question, had me off and running, but I knew, I was in some trouble when…
I saw his eyes glaze over, and he ask me, ‘Have we made it into space yet?’

He smirked, when he ask, about ‘Recent’ applicable education, in the last 5 years.
I condensed my course certifications till he nearly fell off, his crazy chair, my dear!
He ask the projects worked on, unfortunately, all were government secret classified. 
So I added some of the numerous skills, that had been applied, till he almost cried.

I started with the job descriptions, but he didn’t like… that the names were so long.
And the abbreviations normally used, in this line of work, almost blew his mind.
Though I also got the feeling, he may have thought that I’d finally, lost mine, since…
My accomplishments had scads of stuff he’d never, ever, be able to comprehend...

You know, ‘things’ about the job, HR doesn’t care about or bother to be clued in.
Luckily all was saved, before the interviewers’ jaw, hit the floor around his chair.
Using a power point presentation, illustrations appeared, giving him a better clue.
I even gave him a burned DVD, set to the music of  ‘Live Free or Die Hard’, too.

He ask about items, he’d never heard of, you know, from way before he was born.
But got the feeling he’d be more attentive, talking about a computer game going on.
I didn’t lie about a thing, it’s not my fault some Companies are now closed down!
But I felt things were somewhat a success, as security finally came to lead me out…

Unfortunately, in the end, they hired a young one, and I couldn’t understand why.
He was a quiet, little, studious kid, who didn’t say a thing, but had stars in his eyes.
He didn’t understand any of the work involved, but his pay would be next to none.
But that's whom they got: until that company closed for work that couldn’t be done.

All because the HR Department didn't help them get the workers they did need.
I became self-employed, developing computer games, all the rage! Oh So Sweet!
Yes, I became a millionaire, with my own company, without HR, anywhere seen!
Now, we develop rockets to go into space, where I felt, that HR person should be.

Dedicated to all those Middle aged people stressed out after looking for a job.
Wife and Hubby Collaboration

Copyright © Carol Eastman | Year Posted 2013

Details | Light Poetry |
My success is my wife...... How I have achieved my success because a woman behind my shadow She is my ever loving wife and guardian She made our family strong well and she is the pillar of our family who hold us all She take cares of everything without time limit and put everything in order to make us easy She has shown us her faith to over come any obstacles and at the same time any problems dealt with properly As a mother she never grow old and mould her heart for us with gold She teach our children well and they learn so well She blends her love with sincerity and hard to define She brings us together always to be all in one family. She always look for the best in us and give us best she had She is my love and wife where these things abide and my success was completed when she become my shadow Ravi Sathasivam / Sri Lanka All rights are reserved 2013

Copyright © Ravi Sathasivam | Year Posted 2013

Details | Light Poetry |
You’ll never guess whom the cat drug in; have a day where you just couldn’t win?
He came strutting in, smacking his gum loud, dressed to the nines Goth Punk style.
Tats trailed down his left arm, with my notice, he said, saving up for the other arm.
When ask about drugs, his answer to me was: “Yes, I’ll share” most invitingly…

Metal adornments on ears, nose, and lips, didn’t want to know, the all of it, at this.
As I noticed, he smiled most cattily, asking: ‘Want to see where else they might be?’ 
Hair a Mohawk with a trail down his back, colors of the rainbow, left nothing to lack.
Steel studs on a black leather butt, said, ‘Bite Me!’ with each and every staged strut.

What are you kidding?… Do my eyes me deceive, or did he just make a pass, at ME?
No Way! I’d rather drop kick him from my office fast, didn't he have any real class?
The application, a Sales Manager Job. Who would try to send me over the deep end?
Bet it had been a practical joke, beginning to end, so I simply held on, my friend.

He must've read my face, forhe smirked, I continued to ask for his list of experience.
His experience was none, but he said he managed his I-tune collection, very well.
Of course, he was the Leader of his ‘Chat Room’. I wondered, ‘Who could tell?’ GEE!
Also an impressive set up on his Facebook page, for his innumerable video games.

I ask how he was qualified for ANY job? Said, Dad ‘THE CEO’ wanted him employed.
I verified this with a call, was told not to be too Harsh, he had Potential, after all...
Ask what job he wanted to give his son? ‘Let him chose himself’, came the real clue!
Ask him, what job he really wanted to do, ‘VP in charge of Recreation’ was imbued.

Said he'd check out all the great places, in his Dad’s fancy Porche. Honestly True!
I kid you not! And he wanted his girlfriend, made into his secretary, Yah! No Doubt!
Believe it or not, he got all he thought he was due. All approved by the CEO’s! True!
Just when I thought things couldn’t get any better… I began to really reconsider…

Really, who had been clueless… It hadn’t been him!… Which left me in a dither…
Knowing I just couldn’t win!  I’d be glad when this day was finally, truly, done… 
The kid had probably thought this a great joke on me from beginning to the end!
My perfect job, had just come undone! Apparently, being in HR isn’t always fun! 

My college degree, that took so much sacrifice, no longer sparkled, so much to me.
Boy did I now WISH, I was a CEO’s SON! As I simply got all the paper work done. 
Later, I saw the family portrait on the CEO’s desk. Lucky me! One down!… 
Only eight more to go!

Carol Eastman and Hubby

Copyright © Carol Eastman | Year Posted 2013

Details | Light Poetry |
Star Trek Rules!

It was time for: Comic Con! Comic Con! Dragon wanted to come, too!
But then so did everyone else at Troll Lake… Hey, now, wouldn’t you?
We made some really cool costumes… for the costume show, my Dear.
You can guess, ‘Star Trek Rules!’ It couldn’t be anything less, you hear. 

Our favorite nighttime popcorn show, would truly now, become a part of our lives! 
The penguins got permission from the zoo; to go… great publicity, so very wise.
McRacoon had his Las Vegas Dragons get us, and a mock saucer, there, all on time.
Naturally pre-registered and in costume, we strutted in! Hi there! Began the playtime!

Man we were really cool, as the guest actors ask for OUR autographs. For Real!
Pictures were snapped, and a poster made, to be signed by everyone, so cheerful.
It’s highest bid, given to charity, would be a nice touch, for everyone in our crew.
The costume show was set outside, where all the dragons, could fly in, or out, too.

And a small mock, star ship was landed on stage, so we could enter with more flare.
Lord a mercy! Look at us! We’d never be like this, again! We were like stars, I swear!
Grandpa Troll, became Mr. Spock, naturally, because he was so, very clever and wise.
Our neighbor witch, was Uhura, due to her great ability to, protect everyone’s’ lives. 

Borp the Frog became Sulu, so he could take us up to Borp speed, with laser effects!
Hubby was Scotty, with the Tinker Trolls in engineering, for special effects, so perfect!
The penguins were the beloved crewmembers, running with lasers, all over the place.
The powder puff tribbles, got wet, so yes, became the ‘Trouble with Dribbles’, in space.

The Mary River Turtles wanted to be Checkov. What a groovy, exciting, security team.
Dragon wanted to be Captain Kirk, you know, like totally, in command… At the scene!
All agreed, I’d be a great Dr. McCoy, since I always get to, kiss the Boo- Boo’s away.
The Weird Frogs were the Aliens, chasing everyone mindlessly, around, the set, that day.

And the Las Vegas Dragons, became attacking star ships, over which our lasers won!
The crowds went wild, and we won first place in their hearts, as well as, in their minds!
Everyone had, such a good time, so the Trek continued, well after, when we got home.
That year Comic Con made the National news, and of course, nobody, was surprised!

As the residents of Troll Lake and Acorn Falls… continue to Trek on… every day!

By Mike and Carol Eastman… 

Copyright © Carol Eastman | Year Posted 2013

Details | Light Poetry |
A Dragon Squirrel Brigade

Dragon got home from the Army, wanting to be totally, in control.
He wanted to be a Drill Sergeant, to teach the recruits, to be bold.
He gave them all a blankie, and a binkie they could keep, I am told.
They’d throw a rock, and shoot in a blink, like the knight’s of old.

He’d practice the squirrels, now, waging a fight, in an old Hawk War.
A sling shot army, his name to fame, who could dare ask for more?
An army waiting, as they fly at our birds, yep, here’d come the corps.
The gumball tree is ready, yes, ammunition does abound, in galore!

Yep, they’re better than those darn possums, I say, sleeping in the day.
They’d Shoot, hanging upside down, slingshots and gumballs, into play.
Dragon marched them up and down, the trunk, and limbs, in the array.
They’d find the perfect spots, to shoot from, at their whim, in the foray.

Seems, they also learned to jump, into an amazing flying squirrel act.
The flying squirrel missed his target, got caught, in a boy’s hair, for a fact!
A kid then threw rocks at the troops, as the hawks were forgot, you think!
Unfortunately, they are squirrels, and some times, do some squirrelly things.

They closed the town down, with a hornet’s nest in every Road. That stings!
Nobody dared go down the streets, a curfew had been struck, in a blink.
Yep, at that moment, the Hawk decided to stealthfully, swoop in for a bird.
A gutter frog jumped on the hawk’s back, forcing him, to the ground, I heard. 

At that, our first hero was made, as gutter frogs joined the squirrel brigade.
As the squirrel was removed from the boys’ hair, the barbershop became…
A place for squirrel nesting supplies, so the curfew was lifted, fast as it came.
A gutter frog offering this advice, became the new General, in this war game.

Squirrels, were tired of marching, and being yelled at by Dragon, that night.
They replaced him with the gutter frog, with less smoke and fire. Alright!
But Dragon’s work was done that day, as the troops were ready to fight.
Finally he was a Hero, for he had turned the tide… He was so very proud.

The moral to my story is:
The troops got a Drill Sergeant, but didn’t need him any more.
A General is enough to carry on, for a Generals’ planning is better…
Than a young Dragon’s power and fire… as, yes, Dragon went off to play.

Written by Carol Eastman 2-8-2015

Copyright © Carol Eastman | Year Posted 2015

Details | Rhyme |
She has so much pain inside of her,
she doesn't know how to address it.
So she turns the pain into anger,
after she explodes, she becomes quiet.

She goes up to her room, upset.
Why does the world hate her so?
She thinks to herself, “That’s it!”
But in reality, it isn't though.

She lies on her bed,
Pulls out her book and reads.
As she turns the pages, she loses her head,
In her mind, she thinks “This is what I need.”

A place to escape the world,
Somewhere she can run.
For it seems everyone hates this girl,
And nothing she does is fun.

She plays her cello 
And loses herself in the music
She does this when she feels low
Then she plays the song of her pick

She listens to the beat she makes,
Trying to make it sound perfect,
But oh, she keeps making mistakes,
She thinks that she will never get it.

She leaves the cello alone
And watches her shows
She then grabs her phone
And tells her best friend the show as it goes.

She leaves the TV on, 
Then she enters her laptop.
She stays on till dawn,
She just can’t seem to stop.

She loves the idea of leaving the real world
And entering an imaginary one.
That’s the story of the girl,
Who is never done.

Copyright © Ana Jusino | Year Posted 2013

Details | Light Poetry |
I am who I was born to be

Another voice of sanity
Maybe crazy, but do you know?

Art nouveau, in words I paint

Greatness of the pen, this is me
Eternal thoughts into ink I write
Nothing escapes this brilliant mind
I compose for those who see, and those whom are blind
Universal wisdom's, happiness in verse
Salvation or wine, the poison is free






Copyright © arthur vaso | Year Posted 2013

Details | Prose Poetry |
PINNACLE With a piggyback of hopes and dreams, I set forth to reach a peak. Along bed of roses, rocks and tall sharp weeds, I harvested golden grains of progress. The days and nights rang a wake-up kiss on my head. They told me: "Move on, move on...Don't ever give up..." There are rainy days on the way. A rain shower teased my climb halting me for awhile. Some so strong, I faltered - gained some wounds. Some directly stabbed my heart. And somehow, sometimes they even knocked my very soul. Although tough thunder tremors shook me, I fought hard to stand still continuing my climb. Each height I step onto, I came to know moon and stars. Some of them began a war with me. Some of them a veil of fraud. But blessing, most have shed a continuing guiding light. Some hugged me. And wanted me to stay but some pushed and pressured me until I am all like a dripping sponge. The potpourri situations brought me: a ladder closer to our God. His faithfulness and unfailing love a durable adhesive to my persistence and dreams. A rainbow after each rain drew a promise of sun-kissed days. They melted the cold lonely years away. They permitted me a walk and run to heavenly meadows. Finally, I reached the pinnacle where grins a forever familiar tale. (c) Olive Eloisa 2:07pm October 01. 2012

Copyright © Olive Eloisa Guillermo | Year Posted 2014

Details | Free verse |
In a moment there was time a child could grasp corporeal and gracious
It stopped and I carefully gave non notice to educasees
that paused me to bleed blend assinine inaccurate aforementioneds
to preprocure a mule measured primrose pathos of interposes to analyze the ex ever jutaposes of irrevelant psuedo spawn spellings intrinsic of piss patterns nego 
nero nitro nuego of lunar literant intent grating gravity gunite givings presupposing cannon quantites quotient of add, substract, multiply, divide, die in my seat work consistent of soulservitude a prisoner of seatzenda, a great book read poised to a 
selling of elementary sealed solvent sedintary solices sleeveless saints of sanitary sectors sanctioning soulful sensibilities senitent of sailable sanities. Boys will be boys, ADD,ADHD a cool cover up for 80 % legis lay teachers to drugafy, deamplify, villify, castrate, humilitate, propogate the post predisposition of that which is normalcy to a degree of zombie cumulo butt compliance for the powers at be be-gone, biploar bulimec, blandering, blistering, bloging, bifurcating blog bog billows, stress all that is pharmacorelative with respect to the adultoparentive coaxial moneyisms that speaks to a bygone exoera of residio responsibile valiumviscous banailty. Cool calm creepy excel expenditures procede pre positive parental protocals procreating patterened presentials to predictive humo end hiatial hemorroids. In the end we prosperspire in pain pile potentials. Predictable predicates promise postmortem primal preordinates. Enjoy eating educational entrails!

Copyright © Dave Collins | Year Posted 2013

Details | Prose Poetry |
                                  Bitter Truths



How much of bitterness is truth we cannot swallow.
The acridity of words held idle for too long, fermenting
in the cauldron of conceit, the spoils of victory flaunted
in feigned servility.  What scales measure life against
life, gain against greater gain, success against success?
Can we not savor the sweetness of another’s gifts
without coveting them, bathing them in our envy,
sullying them with our rancor?  Could we not applaud
the valor and perseverance of the triumphant, revel
in a rivalry well played, tip our equally soiled cap,
nod in an appreciation of a job well done?
Must the fist of failure pummel all who do not win,
remove the joy of competition’s camaraderie,
negate the lessons learned, the hours shared,
diminish the successes in setting and
eclipsing goals and gains.  Does not the acrid stench
of final gun fade, slowly drifting on a passing breeze?
Why must the truth hold bitter still, unable to accept
the success in every failure and the failure in
disparaging success.


John G. Lawless
1/17/2014
 

Copyright © John lawless | Year Posted 2015

Details | Light Poetry |
Dragon made the papers for that very unfortunate Church event, toots sweet.
Then Dragon, suddenly, decided to finger-paint billboards, all over the town.
He’d discovered painting was sooo cool, and wanted to, spread his joy around.
It wouldn’t have been bad, but the Mayor was on them, and it was election time.

He didn’t like psychedelic mustaches, as yes; he even considered them a crime.
Dragon was called to court, lickety split, as the National news came into town.
We saw the writing on the wall, before it began; Dragon was, about to be banned.
So Grandpa Troll and I put our heads together, as never before, we needed to plan.

Now the aim would be to turn a fiasco, into a miracle beyond anything, to compare.
Dragon entered, with head held high, painted, shined, and leashed, as a dragonfly.
The newspapers called, were mesmerized, this’d be great to make readership, fly! 
All the businesses were booming, with visitors coming from everywhere, to stare.

The judge and mayor glowered, with menace, as the charges were read, out loud.
When asked what we had to say for ourselves, this is what I replied to the crowd…
Church ministries have gone viral, collecting new followers, all around the world. 
Yes we are sorry, for the mischievous, and crazy lives we seem to live, and unfurl.

The town is flourishing, in spite of all we do, and we volunteer our work, each week.
The State Fair wants, Dragon, to replace plane flyovers, unaffordable to put on, here.
But, if we aren’t wanted… we’ll take bids, and then with heavy hearts, we will go.
Yes, we’ll solve the problem, by saying goodbye, and then leaving you all, alone.

There were fees to pay, as only a few towns’ people applauded, that we would go.
Alas, the Preacher, and businessmen realized, their newfound profits would go, also.
The mayors’ dislike toward us, became the towns problem, as it hit the national news.
Protestors, environmentalists, and endangered species lawsuits were now filed, anew.

Trolls, Dragons, and Mary River Turtles are rare, so the government, stepped in, too.
They declared the National Forest and our home, as a new, kind of wildlife refuge.
As we went viral on the Internet, the town applauded us, in a political, turn around.
Dragon became everybody’s friend, and got to do State Fair acrobatics, in the end.

Wow, my head is still spinning, from all this, as with results, we were over whelmed.
The moral to this story is: never give up and, yes, of course, learn to use… the Internet.

Copyright © Carol Eastman | Year Posted 2013

Details | ABC |
I stay up through the nights
Will I get to eat tonight
Will I see the day I turn 21
One-Day will I feel the pain of a gun
Will I die young

Am I asking to many questions
Does everything happen for a reason
Is everything I go through one of Gods lessons
Will I go to Heaven

I stay up through the nights
Will I reach new heights
Lord tell me everything will be alright
Now I think I want to be in love with the lights
I just don’t want to fall to a Price
Lord tell me everything will be alright

I stay up through the night
My eyes are getting heavy
Am I ready to sleep
Because Sleep Could be Deadly

Copyright © Malcolm Brooks | Year Posted 2013

Details | Light Poetry |
(To be read after my 'Fire and Brimstone'.)

Dragon Fly, Dragon  Fly, fly away home. You’ve caused enough trouble here, I am told.
All you wanted was to ring the church bell, but the belfry your body did not take well.
Terrible things happened all around, and the belfry you left is certainly not sound.
Old Lady Moore still has her cane, to protect them again, if you cause harm, within.
Old Lady Swanson’s lost hat is her major complaint, apologize profusely, be a saint!
The Church belfry will need lots of work; by the carpenter Trolls to fix it’s bridgework.
The people all need to calm down, they were scared and now the church is shutdown.
Looks like they’ll need a new fancy annex to be built for weddings and such… 
To help them  forgive… even… ever… slightly… enough. Though, of course…
The preacher himself…wants you back, for sure; I am definitely, and totally assured.
He’s never been inspired to such lofty greatness to soar, never, not even, once before.
He says you hold his key, to reach the lost, as they tune in to see what’s coming next.
He wants to add even, the Trolls to the mix. If they can be saved, well, you get the gist.
And you’ll have to attend church for quite a while, yes, still, as an itsy bitsy Dragonfly.
You’ll need to get forgiveness from all, you know, before you grow big, again, I am told.
The witch is quite clear on this spell, a dragonfly you’ll stay till everything’s made well.
Seems, you also, owe them an apology, for half scaring them… well… nearly to death.
Bumps, bruises, and a broken arm need to heal, from jumping over the pews, they feel.
Plus some of the teenagers, have made tee shirts of you, and want your autograph, too.
You see, your limited edition, when signed, will pay their way to bible camp, this time.
And the girl with the cast on her arm, wants a picture of you on a leash, so be charming!
You see, you scared her, a really whole lot, if she can pet you, her fear will be forgot.
It seems, you really messed up, this time, you see… but all will be forgiven, eventually.
So Dragon Fly, Dragon Fly, fly away home. They understood, once your story was told.
If you agree to all I have said: They’ll give you a bell outside, to ring before church…
Each and every Sunday Morn, with a special alcove, made for only you, to perch...

Remember, if God can love a mischievous little Dragonfly... And he can love you, too.
So until next church time... Bye Bye...

Copyright © Carol Eastman | Year Posted 2013

Details | Light Poetry |
Success full,

No more chance to successful!

Copyright © Muhammad Safa Thajudeen | Year Posted 2014

Details | Prose |
Past and Present; A Blueprint for Success

Ancient legends reside on worn stones; 
carry out their journeys through time.  
Nothing is ever new, it is only 
rediscovered by new senses.

Birds of iron and steel taxied across 
ancient deserts millennia ago; 
are depicted on ancient temples and pyramids, 
the world over.

In Alexandria, Egypt; 
sailors guided by an old light house; 
traveled ancient seas in search of gold and lapis.  
The technology is lost in the folds of time.  
Egypt’s electricians are remembered,
despite efforts to deny them; 
the artists of their times have,
 immortalized them in stone.

Modern man, a creature of technology;
fails to duplicate what, the ancients knew and 
saving face, destroys the whole planet for,
lack of the ancient knowledge.
Lost is the original set of blueprints; trial and error are the ends when, 
we forget the past in favor of the future.

Like siblings, past and future must, grow up together.  
Favor one over the other and something is lost.  
In looking back as we look ahead in the present; 
nothing is truly impossible.

Copyright © M. L. Kiser | Year Posted 2014

Details | Bio |
I stand solo, aloof in the snow, a precipitation 
                     of words cascading from a nebulous eye 
Fathoms wide, forever dripping like wax onto 
                     a punctured paper serving a Sanskrit sky,

and spreading into sibilant sentences swiftly 
                     sliding from syllable sorcery to soulful serenades 
so silent in the shunting shout of white. Poetry 
                     fills a churning void where novels cannot wade,

Phrases solidifying into idolisation of emotion 
                     itself, isolation of the isometric individuality that so 
Crushes my keeling cavern of thought, ever 
                     careering from caustic career path to another new low,

Which so seems to crumble into crazy paving’s 
                    counterpart. In this first freeze-frame we can all grasp
A fraction of the familiar, oh so fractured by the 
                    fumbling nature of enforced form. Freed by the gasp 

Of a photo-opportunity glowing phosphorescent 
                    with firsts, I am no longer framed by the festering 
Constraints of non-fiction, and folding my fond 
                    farewells carefully, I hesitantly face a vision pestering 

Me, fearing the fiend that would open maw and 
                    gnaw beneath my feet, evoking an avalanche of the 
Vernacular, but I am further past this unfed 
                    existence now, loosened from the fickle friendship of a

Winter thaw. Focus not your gaze on the grinding 
                    gauze of the greats, for the pressing pestilence of 
Perishable poetry is elsewhere pondering its parallels 
                    in posturing and post-modern pining for forlorn love. 


Praise no other; I am poetry.

Copyright © Dan Keir | Year Posted 2013

Details | Prose Poetry |
So packed and full is the train a lot die trying to taste of its final gain. This journey so full of pain as it seems all that Life can offer is a cane treating its bunch of victims with disdain. But don't give it all up and go off the lane to this cause stay true and sane. In Life priorities, make it the main provided it is clean and plain. Cos finally, it won't be in vain. Just be patient on the rain when its out pour comes your rewards shall build up like the empire in Spain. Accepting the newly found guardian whom unto you it begets after near-surviving years of neglect. Now, your pain it will recompense and deservedly account for every drop of your sweat!

Copyright © Funom Makama | Year Posted 2014

Details | Acrostic |
Who am I?
Question indeed!

  W-eaned from tender 
age,in noble family of ten.
  H-urt by the demise of 
the tube that brought 
me into this theater of 
struggles and pains.
  O-rdered about by the 
whimps of this 
world,facing the hurdles 
of life daily from 
cradle,never giving up 
hope.
  
  A-fine young man of 28 
I am,who has the 
experience and wisdom 
of the aged.
  M-astering the arts of 
life-learning from lessons 
of life's victims and 
didactic poems 'cos man 
of fame I intend to be for 
I bear the name Bob.

  I-lost my poetic gift at a 
stage but recovered it in 
poetrysoup for invisible 
entities say a 
lesser being I shall be,but 
another encourages me 
to move on,for great is 
one who comes out of 
the shackles of life 
undeterred for this is who 
I am.



Name: Ifeanyi Bob 
Ekechukwu.
Date:24-10-2013.

Copyright © Ifeanyi Bob Ekechukwu | Year Posted 2013