Best Advocates Poems


Premium Member We Are Nasty Women

We are Nasty Women

When we hear haughtiness, we name it
When we see bullying, we blame it

We are Nasty Women

We do not daintily defer
For selfish whims of a saboteur

We will not walk three steps behind
We will not sheathe our sharpened minds

We are logic's clear eloquence
We are unyielding consequence

We are Nasty Women
We are out of many, one

We are the soldiers of every war
We are astronauts and commodores

We are the activists of plundered Earth
We are the executives who expect our worth

We are the advocates of facts, unsuppressed
As we walk the corridors of Congress

And we are far from done.

6/06/19

Poem of the Day
June 8th, 2019

Premium Member We

E Pluribus Unum ~  Out Of Many, One

[Author's note: E Pluribus Unum is a traditional motto of the United 
States, but the scope of this poem is intended to be of a more global scale.]


We are farmhands, postal workers, we are rich industrialists
We are pilots, sailors, warriors, mathematicians, scientists
We are doctors, nurses, dentists; taking care of those in need
We are teachers, flight attendants, moms and dads with mouths to feed

We post blogs, develop websites, we are software engineers
We are athletes, video gamers, we're retired volunteers
We are dancers, painters, sculptors, we are actors on the stage
We are clerks, construction workers, pay for night school with our wage

We are high school educated, college maybe, or hard knocks
We are barbers and beauticians, drive a truck or work on docks
We are clergy, civic leaders, wardens at the county jail
Roll in wheelchairs, use sign language, wear prosthetics, read by Braille

We are bankers, tax accountants, proud grandparents, husbands, wives,
We are activists who strive to give our children better lives
We are widows, orphans, childless; we feel sorrow to the core
We are social workers, advocates of justice for the poor

We make music or just listen, sing out loud or softly hum
We are common, we are special, we are those who overcome
We are poets and songwriters, we write letters to our kin
Sharing stories of our life, of where we're going, where we've been

We are those with beating hearts, with flexing muscles, red blood cells
Kidney donors, missionaries, we help dig fresh water wells
We praise God in mosque or church, in synagogue or kingdom hall,
In a temple, or in nature, maybe have no God at all

We are from around the planet, we have skin of every tone
We have short hair, long hair, no hair, kinky hair; we're not alone
We esteem diversity; you value me, I value you
Always with respect for those who hold a different point of view

   This, my dream: to be united when it all is said and done
   Though we may not be there yet, we share this journey -
   We are one.


Written 1 Feb 2022
© John Watt  Create an image from this poem.

Mona Lisa

You, monumental, pose inside the portrait,
In figure of a pyramid
Construed to be elite
Your right hand, rest above your left hand,
Hints that you're a virtuous woman,
With those slightly sullen arms,
I can tell, that you are pregnant,
Only to remind me, how powerful woman can be
As the carrier of humanity,
And that hermaphroditic posture advocates
A better balance gender,
A softer male and a stronger female,
In the midst of dreamy scene you are in,
What baffled me is your mysterious stare, 
I know you have some secrets that you veiled.
They are perhaps as dark as your tunic,
Maybe as complicated as your plated dress,
And as intricate as circles patterned in your vest,
But your luminous skin revealed to me something
Of your resemblance to the phases of the moon.
New, half, full and new again
You are a girl, a woman,
And soon will be a crone,
They call you Lisa, yet you really are nameless,
You are in truth a woman, who is endless,
You always die and again always sprout back,
In each rebirth is an additional wisdom.
You are indeed older than the background
In which you are located,
And now at last I know your secret!
Your mystic smile is an expression
of the past time's foolishness.


Premium Member No Roundabout- Its a Straight Road

Love is ultimate, but with you it was fatal.
I had lots of laughter not until I said “I love you too!”.
Number two was my certified location
b’cos I’ve always reverenced you so high
at the topmost of priorities.

Your gladness was much more than my enjoyment,
it germinated into compulsory duties I had to perform.
My pride became your belt and my shame, your underpants.
The definition of me translated to the adoration of you.

I worry to give us a balance
but you hurry to topple the equilibrium.
My life, a spreadsheet of your errands,
subjecting my feelings into a standby
to suit your taste and exhausting comfort.

But one day!
The slightest of contact with an acid
will change the litmus colour
and a continuous debt by a tenant
will abruptly render him homeless.
Your oil is used up, the engine is knocked
and the lamp has gone dark.
A heart so tender, you deserve not.
Arms once warm have been frozen to rigor motes.
My back is turned towards you
and that beauty, you’ll never see again.

Go and taste the seedlings of the city’s daughters
and the well sauced soups of its young maidens.
I’m no longer yours even if nature advocates for mercy.
Consider my sweetness and calm now as stones
mixed in dough, baked and served with vinegar.

You proclaim “I’m now a completely changed man”,
I believe you, but for the next girl.
Know this Mr. Irresistible guy,
even if you’re the last birth of all men
I’ll never again present my affections for your selfish trade.
Goodbye my past lover, I sincerely wish you well.

I Am a Sagittarian Woman

I am a Sagittarian Woman


Born in the ninth sign of the zodiac, I am
a woman forged from primordial fire, a proud Sagittarian.
With Jupiter, king of the heavens, as my ruling planet, 
I embrace the good life and enjoy every scintillating sunset.
Optimistic personality funny, fiery, and bold,
I’ve visited many faraway places around the world.
Adventurer is my second name,
and I’m the one who won’t be tamed.
Vivacious, energetic, defiant, and free,
you can join the hunt but you’ll never cage me.

Beguiling mystical minx - half beast, half woman,
a Sagittarian woman can effortlessly captivate any man,
and just as adeptly slay a fire-spitting dragon.
An amazing archer aiming accurately for distant stars,
she can strut her stuff like an incredible female centaur.
Knowledge, truth, and social justice seeker,
she advocates for and defends those who are weaker.
Ever strong, loving, loyal, and generous,
pay homage to wise women with integrity, women you can trust - 
women born under the fire sign of Sagittarius!

07-09-2014


Contest:      Women Only #2 (07-14-2015)
Sponsor:     Kelly Deschler
Placement:  3rd

Contest:      Poem with a Theme - Zodiac Sign (08-23-2014)
Sponsor:     Galeo DS
Placement:  1st

The Color Purplish

The man on the porch looks out
over his property and towards his daughter.
Nervousness seeps through her plum-dark flesh.
Each eye contact signposts a wicked meditation.
Women are voiceless in those days, yielding to
males and manipulated Bible verses.
Poverty and childbirth loiters the screen.
White men protect segregation and Black men protect pride.
Are there no advocates or women’s lib
in that part of the South? Does anyone care about the mistreated?
Even the animals are sinister, and the young babes.
Horses burdened with stuff amble the pasture.
Fried ham wafts from kerosene stoves.
All the outspoken women are rebellious and prostitutes.
They wear thigh-high skirts, halters, and ruddy rouge.
Men swagger about in cut-price suits, wingtips, and thin-band ties.
They sweat into juke-joints or atop a squeaky bedframe
while records scratch against a dusty needle.
The girl in the front yard runs through hanging sheets
and swings bound books against Mister’s groin.
Her eyes are watery, her hair wild as those purple flowers.
She peers down at her attacker twisted on the red clay
and she shrieks.
Nobody shows up to save her.
She runs off into nothing.


A Souper Friend Encounter

A warm smile of hello in the sanctuary of poets
The name is Arden G.; here to express not to impress
If I coud do an eye-contact and a firm handshake in the virtual land of PoetrySoup
Would be a dream come true to meet great poets called, "Souper".

If I could move heaven and earth; I'd love to meet Linda or PoetDestroyer, SKAT and Julie Rasley
The first few who commented on my featured poem, "LOVE" and welcomed me as a family
Anne Lise Andresen who always drop by and Sheri Harper that ranked my first poem entry, "A Shot of HIV"
I'll tell them a simple, "THANKS" and encouragement of "MORE POWER".
For no words could capture the emotions of knowing wonderful artists in this world.

Of course I'd like to meet and learn something 'bout Yasmin Khan
Who advocates to bind each poets; pure intentions to make us one
I'll tap her shoulder and tell her, "IT'S A JOB WELL DONE".
Now everybody's sharing their depths and self one by one.

Is there a way to meet the  founder of Poetrysoup?
To tell HIM, "BRAVISSIMO" and my new "SOUPER-FRIEND" too.


Arden Gopela

The Devil's Advocates

Politics is a dirty game,
So indeed is religion –
One screws with your mind,
The other with your soul;
One promises heaven on earth,
The other, heaven after death.

Trust not these savvy advocates –
Politicians, priests, mullahs, imams,
These breeders of
the ghosts and the goblins,
These keepers of
the deities and the demons, 
These self-styled ‘well-wishers’ 
of your body and soul.

Like leeches they’ll
latch onto your fears
and to your gullibility,
Until they have sucked
you dry of your free will,
Your aspirations,
Your wealth.
Oh, what not they’ll do
to restrain your free spirit,
Bogging you down with
fears, guilt and penance.

Seen openly are
their murky minds,
Seen openly are
their shallow ideals,
Seen openly are
their cheating hearts;
They tout love, freedom, peace
wherever they go,
Yet spawn nothing but
hatred, violence, misery.

One is politically religious,
The other, religiously political!

Any Atheists Out There

I
I am with Liberty
At least I was
Until 2019, before the Virus
Now as in puerile freedoms
(Just words, not many will sacrifice for;
Most people go along, as with Trump in USA)
So, I was with Liberty University
In Virginia, the world's largest Christian university
When Jerry Jr. supported the Donald, I left the country
"Leave of absence," I said
Now how many atheists support Donald Trump?

II
Mandela of South Africa might have rotted in prison
Yet 27 years later he emerged, with more passion
For freedom than those who were "born free," taught "Reason,"
How do we explain this Freedom's mystery?
Men - and women - under the boot of racism
Emerge with a greater testimony of Freedom
Than the Teachers, the advocates, the age-old Practitioner?
Gandhi, too, born under British colonialism
Not only imparted freedom in South Africa, but in his own nation
Then a dose of Christian moral conviction:
"I'll be a Christian if the West practices Jesus' famed Sermon"

III
Hey, I was a communist and atheist by persuasion
Because as a child I knew no fairness, no freedom
Then how this Christian conversion?
Now I come to my theme, topic, and Question:
There is a Spirit, we call it Spirit of The Original QUESTION:
Yes, God is the Original Question, Miss & Mr. Reason!
As He seems to ask the rhetorical question:
When a non-life form, Corona Virus, can quiet our planes & "System"
When every Tom, Dick, & Maggie are in prayer now
What are the atheists saying, what are they doing?
Maybe some good atheist will help us Predict the next dislocation?
© Anil Deo  Create an image from this poem.

Premium Member Baseball Footles

// Apologies to all who do not follow the sport of baseball. My team is in the playoffs for the first time since 2006 and I wanted to celebrate the occasion //

fans came
big game

they scream
cheer team

the boys
love noise

gloves wield
on field

defense
makes sense

line drive
great dive!

ground ball
close call

third strike
we like!

three outs
coach pouts

down one
need run

fast guy
hits fly

drops in
legs spin

he'll race…
third base

big slide
throw's wide

"He's safe!"
they chafe

sac fly
to tie!

fans roar
at score

game tied
nerves fried

next up:
the pup

young Matt
swings bat

big one…
home run?

don't scoff -
walk off!

team wins
huge grins

our score
was more

our scamps
are champs!

// big thanks to Panagiota who inspired me to do this, also to Brian Strand who invented this form and Jan and Tom who are fun and brilliant advocates of it //


written 1 Oct 2020
© John Watt  Create an image from this poem.

NATURE OF HEART

[charactercounter.com/lines:40]

Dual curved carved crystalline it rests
        quantum wave particles interwoven at best
                     allows Heart to heave
          explorations suavely gentle, feel 
 
Heal with non-local light white 
    across Tibetan height nights  
continuously crafted through storm eyes
    looping smile sighs, holding Soul steady
   whorling, whispering veins tirelessly heady
                 expansive is a rush of blood

Rain tears feed its sizzling throbbings
arteries androgyny crying crumbling piously
 lying awake, nothing’s at stake
                     Heart within Planet of the Heart
        touching, encircling, squeezing

Soft supple sublime smoothing 
         in rhythmic dance inward and out
twirls across seaspun songs, sealed
   as blood flows through brain cells 
holds no sin, beating making no din 

Heart pure stillness, pricelessly present 
        through sockets smiling : sees, hears, feels 
           tastes, smells ~ in silence connecting               its moment is only a moment 
     
holds exalted longings without expectations 
            observing own arising gyrations   
musings, twinnings, dismantlings
                Beauty of Heart melts catalytic 
                making music, fascination still
 
cannot label nor judge neither contradict 
or impress empresses or advocates
governors, lover hierophants or poets 
             fathoms no fools ~ merely IS

          Presents primal lingering languid gaspings
for its own beatings, pulsing, unfoldings
          irrepressible expressions
               explosions of expirations 

 Split  open its  P R E S E N C E
        e x p o s i n g  slivered voluptuous 
                           vulnerability breathing 

                            HEART  AM  I

Premium Member Candles of Love

Our candles of love burn softly…yet our whole world they can illuminate,
but our candles of love are fragile…they can be blown out by the winds of hate.

When our candles of love are extinguished…when they surrender their last spark,
with no more light of love to guide us…we are forsaken to live in the dark.

If we don’t want to dwell in darkness…then we must not succumb to hate.
We must share our candles of love with each other…before it is too late.

We must abolish hate wherever we can…it must be eliminated…thrown out
lest we find ourselves in eternal darkness…when that last candle has burned out.

It’s easy for our candles of love to burn…those times I agree with you and you agree with me…
and though it can be difficult it is also vital we keep our candles burning…those times we disagree.

We are not naive enough to think disagreements will ever go away,
but we are hopeful enough to think compassion, acceptance, reason and love…will, in the end, rule the day.

For compassion, acceptance, reason and love are what keep our candles aglow
in the midst of disagreements…when the winds of hate will blow.

So we will stand up against anyone who advocates hate…with our candles burning bright…
because when it comes to how we want to live…we much prefer the light.

For we know it is much easier to walk with confidence…even when our candles of love are small…
Whereas if we choose to walk in darkness…we know that we will fall.
© Jim Yerman  Create an image from this poem.

Premium Member The Syrian Devil

Children lie dying
Punished for waking up one more day
In unbearable heat, in a dirty war
They have no Generals
To defend them
From the evils of men
They have no advocates for peace
All the gods seem to be sleeping
As so many infants weep, into deathly silence
They exist no more
Good men take no action
As evil men fight for more blood
We must stand up to the horrors
And give breath to those too weak to stand
We must march on in honor and face the faceless
Who wish harm to all with good will
Sadness created by Assad
For many a year
Infants give only love
Can we not promise them?
Shoofakboukra?
Marhaba



Shoofakboukra = We will see you tomorrow
Marhaba = God is Love

Inspired not only by recent events, but by interviews with people who at the time were children playing with unexploded phosphorus bombs dropped by the Syrian regime in Lebanon.

Poetic Justice - Part 1

When stretched forever is my day                   
I while the empty hours away                          
in courtrooms dank with men of silk                
proud and tall                                     
lawmakers all                                                
step lightly lest you meet their ilk            

Attorneys and stenographers                                  
lawyers and interpreters                                 
each word they spake is tongue-in-cheek;        
lear-ned judges, advocates                            
prosecutors, barristers                                  
spew Latin which could well be Greek             

The courtroom's packed
the gallery stacked
the charge is one of pilfering
the bookie sets
last-minute bets:
"10 to 1 his head will swing."

From the ord'ly
fing'ring his rosary:
"Court's in session!  Silence!  Zip it!"
His Lordship enters
sans his dentures
sucks his thumb and looks decrepit

Eyes his gavel
sneers: "You're evil!
my thumb is swollen and beet-red
you'll be detained
when next again
I miss and hit my thumb instead.

"The weather vane
predicted rain
today I'll suffer agony
you caveman's hammer
how did you
till now escape technology?"

To put it mild,
the crowd goes wild
but for the shifty-eyed accused
Judge Weatherstorm
stays true to form:
he keeps his audience amused

Th' accused meanwhile
with comely smile
winks at M'Lord to cut him slack
he'll cop a plea
of not guilty
tho' evidence against him's stacked

The star witness
non compos mentis
brain well-addled by Alzheimer's
mounts the stand
bows to his fans
with clenched fist vows the truth to utter ...

(PART 2 TO FOLLOW)
 
28.04.2011

(This is a work of fiction in its entirety and merely a satirical look at our corrupt
justice system.)

Beyond Doors Or Cursed

Rock paper scissors, 
Wizards of utopian flavored wizardry, exquisitely triumphs in every gamble beyond these doors, 
Flawless tangled reversed reflections, remain forever forbidden to thoughtless mentors, 
A cursed emotional seesaw bleeds and wrestles each end hardcore, 
Roaring and agitated amassing vacillating backwards tripped out cognition galore,
Attuned intrinsic tutor restoring more miraculous palaces placed within your space and time,
Sublime tribes of chrome plated words alive and congregating, hitting hard the hammer of stamina utilizing backyard grammar,
Autodidact physiques pack preeminent techniques fond of higher states,
Earthquakes from snake riddled concealment shake the anointed with disappointment,
Appointed fools lowering vibrations of stations frequencies,
Advocates underground traveling through lands and over sea's, 
Undetected forward vision upwards,
In the presence of cowardly lords using swords of misfeasance,    
Eyelids glued open, still unobserving rulers, kings and queens with blinding evil pupils,
Topple till stagnant misplaced silence takes vengeance over souls,
Walking gods of earth observing a hole as the devils henchman transform from the fallen,
Never forget the calling, the called out elect without verbal speech, supernatural telepathic freedom,
Finding Eden beyond quantum universes unlocking Pandora’s Box,
Mundane conscious blocks, angelic psychedelic capabilities,
Infinite possibilities traversing dimensions with three sixty peripheral vision,
Subatomic divisions, galaxies of particles coexist omnipresent yielding disorienting mechanics,  
Organic fractals, geometry sacrosanct, divine kinematics pure to awoken viewers,
Future past tense, retrocausality effecting cause of events presents questions,
Spooky beauty interviewing intentions, synchronized oscillating firing patterns,
Exploding fireworks of hierarchically organized neurons, circuits and networks,
Knowledge or Ignorance? Defective decision fostering Berkes, Apple believers the first?
Earthborn mortals thirst!!! For cash, philosophy of money doctrine, man cursed.

Quincy Mac
Date Written:4.5.2016
© Quincy Mac  Create an image from this poem.

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