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Best Appreciation Poems | Poetry

Below are the all-time best Appreciation poems written by Poets on PoetrySoup. These top poems in list format are the best examples of appreciation poems written by PoetrySoup members

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New Appreciation Poems

Don't stop! The most popular and best Appreciation poems are below this new poems list.

Garden Appreciation by Krutsinger, Caren
Appreciation by Marty, Lyva
Teacher Appreciation by Krutsinger, Caren
In Appreciation of Poetry by Canerdy, Janice
Thankful Appreciation by Schuetz, Gwen
With Heartfelt Appreciation to Poetry Soup and Soupers by Wolf, Gershon
My Appreciation for Time by Krutsinger, Caren
Appreciation by Krutsinger, Caren
In Grateful Appreciation by Cunningham, Tom
Sincere Appreciation by Loo, Lu

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The Best Appreciation Poems

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POETS

When all around is darkness
Who provides the sun
When everyone is serious
Who is poking fun
When pollution clouds the bright blue sky
Who brings clarity
Who tries to bring some common sense
To mass insanity
When people kill for a belief 
Who is pointing fingers
When bullies push their weight around
Who is the first gunslinger
Who sees the heavenly beauty
In Mother Nature's charm
When the house of cards goes up in flames
Who sounds the fire alarm
When depression comes and pulls you in
Who writes you words of comfort
When they can't think of rhyming words
Who makes up words like bumfort
Who puts their feelings into words
With sonnets from the heart
Who describes a garbage dump
With a color chart
Whose imagination
Can jump from sea to star
Or describe the pungent odor
Of their grandpa's stale cigar
What people share a common bond
Make pictures out of words
It's a talent that we happily share
Let every voice be heard
As wordsmiths we are special
Cause we feel what others see
Let's weave our threads together
Show the world our tapestry


   September 26 2016




Copyright © Daniel Turner | Year Posted 2016


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Uncharted Waters


An ocean tumbles through dreams of you. In depths unknown, I float above. Oh, how I long to dive beneath your surface, yet I am timid in matters of love. If brave, I’d have shown you the whole of my gushing heart, no less than tides of bliss. Seeking depths unknown, I long to dive beneath your surface. Searching your eyes, I want for treasures lost on the ocean’s floor. The sun, like a gold coin, drops, splashing this face of regret. I blush in secret thoughts of you and turn away from the endless shore. A swoop from seagulls catches the light of your smile and breaks the hush of late sky. Turning away from the endless shore of regret, I blush. My lonely shore may flood, a wish to bathe in the caress of you granted. I shall break from fear, to brave a rolling river between us. Down current, I’ll swim until I reach your ocean of sparkling blues. I would drown in the waves of your uncharted waters. Glorious would be death in the caress of you, your uncharted waters…glorious. Written, 1/18/2015, for Craig Cornish's Manassian Quintain Contest,


Copyright © Rhonda Johnson-Saunders | Year Posted 2015


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Soul Searching Trek Along Winter's Snow Painted Trails


Waking to cold blown tent, ground frozen icy hard woods are my love, as is poetry to a bard. Today starts my anticipated forest trek, seeking salvation from heart's emotional wreck, last night I watched stars twinkle in heavenly skies pondering how to overcome world's darkest lies. Now dawn breaks, sends fresher pair of gem seeking eyes desirous to find what Time, Fate and Earth denies, finding cold breeze that blows snowflakes from white cream ground, thankful for Nature's sanctuary here now found. First step taken, this soul takes its desperate flight, embrace anew, treasures that make life feel alright. Through drifted powdered paths my healing does begin rhythm of my brisk breath is like a cleansing hymn. Serenity in solitude is what I seek, in contemplative meditations I do speak amongst the frosted firs a chapel for my prayers in your Trust surrendering all worries and tears. To slow life’s commotion and hush harsh emotion, quiet communion in woodland is my potion - sweetest swells of ecstasy makes my spirit swoon in whitest snowdrop bloom my heart will follow soon. With every snowy step I purify a thought in this pristine Love I find absolution sought. The winding trail I followed with a downcast face and left behind the sorrow of my past disgrace. Ascending farther to the snowy mountains peak animated to discover my fate unique. I shall not let my courage waver, not this time, with weary steps I continue my forward climb. The final steps to reach my summits divine light, my mind virtuous as snowflakes of purest white, I inhale the essence of life at nature’s hem, finally free from chains of torment I condemn. With Fate and Time to blend with Earth, I shall redeem my dignity and recover my self-esteem. Robert J. Lindley, Susan Ashley, Teppo Gren (a collaboration - joining as one voice and one searching soul) July 25, 2018 _________________________ ~ Poem Of The Week ~ Week of July 29, 2018 It is an honor for me to share in this recognition with my gifted collaborators, Robert Lindley and Teppo Gren _________________________ My poet’s note: Dear Robert, mere words cannot express my great appreciation for extending your invitation to Teppo Gren and myself for a collaboration with you on this special spiritual poem of soul searching and soul learning. I am so fortunate to be able to create poetry with two such wondrously gifted poets and this lovely artistic experience was a thrilling and beautiful poetic journey for me to take with both of you. Thank you, Robert and Teppo, for sharing with me the treasures of your illuminating and creative talents, fruitful friendships and endless exquisite inspiration..


Copyright © Susan Ashley | Year Posted 2018


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A Small Bouquet Of My Word Groupings


you were an infant
i would sing a song i created for you

'there's a baby in my arms
there's a baby in the mirror
but honey 
there's not really two
the child in the mirror
is only 
an image 
of you'

in that same vein i write this

_

you can't hide inside a mirror
it wouldn't be good for your image
if you see what i mean
take a minute to reflect on that thought
frame it as you will
raise a glass to good cheers
this isn't the time to crack
or 
feel shattered 
no 
it is the exact reverse

like skipping a rock across the smooth surface of a lake
seven skips of good luck
because you are the fairest of them all

looking back at yourself 
keeping it compact
as you duplicate your own words 
impossible to read from the other side
this echo of your vision

the epitome of a prototype replicates

ditto 

who is the quintessential hero and who is the fake

go through that rabbit hole -straight to wonderland

bedazzle -radiate -glimmer -scintillate 
deflect
the glare will define you

you have not now or have ever been a duplicate
you are and will always be the one and only
-


Oct 2 2017 - love above all else love - armand

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BONUS POEM

But Tell Me Where Do The Children Play 

you can't lie your way to the truth
what we teach our children 
should apply to us too
you took a wrong turn
check your moral compass
the needle is spinning faster
than a bottle in search of a kiss 
what would our mother think
if she knew what you were up to
you're changing everything she fought for
in her life children mattered
like the singing preacher asked
such a long time ago
'...where do the children play...'

you can argue climate change
but you can't deny the quality of the air your breathing
when did we start bottling water just to take a drink
the taps are bleeding led 
too late to fix the guts of generations who drank it with trust
how do you look at a storm in the eye
didn't you already prove your blind
or do you keep yours closed so no one can look in
look deep inside your heart 

'...tell me, where do the children play?…'

Oct 2 2017- armand

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 BONUS POEM THE SEQUEL

Me? I Saw More.

the clown danced like a marionette 
his painted face featured a grimace
and

and a tear

me?
i saw more

i smiled
no fear here

a performer 
an amazing mime artist
a procurer of pathos

he was pulling a little red wagon
with a large orange hard ball
walking on the spot
performing 'funny'

me?
i saw more

we often have to carry more 
than we think we can handle
our shoulders grow
atlas carried the earth on his shoulder
when we think we can do no more
we do even more than we need to

i saw more
the power of one
we don't need help
we need initiative 
no brother or sister's need
is less important than our own
'give and you shall receive'

we are all more
it takes a strong child 
to raise the values of a village
i can't win unless we all win
we have tried the blame game
five thousand years later

nothing

we are being led by weak men
want bigger and bigger guns
at a time when we have enough weapons
destroy the earth hundreds of times over

money is 
has always been
evil

me?
i see more
i see you
and you 
and you

ghandi was right then
ghandi is right now

do you see

Oct 2 2017- armand

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 BONUS POEM THE SEQUEL TOO

Firefly


i am going to touch you
like a firefly touches 
the dead of night
lights the obscurity 

i want to illuminate 
the pitch dark of your perspective 
inject a bright glow of hope
cleanse your thoughts of the negative

did you argue today 
felt regret
did the daily news invade your cheer
turned your 'in the pink' to something 'blue'

i am going to reignite  your sense of calm
wave a wand -make your heart smile 
warm your complexion to a glow
spread your goodwill worldwide

life i assure you isn't a rotting corpse
you have the strength 
rise above the doom and gloom
you are presently living

the alternative is an untimely exit
unnecessary 
i believe in laughter
and i believe in unconditional love

more
i believe when your back is against the wall
persistence will create a door
a passageway out of the muck and mire

no matter how thick the fog
it only takes a breeze
to clear a path
one you can ride to your destination of choice

Oct 2 2017- armand

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BONUS POEM THE REBOOT

Colour Me Ill 

i tried to fly today
nothing deep here
this isn't that type of poem
didn't go that well
i fell flat on my fa fa fa face
(pardon my stutter
a temporary side effect of the fa fa fa fall)

i wasn't writing any poetry
at the hospital either
all joking aside 
there was a lot of blood
did you know that doctors 
have no sense of humour

i was slurring anyways
you gotta love that morphine
they were cleaning up the blood
i said thanks dr. acula 

not even a snicker
and i'm not speaking of a chocolate bar
wasn't even my joke
stole it from Mitch Hedburg

coincidentally the doctor left me in stitches

the nurse said she was taking me for an X-ray 
i didn't really hear her but she was a knockout
something ..x 
sounded go go good to me
i was running in front of the wheelchair she was pushing
i was excited

we got somewhere 
she left
you gotta love that morphine
i must of impressed them
they thought i was a model
they took pictures of me
Bi Bi Big pictures
you should of seen the size of the negatives 
i ordered ten sets 

they pushed me outside and left
pa pa par for this course

suddenly my nurse date was back
they always come back

aanndd 
she's gone 


Oct. 2 2017- armand




Copyright © Maurice Yvonne | Year Posted 2017


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Poetry Soup Pals

Heidi was one of the first to "March" in with greetings
Then, on "Wind," Gershon came along, his praises a song
But now since he's gone, I wish him well in his meetings
Then Pat, the Limerick King
always gives me a smile
And there's Line, the Canadian Queen
Her short verses linger quite a while
Maureen's quick wit, captivating
Jan's dragonfly imagination, illuminating
Nina's encouragement of my "Silly Words"
Her verses shine and soar like a bird's
Eve is generous with hugs and accolades
Susan G's talent earns top grades
Kim R is like great coffee - strong and sweet
Mark T's works stand tall and complete
Caren with a C, you inspire me
Let's do lunch the next time I'm in K.C!
For all friends, old and new, I just want to say thank you
For re-igniting my passion for poetry, anew-



Copyright © Michelle Faulkner | Year Posted 2018


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Try

Try to live
Try to feel pain with no tears
Try to remember years past and often lost
Try, oh try to know life need not be cold as frost

Ear not the words of those proclaiming silence
Listen to the rhythmic melody; give voice to a new start
The world will follow when you sing from your heart
Believing in things that some may only try

Try, to see, the truth is musical to you and all of thee
Telling histories with music, as soothing as can be
When you sing, and when you inspire our romance
Ones on crutches, they too shall rise and dance

Try, I beg
To see as eye
Even the ear is lost in the sky
Purest of hearts, they never die

Note: If you cant open the video, as sometimes different Countries have different copyrights, just search YOUTUBE for "Mandy Harvey: Deaf Singer With Original TRY"


Copyright © arthur vaso | Year Posted 2017


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An Eulogy Of Sorts, That, Hopefully, Lends Itself To Daver

Do not vainly look in those remote
Places,
That, once, were acquainted with a 
Small part of me;                          
Here I roamed beneath congestion's
Of tumultuous cloud;                        
Happy in idle dalliance; still the
Clouds gather together listlessly          
Above the mauve quilts of purple
Hills...                                   
Lit by that strange half-light that
Thinly spills                              
Through the gloaming of twilight's 
Mesh.
For those that stayed...
They have long since lowered my  
Emptied body down.                                                     


And ponder not, my friends, wherest
I might be?                                  
And think not that I lie mouldering 
And irretrievably dead                                   
For my dimmed eyes have been 
Re-opened...and thus I wander 
Unchecked and free;                        
Though no more to haunt narrowed 
Seclusion of those twisted and 
Meandering lanes,                     
Where, accompanied by untidy verges 
Rich with gaudy coloured Cornflowers... 
Didst contentedly dawdle alongside 
Dusted fields of ripening grains.                                     
For death, in all truth, is just a 
Gentle passing through when 
Everything else is finally done and 
Said.           


And do not listen out for me                
In jostling woods when scrambling up
Gentle slopes of shallow vales;             
Rather, deep inside retreating 
Bowers,
Catch the ever sounding notes of 
Sweetest liquidity!                         
Soon a sharp tinkling of dropping 
And yellowing leaves;                       
And, revealed in all their 
Rudeness,
Stripped bare - gaunt trunks of
Ancient trees!                              
But the shrunken trees shall so 
Prevail...
As my shrunken soul so too prevails.        


And think, if only briefly, of what
Were the living bones                       
As you arise to early dawns newly
Fashioned vibrance and hue;                                       
But those tired bones have long
Since atoned!                                                              
Or, perhaps, when you retire at the 
End of each finished day                                  
You could enrich my memory in some 
Fond, albeit unimportant, enduring,
And a gradual slow-smiling sort of 
Way.                         
For what  is left is nothing but mere 
Residual...
As if a finely carpeted sprinkling of 
Glistening, summer dew.                  


But that immortal residual has 
Now become part of the living 
Currents eternal stream;                             
No longer held within thin bloods
Coursing grey veins;                                      
At odd times, I would hope, 
A sudden flashing recollection, a
Diminished image of a blithe spirit 
That  compels upon you...as does 
A momentarily sparkling glimmer 
Ignited by the brighest glint of a 
Fleeting gleam!                                   
Then let them say only this of me,                 
That, indeed, for him, this is a 
Most fitting eulogy.                      
For I should wish of all there ever
Was...at least this much so
Remains.  



Rest in peace, Daver. 
Your respectful friend 
Through words. john
                                                           




Copyright © john fleming | Year Posted 2017


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Wishful Thinking

If one can see beauty everywhere
If one can find light in their despair

If one can find strength when one is weak
If at one's lowest still find a peak

If one with many losses can still see a gain
If one feels a love through all of their pain

If one can find calm in a life of distress
If one can see splendor in all their mess

If one can find happiness in their grief
If one can fill the void simply with a belief

If one can slow down in a life of rush
If one can find in chaos a certain hush

If one can find mobility within restrain
If one can find sanity in what is insane

If one can be humble and take a seat
If one can be kind to all that they meet

If one can find life when not wanting to live
If one can be giving with nothing to give

If one can after a slap still reach out
If one can still whisper when all others shout

If one can still trust after all have lied
If one can keep trying after they tried


If one can find a softness after all disregard
If one can find promise in all that's hard

If one can see hope when all hope is gone
If one can see themselves in their kids to live on

If one can be modest even at their best
If one can be willing to retake life's test

In darkness see the moon's glow is from the sun......
No wait; is this wishful thinking, am I the only one?


Copyright © Brenda Chiri | Year Posted 2018


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Floccinaucinihilipilification And Very Little Bread

Floccinaucinihilipilification And Very Little Bread
       ( First of Three Poem Trilogy )

I

I've no problem with bardolatry fans
their barmecide and oft humorous rants.
Give me golden words not found in empty cans,
not bawbee's from those with sad, empty pants.
Truly I enjoy, bright golden attic wit,
creators of canorous verse that soars.
Those I may share bumbo and be a big hit
not with callithumpians that so sorely bores.

Nor do I fancy to become a bichon frise,
beholding to those with comminatory ways.
Finding some will cut you off at the knees
as a criticaster dariole for fugacious pay.
Floccinaucinihilipilification,
judged by Flews that chatter in morbid tune. 
Give me saudade and a sandy beach vacation
with very little scrippage in the month of June.

Aye, no snollygoster soucouyant will do,
for my heart and soul begs sun-grazing songs.
Not a superbious umbriferous critic or two,
with the poet's soul this body truly belongs.
Seeking no uroboros legacy my ink doth stain
as a soulcatcher with a selkie as a muse.
Alone, in this rawky terrain my life will remain
for solitude and honor my poet's heart doth choose.

I've no problem with bardolatry fans
their barmecide and oft humorous rants.
Give me golden words not found in empty cans,
not bawbee's from those with sad, empty pants.
Truly I enjoy, bright golden attic wit,
creators of canorous verse that soars.
Those I may share bumbo and be a big hit,
not with callithumpians that so sorely bores.

Robert J. Lindley, 3-21-2018
Rhyme

Note: 
Make of this what you will,
I give thus and surely shall send no bill
Yet in my poet's heart my soul oft grieves
for the Autumn colors not the decaying leaves
For the heart that yearns to write and truly give
and the mortal soul that writes to live
With inked symbols and a mind tired of toil
wading through worlds filled with pride and hidden turmoil
I write with purpose to give to others, not to take
tho' oft my poet's heart over burning coals some gladly rake.


Copyright © Robert Lindley | Year Posted 2018


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COMMON Commonality


WE ...

Slaves to the pen, (or our keyboard, more apt)
          The molding of words, in a word, holds us rapt
                    Fine fancies or fears take us places unknown
                              Our muse and our craft, better focused alone

The voice of our id, the bounce of our rhyme
          Thus, charming or edgy, depending the time
                    In romantic puddles and whimsical trees
                              We splash our ideas, cast love to the breeze

Danger or hope, or a scorched trist-or-two
          Occur mind-to-matter with the lines we imbue
                    The light and the dark, they both hold allure
                              Our child's heart within, just a tad bit impure

For though we adore all things blithe and bright
          We also know beauty blooms deep in the night
                    Somber or joyous, through passage or pain
                              Creatively ordered through rhyme and refrain

It's not that we're consonant, or that we agree
          It's how we can sculpt all the life that we see
                    So though we may be as different as spices
                              We spend all for poetry, whatever the price is

For it's a rare language that few can command
          And we speak it together, a pen in our hand
                    You may be a person that I've never met
                              But the gift of your writing, I'll never ...

Forget.




~ 1st Place ~  in the "What Do We Have In Common" Poetry Contest, Kim Rodrigues, Sponsor.

~ Poem of the Day ~  featured on Poetry Soup.com on May 11, 2018 - many thanks to those in charge for the honor.



Copyright © Gregory R Barden | Year Posted 2018


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The Amorous Mystique



Can it be, into this world we are dropped from heavenly streams that have never stopped? With sweet hope gifted to our souls delight, oceans of love and its fiery desires; ladies so fair, we thank our keen eyesight and leap into romance hottest fires. Can it be, wonderment is our reward given for living in a world so hard? With love's soulmate waiting a heart to touch, deepest seas of hot sexual pleasures; daring to embrace and love very much this bountiful store, of life's great treasures. Can it be, that in life's short duration we go beyond mere infatuation? With deeper dreams that bless spirits in need, grant romantic nights of sweetest relief; birth greatest pleasures of harvested seeds fruited in soul's spiritual beliefs. Your questions asked with pulsing energy of lovers’ wonderland of synergy.. Gifts do flow from fountain to foundations of souls inspiring minds to understand; seductive passion’s yearning flirtations of red embers roused to lusty flames fanned. In awe you long to know love’s mysteries, untangling threads in tender reveries.. Of all the gold offered in sun’s rich rays Sol would be poor in the worth of our love; for never could there be more wealth of praise than for ambrosial taste from gods above. During this life as our lustrous hearts’ beat we can transcend mundane with love’s white heat.. Our physical plane of mortal being is heightened with intimate unity; body and soul in tantra foreseeing weaving love’s strands into eternity. Robert J. Lindley and Susan Ashley (a collaboration) July 31, 2018 ______________________________ *For the purpose of this collaboration, tantra represents the weaving of strands into a unified whole and liberation of energy and expansion of consciousness*


Copyright © Susan Ashley | Year Posted 2018


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On the Death of My Wife Lilian

From the brow of the hill
I could see clearly the panorama
Beneath me.  Worried I saw from afar a farmer
Scythe in hand reaping the crops
In far off fields full of tall grass.
It was not the farmer who interested me.
It was my wife, a marriage of forty seven years.
I saw her hobbling down an uneven path,
Her body bloated with disease.
She never looked back.
Strange I thought,
There were no birds around.
Only profound silence.
Arriving at a crossroad, 
Without hesitation
She took the right narrow trail.

My heart thundered in pain.
I knew what was in her mind.
Incautiously she arrived at a bridge.
Thick fog covered the other side 
An extension that led to unknown worlds.
Head straight but body limping
She dragged herself over.

Helpless I looked on till she disappeared.
Disconsolate I sat down on a stone.
She had suffered enough. She will now rest forever.
But I?  Will I find some salutary rest?
I felt the pain of separation.
From afar a bell chimed an Ave Maria.



POTD 26 February 2017


Copyright © Victor Buhagiar | Year Posted 2017


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Doors

There are so many doors
Which ones should I choose
Green, yellow, brown, purple
and many different blues

Some of them are rustic
Others modern and clean
Some lead to the future
others back where I've been

Some doors open easily
while quite a few are locked
There are some left open
and others that are blocked 

A few so enticing 
promise pleasure within
They are slightly hidden
so few will see me sin

I look through some keyholes
wondering if I'll be safe
I see rooms of plenty
and tables draped in lace

The doors that are daunting
they fill me with such dread
for I know there's sadness
in the land of the dead

Many doors are happy 
Friends and loved ones are there
those doors are the best ones
being with people who care

Behind some there's music
Pleasured time we can share
Moments of pure magic
those times are far to rare

Doors leading to adventure
Made me glad I took the chance
The sheer exhilaration
that caused my spirit to dance

Some doorways disguised as books
Yes they caused my mind to grow
They pointed to other doors
so I knew which way to go

The doors that I left closed
In the end I don't regret
They could have brought me ruin
or led my soul into debt

Of all the doors I'll walk through
The final one is the best
For there my Saviour waits
therefore, I know I am blessed










Copyright © Richard Lamoureux | Year Posted 2017


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Adrift in fiction

Placid rain gently kisses unblemished windows as leaves fall in an Autumn breeze. In the distance cinereal clouds congregate, converging upon the city's royal citadel. Oblivious to the storm, adrift in cultural fiction she sits immersed from the ambience of the scent of new leaves. Hypnotised - tranquil words enchant her mind, as her eyes nonchalantly embrace each paragraph. Her heart is at peace, relating to each character, some that make her smile - others that displease her. Jealous winds blow abundant rain, like bullets shooting against her window. Attempting to distract from her infatuation, but her spirit is an unconquerable fortress. The world is forgotten to her, as her soul performs the role of her favourite character. Observing to learn through them, so she can learn about her self. The final page, the last sentence, leads to watery eyes. For the peace and beauty she experiences in books, she does not find in life. Simple Musings Silent One 5 October 2017


Copyright © Silent One | Year Posted 2017


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Her Grace, Soft As The Silence Of Morn's Falling Dew


Her romantic letters, birth as heart pure and true supported deep vows we both swore to be held to. Her grace, soft as the silence of morn's falling dew with vows to keep hot passion of love that is new. Spring had brought this loving angel truly divine her beauty and purity no words could define. Spirited, she sang - forever united hearts Her soft kiss and moans, treasures found on no star charts. Nature spoke to her and she in turn gave away nuggets of its splendors, rich truths none can betray. As Heaven and Sky blessed her every foot fall she never said uttered a word needing recall. Her time on earth, gifted only goodness and light romancing her first love and precious was her sight. Spirited, she sang - forever united hearts. Her soft kiss and moans, treasures found on no star charts. I read her yearning poetry each heartfelt verse and in her rapture was my being’s full immerse. Word-whispers from the page caressed me wispy thrill reminding me of days sweet gilt of daffodil and petals pink neath dream girl skies so soft, in sooth enchanting was the tender season of her youth. Spirited, she sang - forever united hearts. Her soft kiss and moans, treasures found on no star charts. In quiet hush before sunrise our love was lush until aurora banished night in her gold rush of dawning tipsy in wine-stained heavens shinin’ desires spilled our lusty reds across horizon - a blaze of colors branding love’s intensity, time and space sparked by fired hearts’ electricity. Spirited, she sang - forever united hearts. Her soft kiss and moans, treasures found on no star charts. Enlightened spirit from defeat of sorrow’s foe, her gift, in written verse of love, to set aglow a life of beauty echoing the words of love now distant in the skies with kindness up above when golden strings of sacred lust remain in thrills of woven love, entangled in a braid of frills. Spirited, she sang - forever united hearts. Her soft kiss and moans, treasures found on no star charts. Her fragile throne of virtues goodness cast in gold beyond eternal love, angelic charms behold through mortal death returned to God’s celestial care to guide from heavens, words of wisdom in her prayer endowment of the past as lover’s hearts enlace with charms beyond life, she remains my saving grace. Spirited, she sang - forever united hearts. Her soft kiss and moans, treasures found on no star charts. Robert J. Lindley, Susan Ashley and Teppo Gren (a collaboration - unified in one poetic and indistinguishable voice.) October 2, 2018 _________________________ ~ Poem Of The Week ~ Week of October 7, 2018 It is an honor for me to share in this recognition with my gifted collaborators, Robert Lindley and Teppo Gren _________________________ Poet’s Note: it is once again, my wonderful pleasure to be able to contribute my verses to this lovely collaboration in fellowship with my esteemed and immensely talented friends Robert Lindley and Teppo Gren. Robert, your initiation of this heartfelt poem and your invitation to compose with you and Teppo lead to a waterfall of inspiration upon reading your artistically beautiful, soulful and stirring verses. The shining light of your brilliant talent continues to lead the way and burns ever so brightly. Yet again, Teppo, your golden verses are filled with beauty, emotion and imagery that leave me in awe of your poetic expertise and bountiful talent. I am so fortunate to have the opportunity to continue to create splendid poetry with two such sensitive and artistic souls - thank you, dear Robert and Teppo, for another most delightful, creative and satisfying poetic experience.


Copyright © Susan Ashley | Year Posted 2018


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Caress My Soul Sweet Poet

Love's tend'rest touch, your gentle words reveal
Caress my soul. sweet poet, with your verse
Write dulcet lullabies which make me feel
Secure, like infants held at breast to nurse

Turn tears of sadness into peaceful streams
Make whispered breezes whisk my strife away
Put passion in my fantasized daydreams
Paint troubles in to flowery bouquets

And even though I know they're not for me
I steal your soothing love just like a thief
This load I carry lightens suddenly
Because my broken heart has found relief

Your words are like a song, please sing to me
Sweet poet, how I love your poetry



   an original poem by Daniel Turner

 


Copyright © Daniel Turner | Year Posted 2016


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Five Letter Words

Noble Souls Noble souls arise, build steps, forge roads, carry tough loads, scale peaks, quell fears, dream stars which blaze, clear those black skies. These souls would tears erase. Noble souls offer cheer, avoid wrath crush their pride, prove their worth, value earth, speak sober words, shape lives, plant hope’s seeds, serve other folks’ basic needs. Noble souls rally, never crawl, never stall. Their adept hands nurse other souls’ awful aches. Sweet roses adorn their loved angel faces. Noble souls exist. A poem using only 5-letter words Dec. 21, 2017 for Rhoda Tripp's 'Fem Bogstaver (Danish)' Poetry Contest


Copyright © Andrea Dietrich | Year Posted 2017


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Doll

"Hi Doll!"
He's been calling me that for years
I like it

Truth is I have always been a doll

My permanent smile
My open arms

I was a sweet sixteen's baby doll
her brother's too old to play with doll
a favourite doll
forgotten doll
replaced doll

A bounced off two cars    rag doll

A fashion doll
possession comfort toy pretty thing on your arm with
eyes that roll    doll

Not real
not taken seriously    doll

A spinning three faced porcelain 
cracked and chipped with rocks and scissors
paper doll

fragile doll

disfigured doll

tearing out my stuffing
losing my head

broken doll



A doll
like any other doll

that just wants to be held.





17.08.28

Composed for Gregory R Barden's 
"The Poet's Own" Contest
1st Place (thank you Greg!)

Submitted to Julia Ward's
"Your Favorite Poem Of August 2017" Premiere Contest
1st Place (thank you Julia!)


Copyright © Maureen McGreavy | Year Posted 2017


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Odd Od Dodo

                                         Idyllically Odylically Odd I Be
                                   Such  is  my nature
                               It is who I be
                            In an unnatural world
                                   Flapping upstream
                                              I am ruled by the Ods
                                                    Not this man made dream
                                 Not a slave to the sway of         society
  Long labelled weird but      "in a nice way"
                                                                      I am apparently odd
         And so odd  I  will stay
                                                        As  I find more in common
               With birds and  trees  anyway
                               For like feathers and leaves I am
                                        Swayed  by the  breeze
                                       Roots   in the  earth
                             Love of nature my wings
                      Beauty surrounds me
             I live it every day
                       Yes idyllic
                             And odd
                                    Like a 
                                           Dodo
                                                I be
                                 Being an Od bird is okay with me




                                                           (even if that means going extinct)


17.05.12

Composed for Broken Wings' 
 Form O-Only One Contest


Copyright © Maureen McGreavy | Year Posted 2017


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India

I hear much joy in the music,
View elation in the dance
Feel happiness in the laughter,
Soulful spirit in poetic romance.

I feel love in the language
Swelling in my heart.
Reverence for God and Goddess
In beloved families far apart.

I love the customs and the people
As they celebrate each day
Living life to the fullest
In their honor I wish to pray

That I may learn to be as humble
As loving and as kind,
To be blessed by elder wisdom
In every senior that I find.

This is a gift to give my children
To open their sleepy little eyes.
To see the value in rejoicing,
To reach for stars up in the skies.

When they learn this knowledge 
To listen well to the sages,
They will know of sacred secrets
Handed down through the ages.

© 2014 Connie Marcum Wong


Copyright © Connie Marcum Wong | Year Posted 2014


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Within Her Heart

Within her heart is where I wish to be
To dwell inside the garden of her soul
Where each soft heartbeat plays a symphony
And all around is beauty to behold

The sunshine of her love would keep me warm
My one desire, to take life's pain away
Consoling her when clouds of sadness form
Removing troubles of each stressful day

Should something cause her fragile heart to break
I'd gather up the pieces tenderly
With love I'd smooth the sharpness of heartache
Then put them back together carefully

Within her heart is where her beauty lies
Her love, the light that shines within her eyes



   original poem by Daniel Turner




Copyright © Daniel Turner | Year Posted 2016


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My Shoes

My shoes have traveled miles of roads
Their soles are worn quite thin
Struggling with this heavy load
I carry deep within
Beyond repair, no longer shine
Scuffed with many stains
It's mostly been an uphill climb
Some sunny days, some rain

A little big when they were new
With ample room to grow
This green stain here on my left shoe
Was puberty's first blow
Those salt stains there, that's sweat and tears
Still damp from being heartbroken
They've darkened some throughout the years
Old wounds that were reopened

There are no stains from happy tears
I finally understood
Obviously they disappeared
Right after parenthood
All these scuff marks 'long the sides
Well they're from clumsiness
From times I fell and hurt my pride
A reminding subsequence

They've danced and skated, loved and dated
Walked a few high wires
Death devastated, been mismated
Even walked through hell's hot fires
It's said that one can tell a lot
By looking at one's shoes
Until you've worn these shoes I've got
You really have no clue



  an original poem by Daniel Turner
   NOT FOR CONTEST


Copyright © Daniel Turner | Year Posted 2016


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Like A Moth To A Flame

Listen to poem:
================================================== u m b i l i c a l c o r d Is This Nature's Glory As a quarry? Alone and at peace A life, a new lease I pull up a piece of land Take a little time to mend This rainforest trembles An open window in shambles Sitting on my own made porch I fire up a configured torch Then lay under, should I say What is like a porch light ray And I wait for that one moth Amongst butterflies sought An unwanted reject Like me ready to eject Take me now in this lush With the roar of death; a hush And I will go, amongst this gift Gods Eden unquestioned; my lift My life to stop the bleeding of the land So I protect this marvel, hold her hand In sincere motion - there is a fusion I can do I can do Never say can't So I must chant Let my body meld With this forest held tight Me alone a window into the future slightly opened Maybe we are all like moths to a flame - penned ==================================================


Copyright © Maurice Yvonne | Year Posted 2016


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Summer Love Sonnet

What's not to love about a summer day?
Kissed by the sun, the warmth of its embrace
To feel the cleanse from sweat at work and play
While honeysuckle breezes cool my face

With hillsides blanketed in purple vetch
Magenta morning glories and light blues
Imagine all the butterflies they fetch
A scene to romance any poet's muse

But when it gets too hot, I seek the shade
Barefoot in clover 'neath tall sycamores
Or take a watermelon down to wade
A spring fed creek, to cool, while I explore

That evening, in the swing, I watch  fireflies
Then pray I wake to see one more sunrise 


   May 9 - 2018


Copyright © Daniel Turner | Year Posted 2018


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Essence of love collaboration with Vijay Pandit

What is a man without the woman he loves, searching for his lady like lonesome doves. As his heart connects with the one he adores, his soul will yearn to meet upon any shores. When he comforts her mind with a loving grace and the love of his life begins to reign his space, nothing is ever the same, for she sets him aflame. As the rhythm of her heart resonates his name. He will whisper romantic musings - so sweet, as her elegance makes his heart skip a beat. He'll soothe her pain with his gentleman like charm. Shelter her in his arms from those that cause harm. He hears the sound of every breath she takes, greeting with a pleasant smile as she awakes. Promising a day filled with heavenly dreams, embracing longingly as her happiness gleams. Promising to deliver, receiving messages she sent, he'll bring her the moon if that's what she meant. Sacrificing his life, gallantly to conquer every climb, searching for what she wants till the end of time. Through the window of her soul he explores deep, banishing all demons that cause her to weep. Polishes her heart to prevent it from rust, making sure his diamond does not collect dust. A real man loves with his soul, not eyes of lust. Shows her loyalty and builds a loving trust. He can see their unborn children in her eyes, as they embrace he knows where their future lies. Silent One collaboration with Vijay Pandit. 21 December 2017


Copyright © Silent One | Year Posted 2017