Best Bandied Poems

You hit when I was low
The pain you caused, you know
Threw dust on glitter glow
Made weeds of sorrow grow
Cued pent-up tears to flow

You hit when I was low

You hit when I was down
Made me a freak show clown
Took jewels from my crown
Gave not a smile...

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How do you change a lie into the truth?
Alchemy, dear children ...
this is how it's done, using unverifiable proof

First, you take a sick, dirty lie,
and doctor it up as truth
Whitewash and scrub it clean,
then jet power it with unsubstantiated verbal steam
That should make the lie...

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He's staring off into oblivion;
dead-lights, who of their own free will choose to illuminate
the gray matter microwave that is TV:
too vain, too vulgar. Thought Vanquisher,
brought to you by your friendly-facade-keepers:
the politicians pussyfooting on a pedestal
built of an uninformed (yet united) public -
whose belief in "connection"...

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What a slap in the face!
It’s an international disgrace!

(Descriptive distraction)
and (subversion in action)

It’s now commonly used in parlance by judiciary
while in literature this prevalent (lie) I see.

With a bland, enough face?
or is there the hint of a trace?

Could there be in its origin, a.. motive?...

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A cruel Jack Frost blows icy floss
(in front of spring a’ burstin’)
while shiftin’ sheaves of withered leaves
near freezin’ streams a’ thirstin’.
A pack reviled runs roamin’ wild,
the alpha wolf wakes howlin’
then scents a lean and lonesome scene
while on the lurk a’ prowlin’.

A cloud revolts with spangled...

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(An invented ghost tale)

A tale was told how centuries ago
at one old wooden bridge, there had occurred
a tragedy, for led there by some foe,
three children, by his scythe, were massacred.

It plagued my mind what drove him to this act;
how evil could prevail and not atone!
So...

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41.
        Resist I Must

Pride is hubris run amok
To rot the soul within.
It rises from the depths of hell...
The deadliest of sins.

It is the snake that slithers so
To pervert both bold and brave.
It may appear the luminous rainbow
But at...

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Spiritual Mahjong
Your Move Lord

Is there a God?
A benevolent entity.
An eternal presence presiding over me.
A creator, watching and observing.
All knowing.
Is my end determined and conclusive before it begins, before I begin?
If so, then to what purpose am I created?
How does something so perfect, create something so...

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"The Book of Changes"

Thoughts arrived before words,
1000s of years before
the crossing of curves

always seen to be 
swimming upstream 
against the current

thoughts … and feelings,
in the flow, always arrive 
before words, they are cast 

in the lines, like some divination, 
hexagrams etched, embedded
in the yin and...

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Half-truths morphed into deceit,
drowning out love's sweet refrain.
And your hopes sound the retreat;
devastated once again.

Your shattered heart lies broken;
for passion's flame flickered out.
And hurtful words got spoken;
when truths were bandied about.

A naive victim of lust;
your fantasies fell apart.
For under the cloak of trust,
time revealed a...

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No one seemed to take much note at first.
Old-timers on park benches passed a comment or two,
Somebody wrote a letter to the local rag,
but no one (who mattered, that is)
really seemed to mind.
Of course, you will always have 
your bellyachers and woolly romantics 
with nothing...

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Something I've always wondered about
A subject near and dear to my heart
Why don't sheep shrink in the rain
It's puzzled me right from the start!

A theory that sometimes is bandied about
Maybe their wool is non-shrinking
Sounds quite a bit far fetched to me
Someone's jazzing me I'm thinking!

Quite...

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friendship, imagery, imagination, inspiration, muse, poetry, word play,

Poetry Soup ©

Posting of one’s poem has come to be an inspiring word play
We’ve read one another’s word/worked poetry world wide
We first draft and so fine-tuned our poems before we  share and gift 
Friendly criticism ‘suggestions’ and...

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blessing, butterfly, nature,

Butterflies And Sweet Breezes (Copywritted by didee)

Colourful butterflies dance on the tail
Of returning scented breezes
That coursed the meadows and moor's
Doorways left open and  ajar 
To  guide all breeze's flights in and out 
With the taking of mixed ambrosia whiffs
All swept from...

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THE INCUMBENT
by
JOHN M. ARRIBAS

I am sick and tired of hearing the same old line
My elected representative says every things fine
He just does not represent the people I know
He’s been there forever its time for him to go 
Against good advice I’ve decided to handle
A run...

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