Best Bio Poems | Poetry

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

Search for Bio poems, articles about Bio poems, poetry blogs, or anything else Bio poem related using the PoetrySoup search engine at the top of the page.

See Also:

Poems are below...



New Bio Poems

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

CHILD OF THE WORLD by musore, reagan
Nudity on you by Mahomaile, Rahaba
Sunny Moon by Raghunathan, Vidya
LYRIC MAN-CHAPTER 5 by Man, Lyric
say what by Terry, Allan
Rerun by Thomas Shat, Phill
THE STREAM HAS FLOWN BACK TO ITS SOURCE by Kehinde Precious, Olaseni
THE STREAM HAS FLOWN BACK TO ITS SOURCE by Kehinde Precious, Olaseni
You Made Me Wonder by De'Kari by Stevens, De'Kari
The Recipe by Stevens, De'Kari

View all new Bio Poems

The Best Bio Poems

Details | Bio Poem | Create an image from this poem.

About Me

My life is like that of a commonplace horse
that stays where they’ve put her all day;
she lives very much like the others, of course,
accepting her fate, eating hay!

At times she is plowing ( for work is her lot);
at other times, giving a ride
to those who reward her with a smile. . . or not!
But seemingly, she’s satisfied.

For like many others, who graze in the field,
She’s needed and loved; she gets by.
Though life is not bad, to routine she must yield,
but her mind - which can’t rest - wants to fly!

You see, I’ve a soul not that of this mare.
I look through the fence and I see
pastures much greener, and far away there
are places much sweeter for me. . . 

I see myself frolicking in quietude
where the world has a rainbow hue.
With fanciful musings my mind is imbued
and the roses I’m sniffing are blue!

I’m gentle, romantic, yet wild and carefree,
and my coat is a glistening white.
Liltingly, I move like poetry.
And my essence is pure delight.

Yes, over that fence, I so want to go -
where creative thought is born;
where lyrical words with euphony flow,
for I am a unicorn!


For Greg Barden's 'The Poet's Own' Poetry Contest








Copyright © Andrea Dietrich | Year Posted 2010


Details | Bio Poem | Create an image from this poem.

Self

I am a lady
In a white dress
My desire only to be softly caressed
So I take my paint brush, and delinquently paint
My face that pleads let love become quaint
I confess  to my brushes
Let a man stroke me 
With eloquence and grace
As he gazes into the love on my face
La fenêtre you see that I paint so clear
You have to climb in through it
To hold me so dear
Can you not see into my soft sad lonely eyes?
I desire myself
Wrapped inside of you
On canvas
I shall paint forever
Myself
That never existed


Copyright © arthur vaso | Year Posted 2015


Details | Bio Poem | Create an image from this poem.

Untying of a Love Knot

When I used to dream
I used to dream about him
Fantasizing about how it happened and how it could have been
Demons, chasing Nightmares, Happiness on Poles
Tied into a loveknot and dangled in front of me
No matter how I ran, how far, how fast
It seemed to sweetly Escape
Just when he was in my grasp

I tried it all
New haircuts
New styles
New boys
Sexy sexy skirts
With  new pairs of heels
Filling holes with things that
Really don’t mean anything 
Except to say

I’m doing just fine without you

Days go by, 
Months slip away
Years appear on doorsteps like unwanted infantile  
Infatuations
I beat my self up for loving

the way
He moved
Spoke, touched
Laughed, ached, cried
He could
Heal the burns on my fiery soul
He could handle
Dangerous curves
On roadways unknown

My first love

Today I no longer linger
On whispers in photographs
Or chain ball letters
I don’t chase after  white sports cars
Or sink when I hear his name
I see him sometimes and I feel his stare

Sting me on the places it hits
I’m with my own
And his with his other
But just to let him know
It’s okay
I smile
and let go

Unraveling
This cord
of discord

Love is forever
No matter the occasion
I forgive, i forget
and let him live
Without me


I appreciate
His gift, wrapped with 
detachment
For the benefit, of each other

He showed me with open eyes
That I did not need a man

                                       For me
                                        To love
                                           Me
He gave 
A bittersweet
Indescribable


Emotion. The Gift
Of Poetry.



Thank you…




Copyright © Bella Cardenas | Year Posted 2007


Details | Bio Poem | Create an image from this poem.

A Dylan Thomas State of Mind

A Dylan Thomas State of Mind

It’s precisely 2:45am...the time when
~ if I’ve fallen asleep ~
I always awake to find
Myself drenched in sweat.

I lie here beside my beloved
~ as I have so steadfastly since
16 November 2016 ~
Thinking about...wondering...pondering
The end of my existence.

I am not talking about
Taking my own life.
          NO!
I’ve seen, heard, touched, tasted, smelt
          too much...
I’ve survived too much, felt too much...
I value Howard’s sweet...sweet...
Nurturing soul’s devotion 
To keeping me alive these past 40 years
To raise my hand against myself...now.

I AM talking about these things:
     Where do we go when we die?
     Do I have a soul?
     Will I be conscious — at the moment it happens —
     That I am drawing my very last breath?

Sometimes, when I awake in the early morn,
Howard is motionless beside me
And I stare at his beautiful face.
Dare I reach out and touch it with one finger?
What if it’s stone cold?
His flesh heavy...dead?

Death.
The End of Living.
The End...The End...The End...

Last January I begged for surcease...
For an end to the pain...
An end to the physical torture...
An end to the psychic suffering...
The constant thoughts of:
        “Is there a Hell?”
        “Will I go there if I take my own life?”
        “What does ‘eternity’ mean?”

Now this morning of 19 October 2017
I am thinking...feeling...praying:

         Please...Please...Please...

         God/Goddess/All That Is/The Universe/The Spirit
         Make my neglected hated scorned body
         Healthy and whole.
         So I may live
              today...
                  tomorrow... 
                      next month...
              next year...

Do not let me go gentle into that good night.
I am alive now...
And I rage...
                   I RAGE NOW!
                                       ....against the dying of the light.
       

Barbara Dickenson 
19 October 2017


Copyright © Barbara Dickenson | Year Posted 2017


Details | Bio Poem | Create an image from this poem.

read this please

They hate you because your you
They make up lies and call it true
They're fake behind your back
Hoping someday that you'll crack.

They hate you because your real.
no matter what they say you always heal
They're surprised to see you rise,
That you're not affected by all these lies


They hate you because you smile at them
It shows them that your a real gem
You are always true and do your best :)
Sometimes these haters just cant test

They hate you for no reason
Despite it all, you smile
whatever the reason
At the end of the day
All i'm gonna say
All i plan to be 
IS ME


-Sanderline Fleury :)


Copyright © Sanderline Fleury | Year Posted 2013


Details | Bio Poem | Create an image from this poem.

Broken English

I love my broken English

Am in love with my broken English

Am honored to have two other languages

The ability to think from language to language is one that many don't experience 
The ability to bring vibes from one language to another is one, that many envy

Sometimes it's like a train, English flows easily before it gets to a halt
Sometimes it's a bus with many stops, some harsh, some dash, some flash
And some mistakenly whether car or train, crash 
Some like aeroplane, are up there in the air
Building their own castles
Creating unfamiliar words

Whether writing from kikuyu to English 
Or kikuyu to Swahili and then to English 
Or just writing from the little dash of English that I learnt from my English classes,
With poetry,I can still escape 
Whether in the veiled grammatical errors
        Or just like a volatile chameleon


Copyright © njeri hunjeri | Year Posted 2015


Details | Bio Poem | Create an image from this poem.

YESTERDAY I CRIED

Why, Momma, why?
Was I not deserving 
of you?
Was I not good?  
Was I too frail?
Did you send me away
Because your own life 
derailed?

Why, Momma, why
Do I still secretly wail?
Asking myself what did I do so 
wrong? How did I fail?

What you called rebelliousness
Was the only way I knew how 
to stay strong sometimes, I'd 
stay up all night looking after you
Got banged and bruised so that 
he wouldn't hurt you

No one else did that
Isn't it true?
Did you ever think about my wounds
That was the only way I knew to
protect you

Instead of helping me 
You banished me through lies,
Stripped me from my home,
My siblings, my life

Withheld your love
Because I tried to take my own life
But did you ever stop and think that
Perhaps something in me wasn't right?

Why, momma, why?
Does your absence whisper in me
A forever sorrowful lullaby and
Although, I miss you I love you more 
each day that goes by

I forgive you wholeheartedly
Despite that yesterday, I cried
I wouldn't hesitate to wipe
The tears from your eyes if they 
ever again were to meet with mine


Copyright © Madelin Barton | Year Posted 2014


Details | Bio Poem | Create an image from this poem.

The Meaning Of Life

Through life...I've learned the meaning of love. Through love...I've felt the feeling of heartbreak. Through heartbreak...I've felt the feeling of pain. Through pain...I've learned the meaning of acceptance. Through acceptance...I've learned the meaning of forgiveness. Through forgiveness...I've learned the meaning of faith. Through faith...I've learned the meaning of life. We are all important in life... We all have a purpose in life... Now all we have to do is... Make every purpose count... ~Life~ Is a learning experience ~Life~ Is a state of existence that belongs to the soul ~Life~ Is the true meaning of meaning ~Life~ Is the state of something significant,and of great importance ~Life~ Is what is intended to be or is ~Life~ Has a beginning,a purpose, and an end...
Danny Boy:4-1-13 :o)


Copyright © Dan Kearley | Year Posted 2013


Details | Bio Poem | Create an image from this poem.

Who Am I

Daughter of Mary and Louis (Named after my late grandmother ) My name is Charmaine a name originated from latin Charmaine means -a song Eldest of two siblings Wife and Mother Born and raised in the sun-kissed land of Malta (an island in the Mediterranean sea which is politically westernized yet geographically in the southern part of the European continent) Baptised as a roman catholic (with believes rooted in love and forgiveness) Friends describe my personality as amicable and funny (I love to laugh at myself to make others happy ) Till I get to know a person I might keep distant , even act timid and shy . Friends describe me as humble , yet I can be extremely stubborn. It is said that I'm affable, trustworthy, and good willed Honest, hardworking, warm and kind . I describe myself as a child trapped in a woman's mind A little girl who is extremely sensitive many a time. I trust only with my eyes wide open If ever deceived I erupt in a volcanic catastrophe which fades in a short time. I am a day dreamer, a night dreamer My shadow is lost in the moon's eclipse I float on cloud nine occasionally without a will to return (My X-mathematics teacher would obviously confirm this) I am a hopeless romantic ( Cold Unromantics may find me challenging or boring ). I am scared of rejection, and abhore prejudice . I hate hypocracy, medriocracy, and burocracy. I shed my blood for democracy. I believe in freedom of speech until that speech won't provoke the freedom of rights. I am against fundamentalizm, extremism and anything that suffocates 'the voice' . I condemn divisions between rich and poor. I love life, and all that is beautiful. I love birds, animals and flowers I love mountains, rivers,ocean , and all mother nature I love exploring the world , and all that is adventurous . . I am a loyal follower of Maldena Gandhi , Mother Theresa, and Martin Luther king. I love cooking, art , music, and words. I love reading a good book, watching a great movie (Preferably with tishoos in one hand, and chocolate in the other ). I love sailing away from concrete worlds, far from buzzling sounds of nightlife. I love all seasons, Spring with fresia's perfume, Summer with late walks Autumn with cinnamon spices, Winter with Christmas-lights and snow. (Ah yes,How I love Christmas ). I love all simple things , like a cup of English tea I love making my house a home. Be surrounded with those that I care for such as God , friends, family, or be in my own silence reading sweet poetry. Charmaine Chircop - nee: Brincat Born : 1st of May 1977 Star-Sign : Taurus Favourite Colour: Blue Favourite flower : Daisy Margarita Favourite author: God This is a revised repost, inspired to repost it by a running contest of Catie Lyndsey, and the wonderful bios I've read here, thanks. Not for the contest


Copyright © Charmaine Chircop | Year Posted 2016


Details | Bio Poem | Create an image from this poem.

I Am Not Afraid

      On the day the Lord calls me home I will not be 
afraid as I know He loves us one and all and to this
earth we are only on loan
      We have spent all our lives here with family and 
friends and so we leave this earth to go home to be 
with our Lord and our family and friends who have
gone home to Heaven before us
       And so our lives go full circle as the Lord sent us 
down from Heaven to accomplish the things He wants 
us to do here on earth and as we complete this we will 
be called back home to heaven to live forevermore
       I am not afraid as I patiently wait for my call to 
enter the Kingdom Of Heaven where I will wait for my 
family and friends to come home and be with our Lord
forevermore.


Poems Of Inspiration (OLD) Contest 
Sponsor: P.D.
7th Place Winner



Copyright © Carol Sunshine Brown | Year Posted 2010


Details | Bio Poem | Create an image from this poem.

I Am

I am...
A seed that was blown from 
A wayward wind
Sewn too soon
With fragile roots
Clinging
To a rocky soil
That fell between
The cracks
In a place covered
In ocean brine
Which...Somehow
Managed to exist
Where the sun
Could not shine
Except…
On those rare days
When it would burn
Through that veil 
Of grey fog
Turning 
The whole world blue
Blue skies...
Where clouds roamed 
Aimlessly...
Over a quiet glassy surface
That would 
When pushed...
By a raging wind
Lash out 
In frustration
Shattering itself
On those jagged rocks
As it tried 
Time 
And time again
To move beyond that
Rocky shore
Where... 
That rose
Tried in vain
To bloom.

Author:  Elaine Cecelia George of Canada

Written:  March 7th, 2015




Copyright © Elaine George | Year Posted 2015


Details | Bio Poem | Create an image from this poem.

Mama Swore It'd Be Alright

 I grew up shooting pool and dancing on the bar
 Mama said with enough buise anyone could be a star
 Daddy was in the back room chasin' skirts
 Mama was in the parking lot dancin' with Mary Jane just to mask the hurt

 I've spent my life walkin' around in a cloudy haze
 I'm taunted by the memory of my early days

 Daddy spent alot of time drivng an eighteen wheeler
 Each night Mama brought home a new "sexual healer"
 I didn't usually get a chance to catch his name
 But it almost always ended the same

 I heard her scream as glass would break
 My heart would stop with each breath I was scared to take
 Sirens and lights flooded our streets as I approached another long night
 As I dried her tears and cleaned her blood Mama swore it'd be alright
 She forgot to mention that it'd happen again
 
 Both my brothers had thier own bed in the federal pen
 Cancer took Granny's last breath right about then
 My sisters and I weren't strangers to rape
 As we grew older we each seeked our o0wn escape

 I guess I chose the hardest road
 Somehow I thought drugs and men could ease my burdened load
 While hiding from myself I lived a life of crime
 I earned a reputation and did my time

 I heard her scream as glass would break
 My heart would stop with each breath I was scared to take
 Sirens and lights flooded our streets as I approached another long night
 As I dried her tears and cleaned her blood Mama swore it'd be alright
 She forgot to mention that it'd happen again


Copyright © Sara Beaderstadt | Year Posted 2011


Details | Bio Poem | Create an image from this poem.

The Richard Enigma

I'm rather hard to figure out
Not many really get what I'm about
I'd rather sit quietly than shout
I keep it real I'm not prone to pout
You might think me passive
Still I will act 
when others are subdued by doubt

Somewhat serious
Yet prone to smile
Not ecstatic I have my own style
If you need comfort I'll stay with you a while
Don't expect much talking 
I'm a listener on the emoticom dial

As a poet
I know the power of the word
In the end I like to hear and be heard
Like you I too have been burned
Within adversity there were things I learned

I am a dancer
Stepping out on pages
Quiet paper oragami cages
Traveling on thoughts
Floating through all my stages

Fast forward rewinding 
Pausing at my distance
Like the Borg victims there is no resistance
I breathe my thoughts with a certain persistence

If you look at me 
I might reflect you
Searching for answers
Seeing beyond dark corridors 
To places bright blue
Perhaps you as well 
Like me
are an enigma too!

Written April 8th.


Copyright © Richard Lamoureux | Year Posted 2015


Details | Bio Poem | Create an image from this poem.

Carrie R

Brunette, of hair, my mother's face
I'm known to be a country girl
I like to wear blue denim jeans, 
but love to wear a dress of lace
I've made mistakes, to my disgrace
I'm small in size......my eyes are blue
I'm not a prize, have no excuse
I'm the neighbor who will bring you soup
Good music fills my eyes with tears
Love  hula hoops. Loops in my ears
Can toss a ball, and whoop it up
I can ride a horse, and wear the boots
Don't wear a crown, I'm not a queen
But I am keen on my clean house


I'll lend an ear, I am a friend
My favorite food might be ice cream
A double scoop, I beg you please?
I'll bathe the dog, I give good hugs
I'll rub your back when you are ill
I'll judge you not...won't hold a grudge
A movie fan, read quite a lot
I thrive on love, I'll love you too
Can fix most things with Elmer's glue
Can stretch a dime, make old things new
I love antiques and have a few

My family ties are iron strong
And stronger as the days grow long
I hope to light my little world
With poetry, some bad, some good
I've paid my dues.....with ups and downs
A small town  girl, who gets around
I try to keep an open mind
I hope to God,  that I've been kind
And hope to find a friend in you

So that's scoop, ..... a double dip
I'll  say adieu' ....,  and finish it !

_________________________________
Submitted For "A Poet's Bio" 
Contest sponsored by Tammy Reams 


Copyright © Carrie Richards | Year Posted 2015


Details | Bio Poem | Create an image from this poem.

ONCE UPON A TIME

 






I was born on the closing days of
The second World War  
In a small village of north-west of Greece
Up on the mountains.

The country was devastated
After four years of occupation by
The Nazis and Fascists and
Then
A civil war followed that lasted for
Another four years
Hundreds of thousand souls were lost,
Among them members of my family
The country was left in ruins
The hatred reigned as brother was 
Killing brother
 
We were poor
Scarcely had anything to eat
Having lost my father I had
No shoes
No proper clothes
No proper home
Living in primitive conditions with
No electricity
No radio
No cars
No roads
But
Lived close to nature that nourished me
With its wild fruits and roots
That I was finding climbing up the mountains
Or descending down onto the valley
Where I was running after butterflies and birds

My bear feet were kissing the ground
Winter and summer
Feeling the cold and the heat to the point as
To become one with the soil.
 
The animals were my friends, my companions:
Goats, sheep, pigs, cows, dogs, cats
But I had to be aware of the venomous snakes,
The cunning foxes the dangerous wolves.
 
The nights I was looking up to the clear sky
Admiring the brightness of the stars
So close to God for the first time myself I found
As I was caressing with my eyes the galaxy
That crossed the horizon from mountaintop to mountaintop.
The nights when there was a full moon I could see
As far as the eye could reach and I was happy although
My rebellious stomach could not let me sleep in peace.
 
Left the village just before my twelve birthday went
To Athens, the capital and later on to Canada where
I lived, worked,  studied and taught.
Stayed there for twenty years,
Have traveled around the world:
Europe, Asia, America, Oceania
Then back to Greece where I live 
Writing and taking care of my roof garden.

Now, retired at seventy-two, look at the world as it is
Compare it with the world of my childhood and
Have the impression that have lived for centuries
Since the world at present,  as far as technology is concerned,
Is light of years ahead of the world of my village at that time
But at the same time the world today seems to have lost
Its innocence, part of its humanity and certainly its
Contact with nature and worst of all for most of us with
Its inner divine self!






© Demetrios Trifiatis
       26 March 2017



* This is my 1500th poem. I would like to thank all of you who have
supported me with your comments, ideas and love for without you
it would have been impossible to keep writing for five years here at 
the soup. Of course always are some who try to harm someone and 
not to help but even these few people I thank! 

May the Good Lord keep all of you healthy, inspired and happy!
THANK YOU!

Demetrios 
 


Copyright © Demetrios Trifiatis | Year Posted 2017


Details | Bio Poem | Create an image from this poem.

I Was Me

First I was me,
Selfish as can be,
Wanting everything from A to Z
And wanting it all for me.

Then I became we,
A part of an us.
I learned to share, give and take
I learned how to trust.

Next I was you,
Believe me its true.
I would rather give than receive,
It was you I wanted to please.

Now I am them,
A family man.
Giving my children,
All that I can.

If you look real close,
It is easy to see,
I am older and wiser,
And no longer a me.


Copyright © Joe Flach | Year Posted 2010


Details | Bio Poem | Create an image from this poem.

Who Am I

Born in the mountains in the Cumberland Gap
But raised a bit deeper in the red-mud South.
I came into the world with a layer of insecurity
Masked with a thin cover of masculinity.
Sun-baked and hardened like a piece of tar-heel pottery
I’m smooth to the touch, and easily shattered if dropped.
My imperfections are hidden under the shiny glaze of
Southern hospitality and well-cultivated manners--
I survive, day-to-day in a white collar world
Callused hands are hidden by the perfect double Windsor.
My mother named James but called me Jaime 
After the bruised little boy from the trailer next door.
And now, in a starched shirt and shiny leather shoes
I see my reflection in the window
But the face looking back is still dirty.


Copyright © James Andersen | Year Posted 2016


Details | Bio Poem | Create an image from this poem.

MY ODYSSEY



 
 
Here, I am
Retired
Happy
Sitting on the relaxing throne of my age
Reminiscing what I went through in life
For
A mere spectator I have now become
Observing in silence the works of men
Having no worries of a
Carrier advancement
Of acceptance
Of recognition!
 
Free at last!
Liberated I feel from all of this soul disturbing situations that
Preoccupy humans, all life long, in order for them to survive.
 
When young
Things were different as I wanted to change things
I roamed the world, visiting all continents
Myriad of dreams I had each demanding to be realized,
I did my best,
Despite life’s hardships-- starting with the loss of both of my
Parents when I was in my early teens
Then poverty came, after that orphanage for three years
Struggle for survival intensified- working and studying
Being alone at the age of fifteen is not a laughing matter
Served in the army, became a track-and-field athlete, then Immigrated to Canada.

Knowing no one over there, speaking little English and having no money
Life became a living hell for some time
But
Slowly things turned around, for Canada is a great country
Gave me chances to work and the opportunity to study
I started working the day, going to university in the evening
Learned English, German and French
Did my undergraduate and completed my post-graduate studies
Started teaching, had my own philosophical TV and Radio program in
Three languages at a community station, became an author, got married and had children. 

Eighteen years later I found myself back to Greece
Directed different schools and Colleges and in collaboration with professors from Athens university, helped to organize international congresses on philosophy, religion, politics, education and peace.  
Afterwards was involved in politics out of moral obligation
Run six times for the Greek and the European parliament with no success 
Did humanitarian work: Consoling people, visiting hospitals, mental institutions and prisons-high security ones included.    
 
Life obliged me to meet people of all walks of life:
Poor men and women that had nothing at all
Rich and the very rich that had everything
The illiterate that could not read or write as well as
Famous professors and writers
Politicians--Ministers, Prime Ministers and Presidents
Religious men of many denominations-- Bishops, Archbishops, Patriarchs 
But also many criminals: Thieves, rapists, murderers, including some who
Committed--fratricide, matricide and patricide.
 
I had a harsh and at times torturous life but never a boring one
Was born in an occupied country of the second WW and lived
The first five years while a civil war was going on.
 
If one would ask me to live my life again my reply would be a
Thunderous NO! I could not take it anymore, unless
It was to live it again for a higher purpose such as to help achieve world peace.
 
If one asks me what beautifies life, without hesitation I would say- LOVE and LEARNING
If one makes inquiries from where I drew the strength to overcome all hardships,
I would say my unshakable belief in God who adopted me after the death of my parents
If one wishes to know, what is the most difficult thing in life my reply will be:
“To accept life”
Now, in the degree we do not accept life we suffer!
 
If one insists on finding out what is important for any person in life
The answer for me is “To know himself, to be truthful to himself and to
Do the best he can with the abilities our Lord has provided him with.
That means it is better to be a fine butcher than a bad doctor!
Finally
One should never fear death for the simple reason: None is exempted!
Death for me is a celestial pillow upon which the soul rests for a while
Dreaming of the life to come!
Life resembles the sea which either turbulent or calm has the same depth!
 
Accept life and in time one may learn how to face death with equanimity!
I am at that point now, with no regrets, other than I could learn more and
Do more in my life.
I thank God for each day of my life as I thank all those who directly or
Indirectly have helped me to live this adventure, including all of you who
Are reading this poem now!
God bless everyone!
 
 
 
© Demetrios Trifiatis
      05 August 2017
 
*This is my 1700th poem for that reason I wished to make it more personal and much longer than my Monoku! Sorry!
 


Copyright © Demetrios Trifiatis | Year Posted 2017


Details | Bio Poem | Create an image from this poem.

Unwritten Conversations

He told me to write a poem
About beauty, wind blowing
Hair tossing , dream making stunning
Gorgeousness of living
Beauty addicts and blind ambitions
Movie stars and historical happenings
Formal dresses, women in high heels with 
Faces meant to smile
That’s what poems should be about, he says, 
Your good at that kind of thing, just spit it out

                “Shawty, write a poem about beauty, that’s real poetry”
                                 “Everything is beautiful, baby…”
                 “But what is beautiful to you?”

Beautiful.
Births and rebirths
Phoenix Red celestial torching of the hearts
Interlocking fingers in twilight
Kisses, Death, sorrow, crocodile tears
Laughter, Ecstasy , black
White, brown, yellow, silver crimson
Skin on skin, chest to chest, on and on, soft
Hard City light heaving, breathing against the Ebony sky
Natural Twinkle of diamond shadows, 
Cosmos, Atoms, Hydrogen bonds, Electrons
Nucleus, matter, anti-matter
Smash together, slither mutually
To create harmony.
Everything. 
Everything is beautiful. 

                      “Just write about that then..”
                                 "Not everything has to be written, somtimes you just have to
                                  live it out.."
                      "What's the point then?? What's the point of writing about butterflies 
and waterfalls? I just don't see it? Why do you have to doll everything up and 
make it more then what it is? Not everything has to be picked apart and analyzed."
                                "Mmm, I suppose."
                        "What's real poetry to you?" 
                                 "Everything..."
                         "I don't understand."

I recline and rest my head on his chest
Tracing lines of thought on the ceiling
Helping him dismantle the universe and put it back together
In his own way
Enjoying lyrical symphonies of life
Breath by breath…
Together
Silent

                                     "This, baby, This is real Poetry.."









 




Copyright © Bella Cardenas | Year Posted 2007


Details | Bio Poem | Create an image from this poem.

RITES OF PASSAGE

Remember the day
Apron strings loosed,untied
as maternal voices faltered and cried
Remember the day
When a soprano voice lost its elan
and a boy became a man
Remember the day
Peer pressure would not hide
and diffidence was replaced with pride
Remember the day
Desire,with warm whispers heard
questions,answered with just three words
Remember the day
Filled with joy and love
a union blessed from above
Remember the day
Holding a first-born,so wee
as two self-absorbed,became three
Remember the day
Trust was born-a-new
a changed life came into view
Remember the day
Genesis as a work of art
with gifts to share and impart
Remember the day


Copyright © Brian Strand | Year Posted 2009


Details | Bio Poem | Create an image from this poem.

Soulmate

Soulmate


You are cool, that is why I am a fool.
I want you to be happy, with or without me.
If you are already in love, then all is good,
Because all I know is, if you trust,
Another soul, you will never grow old.
You will be forever young at heart
And all because you are loved and in love; so…


…If you are alone, then that is unnecessary;
You have always got me if you are in need,
Of someone to listen, or someone to speak,
Or maybe you would just like some company as you enjoy a cup of tea?
One sugar for me please.


So how are you on this glorious day!?
No clouds in the sky will be bringing us rain,
So everything will be ok.


Why so glum, chum?
You should smile again, 
I liked it so much the last time I saw it
And for you to be unhappy is such a shame,
When really there is no need; or is there?
I do not know, but I would like to understand,
If you would care to share.


Here, have a biscuit.
What time is it?
It’s time you told me what it is, that I can do to make you smile.
You say you are in need of three wishes?
Then do not worry my friend, I have a genie on speed-dial.
Let me just give him a quick ring…

(Ring, ring…ring ring.)

It seems he is not answering.
I guess he is off listening,
To other people wishing,
They could be as beautiful as you are.


Ah, there it is!  
That smile of yours, 
That I had been waiting for.
I knew it was in there somewhere.
Like I always say “You will always have someone,” 
Who would like to care,
If only you would let me.
Excuse me.
“Hello?  Sorry I am busy.  Call me back in about sixty years.”
Sorry about that; some people will just not hear.


I only waste my time on beautiful souls;
Those cheating people, I leave alone,
Because they do not light up my life like you do.
So, anyway, tell me more about you…


What interests you?  And what do I need to become,
To be somebody that you could maybe lean upon with love?
No promises, I only wish for it,
But you know what ‘he’ is like; never listening,
But anyhow, how can I improve to become what you want?
What do you need from me?  What must be done!?
I will sit here for a moment and give you time to think it through…

Could you ever feel for me, what I will always feel for you?


Oh, you do not know,
Well then, let me illuminate your mind;
Open your eyes wide and read my soul
And hopefully one day,
Your soulmate, you too shall find.


(C)2017 Aa Harvey. All Rights Reserved.



Copyright © Aa Harvey | Year Posted 2017


Details | Bio Poem | Create an image from this poem.

I am Every Woman

I am my reality
I am my first true love
I am the best part of my life
I am my today, my tomorrow
I am my lonesome bliss
I am the representation of strength
Through the tough stare in my sons eyes
I am the symbol of endurance
From a child’s tear stained ruby cheek
I am the mingling stride
Of a rainbows colours
I am the voice of every woman
Who never got a chance
To sing her song
I am the voice of a woman
Screaming without a voice
I am the voice of a woman
Speaking to a deaf audience
I am a thousand words
In the daring gesture
Of a fleeting dream
I am the sweet sensation
Emanating from numbness of life
I am the unfading sprinklings
Of light shot diamonds
On the surrendering foliage
Of falling leaves of autumn 
I am the sliding contour
On a mountains heat stricken back
I am the last dance with a shooting star
I am the orange face with a red soul
Yes, orange with fire, red with life
I am the unfading glow
In the setting sun
The persistent twinkle
In the emerging sun
I am the legend of old
Dripping melts of heaven
From which generations
Will suck to outlive life’s atrocities
I am my perfect freedom
I am my perfect desire
I am my perfect imperfection
I am my sweetest company
I am my sweetest taboo
I am in love with me
I am, every woman


Copyright © subilaga blessings mulaga jana | Year Posted 2016


Details | Bio Poem | Create an image from this poem.

Daddy's Dime

I was three the first time i remember 
seeing mamas bedroom walls 
springtime colors on her quilt 
Though it really could of been December 

I don't remember much at all 
I have to thank god for that 
except for his soft footsteps down the hall 
not Gods cause he was still asleep 
I didn't know enough to be afraid,  YET 

He came in the room, that's when I still loved him 
then I was on the bed, daddy loves you 
daddy saying shh shh, don't talk 
we're hiding from mama, I giggled 

and then the pain, stop it shaunda, be quiet 
be a quiet girl and I'll give you a dime 
I didn't like it one bit or the sounds either 
I turned my head and saw mamas messy shoes in her closet 

I loved mamas shoes and I always put them in a row 
in her closet nice and neat 
she always gave me a nickel and said very good Shaunda 
that's  when I still loved her 
and she still loved me 


I watched the shoes through the pain thinking 
when daddies done I'm gonna straighten those shoes 
all in a row so mama will give me a nickel 
and why do dimes hurt so bad 
 

All this running through my head laying on her bed 
while the sounds and the pain intermingle 
in my body and mind while wondering 
why Karrie gets to go to school 
and why oh why can't I be five too 

Ahh. The joy of childhood memories uncensored


Copyright © shaunda lindsay | Year Posted 2016


Details | Bio Poem | Create an image from this poem.

Letters I Never Sent


Earth is a building
A crowded house covered with thorns 
donated by peacemakers

A building
Showered with endless tears washing sad feelings
Tears that fill holes to shape the planet with goals
It shelters those that shelter themselves
Shame poor souls
Pass them free suicide ropes
This earth is a shack overcrowded with souls hungry for 
reality’s accuracy

A construction that shield competitors for God’s recognition
This earth is a round promised lie
Circled to circulate exclusions
A bunkhouse burning from the heat of human insults
Group hugging insects 
Voice planning impacts 

It glows echoes of reality’s limping lips and confused vintage 
Glorifying gruesome goals
The third house amplifying fear as a choice 
The next door neighbour to your borrowed smiles

A building 
A freak round building 
Earth is a tornado moving bricks from one mind to others

My heart married the future with all its dimples
Holes piled up with fables
War of voices in ties and suitcases
 Killing the already dead in word visions
 Picture pictures painted in demonic paint brushes 
Bunch of hands group shaking greetings 

Earth is a building
A crowded house covered with thorns 
Donated by peacemakers
A building that let loose diseases for business   

Some letters i never sent

(c) Ray


Copyright © Raymond Ngomane | Year Posted 2014


Details | Bio Poem | Create an image from this poem.

The Azalea City is My Hometown

I come from Valdosta, Georgia, the lovely peach state,
Where everyone uses a southern drawl to communicate.
Valdosta is known as the “Azalea City” for its gorgeous flowers.
In the spring this splendid sight has a captivating power.

I’m afraid the azaleas are forgotten by the summer,
When it gets so hot we are running for cover.
When we have a storm, I pray the electricity doesn’t go out.
In Valdosta, having the ac cranked is what it’s all about!

I grew up the daughter of a Pentecostal minister.
There are four siblings, including Barbara, my twin sister.
We went to church faithfully three times a week,
Sitting on the pew trying not to make a peep.

We may have grumbled about getting so much religion,
But down the road it has helped us all make decisions.
My Dad has now gone for his reward in Heaven.
I wish I could hear one more of his sermons God-given.

In high school my twin and I were members of a championship band.
We won so many contests, the Marching Cats was the best in the land.
The famous band director in Valdosta was the amazing Frank Butenschon.
His talent and dedication made us all winners, and we shined!

My best band competition memory was as good as it gets.
We won, and performed a half-time show for the Miami Dolphins and Jets.
The other piccolos and I marched out for a solo in front of the crowd.
That’s when they cut to commercial at home for my parents so proud! 

To move along, fresh out of college I married a man 15 years older.
I was naïve and mesmerized, he was so much bolder.
We moved to Houston, where I taught high school.
Life was exciting, and being a newlywed was so cool.

Several years later we moved to New Hampshire, his home state.
The mountains, the snow, and especially the summers were great.
We opened a business that lasted for 25 years.
I was company President while we were entrepreneurs.

In NH for 20 years I was a member of the Upper Valley Community Band,
Playing my flute and piccolo for parades and summer concerts so grand.
We also played at Faneuil Hall, Germany, Austria, and France on tour.
Carole Blake, the renowned band director, put us on the map for sure!

After thirty years being man and wife, our marriage hit the rocks.
I moved back to Valdosta, where my family is mere blocks.
In my hometown, what others think of me does not keep me up at night.
I’m enjoying my freedom, and God has me in His sights.







6/20/17





Copyright © Brenda McGrath | Year Posted 2017