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New Bring It Poems

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

Bring it Down by Manassian, Eileen
Bring It On by Breidenthal, Laura
Bring it on by Thomas, Angie
Bring it On Home by Kilmer, Stephen
Can Still Bring It by Ellison, Jack
BRING IT IN BANGING AND SINGING by curtis futch jr, kurtis scott aka
Bring it on by Karzmarczyk, Ronald
BRING IT by RINALDI, RUDOLPH
GLOBAL WARMING - BRING IT ON by Beck, Sidney
Mexican Buffet: Bring it On by Dietrich, Andrea

View all new Bring It Poems

The Best Bring It Poems

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Please, Pull Up a Chair

I’d like you to bring me a dinner for two -
A serving for me and a serving for you.
I’ll order up something that we two can share.
Please bring it, then sit with me! Pull up a chair!

We’ll start with a salad. I hope you won’t mind 
this salad will be of the specialty kind, 
the kind made of rainchokes and fiddlehead roots,
and topped with wassava and sharkflower shoots. 

And after our salad, we’ll have the main dish:
some Teek Bourguignon, or lardines if you wish
See, it just doesn’t matter what food that we eat,
as long as you join me! Please, pull up a seat!

Then after our meal, some dessert will be nice;
I’ll order us up some sweet cragberry ice!
We’ll top it all off with some coffee flown in 
especially from the small island of Dwin.

I’ll thank you, dear waiter, for serving my needs;
I’ll tip you with plenty of Dol-yapper seeds
For, you see, I don’t eat alone, not anywhere!
So bring it, then sit with me! Pull up a chair!  


Copyright © Becca Teagan | Year Posted 2017


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Food Inglorious Food

Be it known as convenience food, junk food or munchies; whether spicy, melt-in-your-mouth soft, or crunchy, food, inglorious food, seduces with ease and ensnares with the emptiest of calories. Disguised as a comfort food comes macaroni with creamy Alfredo and kin, Fettucini, To not be outdone, spaghetti entices with large fattening meatballs and sauce rich in spices. “Deep fried” knows our weakness for fat, which gives pleasure and saturates fast foods, it seems, in great measure: KFC (finger-licking), batter-fried fishes and chicken fried steaks -high cholesterol dishes. Even fruits will attack with enjoyment unhealthy as tarts, pies or pastries. That apple is stealthy! Veggies can also be treacherous things in guise of corn fritters and gold onion rings. Too much of a good thing is pizza (so cunning, so meaty, so cheesy), which no one is shunning. The taco, burrito, and big burger too in great numbers descend on us. What can we do? Those delectable luscious desserts that we eat have only to sit there; we cannot retreat! Candies and chocolate, our decadent sin, sweetly defeat us. We simply give in. Ice cream, a smooth foe, knows when we are blue. On a cone or a spoon, it drips, waiting for you. As a milkshake, a frosty, a sundae or float, or between split bananas, it sure floats MY boat! Buttered popcorn is one salty foe, and we love it! The hot dog implores in our mouths that we shove it. Baked bread, so alluring, entraps with its scent, which wafts through the air as if heaven sent! The standards of junk food -America’s pride - crisp bacon and nachos, chips and foods fried, invade our malls’ food courts and lurk high and low. Their smells overwhelm us wherever we go! We might try but we can’t make our junk food desist. for only the health nuts can dare to resist. In the war with inglorious food I adore, I say, Bring it on! Here’s my plate; I want more. For the The Synathroesmic Cat Contest Poetry contest of Suzanne Delaney *So now you can all know why I try to get to the gym a lot. hahaha


Copyright © Andrea Dietrich | Year Posted 2013


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I am Me, Set me Free

I am given to you by Creator Himself My Limbs long to grow straight and tall Bathed in sunlight from above, paying homage Fulfilling my God given task From the dawn of creation, in the Holy Books I’m told A gift was given to all nations to hold The Tree of Life to feed and cure and clothe. I am Me – Set me free To live in a world- your world, to be appreciated I am needed by you and the multitudes Use me, Recycle me again and again Plant me in your soil, I will take root I live to Heal you, to Cleanse you To Rebuild you to Purify you I am Me – Set me free Do not believe the lies in your ears they whisper Free me from my confined goal, Where troops have placed me Sullied my name, Denied the Existence of my core I am Me – Set me free Yet I am you, and you are me Vital it is for us living beings Your DNA and my RNA- we talk -we communicate I am not only here to just take away your pain But here to let you - Live Your Life Again I am Me – Set me free Do not be stripped of your human privileges The Greedy will always deny Man his God given rights In the name of Democracy, Controversy, Hate, Idiocrasy, They are chained in their Bureaucracies and Hypocrisies And do not see the woods for the trees I implore you do not be Of a ‘Sheeple’ people mentality I am Me – Set me free In a world encased with chemicals, plastics, synthetics Created in the name of greed, A world that is stifling, suffocating, stagnating Poisoning you and your children Let your Farmers Plant me, grow me as in days of old, I am no weed I have been here since time has begun My leafy fingers and my palm point up to the sun Absorbing and turning it’s energy into a life giving elixir I purify the very air that you breathe I am sustainability, I am Life I am Me – Set me free I can offer you the finest spun threads of my being Does not the Japanese Emperor look good in his ceremonial clothes? And did not ‘Mona Lisa’ smile - as she was stretched on my canvas? Glowing from the oils of my seeds are Van Gogh’s ‘Stars’ And my finest for Raising Lazarus by Rembrandt My spun cloth has stood the test of time Carrying your very first Stars and Stripes still in existence And did they not all feel proud when the Declaration was signed But like Judas they turned their backs without our acquiesce I am Me – Set me free Haven’t my ropes tethered and towed ships from Days of yore Until synthetics came along and put a stop to it all My woven fibre sacks once carried your food? But now with synthetics, I lie totally unused I am self sufficient I am your nutrition I am Me – Set me free Use my Oil and Mill my Seed My healing powers are all you need Leave the chemicals for the powers that be My gifts are bountiful - I give with grace Strength is in numbers - I rest my case The way for us to become stronger United we stand - we will conquer I am the Tree of life I AM ME – I AM THE HEMP TREE A Gift from Nature - Healer of Humanity
Footnote: A poet from Poetry Soup read my poem and the Footnote of ‘Christmas in July’ and was curious about the cure for Dementia with a certain Oil which would have prolonged my Mother-in-laws quality of life and indeed her life. She emailed me to write a poem and spread the word about this species. Thank you sincerely. Our family company in Australia and have been pioneers of not only Organic Skin Products but of Hemp products. We encountered resistance but were successful in countering it and were able to bring it to the people. Including a special oil. We have witnessed miraculous results with the marvelous, fine food tasting oil and products of this plant ranging from Epilepsy, MS, Parkinson’s, Dementia, Nerve related conditions, inflammation, auto immune and the list goes on. It has even been shown to make cancer cells literally commit suicide. You can freely view research results on the internet. Hemp is not weed but a species which does not contain the all feared THC. It is a total nutrition in itself and is delicious food product that can be used for culinary delights as well as smoothies. A specific Oil that is extracted and has very special properties.


Copyright © Maria Williams | Year Posted 2017


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FGM

*
Female sexuality
Fanatically robbed
Fraught with violation
Forever left in shame.
Folds of indignity
Forceful invasiveness 
Fulfilling love denied.


-------------------------------------------
*I feel very strongly about this topic.
  Have been meaning to bring it up.
  This Pleiades is short but meaningful.
--------------------------------------------

Contest: Any Poem#29
Sponsor: Poet Destroyer A.
Placing: 2nd


Copyright © Paul Callus | Year Posted 2014


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Feather in my hand, ink in my heart.

Trickling over my mind
Came scampering the question
This dilemma of a heart
Come running into my embrace
Stricken with fright

It asked me
Father, why do we write
And so I dipped my feather in the darkness of my mind
And brought forth my answer 

I wrote of fear and the love that comes at a dreadful cost
Of meaning and of the fight for knowledge 
I wrote for voices unheard
I cried for emotions long forgotten
And the answer came to me as the tears wrote their own tale
Painted in pain was the image of a long forgotten glory
Of emotions left unstirred
Come to see what these words have conspired 
Come to see how these words have called them from their sleep
To ensue in them an undaunted hunger

Well my dear son
Here comes my answer to you
I write not for you
Nor for me
I write for what is within you
What has bubbled forth within me
I write to stir the masses
Unchained, unhindered
Willful subjects of our being
They huddle in wait
The towering limestones of their cave grow eon by eon
As they rot away, moment by moment
I write for them
We write for the grim
The unnoticed prestige
We write for what you have neglected to see
To bring it forth before your eyes
To fix your head with an iron collar
To make you a slave of our direction
We write to be your masters, when you need one most
We write to fix your gaze on what you have never lost
We write to drag forth from the depths of your inky heart

We are the harbingers of emotion
Be it hate or lust
The unseen veil of ignorance, or to shatter the blinding globe of pride
We are the harbingers of sight
With our binding collars, our guiding feathers, dripping the black sweat of our labored toil
You will come to see
What has not been seen before
We are
Fathers of a relationship sown by words, sealed by the dawning of the sun, the dawning of 
realization
We are 
Your feathers, to your wings or to your ink

And feathers will flutter
Bearing you into the frigid embrace of the skies
And when the winds will them no more
We will descend upon the ground
And speak to the earth as we are reclaimed in its rough embrace
We will write to the trees, when we cannot write to the birds, the sun, and the sky
And through the trees we will see the stars
And to them we will write about the shade
Harbingers indeed.

© Samir Georges
2010

Edited for Deb's Free Verse Contest on why we write.


Copyright © Samir Georges | Year Posted 2010


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Nothing more than a pretty smile - repost

Nothing more than a pretty smile - repost

There she was chasing a rabbit 
with 1 am coffeecakes and weak tea
She didn’t notice I was watching
from the branches of an olive tree
A lone smile hidden amongst
swirling smoke rings in a foreign accent

To the gazebo she ran
with its straw grass tables
and pleated cushions in hibiscus 
print fabric no one would sit on

My eyes followed her as she
darted around manicured boxwoods
and cherub statues spitting water
onto sleeping lily pads,
following the same schedule
as the other…identical

She came upon a dandelion 
and asked politely, “Pardon me,
but have you seen a…”
The weed interrupted, 
“Didn’t…don’t do drama dreams
dancing deliriously down
donut distracted ditches”
“That’s dumb” she replied
with a giggle and a snort 

This must be her fun, I think, 
trying to catch a white ball of fur, 
big, then small,
then smaller still like a 
thimble seeking a thread,
when now she is stopped 
in her ziggy zagging tracks 
by a June bug singing, 

“I see, I see, in front of me
Dessert, dessert, set out for free
A chocolate pie, a chocolate pie
in menus written on the sky”

Perplexed she climbed upon its back
and flew, holding onto 
red leather shoulder pads 
with black dots changing shapes, 
ducking winged arches that 
covered the vestibule they 
soared through when a sharp turn 
pitched her to the opposite side…

Landing with a thud, 
her new dress now soiled
between the wrinkles in time
that had ticked away
on a clock faced sun named Ray

She cried carrot tears, 
orange sherbet streams
on peach tone cheeks, 
marmalade miseries
and mango miscues
piddling on her patent leather shoes,
ready to give up

When it appeared, hopping happily
Jumping into her lap 
and licking her face
She caressed its fur, removing 
sticker burs and scratching 
just the right spot, as its right rear leg 
thumped with joy

Then lifting the bundled bunny 
to her face, she kissed it tenderly 
with wild cherry gloss lips, 
or should I say…kissed me
for you see, all along, it was me

And you thought I was nothing more than a pretty smile…..



Note: This is a repost of a poem I posted on soup when I first arrived. Not many saw it at the time. I read an Alice in Wonderland themed poem by Kim Rodrigues the other day titled “Personalities of Alice” https://www.poetrysoup.com/poem/personalities_of_alice_899442, 
which was absolutely wonderful, and it reminded me of this so I thought I would bring it up again and see if you liked it. 







Copyright © Chris Green | Year Posted 2017


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Your Heart Is Too Cold

Your Heart Is Too Cold 

Why don't you come over hear 
tell me all about your love afars
do you really think I care?
you think you are brilliant
untouched in your hateful games
you should feel ashamed 
I give you all your own blames
for acting that way
So, go on and tell me all about her   
Is she worth throwing our love away ?
I packed your garbage in a sack 
so don't bring it back
I remember I was the love of your life
but that was way before I found out you had a wife
just in one night our love faded into darkness
so much pain of untruest 
I waited for you to say what you need to 
But the more I was standing next to You 
I started feeling so abused and very used
we got in to a heated fuss 
because of your lust 
I felt your coldness in out bedroom
your heart was even colder
your words are hars 
where loneliness come to me quickly
my world felt so empty in a bed of bitterness 
I looked out from my window with careful eyes
where I see him drive away on streets
that old memory will be the photograph 
that will stay on my mind 
the more I look 
I started to see yellow leaves
fall on that old dappled street of you and me.

Poetic Judy Emery 


Copyright © Judy Emery | Year Posted 2017


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If I Were An Animal What Would I Be

                             I like it cool and I like it dark.

                                  Long deep sleep makes me grrhhhhh.

                                       Wake me, I'm a nasty mother.

                             My stride is slow, and low, and mean.

                                         Piss me off, I dare you.

                                              I'll show you how cuddly I can be.


                                         Food binges turn me on, 

                                                   Bring it all, I can handle it.

                                         But watch your back,

                                  You can't walk all over me anymore.

                                                          *     *
                                                              *
                                                          

                                                   I'm waiting for you.

                                               Next time, you're dinner.


Contest
If I Were An Animal, What Would I Be?

Brenda Atry
5/12/2011


Copyright © Brenda Atry | Year Posted 2011


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Bring it Down

a memorial in time
bring it down
bring it down
a testament to bravery
bring it down
bring it down
a witness to chivalry
bring it down 
bring it down
a monumental beauty
bring it down 
bring it down
a statue turned gargoyle
bring it down
bring it down

I'll bring it down
this monument of words
this epic work of art
with hammer and chisel
with my bare hands
with my fingers torn
with my heart worn
I'll bring it down

I'll bring it down
Down to the ground
This abhorrent thing
grotesquely formed
no longer adorned
this thing of shame
remnant of the game

I'll bring it down
I'll pulverize stone
Only dust will remain
of what I disdain
washed away in the rain
of the tears
That you brought down....

Eileen Manassian





Copyright © Eileen Manassian | Year Posted 2015


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Your Latin Radere - The Etching

Beautiful, burnished, brilliant
Yet, my ink friendly inclinations produce a chemical discrepancy
And now, you come – Artist
Scratching, on my polished mental plate
Do not blacken me with your fumigating candle
Do not soak me in your acidic bath
Yet, here you are, sketching to leave your design
Ever so lightly, you etch, carefully, penetrating 
Acid soaks into your carefully drawn lines 
The depth of your influence is varied 
Teasing a relief by removing your blackened wax 
Only to soak me in your iniquitous ink
Here, I must bring it an end. I must stop you - Artist
I must cleanse my mental plate
Chasten long and purposed for that original surface
Until a polished steel-plated revelation
Yes, there, beautiful, burnished, brilliant…perfect, if not for
Your Latin radere
The etchings of your needle
The stain of your ink in my serrations
My effort seems wasted
The vestiges of your ink tainting all that I touch
Now, everything has your art
Like wetted paper onto my mental plate


Copyright © Mark Pringle | Year Posted 2005


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Emilee

Leave the broken in the past, Renew the beauty with sun-light; Nothing's ever meant to last So won't you make this moment bright? Dwelling on who causes pain, And feeling guilty now and then Will only pro-long pouring rain, And damage who you are again. Whether it be self acceptance, Pessimistic points of view, Even social-tied reluctance Or seeing beauty through and through, See yourself for who you are, And love yourself for only that Before contentment strays too far And you can never bring it back.


Copyright © Dana Smith | Year Posted 2012


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No Weapon Formed Shall Prosper Against Me


    "No Weapon Formed Shall Prosper Against Me"
                          (Isaiah 54:17)



When the slings and arrows in a torrent come my way,
when the sticks and stones are used on the same day,
I know who stands with me insuring victory, for
"No weapon formed shall prosper against me!"

If I must stand alone against ten thousand men,
I will stand my ground and shout "Bring It Then!"
Do what must be done but know this clearly,
"No weapon formed shall prosper against me!"

If it comes with fire, I will douse it with rain!
Whenever it attacks it'll be defeated again!
It'll never know the sweet taste of victory, for
"No weapon formed shall prosper against me!"

Bravery and courage on life's battlefield,
requires knowing when to battle and when to yield!
Though I walk through the shadow of death valley,
"No weapon formed shall prosper against me!"

HE who stands with me has a double edged sword!
HE's a warrior GOD who is named the LORD!
Omnipotent is HE and I courageously decree, that
"No weapon formed shall prosper against me!"



WTA-IV 4/19/2016


Copyright © Walter T. Ashe | Year Posted 2016


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Starry Eyed

In my hand an empty pack of camel crushes... I smoked them all. 
All the pacing from the stress has beat the pavement raw.
Anger from the moments of my son I never saw.
I'm so gone.
Because I've been holding it in for way too long.
And hashtag to my haters,I will spray you all away if you try to stop me from getting my hustle on.
And I'm not Kirsten Dunst but suckas bring it on.
I'm praying that the whole world pays attention to this song.
See snow the product did it first, but see this best it spoke to me.
And said "you could write a story on how rough your life could be. 
And with every verse you spit, more haters get frikazied.
That's when motivation kicked in and I began to believe.
I'll show the population that my ryhmes are mega rad.
And show the child courts I can be a good dad. 
And make for certain that I get to make my baby mama mad.
Because every brother out of Gary really ain't bad.
Determined dad.


Copyright © Julian Miles | Year Posted 2015


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Chasm

An empty echo bellows from within the depths of a chasm. Endless and cold, it moans an apathy that desecrates the sanctity of love and alters the signal of all feeling and emotion. It reaches and bites the heart, concealing from vision its true mission of destruction. Tightly wrapping itself around the soul, it plunges its deadly sting through its victim, cutting off the gentle flowing mixture of happiness, sincerity, laughter and devotion. Mindless faces speak a meaningless language. The lips seem to move in an endless array of contours as a lone silhouette vanishes with the last beam of light. Alone it stands as it silently waits for time to pass. Alone in these vast depths of indifference, there is no hope, no salvation from the inward conflict that evaporates the soul. Bow your head little sparrow. Weep the tears that none else can. Reveal the pain that none else will. Lift your eyes to a destiny. Take the future up in your tiny wings and bring it back to me. Together we can cry over the past and fly away. Darkness is the absence of light, yet you and I see. Within the chasm flickers a small candle. To you and I little sparrow, no freedom is too distant, no change too great. We persist with love where blind hatred dwells. Lingering within us is a hope, a dream and purpose that lifts the wind beneath our wings. We've tasted the bottom of the chasm. Together we can cry over the past and fly away..........


Copyright © Walter Williams | Year Posted 2012


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Snowy Season

Our cold crisp air augurs an early snow before Thanksgiving. I need to look for my warm fur-lined gloves. The snow tires are heaven knows where in our cluttered garage, but they must be searched for now not later, when frozen fumbling fingers complain loudly from the cold. Every year at this time, daydreams of warm weather on a tropic isle are floating through my mind. 

                              floating blossoms drift
                              like snow in the tropic wind—
                              sun shines on sunscreen

Back to the reality of the coming winter wind as our aging oak needs to be supported and protected. This beautiful season leaves me with such contrasting feelings of joy and foreboding. Our roof was just replaced from last year’s winter wrath. Every year I swear I will be more precautiously prepared.

                              bright leaves fall from boughs
                              leaving them naked and cold—
                              north winds come early

Grey clouds begin to dominate azure skies that turn into white-out days and I begin to pray while driving on the icy roads. I pray for the safety of all of us who must trudge traffic on these precarious pavements. Careening cars coming towards me
haunts my sleep. Black ice threatens to come again, revisiting old fears of past years.

                              nimbus clouds gather
                              to darken frigid white skies—
                              flurries soon flutter

But then there is the beauty bestowed by blankets of snow covered trees and fences, tracing tree limbs with wondrous white perfect powder. An artist’s dream with a hearth burning bright inside, and outside the bright white of freshly fallen snow. Ice cycles cling to our eves in crystal prisms reflecting rainbows when the sun shyly appears.

                              as snowflakes descend
                              mirror lake freezes over—
                              evergreens will bow

What delight in watching my toddler with her nose pressed up against my winter window in such amazement of how her breath could cause the window to fog up, and how she can draw pictures with her finger on the frosty pane. 

A promised sleigh ride brings a smile to her face and to mine as we sip hot chocolate with marshmallows. The way she pronounces marshmallows is so sweet and will always remain in my memories of her youth. Snow….bring it on and I will stay warm inside with a favorite book reading rhymes to my little love in my lap. 

                              sleigh bells softly ring
                              on an adventurous ride—
                              winter wonderland


Written: November 14, 2015
For Charlotte's "Creative Haibuns" Contest


Copyright © Connie Marcum Wong | Year Posted 2015


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with beauty

Summer sky melting as a butterfly alights d r i p p i n g with beauty For the monoku Contest of PD and now for the Bring it :) Your Best Monoku (used in my past Monoku/one liner contest) Poetry Contest


Copyright © Andrea Dietrich | Year Posted 2016


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The Puzzle of Life


The pieces fit together, day by day—
through trial and error, curve fits into curve.
But many times, in haste, a part is placed
that's wrong; the misfit somehow jars the rest
so time is spent redoing what was done
to bring it to its former tidy state.

Though day by day, and year by year it's worked,
so slowly forms the image that's been planned—
for many times, the challenge seems too great,
and so, it's often pushed away from sight.
Still other times, the pieces fall in place
renewing eager interest in the game.

And slow but sure, the shapes are interlocked,
each one a vital portion of the whole,
revealing, bit by bit, the total scene.
And all that's hoped before the colors fade,
is vision of life’s masterpiece, complete—
the portrait of our finished dream, well done.


Sandra M. Haight

~2nd Place~
Contest: Days
Sponsor: Thomas Martin
Judged: 05/03/2015


Copyright © Sandra Haight | Year Posted 2015


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Why

Why give me passion
And not bring it to fruition?
Why give me love
And withhold reciprocity?
Why give me voice
A touch above mediocrity
When all I want is to sing?
Why give me words
When they don’t transform?
Why give me dreams
With no hope of a reality?

Why?
Why make me enamored by beauty
When all I see is plain old me?

Questions that need answers
Rebellion is brewing inside me

Why? 
Why create me with incessant longing
That will never be quenched
To learn sacrifice?
To suffer?
To pay the price?
To purify?

But all the reasons
Don't satisfy
I’m tired of asking "Why?"
This heart is about to die

Eileen Manassian Ghali

The Answers:

The Lord your God in your midst,
The Mighty One, will save;
He will rejoice over you with gladness,
He will quiet you with His love,
He will rejoice over you with singing.” 
Zephaniah 3:17

One of my favorite Bible texts. God allows me to throw my little temper tantrum. I am, after all, His child....at times rebellious, but when I'm all cried out...if I let him, He takes me in his arms...and quiets me with his love. 


Copyright © Eileen Manassian | Year Posted 2014


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First World War

I envy the dust, the way it moves all free and careless,
released from it’s sleeping state the thunderous pounds 
of late shelling, again endless. 

Muffled shouting, through this trench confounding,

Mustard attack, gas mask aside, fingers in fumbling fight
bitter cold night in a field. 

No fireside, food to bite
cigarettes to smoke and mates to joke.

last one gone two days ago up one minute then vanished in a puff of smoke.

this place is beyond reality, it’s beyond insanity 
fighting for earth no mother walked nor father built.

If they want to fight then bring it to my hills, not this flat wasteland of mud, blood, bones and chills.

We were thrown into this bloody war,
and we wont have our say, like we've never had before.

Taken to the slaughter history will say, 
throwing ourselves forward like tidal-waves. 

Waves on waves of sacrificial lunacy again and again.

we've taken little ground and this other trench looks bad, worse than ours 
doesn't looked heavily manned looks like we lost more man.

What do we gain now? apart from more time in thought.

those withered layers of rotting feverish flesh, one part is fresh 
the other pure dread. 

captain is shouting, up on my legs 
what’s going on...conscious or dead?


Copyright © Paul K K | Year Posted 2016


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Close Shave

I learnt a lesson well today on how good hygiene works,
and how sometimes it doesn’t pay, to gain professional perks.
It was Mick the barber’s little lurk that put up this dreadful case …
I’ll never trust another soul when shaving whiskers off me face.

The local footy club had organized a social ‘do’,
on this Friday night that I had bought some tickets too,
where me wife and I will manage, to get half full and skite,
but I had to get a haircut to look half decent for the night.

So I knocked off picking apples at around a half past four,
and drove off to Mick the barber where I sat and waited for,
my turn to sit down in his chair and that could be a while,
as there are two ahead of me, and the first has little style.

His hair was long and rank and by his whiskers it appeared,
he hadn’t shaved for quite a while, so had a stubble beard.
Mick clipped his scissors through the hair; saying as it gently fell,  
“Once I’ve finished with your hair would you like a shave as well?” 

This fella gave his face a gentle rub and then he quietly speaks,
“My razor can’t get close enough and leaves a shadow on me cheeks,
Would I be wasting all me money here?” Mick gave a cheeky grin,
“No, not at all, for I’ll fix that” then reached inside a bin. 

Mick picked up this wooden ball and fingers rolled it with his thumb,
“Just place this in your mouth between your left cheek and your gum,
I’ll pass the razor ‘round the contours and when yer feel yer cheek,
yer won’t even feel the stubble if yer don’t shave fer a week”. 

I watched Mick do his business and by gee you know he’s right,
the skin is looking more like silk and not a shadow is in sight,
then I saw a frown come on the face of the fella in the chair,
and in a garbled voice he sort of spoke with some despair.

“This bloody ball keeps rolling ‘round, and I can’t follow it,
what happen’s Mick if just by chance that I swallow it?”
Mick wiped his razor on a towel, then filled the bloke with ‘horrer’,
“Just do what all the others do - and bring it back tomorrer!”



Copyright © Lindsay Laurie | Year Posted 2016


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why lie

Lies hurt the love and especially all the trust people put in you. 
Everyday You wake up saying to yourself,  It's ok to lie. 
No one's going to find out or bring it out in the open. 
I can hold on to a heart full of love and trust for another day.
Knowing it would cause pain and the all the love and trust they 
have would disapear instantly.

So why keep lying and filling her head and heart full of dreams 
that You know will never come true.  Only leaving her with nothing
Just the lies You told.

In the end is it really worth trying to hold on to her love. Being bound by 
the lies you told.  Now leaving her to deal with a broken heart.  And
watching her world crumble into pieces.  As the tears of pain slide down
her face.  

As you walk away. While saying nothing but I'm sorry.  I never meant to 
hurt you. Over and Over again.  Trying to figure out how to make a peaceful
exit out of her life.  

Your left thinking was it worth losing an angel's heart by lying. Now she's gone.


Copyright © angel heady | Year Posted 2012


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Who's Your Monster Now

"Ok I think I got it,

Now, just throw the switch,

If by chance this doesn't work,

Life will be a bitch"

"Master I have trouble, 

I think the thing is stuck"

"Wouldn't you just know it, 

It has to be my luck,

Move away from it Igor,

It just needs a little tickle,

Machines like this are sensitive,

And sometimes kind-a fickle,

Damm this thing is stubborn,

It needs a little kick,

NOW, look what you've made me do,

GO, and get a stick"

"Yes Master I will find one,

Big and strong and thick,

You could use it for a lever,

I know it'll do the trick"

"Bring it here my faithful one

You're loyal, trusted, true

And when I have it in my hands, 

Then,  I'll be using it on you"


Copyright © Jerry T Curtis | Year Posted 2014


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The Stone Unturned

There are three little words on tiny stones strewn along the floor
of a never-ending stream which runs through a misty moor.
A marvelous moor of uncertainty where mysteriously all are led
to cross a flowing water all humanity must tread.

Those three little words like pebbles thrown by children just for sport
randomly and carelessly bear no great import.
Flung into streams, they become the water’s bed.
They represent what everyone to someone else has surely said.

As you cross the water, you’ll feel those rocks underfoot.
Inconsequential to your journey, they’ll stay where they were put.
But some are blessed who as they wade across that little river
Catch a gleam from beneath the stream such that sends a shiver.

Something glistening through the ripples impelling them to freeze,
to search among the other stones, to get down on their knees.
And as they stoop with hands outstretched, they strain to catch the ray
which from the depths of murkiness shines to show the way.

Their fingers reach through icy cold, the other stones ignored
until they grasp that precious one to be their best reward!
They bring it from the water; its light fills up the sky.
Its color irridescent; they laugh until they cry.

They look for the “I love you” which on ordinary stones is inscribed.
but instead of the three little words is a feeling that can’t be described.
They find themselves transported onto another plane,
alone with their own beloved away from all the mundane.

Perhaps to fields of gold. Some to glens of green.
But each who is transported finds happiness serene.
Love that lasts a lifetime: unselfish, truthful and kind,
which strives to rekindle passion and fun while expanding the mind.

This is the love most sacred while in the stream we walk
treading upon the pebbles that only know how to talk.
We must walk on continuously with that one stone to seek
because it gives the soul much more than just three words can speak.


Jan. 17, 2017 For Jamie Pan's contest: How Long can a poetry go 

Writer's Statement: This is an extended metaphor poem which should be very obvious to the reader. We hear the words “I love you” said by many people throughout our lives and we hear it being tossed about like pebbles also in movies and tv shows. I think all of us are searching for the “real thing.” Therefore, we should try to ignore people whose “I love you” is often falsely said. They are the common stones. In verse four, I describe what it feels like to come across true love, or at least the illusion of it. We stop and notice its brightness because it outshines the others. In verse three, I mentioned “SOME are blessed” to find this stone. Many may think they have found it, but I believe very few actually find it.  In verses five to seven I use adjectives and phrases to describe its great beauty because true love is the most valuable thing I think we can find in life. I conclude in verse eight with a summary, explaining that it is important to find the stone most valuable because it gives so much to the soul. We should ignore false love and tread on it like we would on common pebbles which only speak of love but which do not prolong passion and fun in one’s life or expand the mind. The title is "The Stone Unturned" because with 50% divorce rate and many other couples in unhappy living arrangements, I believe most do not find everlasting happy love. They have left that stone unturned. 


Copyright © Andrea Dietrich | Year Posted 2017


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Where The Bluebirds Sing



Oh my heart, my heart, my heart I hold in my hand,
And I bring it to you, my love, on this rainy day I come;
Where the wind takes my hair and I walk among the rows, 

        The quiet rows of headstones.
          Our destiny was decided above, 
             There was no time for us written.

Our love but a moment in time and then our dreams died.

         We thought we had forever,
            Tears is all I have to give you;
               And my heart, my heart is yours.

And if I fall along the way in this life, will you take my hand?

         Will you carry me along? 
             I know you dwell above,
                Where the bluebirds sing.

And if I fall along the way will you take my hand and carry me?

          We thought we had forever. . . 

                                Oh, why does love have to die!

_________________________
June 16, 2015


Verse unrhymed

Submitted in the contest, Any Old Poem #10, sponsor,  Skat

Fifth Place


Copyright © Broken Wings | Year Posted 2015


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SEASONS

Springing and bounding like a lamb 
Playfully, gamboling over the ground.
Rumbles of thunder assaulting the ear
Incessant lightning, earth trembling in fear.
Nature is fickle, and inscrutably wild,
Glowing with vigor--an unruly child.

Shimmering heat waves swim and rise, 
Under the blazing, noonday skies.
Mercury rising, seeking the sky.
My vision is bleary--sweat in my eyes.
Everyone wondering, “When will it end?” 
Remembering winter--bring it again.

Autumn colors flaming bright
Under azure autumn light.
Tender hearts holding fast 
Untold feelings from the past.
Mellow, yellow, harvest moons, 
Night time bonfires, off-key tunes.

White snow blanketing fallen leaves,
Icicles forming on dripping eaves.
North wind moaning through the trees,
Temperature falling below the knees.
Eagerly waiting for robins to sing,
Readily awaiting arrival of spring.


Copyright © William Robinson | Year Posted 2006