Best Character Poems | Poetry
Below are the all-time best Character poems written by Poets on PoetrySoup. These top poems in list format are the best examples of character poems written by PoetrySoup members
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New Character Poems
Don't stop! The most popular and best Character poems are below this new poems list.
Life as character
by Coon, Charles
Bad Character
by weil, arthur
Implied That Trump's Character
by Horn, James
A Special Character All Right
by Horn, James
Man of Character
by turner, roger
Character Cracks
by Donnelly, Artsieladie Sharon
Be Of Great Character
by Project, The Brooklyn Six
Create a character contest
by Hopkins-Drewer, Cecelia
Quiet, The Character
by J.T., Honestly
Character
by Turner, Daniel
View all new Character Poems
The Best Character Poems
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Character Poem
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Whisper's of October
Whispers in this soup bowl
20 minutes after its muse explodes,
Daylight remains nothing more than a dream
Warding off the howling sound in mid-September's stream
Casting a line about a ginger light,
found in the depths of everything
Engaging from the sitting twilight, numb, tranquilized
Exposing and expressing the emotions found within
An attic lost in the Ancient sky ---awaits
A poetic hand is formed ---reaching out
A hissing whisper out of the darkness,
Listen-in, the echoes of October are calling
A halo, that reconciles a mysterious monarch moon
A mono grip in which summons a mysterious voice
of sweet serenity
Poets posting poems along the midnight page
Each poet can compose a poem and mimic free fallen verses,
One might call it a creative craving curse,
Webmaster's whose words speak for themselves
Voiceless-
They feel, and spills the will of idolized ink,
Blind-handed, splitting day from night
Warm whispers, needing no food to consume
Migraines of ink, feeding the soul
Burning Pages, overused pens
They've forgotten the pretty flowers
Living like lions, who never comes out of their dens
Murmuring and devouring, the enigmas of the unknown
Eyes behind a sieve, close tighter than before,
They hide nothing-
A world created from every sky-scrape the wall
Wanting to belong, a trick -or- treat*er in disguise
No friends, everything is pretend
These poets can’t be described, can't be believed
They are the best in what they do
For all you know this poet might be me,
This poet might be you
9/3/14
Copyright © Poet Destroyer A | Year Posted 2014
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I stand about five feet eight
I'll admit, I'm a tad overweight
Drive an old pick up truck
Not one to pass the buck
At the moment have a dog for a mate
Dropped out of school at eighteen
Got married in a pair of old jeans
A father of four
When I sleep, I snore
When angered been known to get mean
I grew up huntin' and fishin'
Done more than my share of wishin'
Been in a few fights
Know I'm not always right
For my age, still in decent condition
In my life, I've worked many hard jobs
Its been said, "I'm rough as a cob"
I've smoked and drank
Spent time in the tank
And never, not once, did I sob
I also love being outside
My old skin is weathered and dried
Still play in the dirt
Cuss when I'm hurt
But I do have a softer side
Poetry, I read and I write
These days, prefer music to be lite
Love trees and flowers
Warm spring showers
And swinging on stars at night
I like women who like to hold hands
Take moonlight walks on the sand
Curves excite me
Whispers invite me
A good listener who tries to understand
I wash dishes, do laundry and floors
Clean bathrooms, wash walls and doors
I'm a pretty good cook
Without a cookbook
To be honest, don't mind household chores
Just so you're perfectly clear
I've traveled from there to here
Simple but complex
Know love's more than sex
And on occasion I cry manly tears
Yes sometimes I even wear pink
Wear cologne to make sure I don't stink
Write poems about birds
Use everyday words
And I don't give a damn what you think!
by Daniel Turner
Copyright © Daniel Turner | Year Posted 2017
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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
( 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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I cannot compete with something as painstakingly glorious as you
Envy is but a humbling tumble down a steep, rocky hill
I am crushed in your fits of glory—your screaming for passion
My approaches are absolutely wrong
Therefore my communication is a weak, ransomed victim
Your poison arrow frog skin rubs against my exposed body
I happily accept my fate
For your beauty surpasses the ephemeral pain of the infectious reign
My erroneous, inevitable downfall
I hold you up—I feel the need to keep you tall!
Michael the Archangel did not insult you once, Lucifer
How then will I?
How can I possibly be higher than you?-
Why would I want to?
I admire your freedom
I simply disregard your macrodomes of ever-worshiped flaw
If I could allow myself, I would share in your glory
Only to add to it further
But as I am poisoned with the truth
I can only be your grounded pedestal
And though you flee from humility in its wake upon my brow
I realize everyday you are living for the grounded now
And I merely look to the unknown future
A place I dread where you unwillingly hold me up
Bonded in the ground with Death and Hades
You become my pedestal, and the worms my vineyard
My parasitic feet seer your glory
I am ever so sorry
I never wanted this renown
There was a time I do recall
When you overtook me in my sleep
I cried aloud in helpless acceptance
But soon I was forced in a croak of laughter
I felt your bitter poison
I felt pride at last
I thank you for it
I thank you for showing me
What I will never be
Dear Lucifer,
Provoke me no longer to praise your eternal existence
Generations of Evening take a hold of me now
And the fruit must be shared
Copyright © Laura Breidenthal | Year Posted 2013
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~The Narwhal Beckons Before Dawn~
If I could sing a song,
It wouldn't be just any song.
I would sing a song about a fish
A fish who is not a fish, but a whale
Not just any whale, A Narwhal
This night I'll sing a short song of a whale
Dancing under the moonlight dusk
Swimming with ivory tusk, underwater musk
Rising to the morning glory in the sky
Communicating with the waves
Squealing around,
Trilling and clicking supersonic sounds
If I could tell you a tale
It wouldn't be just any tale
I would tell you a tale of a fish
A fish who is not a fish, but a whale
Not just any whale, A Narwhal
Grayish brown,
White freckled belly crown
Elusive and mysterious
Without the Arctic water, I'll get delirious
A rare whale, with a tooth for a hoot
Enjoying shrimp, squid, and fish food
Taking care of the young,
I swim in pods all day long
I' stay away from what consumes my cod
Polar bears, orca whales and native spear
My greatest fear and nightmares.
If I could share some words
It wouldn't be just any words.
I would share some words about a fish
A fish who is not a fish, but a whale
Not just any whale, A Narwhal
Deep, down the ocean odyssey
My beliefs and skin peel easily
With a tear, I drown
When called "The Underwater Unicorn"
My words are naught more than a sad song I sing
A tale of a whale not just any whale, A Narwhal
The next time you go out to sea
Looking for blubber and ivory
Please don't look at me!
For I am just a Narwhal
And, I belong to the sea
~*~
09/15/2015
Contest: Any Poem You Ever Wrote NOT For A Contest
Sponsor: Broken Wings
Copyright © SKAT A | Year Posted 2015
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guilty as charged
i stole it tall
every consonant
every vowel
every word
every sentence
plagiarized
the ocean
in its unique shades of blues and greens
combined and blended to create
its very own colour
a tint i call ocean brave
covered in water
topped off in water
surrounded by water
immersed in water
stunning
the ocean
plagiarized
the beach
in unique shades of beiges and whites
combined and blended to create
a brand new fabric
they call it whiskey white
a trillion grains
parts unknown
the total sum of all
unified to act as one
the beach
plagiarized
the cloud
in unique shades of this and that
combined and blended to create
mystery
spin the wheel if you wish
a blank pallet- blush
a perfectly complex complexion- luminous
coloured in soft and titillating to the touch- pigment
oh the touch- intense
light as air
immaculate
the cloud
plagiarized
the living
in unique shades of everything
combined and blended to create
a cornucopia of finishes, stains
combined and blended
the world of the living
with all its bells and whistles
the unmitigated
the undisputed overall
the living
plagiarized
guilty as charged
i stole it all
every consonant
every vowel
every word
every sentence
everything
i see
i feel
i invent
i write
everything
plagiarized
from just a glimpse of you
i am wonderfully, joyfully
sick in love and you are everything i do
guilty as charged
all of it
plagiarized
With Lots Of Love Always,
armand
Copyright © Maurice Yvonne | Year Posted 2017
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Character Poem
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JAN HAS A FAN
Jan Has no Tan
I once saw a gal called Jan
So sexy she made me ran
Straight to the vicar
Said marry us quicker
Whilst she drank her tea on the can
She is as White as pure Sand
I once met a gal in white dress
I fell straight in love I must confess
She was drinking her tea
While I stared at her knee
Surely my intentions she guessed
She Sips Her Tea Daily
I once met a gal drinking Tea
My heart was pumping in glee
From her nose to her toes
When she smiled I froze
So charming I become a devotee
While I Admire Her so Gayly
When I saw the lady in the white dress
My thoughts she I did undress
As she gazed out the window
She caught peeking Jimbo
Who was in quite the state of distress
I am a fan of the great poet Jan
There once was a gal who could fart
She refined it into an art
Her white dress in a breeze
Would lift till you sneeze
But she’ll always be my sweetheart
Notes: I just realized the title, as far as Jan is concerned , well could have a double meaning!
Copyright © arthur vaso | Year Posted 2016
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Grounded by the gravity of our earth
Our body and spirit are often pulled
In opposite opposing directions in
Contention between visceral emotions
And logical, intellectual, left brain thought.
Too much of one may eviscerate the other.
A combination of both are needed to retain
Balance and a sense of inner sanctuary.
Poetry has the sensibilities to stir our
Emotions, to speak to body and spirit,
Melding our terrestrial selves with the divine.
© Connie Marcum Wong
Copyright © Connie Marcum Wong | Year Posted 2016
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Character Poem
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To take each day as it comes
To gratefully praise The One
Joyfully face the new dawn’s grace,
That's now my everyday plan.
To take each day as it comes
To guard my thought as it roams
On anything or anyone
That's now my everyday plan.
To take each day as it comes
To be careful with my words
To use the value of my hands
That's now my everyday plan.
To take each day as it comes
To do everything I can
And bring a smile to not just one
That's now my everyday plan.
To take each day as it comes
To celebrate other’s gain
Not consciously cause another's pain
That's now my everyday plan.
To take each day as it comes
Not all the time comes the sun
For sorrow comes to everyone
And that I must understand.
To take each day as it comes
And know that I’m but a man
I will be glad, life’s not that bad
And do my part in God’s plan.
*A resolution during a time of disappointment.
Kim Patrice Nunez
04 August 2015
image credit: Edwin Hofert
Copyright © KP Nunez | Year Posted 2015
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Character Poem
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ALIEN -NOT- HUMAN
Alien life form--- ---Far from human toucH
Living among it self--- ---In the heavens like a gurU
Intelligence kept from civilization--- ---Scientist call it a phantoM
Earth remains alone--- ---Like a secret ninjA
NASA's top secret--- ---You are not humanN
BY: . BY:
Copyright © SKAT A | Year Posted 2013
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Character Poem
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Mohammed Ali
Cassius Clay
The Legend
He was not a humble man
Everything he did, was big and grand
He taunted and barbed with poetic flair
His opponents he angered
Entertainment in the air
He was a legend, bigger than man
A champion in the ring
He often took a heroic stand
Breaking barriers of narrow minds
He defined his style in his own time
His greatest feats were not title wins
Nor his taunts and bragging sins
Inside there was a more humble man
Who stood for the downtrodden in troubled lands
Full of humility he still could sting like a bee
In the end he floats away
A softer man, of a fighter’s heart
So shed a tear, for this complex legend
Whose humble beginnings’
The butterfly brought home to his roots
God brought him back to his beginning
Cassius Clay he was… and now lives in eternity
Freed not by name
But by convictions... of his
Good deeds
Copyright © arthur vaso | Year Posted 2016
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Empath whispers hold covered silence
desires whisk away with the moon
earth tone times of trepidation
dragged off and hidden in the ruin
pain stains blush red under pretense
separate flights of frighten
leaves float
frustration fills the noon
snipped strings hang
on acceptance
what's left of you
looking back forgiven specks
eyes don't lie
aspirations exhaust
breaths rest
hearts reaching past the black
gasps aghast
screams seams split in two
09/08/17
picture contest
Copyright © Tim Smith | Year Posted 2017
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Character Poem
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(Hello, my sweet friend!)
Speaks in unknown tongues
Nevertheless it will consume
Ask for food,
A sweet drink
The hunger and thirst are real
It's pitchfork aims at my free will
Seeking and freaking through my pages
It's been ages since the impression was gone
Sloppy wording crawl under my hide
Notification triggers my finger and thumb
Bang! The evil one exists
With a second-hand letter
It believes, it should never be forgotten
Numb as Novocaine can be
I watch and interpret the riddles in every line
Living and breathing art,
I'm echoing the same nightmare
How dare, the devil seeks to be fed!
Screaming and remembering
--the demons that linger in its head
Too much to read,
I have major troubles with your disease
Lunacy of the universe
Open Obituary, you are a curse
Like a transparent note from a fatal fax machine
It's a calling, unbearable to describe
Take from me, after I am deceased
Like fire, it burns, cancer in every star
Lies to
Greets to
My eye twitch
My soul hurts
I'm not feeling well
Take care,
Leave me the HEll alone
(-*-)
Copyright © SKAT A | Year Posted 2015
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Character Poem
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Poet Convention
Lost in a poets convention,
I can't recall every poem, I've read through the years
50518, unique comments I 'validate'---
Thank You For Sharing Your Happy and Sad tears
Since March 24, 2010 In the mist of every line,
I'm sending special hugs, for he/she that favorite me through the years
Today's Convention,
A praise to all poets mentioned and not mentioned
I will miss, the sweetest girl on this block LEONORA G.,
She treats me with love, adores my words and twisted poetry.
I will start with the soups famous October, 7th babies,
Frank and Kash, Debbie D, and myself, these lines belong to us,
Our best characteristic has everything to do with the mind
In our poetic hearts you'll find the symbol of justice and balance
This is not a song, it is not a poem, it's a free falling memo written with style
Back in March 2013, I said it then, I'll say it again
Andrea, you and only you are the Poet Queen
By the Queen, sits the Poet King of rhymes, Robert L. Hinshaw
Thank you both for never stepping on your loyal subjects
Carol B., & Linda Marie, no one can replace the hole you left inside
I will miss all the little poetry pups, who came and sat by my side
MAHIMA and Saanvi, and Sabrina, thank you for the encouragement
Phyllis, Joyce, Francine, Rhonda, Betty, sweet Karen A., and Catie,
Clap your hands for the lovely quiet soup ladies.
Okay, maybe not Karen A., and Catie, these ladies love speaking their minds:)
SARA K., a mentor to some, a Fairy Godmother in my book
I will miss her "Magic Pen like Wand" dearly.
Gail, thank you for spreading your wings, and teaching us how to fly.
Hopefully --wings are a nice gesture, --waving--
"One day I'll see you again, my friend."
Daver Austin, "Go ahead, make my day" thank you for the show
Now, you know why I referred to you as, "The Clint Eastwood of Poetry."
Russell Survey, encouraged my days and moods with his kind words
Scribe ML., where are you my friend?
Don't you know your BIGGEST FAN misses you!!!
Dr Ram, Bindu V, Litan D., Donna J, Shadow, Sandra A., Peter Durgan,
Giorgio V., Mystic Rose, BL Devnath and of course our Nette.
Thank you for being kind and rewinding and replying to every note.
Joseph M., Caleb S., Vincent F., Juliet L., Lucy Carrillo, Scott 37, Johnny R.,
Kelly D., thank you for the honor in always honoring my words
Roger Horsch meets Eileen Ghali, your smile, her smile always made me smile,
No matter how many miles apart, our smiles always met on the same page.
Jenish, Don J., S.Z. Kamoonpuri, Gideon, Gary, Austin E., and Jody M.,
Fatima N., Mark N., Aiyah B., Ralph F., Kathryn C., Elly, Ayesha A.,
Clay W., Erich, Syam, MIKKI, John B., Olusegun, *Sukmawati* Gwen,
Delysia H., Frederic P., Richard L., Brenda L., Keith, Debbie G.,
Thank you for painting the best IMAGERY
Michale Clarke, Charma C., Wayland B., Jancarl C., Carrie, and Harry,
M&M, Abdulhafeez, Michael B., Maria P. S., CHAN and Mandy T.
You are only the beginning of what makes this a good community
Arlid A., Dinda M., Silly Billy, Tim Ryerson, we go way back.
Ravindra, Kim M., Richard S., Honestly JT., Wade A., Dom-X.
The ingredients in your poems, makes the best soup remix
Joe M., Jack H., James H., James P., Tim B., Jon A. C., Allan K., Matthew A.
Deb Wilson, David S., David William, Thomas S., Cecilia M.
Keep that pen flowing for tomorrow needs poets like you.
Justin B., Laura B., your words will continue to be a part of me.
Owen Y., and John L., your visits, your friendship I will never forget
Yasmin and Carl F., hanging out with you on the soup was the best.
Cherl Dunn, and Colleen Bono, SandyIvy, I will miss everything about you,
Mostly I will miss your friendship and the way you took care of me.
Poet and sister Skat, keep rocking what I can't....
Copy paste your love, welcome in the new.
Show Edwina, Robin, Sam B., and all the NEW POETS they belong
Last but not least-- Behind every mess, they are the best
--Craig Cornish and Cyndi McMillan
What have you done, I admit without you this place would have been no fun.
Thank you for the spin, making every penny worth our paid premium memberships
Before I forget,
I want to take this time to reminisce and add two old friends to my hot list.
Nikko and Chris A..... My first POETRY SOUP FRIENDS.
I will never forget you, and all the fun moments we had,
Back when the soup was not like this:)
Chris, can you ever forgive me, I never stepped up to say "I was Sorry!"
As you know my kindness is my weakness
Now it's time to be strong and move on
If one day I return, then you know, I fell off the wagon
And, into arms and luring fingers of Team Poetry Soup
AAAAAAAGGGGGGGGGAAAAAAAAAIIIIIIIIIIINNNNNN!
Love
The Poet Destroyer
Copyright © Poet Destroyer A | Year Posted 2014
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You were born in a specialist clinic
I was born at the front door of my house
we both came into this world and survived.
You’ve been eating foreign cuisines and expensive delicacies
I’ve been taking porridge and traditional soups
we both have grown and are a significant part of the society.
You go to school in Jeeps and exotic vehicles
I use public transport and finish it up with a walk
we both went to learning institutions and acquired knowledge.
You roll with the high and mighty and get a super model married
I’m surrounded by the middle class
and marries one never will be in Wikipedia
we both are active in the food chain and wonderfully living our lives.
You become a CEO or rather own a firm
I get employed by you to run your empire
we both sure need each other to function and drive.
Gold and Diamonds will decorate the casket of your funeral
mine may not even be worthy of a coffin, just a plain box
we’ll nevertheless be dead and our chapter closed without preference.
It is only a pathology when the eye gets larger than its socket,
comparison cuts the muscles of esteem and gives greed a new suit,
making simplicity a very complex attribute to attain
and a life full of complexities a better friend to existence.
Life is simple, we just make it complicated.
A civil servant wants to live at par with a tycoon
allowing his throat tie down the strength of his hands.
Every destination has different roads,
be it the highway or a rocky path.
Take the one within your speed limit,
the timing may show some reaching before or better than others
but the most important thing is, the destination reached
as achievement is decorated while life stay simple.
Copyright © Funom Makama | Year Posted 2015
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(The Merry Adventures of Robin Good)
Sherwood's Forest legendary, leading man
up, down, tricking eggs between branches
slender, slander, his voice is growing thinner
twisting, turning heads 50 shades of green
Master of disguise reaching for the top archers spot,
A bard, with uncanny precision, ROBIN nonstop
Splitting his opponent LIKE A BOSS!
Aiming arrows, where broken women sit
Creating fantasies, for his band of hypocrites
A serenade, of jealousy and mayhem
A poetic outlaw, generously taking what others earn
Wearing black tights, the hottest profile, sipping wine
A lust beyond Dorthy's Rainbow, a venomous poem
Somewhere, covered in leprechaun's gold
His chest is cold
- Yet warm from all the hands caressing this bard,
He is the best, gravity has no weight on his pen,
A soundless soldier having his way with his sword,
Executing those who challenge him,
Breathing life into many empty accounts
Giving voices and self-encouragement
With no time to drop down this bard from cloud nine
A dissipation of air fresheners and hello's
Painting pain just to pretend it hurts the person
A fragile voice whispering in the shadows
Slithering Secrets;
From this hooded bard who carries no face,
A mask of lies, taking what belongs to others.
Robin of honor, graveled by his peasants
MISUNDERSTOOD in every fashion, yet he preys
Pipping dreams away, down an infested rat's path
Shoving Little Johns hopes down the list
Robin is no common criminal, just a bard
Wearing a dark cloak, when in disguise
taking from the greedy --- giving to the needy
Thank you for enjoying my story
Robin Good and his network of Merry Men
2-3-16
Copyright © Poet Destroyer A | Year Posted 2016
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Are men supposed to show their strength
denying doubts and fears?
Should they pretend to play it cool
concealing all their tears?
When things build up would weakness urge
temptation to give in;
should one betray signs of defeat
because of hurt within?
There is a line where macho ends,
it’s there for all to see.
The mask is ripped and make-up melts;
emotions are set free.
For men are at their strongest point
when they are free to cry.
Why must a man lose confidence
when tears spill from the eye?
For men in touch with feelings are
a treasure trove to find.
Each woman’s dream and deep desire’s
to find one of the kind!
A man who’s strong enough to show
he has a caring side...
well, such a man is sure to be
a woman’s joy and pride.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Collaboration between Paul Callus and Eileen Manassian
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Copyright © Eileen Manassian | Year Posted 2016
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Character Poem
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Inside my heart I have unwritten codes
Those values I enforce by self demand
Unbreachable, my lines drawn in the sand
Their presence helps to navigate my load
With age my principles have not grown old
Though times may change, the heart's still in command
I'll walk a line to lend a friend a hand
My conscience keeps my boundaries patrolled
And even though I do my very best
I make mistakes, sometimes I cross a line
That does not mean I'll compromise the rest
It simply means that I am not Divine
There may be times when I'm falsely assessed
But my self worth is rarely in decline
by Daniel Turner
Copyright © Daniel Turner | Year Posted 2017
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Character Poem
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I picked up my tube of super glue
In hopes of piecing together
Sad lonely broken you
As I sifted through the bits
I wasn't sure what to do
Although there were many pieces
I was missing quite a few
Looking back to yesterday
tomorrow now and then
I Kept searching and searching
over and over again
To find the missing pieces
I looked to your pen
More than twenty-two missing
or perhaps less than ten
Imbedded in the paper
those pieces I sought
The lessons you had learned
and the pain they had brought
All your moments revealed
They came together in thought
I heard paper like screaming
cutting through me like a shot
The glue I was holding
Dissolved slowly like sand
so I gathered up your heart
and held it in my hand
My tears fell amongst the pieces
in a way I didn't understand
Your heart became too hot to handle
So I placed it on the land
Lifting heart up from the ground
You placed it slowly in your chest
All those bits that truly formed you
came together and we were blessed
Hidden answers you chose to scribe
where always meant to be a test
Revealing what we all are missing
those parts of us that go unconfessed
Copyright © Richard Lamoureux | Year Posted 2016
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Character Poem
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Here I am, My Lord,
A hot iron,
On the anvil of necessity,
Waiting
To be forged by the hammer of destiny
That
Is following Thy divine commands
For
To shape me, into the proper instrument
Thy
Celestial Will, humbly
To serve!
© Demetrios Trifiatis
28 October 2015
Copyright © Demetrios Trifiatis | Year Posted 2015
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Character Poem
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Mara- Collateral damage
Hi, my name is Mara, I'm six years old, I have brown hair and brown eyes. People say I'm pretty like my mom, but, I don't know how that matters now.
My mom said she named me Mara because it means bitterness, my being born has only caused my family bitterness, as we are 4 children, in a war torn land. I am a girl and no one wants a girl, unless they are useful in some way.
My father escaped the war, and fled to America, he says to find us a better life. I don't understand how leaving us here would give us a better life! It's so dangerous here for woman, and even girls like me.
The only men we see are soldiers, or freedom fighters. My three brothers Ahmed 13, Sammir 12, Nicolo 11, went to get food at the market last week, they were looking for huma...humana....humani..tar i an relief. They were all killed when a bomb went off. I miss them a lot! No relief for me, I haven't eaten for a week.
I would love to go to school but all the schools are closed, most of the buildings are blown up, so I don't think I will go to school anyway.
My Mom left yesterday to play with the soldiers, she told me if you play with the soldiers they will give you food. I'm so hungry!!
Rat atat atat ata atatt knock knock knock open up, open up this door!!! Mom? I'm so glad your back! (opens door)
hey your not my mom!
Rat atat atat.
(Voice from behind) hey there's nobody here!! Let's go, lets go!
My name is Mara, I was 6 years old, now I'm dead. I guess I'm what they call collateral damage!
John Derek Hamilton
July 11,2017
First place premium contest winner
but who cares about a win really in this case.
Copyright © John Hamilton | Year Posted 2017
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Character Poem
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Listen to poem:
My sister says
my father was a good man --
but, how should I,
who never "knew" him
(except as a far-from-good man)
buy her stories?
Am I, the last child
of that union,
too, too judgmental?
Too far removed in time from
what she knew
and now recalls?
My memory is of a different man,
who died when I was twenty-two:
one rarely present, never talking,
often jailed,
unsupportive --
someone I really never knew.
He was no bearer of familial tales,
no imparter of the history
now I only wish I'd heard...
Obviously, I differ from my sister
about what constitutes a good man.
He never seemed to feel that he
needed to provide basics --
food, shelter, clothing, health care --
to his offspring -- and he almost never did......
I do remember how he staggered
on the street,
fell off of curbs,
sought shelter
and often could be found
asleep -- or at least
stretched out unconscious --
in some vacant lot;
how he foraged
frenziedly
about for beer,
or only Gallo muscatel
(thirty-five cents for the flask).
Should I not ask
what makes my sister think
I could remember him as does she?
In such a different light?
As victim,
and maligned
by inlaws or by circumstance?
All I know is what I do remember,
what I survived
when she and others,
grown, were gone.
I do not think
that I can accept
or change
(nor in absentia, forgive) --
and, no, I do not yet
believe
what my sister says.
Copyright © Leo Larry Amadore | Year Posted 2017
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Character Poem
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Will You See Truth Beyond That Dark Stone Fence
Can you feel true heart in early dawn's light
soft grace and gentle winds in Spring's new flight.
Can soul feel Nature's benevolent course
from open mind, mankind's weakness divorce?
Hear morning doves as they sing out soft calls
let kindness escape from imprisoned walls.
Gather knowledge, true strength from mother Earth
seek truth in doing right with all your worth.
See brilliance in every golden sunset
cease striving for all earth's wealth you can get.
See Nature, its great eye-opening gifts
let grace come as your spirit it uplifts.
Will you see truth beyond that dark stone fence
find calm over world's chaotic suspense?
R.J. Lindley,
April 14th, 1982
Copyright © Robert Lindley | Year Posted 2017
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Character Poem
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Confined within the steep banks of a narrow mind
is a cryptic river where men stumble in and go blind
They construct reinforced dams that hold them back
from accepting the candid truth; white is not black
Like the slow moving current of a trickling stream
their thoughts are clogged and clot like curdled cream
What chance do the recalcitrant ones have to accept
reality if they allow no vision of being circumspect
of taking fault and blame for having a closed mind?
These are the ignorant, the foolish ones aptly defined
as those destined to stagnate until they decompose
It's the subsequent end to the stubborn who oppose
a new premise or concept with which they don't agree
They rot inside prisons of conceit; a human tragedy
Copyright © Lin Lane | Year Posted 2017