Best Come Up To Poems
He would visit the wharf of the pond very often
Peace and joy writ large on his lips and eyes
He would whistle a tune to call the shoal of fish
From inside the water as well as from his heart
The clouds got intimate with the flirting sunlight
Like a comfortable poem the shoals appeared
In three or four groups they would come up to
He would look like gleefully chatting with them
In wonder would look on the tales in the reeds
Shadows of tall palms played hide and seek
He would feed them as if they were his children
Sometimes he just talked on with no motivation
Their movement would raise ripples in the pond
Inside would pulsate an impressionist painting
The euphoria in water would erase and redraw
Clouds in loud colours would go down the water
And would watch in wonder the blue rendezvous
He shed the foliage of his unquenched passion
Into the mother water that with a purple comfort
Would convert them in the lotus of his heartbeat
Country folks remarked he must have been a fish
In his previous birth in a very deep pool or lake
No, others would say, an angel accompanied him
In his surreal bridge of love for the water and soil
The mahogany at the roadside would smile a little
He would write so well his poem inside the water
Where human and piscine tongues would meet
Time halted a while in the warm breasts of geese
As the sessions came to an end he would depart
Sweet and salty sweat-drops would wet his shirt
_______________________________________
14 March 2017
your stone cold hands hold me tightly as i cling to you and shut my eyes
we claim our passion for each other but you know nothing of me as do i of you
you keep confusing me everyday wondering if you want me today or not
or you act as if im nonexistant
but i still catch your eyes following my direction
and then youll text me
taunting me with your tongue
like im an angel and youre a demon guiding me to hell
im a fool to give in but i do everytime
i just wish youd come up to heaven once in a while too
you say we shouldnt be so sensual but we speak words far past those boundries
god you are so manipulative whywhywhywhywhywhwy
do i give in
i still love you
- kh
D-eliver the goods,
A-nd do what is required;
S-imply obey and never complain,
Y-ou'll gain what you've desired.
J-ust deliver the goods,
A-nd come up to the expectation;
N-ever delay nor linger,
E-ndure till the day of salvation.
B-egin to deliver the goods,
U-ntil you touch the sky;
R-emain firm and faithful,
E-arly thirty-first of July.
R-each your greatest goal,
O-r be lost into the woods;
S-tay strong and brave, deliver the goods.
I see him as I walk in
He’s teasing and joking
With an Asian girl
Losing to him in a game of pool
She walks away angry
Throwing a dollar bill at his feet
He jokes about his drinking
His mother calls him an alcoholic
So he might as well drink
I come up to him
Don’t think that way
He sits with us at our table
Enjoying a conversation
A Girlfriend and I are having
I looked into his sky blue eyes
And ask him to kiss me
Like melting wax on a candle as it is burning
I vanish into his kiss
What has gotten into me?
I've never done this before?
I am shocked at my actions
That I would ask for a kiss
From a man I didn't know
For I've never cheated
On a partner before
I laid in bed still feeling
His burning kiss on my lips
Never to see him again
A week goes by
I get a call asking me out
I asked where did you get my number
A little bird just happened to give it to me
Thirty Three years later I'm still with him
Feeling his burning kiss on my lips
© Written By Eve Roper 9/12/2014
We were meant to be
Our love could fill a sea
A sea of hopes and dreams
Hopes forever you and I
Dreams of floating toward the sky
Holding hands
Way up high
Watching the clouds go by
I look out of the window
Just at night
Hoping to see a star go by
Then I see that star go by
And I think of you and cry
Because I think
That if I lost you
I would die
When I promised to never let go
Baby, it wasn't a lie
Your love is true
It's as deep as the deep blue sea
Suddenly my dreams
Turned into reality
I have that key
That I promised to keep
That key is the key
To your heart
You see?
You're all I need
And much much more
Watch the tide come up to the shore
We're walking hand to hand
Across the sand
I look at you
Then look at the blue sea
I say "This was all meant to be"
You look down at me
Then kiss me
Suddenly I realize
The wish I made has gone by
I see that star every night
And wish for a kiss goodnight
It was a warm, bright, sunny day.
Anne let her two cats out to play.
Pooh, (the rocket), blasts off without care.
Peach takes his time getting anywhere.
Complete opposites in every way,
Agreeing only on the games they play.
Pooh is always in a hurry,
His world is hazy and blurry.
He is older, but dark like night.
So he thinks he is always right.
Always looking toward the sky,
If he gets faster, he can fly.
Peach is trying to see it all:
Everything large, everything small.
Like a turtle- steady and slow,
His world has a colorful glow.
Younger, drawn to colors bright like he,
Living life happy and care free.
Now these two are buds of the best-
Friendship most never would have guessed.
Always an adventure they will find.
Trouble finds them, of every kind.
Today no different, of course.
Hear crying, try to find its source.
They come up to the larger house,
& find a tiny crying mouse.
Not thinking the tired mouse will make it,
Offer a ride, hope he will take it.
Already dark when they reach their goal-
A well-hidden little mouse hole.
Just as mouse is climbing down,
Mama Mouse pops out of the ground.
As they began walking away,
Peach learns a lesson the hard way.
Anne grabs Peach and shuts the door.
Knows trouble, not what it's for.
She tells him, " Don't go out to play.
Stay inside the rest of today."
Mama Mouse comes and hugs him tight.
Anne sees this and makes things right.
Now a hero, there is no crime,
The wrong place at the right time.
04/21/23
"Write a Sweet fairytale for children with good outcome, (nobody gets hurt)...."
Poetry Contest
Entry submit
Sponsor: Bj Legros Kelly
Colors could not have flown much prouder,
the voice of freedom not spoken louder,
but pride and joy have always sung
of flowing blood, of purity, and courage flung
both far and wide throughout the world,
a banner preened with stars unfurled.
Life veins soak the ground with red
from heroes both alive and dead
and noble thoughts of purest white
lead on with grace throughout the night;
but true blue courage marks the field
where strength and valor never yield.
Yet present eyes now see the trampled dues;
three colored speech in red and white and blue
beneath the boots of those who mark
their lives with freedoms stolen in the dark.
Their freedom earned the right to say
in gathered heat another day.
But freedom lost, ignored, or gone
cannot regain which deaths have won.
Faults can be raised, wrongs come up to the fore,
and voices silenced as they even up the score.
This tattered glory cannot stand by
and leave the single patriot to die.
The Tree and the Sprite
Spencer the sprite was a very old sprite and a very old sprite was he.
He had lived as long as he could, in the depths of a wood,
In the roots of an uffulous tree;
A very old oak, an impetuous bloke, with branches too high to see.
Tonight was the night when the stars were bright,
Spencer would be four hundred and ninety three.
Said the Sprite to the Oak, “We’re having a bonfire and toast
And a tangulous roast and a drink made of Dandlewort tea.”
Said the tree, “Please don’t start a fire in my roots.
It scorches my shoots and the smoke makes me sneeze.”
“Don’t worry, dear tree,” said the conflatigous sprite it will only come up to your knees.”
Replied the uffulous tree.“It is my season to sleep and sometimes I snore,
Which is a bit of a bore, and in all of this wood I am really attached to my knees.”
Said the Sprite, “There will be five hundred young sprites And a Wizard called Nick,
"Whose magic is quick will come and show us some rifilious spells.
“He will put a spell on your knees and restore all your shoots and all the leaves you have lost as well.”
The tree cried, “I’m off!” Then with a baloominous sound jumped right out of the ground and fled to the East faster than man or beast and in a field near Clacton was found.
Said Spencer to Nick, “You had better be quick, a rolivous spell we need.
That silly old oak is an impetuous bloke and we want him back here indeed.”
Said Nick, “I have a great spell which will do really well it is Number 79.
I have tried it on oak and a tall and elderly pine.”
Before he could say ‘wood’ the Oak was back where he stood and in very frumptilious mood.”
But when he calmed down he said with a frown, “I really could do with some food.”
29/11/16
HM in Contest 'Zany' by Frank Herrera
Judged 7/12/16
The stage was being set.
I needed to get out of the way so that I
Would not end up squashed by the stage's immense size.
Yet even as the edges of the stage did nudge me, I could
Feel the softness all around.
Then I started to hear the notes of distant music all around me,
And started to walk a bit in order to check out more of my surroundings.
I come up to pen which contained a large black bull whose name was Sombrero.
Sombrero I know is a strange name for anything or anyone as it is the Spanish
Word for hat.
I know that sometimes that the color black can mean death yet the flip side of Black can mean strength.
There was more life popping up around me as many people in colorful clothing Appeared all around me.
Spanish influence all around me...Mariachis played their instruments, the brass of saxophones, the beat of tambourines which were held up high in the sky, the Guitars were being played so skillfull.
I walked along slowly with a smile.
There was a huge table off to the side where sweet ladies piled our plates high With tamales, chimmis,tacos, refried beans and rice, then they handed us cups of Lemonade to slake our thirst.
Then toward the front of the stage there the host sat on a high throne like Chair as he oversaw the merriment take place.
This gentleman wore a suit and a matching top hat ... both checkered in black And white. I walked up to him in the way of greeting.
He tilted his head and looked straight into my eyes. He was clearly also of Spanish decent. I kissed him on top of his head. His smiled deepened and his eyes were very glad.
When I woke the music continued to play on.
I so badly wanted to write a poem
A love poem that is
But thoughts of you, yes you, you dushe-bag stopped me
Your slimy comments “did she write that for a she or a he?”
“Gosh you know I always question her sexuality”
Dimmitt you don’t even have the guts to come up to me and ask me
So I could tell you that it’s none of your business and get it over and done with
I wanted to let my pen make love to my paper in the rhythm of my muse
Wanted to describe love as the most desirable feeling ever felt
Wanted to write about how with love the stone called anger melt
How love turned grudges into kindness
After writing that poem I would have felt like a karate kid with a black-belt
I wanted to pour out my thoughts about love, a feeling so bliss
A lover’s kiss
That tasted more like chocolate, Swiss
But you just had to come into my mind and disable my ability to write it
All I just wanted was to write a poem and share it
Accept questions on it, no interrogation
Share our thoughts and criticism, no patronization
You know what, I’ll write this poem anyways, and here it goes:
L-O-V-E
Form:
He looked at that boy with pain in his eyes
and said I'm sick and tired of seeing all of
these lies
So you went away from home for a little while
and came back here bumping a brand new style
Looking at you now the answer's real clear
You must've ended up somewhere north of here
So I guess it's up to me to get you back to your roots
gonna put your ass back in some cowboy boots
Because you're country that's the way you were born
You're country heading back through the corn
It's a simple way of life around here
where you work, sweat, and bleed and never shed a tear.
If we don't do it, it won't be done
not everything in life is about having fun
I see you over there walking down the street
spent a pretty penny showing off your feet
By the way you're running you should've bought some cleats
Trying to run out of here like your at a track meet
You're a real big shot that what you think
putting all your money in a federal bank
But that ain’t the way we do it around here
we burry our money in an empty jar of clear
Because we're country that's the way we were born
we're country heading back through the corn
It's a simple way of life around here
where we work sweat and bleed and never shed a tear
we wake up early an go to bed late
no we ain't got time to procastinate
You come up to me and ask my advice
I look down at you and I don't think twice
Boy you need to slow down and catch your breath
you got us all worried and scared to death
we all remember that fire in your eye
and I don't believe that you've let it die
Because you're country that'd the way you were born
you're country heading back to the corn
Soup friends are just...out of sight!
When lonely and sad in the night
Their poems I read
And come up to speed
Then everything seems ALL right! ;)
Poems in shapes and sizes
Poets in different guises
Some are really hot
Their words hit the spot
So welcome to the prizes!!
Some write of nature and plants
and rhymes are written of ants
Some hot body parts
Some mention the arts
While others write raves and rants
Poets have stories to tell
And mostly, they are all swell
Some write about S E X
Their great big "dog" Rex ;)
Or how we'll all burn in hell!
Try out a contest or two
A collab of muse and you
haiku may be fun
word games and a pun
Don't stick to the tried and true
you must at times take a stand
Just hope that you won't be banned
write "naughty" but "nice"
Add lots of hot spice
and hope that you won't get canned
This SOUP has tidbits galore
one taste will make you want more
Soup diet is great
So don't hesitate
Eat up!! There's more soup in store!!
A revised edition of an older write. We need some levity. It's not really my thing...but hey, trying to be versatile but still old school. Each limerick is 77557. I know the meter is not always spot on, but....it's not really my FORM! ;)
After the card game that took place in the Bearagroves one day,
One of the Bully Frogs decided to come to our Troll pond, to play.
He was such a cute thing, though rather large for a Bully frog.
Still, he was most particular in what he ALWAYS repeatedly said…
Each day that summer, as I came out to give daily lessons to the Trolls.
The Bully Frog would take a look at me, and simply say… W-I-E-R-D.
By the end of the lessons, the baby orphan Troll, was usually fast asleep.
So as I’d tucked his blanket around him, with his club, upon which to teethe…
The Bully frog would come up, to look at me, and simply said… W-I-E-R-D.
You’re welcome to join the lessons, I replied each and every day.
But the response was always the same, W-I-E-R-D, before he hopped away.
Never did I ever hear, the normal sounds, that come from Bully frogs…
Till one day, I found more than three-dozen frogs sitting at the Troll pond.
Shocked at the number, I ask if they wanted to join the lessons, again…
But, up jumped a frog, which looked up at me and again exclaimed, W-I-E-R-D.
So I turned to him and asked him why, he kept saying I was so W-I-E-R-D?
The closest one, turned and said, ‘Because YOU are just SO, my dear…’
‘You know, you DO tutor Trolls A-N-D are now TALKING to Bully Frogs…’
He continued ‘I went home and told my family, who EACH had to come along… ‘
‘Especially, after you came one day to the Bearagrove like a crazy, wild thing…’
Apparently, I had been seeing a new Bully frog each and every day.
And I had to agree it’s a little strange… All the goings on, that come my way.
Perhaps… I really AM a LITTLE bit W-I-E-R-D, as they so like to say…
But now, I can add a whole lot of: ‘W-I-E-R-D’ talking frogs to that... each day!
My Soup friends are out of sight
When I’m lonely in the night...
Their poems I read
And come up to speed
And everything seems alright
Poems in shapes and sizes
Poets in different guises
Some are sizzling hot
Others hit the spot
Yet all deserve some prizes
Some write of nature and plants
Not one about the dear ants
Some hot body parts
Some mention the arts
While others write raves and rants
Each has a story to tell
And they write it oh, so well
Word play is our craft
Sometimes we are daft
To leave? There's no way in hell!
Eileen Manassian Ghali
My Soup friends are out of sight
When I’m lonely in the night
Their poems I read
And come up to speed
And everything seems alright
Poems in shapes and sizes
Poets in different guises
Some are really hot
Their words hit the spot
So welcome to the prizes!!
Some write of nature and plants
Though not one about the ants
Some hot body parts
Some mention the arts
While others write raves and rants
Each has a story to tell
Most poets are really swell
Some write about sex
Their great big "dog" Rex
Or how love has turned to hell!
There are lots of contests too
One’s sure to appeal to you
Footles may be fun
Word games and a pun
I stick to the tried and true
I cannot write on demand
Or my muse will have me canned
I write what I feel
And that is my deal
But well wishes to this band!
Eileen Manassian Ghali