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
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
I gaze upon a painting from decades ago. My beloved son at a T-ball game. How focused you are, while the other children were distracted. The other parents always so rowdy, but I was happy just to watch you play. Nobody expected the kids to make a catch, but you did and I was so proud. I'm so honoured to have you as a son, the only one who has remained focused on his parents.
eyes like an eagle
gloves hunting the ball for prey
smile brighter than sun
I still remember the day you told me you were going to war. "Mum and dad don't cry, pray for me. I will be home soon" you said. I was so scared for my beloved child. Whenever I looked at you all I saw was that infant from years ago. A child becomes an adult, but you were always a baby in my eyes. The days always seemed darker after that, the rain heavier, snow colder and the wind stronger. Always patiently waiting for any communication. There were days my heart ached for you and tears never stopped falling. Thanksgiving and Christmas were never the same. Everyday I prayed for you to be safe.
seasons change with time
My prayers were answered when you returned safely. Still the noble son that had left to protect our country. Not just a hero to the nation, but my biggest one. You being home was like the first day of spring. Everything was colourful and flowers began to bloom. Holding you - my heart was finally at peace.
sun is shining bright
birds sing their beautiful songs
love has returned home
My first attempt at a traditional Haibun.
Oil Paintings 4 & 5 - Poetry Contest by Eve Roper
The Silent One
28 November 2015
Copyright © Silent One | Year Posted 2015
misguide our naked thoughts
far more than naked thoughts
influence the use of dressed-up words.
Words can be a narcissistic cover-up
masks expressing secondary emotions,
even if the wordsmith
is begging to be
If one desires to communicate
with a purer intent,
to cut through language's sinew
and into truth's marrow,
such communication can happen
within wordless silence
in the cold;
the swelling heat
of iron ignition.
When my tongue dissolves the words,
laps up innuendos
and syntax errors of reality
the honeyed surface
spins me deliriously.
needs a pause,
a breath to breathe,
to feel the distance,
will never cease
September 12th, 2015
Copyright © Chris D. Aechtner | Year Posted 2015
To Timothy Lee, The Best of Me
Finding love is our unsure heart’s goal as edged on by our confident souls.
Some journey through life with love as their primary dream,
only to give up after giving all to failures’ torturous theme.
They may watch their constant dream unfold, but cannot befriend the lonely,
dark hole that mocks the intentions of their soul.
For many, ‘tis when heart hopes completely dim that fate itself delivers the right her or him.
When true love is meant to be, it shall appear and reward every lonely, unfulfilled tear.
When true love wraps you in its infinite folds,
there is nowhere else you will need or wish to go.
When you truly love someone, you hold their dreams inside your prayers and lay stepping stones to assist them there.
Grateful for the long awaited task, you let love toss every mask you ever faked for romance’s sake. Each past pretense may now relax, disappear and never come back, for true love loves your truth and would never wish to see you subdued. Real love wraps around the you that your life really grew.
Love grants the finest gift, a present of loving arms embracing all of you, not despite, but, because their heart knows all of you. Freely and without hesitation, you give your body, heart, spirit, secrets and possessions, confident none will ever be used as emotional weapons.
No matter any day’s design, love soothes all away when at night you lay entwined. True love is two who mutually fulfill emotional needs, heeds fears to see them eased and nurses hurts that may otherwise bleed.
Even in silence, love’s communication and awareness are at its finest. When alone, at home, such love is happily content for together time never ceases being time joyously spent.
When one is weak, one stays strong, for two in love alter leaning and being leaned on.
Each the other seeks to please for your love’s smile gives back pleasurable degrees. When in love, such smiles become your heart’s feed.
After time spent apart, love seeks and finds its prize in the other’s loving eyes.
When love is of truth’s seed,
two breaths become a single heartbeat,
pulsing as one, dual, soul-deep need.
... CayCay Jennings
October 10, 2016
Copyright © CayCay Jennings | Year Posted 2016
just when I needed you most
leaving behind an emotional ghost
it hurts so much
tears won't stop
broken without any thought
too late to be sorry
broken down without dialogue
no substance in the performance
You promised to wipe away my tears
to hold me in this world full of fears
through my most severe trials and tribulations
guaranteed to love me without confrontations
Walking away believing no one exists for you
leaving everything deluded by what is not true
Bitter, stubborn, ignorant to how I am feeling
oblivious to that heart you are warily stealing
Nocturnal animal you stay awake at night
reluctantly sleeping at the sight of light
Open your mind and enable your heart to feel
think carefully - this could be your final meal
I yearn for you, like the night lingers for the stars
because when love is true like romantic memoirs
even those who in haste - foolishly depart
the heart will never let them stay apart
The Silent One
17 November 2015
Copyright © Silent One | Year Posted 2015
When I think of India, I think of dark eyed beauties,
their foreheads painted with decorative red dots,
and I see them moving deliciously in beautiful bright costumes
as bangles dangle from their slender wrists.
When I think of India, I think of a culture steeped in history and tradition:
folkloric music, myths, and dance, and the influence of the Hindu religion.
I visualize the rich and poor alike bathing themselves in a river called Ganges.
I see an olden time when mighty elephants, colorfully decorated,
carried men atop their backs on elegant elephant seats,
and I recall pictures in my geography studies of the white sacred cows
freely roaming the narrow streets of Delhi.
I recall a novel I read: Rudyard Kipling’s engrossing tale of a jungle boy
and also other novels depicting a clash of cultures
as the British imposed their rules on Indian society.
I think of current movies showing the seedy side of India
such as one named Slumdog Millionaire and a movie to contrast it,
the romantic Bollywood delight named JabTak Hai Jaan.
Furthermore, I recall the grace and good nature of the Indian people
depicted in a film called The Best Ever Exotic Marigold Hotel.
When I think of India, I think of the Taj Mahal, Kama Sutra, and curry,
and also I recall horrible stories of Bride burnings now banned and by contrast,
the good works of Mother Teresa, who labored there among the poor, and
I think of the man who is probably the most recognized by Americans
as a good and strong example of leadership: Mahatma Ghandi.
All these things are the sum of what I have learned about India in my lifetime.
But what do I really know of India?
What I have learned recently relates to poets I have come to know at this website
and who have shown me through their poetry and their communication with me,
a more personal side of the Indian people that I never used to know.
Through the poetry of Ravindra I have learned the love of an Indian for his heritage
and how he emulates his father‘s work through beautiful translations.
From poets like BL and Jag, I’ve learned more about
the deep and philosophical nature of the Indian poet!
Through great friendships with people like Kashinath, Yesha and Yasmin, and Guatami
I have come to learn about the actual personalities of dear Indian people
whose life experiences, struggles and desires are not so different from my own,
and also I am able to enjoy their eloquent words as they describe
their own emotions, passions, and love of nature through their poetry.
Perhaps their culture adds a flavoring to their words and phrases
that is a bit different from my own,
but in the end, we are all alike beneath the skin.
Whether from India or any other country, we are, all of us,
becoming a part of a global community
in which our differing backgrounds can be accepted
and even better - celebrated!
Thank you I say to all my poet friends whose words enrich my life,
but in particular, today I thank my friends from India,
for helping me to really see how beautiful you are
and to understand your country better through knowing YOU.
Copyright © Andrea Dietrich | Year Posted 2013
Forest fairies changing colors,
autumn's patchwork pattern weaving
in the foggy morning stillness
before winter's barren grieving,
up the river on the damp air,
up hollows through the shadowed vales
sounds the mournful, sobbing whistle:
once more memory rides the rails.
Childhood song for railroad watchers -
a tinge of hobo in my veins,
longing for the lonesome whistle
like a lost child for his name.
Life began beside the railway,
an open door to fantasy;
my dreamer's soul soaked in the flavor
hearing that whistle witchery.
Hungry tramps in search of breakfast
found our doorstep every time;
hobo network communication
marked mama's eggs and bacon "fine."
Bleary eyes and beards all stubble
made child imaginations fly
and the tales with which we clothed them
were wilder still than hobo lies.
Oh, for the days when trains were magic:
iron dragons breathing smoke and fire,
lashing long tails through the valleys
with monstrous strength that never tired.
Oh, the secrets that were hidden
behind the doors of plain boxcars;
feel the untamed urge to mount them
and plunder treasure from afar.
Delight was ours beyond measure
to waken on those special days,
finding, in the night, the dragon
had brought the circus train our way.
See the bearded lady waving
and catch the fat man's twinkling eye,
smell the coal smoke's pungent flavor
beneath our magic big top sky.
Grown up am I; steam train magic
comes swirling by once in a while
to view autumn's fleeting pageant
and make train lovers like me smile.
Nostalgic, rhythmic beating,
staccato yelps and sobbing wails
make my soul a mental hobo;
once more memory rides the rails.
Faye Lanham Gibson
Copyright © Faye Gibson | Year Posted 2015
They read our poems, and more than that,
they leave a word or two.
It isn’t much, yet that’s a thing
some folks here NEVER do.
Some heroes never visit me.
I sure do wish they would,
but I am glad to know at least
to others they are good.
They welcome poets never seen
by simply saying hi
or click to comment on our poems,
not just on that “Reply.”
I know we all have busy lives,
but if we post a poem,
it’s much more fun if we can feel
this is our second home.
The builders of community
are whom I’m writing of.
To those I’ve met and those not yet,
I’m sending you my love!
I just found out I had to choose
three poets and no more.
It pays to study contest rules
not after, but BEFORE.
And so I'll name three friends of mine:
The very first to greet
me and become a truest friend
was Nikko, one so sweet.
Another one to fit the bill
of great community
is Jan. I love her humor and
her sweet sincerity.
So many others do their part
to make this place so great.
My newest friend is CayCay, and
to meet her was my fate.
Three friends, all women, do their part
to build community.
These are the ladies who now bring
sweet sanity to me!
Since my Poetry Soup Heroes are too many to name, I have named three Community builders that I am currently the most in communication with through Hotmail: Nikko Palmario (who goes by binibining P.iNk), Jan Allison, and CayCay Jennings. For me, friendship is everything. Without good friends here, how can one truly enjoy the experience?
Copyright © Andrea Dietrich | Year Posted 2015
Eyes glued to body,
Roaming from head to toe,
Drooling mouth water...
A sudden attack,
Swept off your feet,
Above cloud nine...
Thoughts wave connect,
Heart beating as one...
My first HAIKU
Copyright © Richard Palmer | Year Posted 2012
A mazing child full of life
Unconditional relentless love
Touched by angels through the strife
Insightful blessings from above
Struggles with communication
Tries with joyful anticipation
Intelligence beyond the norm
Child of God within the storm
Copyright © Vince Suzadail Jr. | Year Posted 2013
Universal elegy grieves and yet embraces shifts of paradigm
New beginnings consciousness initiates comprehends and thus proceeds from
Illusion’s delusion collusions misconceptions in the irritating
Vortex whirlpool immanent void of false containment
Enlightenment modern postmodern retro visionary futuristic aspirations
Resound in dialectical rebirth rejuvenation germinate constructive
Sense meaning reflect serenity’s tentative confidence that the
Agony of climate change greed warfare ignorance destructive apathy
Liberates fusion confusion necessitates Aquarian communication of
Antagonism’s polar opposites contradictions complements
Cycles spheres of influence of grave repression gravitate
Revolve resolve with pushing pulling moons in metaphorical
Orbital mental psychological initiation shape incidences
Synchronicities collateral communal reason feeling responsibility
Transformation of the global madness inhumanity conjoins
Idealism and the darker side’s fallacies of fabrication
Conspiracy of muted spirit silence violation fade away transform to novel script
Communication courses discourses concur in co-operation
Obvious obscurity in the blip of human race’s evolution delimits
Limitations iron cages hopes for new time place of reason beyond
Laissez-faire and hippie psychedelic stream of consciousness afar from
Anarchy self-righteous slavery rebellion mindlessness
Big oppressive bangs big brother’s obliterating over-information with
Onslaught of technology fail and falter when simplicity and esoteric
Rationale comprise enhance encompass the necessary world view shifts
Ascent and ever changing climax revitalizes humanness thus gifts
Truth deriving comprehension from ‘objective’ communal subjectivity with
Intuition insight inclination outside from the rigid boxed conformity
Order may be found again in the chaos of our time of misrepresented bedlam
New Age Aquarius delivers acts upon fresh constellation contemplates the Universe
Celebrating the adventure of Advent this one is written very uniquely.
During this transition Oh, the ubiquity of perception, reception most gratefully
Each new day begins with one’s first thought, amazingly
Though, this thought did not require any forethought, excitingly,
I thought, what if I thought in forethought, demandingly
Boldly I choose, a path of understanding. Then Daringly,
Choosing to forgive myself, then choosing to forgive everyone else. I gratefully
wished upon distant star and my cry did travel far. Vega, amazingly
did answer my call, in a dream from My whispering old cemetery scene . Excitingly
I dashed out of my bed, outside looked to sky, then cried Eternal welcome to Aquarius demandingly.
The Joy of this revelation, thought and manifestation determining one’s destination. So, daringly
I choose to be enlightened by the universal code, which is downloaded to each individual uniquely.
Travel I have far and wide, and gone I have, from high to low. Amazingly
though, I realize know, that I had always been seeking to know. Excitingly
turning each new page, certain and determined to be my own sage. Daringly
I vied, nothing would make me swallow my pride. Demandingly
I had thought, When we get there that all would play fair. Thought I did, uniquely
as most should do. Now, A little Alliteration to say we too are gratefully
The stranger within me does no longer be because know I see. Life does have excitingly
creative individual versatility. Change it does for you, whom call upon it consistent and demandingly.
Remaining keenly observant in search for knowledge and do so daringly.
Questioning what dares seem query logic and reason itself. While never failing to truly uniquely
understand another for having their own uniqueness and being grateful
for be blessed with this, understanding of knowing each individual creation amazingly.
Target destination is fixed after course has been made demandingly.
Each individual soul being has chosen this mission daringly.
Having arrived in this Third dimensional reality to uniquely
instruct in the revolution of Love is a four letter word and do so very thankfully and gratefully
to each and every soul of light that exists. Uplifted into the light I call out amazingly.
Higher Power, The all High and Universal Father of All, whom is the one that is truly exciting.
Inviting all He does whom choosing a star path daringly.
His message has been sent to each and every one of you uniquely
in its own way. We should all give blessing and thanks, while being gratefully
for each and every new amazingly
fantastic and an Emphasis on an excitingly
creative Acrostic man day. After being both commanding humbly and so, demandingly.
Who is excitingly and amazingly, demandingly and
daringly to be uniquely and gratefully Different?
Copyright © Steven Henderson | Year Posted 2016
Mathias works long and hard to convince the authorities to let her seek asylum in his country, months go by and without even a single communication, he becomes frustrated,
“Do your eyes still long to see me?
Even when you close them, is it me they see?
Do your lips still long to kiss me?
Does your tongue still 'sigh' my name?
Does your nose still long for my aroma?
Does your ear drum still beat faster when your ears hear my voice?
Does your hair and cheeks still long to be caressed by my fingers?
Does your neck still long to be kissed by my lips?
Do your hands still want to clasp together with mine?
Do your breasts still want to comfort my heavy head?
Do your shoulders still want to feel my tears?
Does your lap still want me to lay my head up on it?
Does your heart still beat faster when I appear?
Does your mind still want to connect with mine?
Does your body still want to be embraced by my arms?
Is it me you search for?
Am I the one you desire?
Or does your heart no longer connect with mine,
has it become numb since you said goodbye.”
Imaani waits patiently for her beloved to return, even though her health is deteriorating, she remembers their first meeting with fondness,
“My beloved, you are more lovable than love,
you are my life today and in the next life,
that is why I could die in your love,
as I know at the end it will only be us.
I remember the first time you touched me,
your silky smooth hands invigorated my soul.
The hairs on the back of my neck stood up,
you gave me goose bumps and sent shivers down my spine.
Never before have I seen beauty like yours,
when I look at you, it leaves me breathless.
I have drowned in your eyes constantly,
but, I am saved when your radiant voice speaks to me.
There will never be enough words that describe what you mean to me,
there will never be a time when these eyes tire of you.
I wish I could hold you forever, let you fall asleep in my arms,
I wish I could merge with you and be adjoined infinitely.
Nobody could ever replace you, the feelings are too strong,
life is not worth living, if living is without you.”
Finally, Mathias travels back to Imaani to bring her home with all relevant documents. However, as he returns Imaani is nowhere to be found... After days of searching he discover that Imaani has died due to severe malnutrition. He is heartbroken and feels it is the end of the world and contemplates suicide. A doctor finds him and passes over a note that Imaani had left for him and it reads,
This life is a fraud...
Full of nothing but deceit..
This world has lost its glory...
Leaving little reason to be...
For life has treated me like a stone upon a path..
Whoever walked by kicked me out of the way...
However, I still remain standing..
Despite all those arrows fired my way...
I may be flung from path to path..
But upon my journey I remain..
For those who belittle me now..
Laugh, as I assure you I will have the final say..
These tears I shed today..
Will return to haunt you someday..
For the glory I seek, is not here ...
But far away..
For one day, I will return..
To the beginning, from where I came...
Slowly, he falls into the depths of darkness and despair... Secluding himself from the world and contemplating death... A white dove lands on his window and just stares right at him and at that moment, he realises it is time to say goodbye..
A dove flew by,
reminding me of your love.
Its been a long time,
since a tear escaped my eye.
but your memories remain.
My heart remains stagnant,
it may never love again.
They say romance is dead,
that true love never lasts forever..
My love for you has never changed,
as my heart could never accept another.
Some say love is a temporary emotion,
but, I still feel your love, it will last forever.
I can still feel you,
your thoughts consume my mind.
I long for our reunion, maybe not today,
but soon and it will be forever...
(sound of shot gun)
The Silent One. 20 August 2015.
Copyright © Silent One | Year Posted 2015
Stood I there, that last day,
On an iron bridge...
An aqueduct by design,
Where, looking dreamily out over
The Ernes Lower Lough,
My compressed shadow
Momentarily paused -
To contently recline:
Amidst coy Junes radiant beams
of sweet benign!
All was stilled, all was hushed,
Save vast reed beds sided by the
Shallow hills of Lisbellaw;
And I am lost to enchantment
Of such beguiling thoughts -
Then noon stumped up...
Squatting idly down on
The far eastern shore.
Stirred bloods mixed and
Risen inside the linings
Of warmed and prominent veins,
Starkly contrasting against a
Bleached and weathered rail of
Coarse and twisted grains;
Whereon, my hands staid by
I dissected my solitary years
Of three singular and two score
When, suddenly, down the narrow
The loudening sounds of
Progressing steadily along
Emanating from a diesels engines
From this carriage alighted an
Elderly man -
But what a giant of a man who
Now stood before!
With shoulders like a Donegal
He must have still stood well
Over Six foot- four.
And with a courteous nod of the
To an impassioned peroxide
Whos ample Bosom could bring
To any mans bed -
Would such that desire should
Stepping assuredly away,
Gently closed the big cars door.
Here was a gentleman schooled
He a masterly exponent in the art
Made more effective by
Elimination of redundancy;
Economy of language, economy of
Deliberate, terse, and very much
In this, his brevity of
The thin lines of orange and
Tracing like fizzing peat turf
That squared within his pale
Criss-crossing at right angles
His torsos colossal frame;
Where one could plainly see,
With merely just a single glance,
Demonstration of a mighty fulcrum
Centred by the heavy silvered
Whose leather belt drew in at the
Neatly pressed pleats
Of the softly blackened corduroy
And anticipating a reaction
That might be considered rather
awkward and a little adverse...
Suggested by the immense manner
Of ambling approach,
I stumbled over meaningless
As I struggled for something,
To almost apologetically broach:-
"There is rather few Bream",
Said I -
"But the river is brimming over
With plentiful good sized Roach"!
A quizzical look flickered and then
Over that impassive face,
A look that younger or more
Might have mistakenly
Misinterpreted as an arrogant
Stared he down into the glare
Of the rippled depths...
As if examining the thinness of
My mortal soul;
Stared he distractedly across
The bays great expanse
As if imploring unto mysterious
Swimming with beguiling Nivian
In swirling dalliance,
That may offer up, like Excalibur -
Some fantastic vision to behold!
Perhaps, I reasoned, In search of
His forefathers soothing muses of
Drawn from legend of folklore:
Doubtless could fortify depleted wit...
And thereby his heart console;
Wherefore, in slow response...
The worthiness of this bridge he
Therefore - to so virtuously extol!
A dialect, commanded by
That over me enveloped
Like fog upon Cuilcaghs mystical
Hills of continually eroding
Developed through ancestral
Indelibly immersed in Fermanaghs
Guttural and broad undertones;
Enriched by successive generations
Rejoicing in their Heavenly bower:
Now just buried bones
Rehearsed and blessed in public
Delivered under Alberts great
Upon whose mouldering caskets
The bells striking chimes
So forcefully atones;
And a voice brought hence to this
A voice born to converse in
Singularly articulated lines...
Fortified by propriety of grace...
Whence he spoke:-
"GOOD WORK - DONE BY GOOD MEN -
FROM OLDEN TIMES"!
Without more ado, and uncaring of
He turned and strode away;
Leaving me feeling,
During that brief intrusion of
As if this had been one of Gods
During zenith of Prime Meridian,
Upon this devoid and hushed
As if demanded by higher
To react swiftly through
Necessity of immediate response,
Bridling horsepower once again
Mighty pistons, growling to life,
Within the exploding bore and all
Its fiery strife!
Wherein the cast block:
Pivotal rods pushing down hard upon
A ground cranks bolted constrains -
When powering my receding vision
Away into the diminishing dusts of
Hosannas racing refraines.
With head bowed in silent
For the ruminations of an older
And wiser mans preference,
I knew that I would forever
This revered and most hallowed
For now committed to mind -
Be that Bridges steadfast and
And those eternal words...
"GOOD WORK - DONE BY GOOD MEN -
FROM OLDEN TIMES"!
A TRUE STORY THAT HAPPENED TO ME 16 YEARS AGO.
Copyright © john fleming | Year Posted 2016
SPELLING TEST (there are over 30 words contained within this poem that are often
misspelt by the common man)
We all do on occasion temporarily misspell.
Amateur or connoisseur of language,who can tell?
Conscientiously piece together,peculiar bits of rhyme.
Manoeuvre letters gorgeously for others to refine.
Discipline and experience,all apparent to you and me.
Pronunciation not enough to spell linguistically.
Skilful realignment of the letters needs addressed.
Paralytic implications quintessentially expressed.
A ricochet of rhythm,sabotaged in a queue of verse.
Cacophony of tone with their spellings unrehearsed.
Is your spelling kamikaze,a haemorrhaging of ink.
A karaoke nightmare,communication on the brink.
So literary geniuses,i am all apologetic.
If my utterance is rabbled and my spelling is pathetic.
You see,many words i utilize in this poem i create.
Have been misspelt for centuries,the most common is
Copyright © William Willis | Year Posted 2011
This Highland eagle
On his maiden flight
Land in sight
His heart thumping
As he yearns for his dove
To share his life
Capture her love
This eagle has landed
Met with a kiss
The smile of two
To his doves nest
The talk is sweet
Hearts on fire
On their first meet
Couch they sit
They share a wine
A classic red
Eagle and dove
Romance is read
As they choose a song
In each others arms
It won't be long
Silhouette of two
Their minds embraced
Their hands on a mission
Clothes drift to the floor
Together they sit
As their lips meet
This bed of beds
As their bodies greet
Waves of love
This two lovebirds
Eagle and dove
Flow of love
Sweet like peach
In breathless mode
This cage-less birds
On future's road
They lie together
True and right
My dove and i
On our first night
Copyright © James Fraser | Year Posted 2009
I was told...
A happy marriage is based on communication
A healthy marriage is based on
understanding each other's beliefs and differences
A fine marriage is based on
respect, trust, and love
For better or worse
In good times or bad times
Forever till death do us part
Perfection we crave
But... what perfect aliens are those
defying all odds
Then I learned... there is no such
perfection in our kind
Even a happy marriage can fall apart
when the important become second
Even a healthy marriage can
fall apart when stress arises
Even a fine marriage can fall apart
when the essence of trust slips into doubts
Yes I believe... it all comes down to HOW we
treat each other
So... for better NOT worse
Be in it because it's what your heart desires
NOT what your mind fools you to want
Be in love with each other with all your heart
and soul NOT you have no choice but stay
Need each other physically and emotionally
NOT just financially
And be in it because life would be meaningless
without each other
And last but not least... appreciate each other
Perfection is when you smile genuinely!
Akkina R Downing
Copyright © Akkina Downing | Year Posted 2017
I love being young, getting to ride the roller coasters.
The sound, tick, tick, tick, tick-like a heartbeat racing to the top.
Then, surprised even when you know it’s coming, dropped into the abyss.
Something always pulls it down, like gravity.
It’s frustrating, riding something so close to being dead.
So far away but still so close, seating rows.
I hate being so close to, yet so far from the row.
She was in with me on this roller coaster.
Adrenaline rushed my body so fast almost leaving me dead.
The blood flowed so fast emphasizing the highs of the top.
But something keeps pulling me down, gravity.
Here I am again, back in the abyss.
In the ride, weeks of no communication, the beginning of the end, the abyss.
The scariest. My worst fear of my youth. Looking back at the rows,
I see her, with my own image, my heart sinks more. I hate you gravity.
But it’s the only thing that fuels the roller coaster.
Nothing makes me happier than bringing it back to the top.
Let’s hope this isn’t so abrupt, so fast, like the last one, leaving me dead.
How I hope so much, so much hope still not dead.
The heart, the love, the eternal abyss.
Strikes me back with enough momentum to reach the top.
Lines, love, flashing like an old film, with rows.
Showing me a movie, reminding me of, a roller coaster.
The movie explained that the only thing that keeps it going is gravity.
Thank you gravity.
My worries are gone and dead.
Just accept it, and love the roller coaster.
Appreciate the loneliness of the abyss.
The reason you’re here is for the ride, not the rows.
I just want to enjoy the youth and its happy tops.
This coaster, like love has its tops.
But something brings it down like gravity.
Distanced with rows,
Never seeing her again, thinking she’s dead.
But deeper and deeper coming out of the abyss.
The complicated life of the young, the love of roller coasters.
Get on the roller coaster, rise to the top.
Don't worry about the drop to the abyss, It’s because of gravity
That you’re not dead, and I don't care about the rows.
Copyright © Marcus Jjaks Reyes | Year Posted 2013
There once was, a Miss. Communication
With pleasure she loved to communicate
Writing of love and the wonders of life
Her passion extreme and never sedate
Those afraid, of Miss. Communication
For she expressed herself with all her might
They banded together, to make their point
Miss Took, Mr. E and yes Mr. Right
Sadly the Kingdom, fell into darkness
For not a single note flowed from her throne
The sound of her music, could not be heard
Miss Communication sad and alone
So the town people, gathered together
Including, one who was Miss. Understood
We looked to her, in hopes of an answer
As she strummed on her harp made out of wood
Miss. Communication, rose to the call
For in the end she knew they were all friends
Because with passion, sometimes lines are crossed
Miss. Communication, never pretends
She felt real joy and her pen regained strength
Entering again, into the land of dreams
For within, our miscommunications.
It's true, nothing is ever as it seems!
Events of the last few days have left me feeling sad.
Things said that have left people I care about hurt.
Misunderstood people on different sides that are
really in the end not so different from each other.
Reconciliation comes from listening, in the end
each of us is looking for a place to belong and be
appreciated. Let us choose to act with gentle hearts
and kind words. Being loving is a greater cause than
Copyright © Richard Lamoureux | Year Posted 2015
A Palindrome, also called Mirrored Poetry, is a poetry type not listed, so I put it under Free Verse. If anyone finds a better categoy for this please let me know. Thomas
And porn replaced love
Day after day
We are bombarded
Sex and beauty
Objects over heart
Thoughts lustful, confused reality
Isolation supplanted communication
Clouds out move clarity
Facade my life
Life my facade
Clarity move out clouds
Communication supplanted isolation
Reality confused lustful thoughts
Heart over objects
Beauty and sex
Bombarded are we
Day after day
Love replaced porn and
Copyright © Thomas Carney | Year Posted 2014
There is something about
The way you face your day
With a heart of gold
And such a giving way.
There is something about
The way you endure your pain
As if the stroke
Didn’t harm your brain
There is something about
The life you live
Loving like there will be no tomorrow
And living to forgive
There is something about
The brother you are
And the son you have been
That makes us more proud by far
It is everything about
The garden you grow
With sweat and tears
As the fruits to others you bestow
It is everything about
A body half paralyzed
That can produce gifts of woodwork
That leaves us mesmerized.
It is everything about
Your speech so limited
For you is unlimited.
It is everything about
Your inner soul
That has inspired me
To be so much more
It is you my brother
In all that you do
That have made the stars
Hush for me too.
I have been blessed to have such a brother
Contest: How you make the stars hush
Copyright © Janet Eaton | Year Posted 2015
Can a relationship last without trust,
How long will a relationship last without genuine love,
What do you see when you look into your partners' eyes,
How do you feel when they are in your arms,
Are you comfortable with your sprouse,
Do you still see the sparks when you kiss,
Feel the energy when you curl up beside each other,
Do you still play and laugh with each other,
Or is abuse slowly creeping in,
Do you still make plans talk about future events,
Don't let your relationship become a daily drag,
Trust,genuine love,comfort,communication and care,
The spieces of a great relationship,
Season your relationship well,
And enjoy a life filled with love and more love...
Copyright © Richard Palmer | Year Posted 2012
I am putting a sign in my window for a position available. The position is soul mate,
(friend and lover) this is not a temporary job but a forever thing. Apply within to see
what I am seeking.
You must be male
Single (divorced or widow is okay)
Live in this city(no long distance thing)
Love cats (I have two)
And children (I have none)
You must be trustworthy and faithful
(without trust we have nothing)
Have good communication
A good listener
Love nature and long walks
Hate cruelty to people and animals
Like poetry(mine especially)
Be a writer (optional)
Be happy with your life
Not into smoking, drugs or alchohol
Have humility and kindness
Ambition and intelligence are needed
As is honesty and warmth and tenderness
Mature yet still have that little kid inside
You should be supportive and nurturing
Appreciate my friends(accept them)
Be a good kisser etc
Sense of humor is a must
Like art and museums and plays and concerts
Movies and music
Day trips in the city and hiking
(sorry these feet never leave the ground)
Flowers(because I have a garden)
Love to read and quiet time
Have great quantities of compassion and empathy
Show respect to me and others
Have your own hobbies and interests and friends
Accept my flaws
Be passionate and romantic and affectionate
Like to cook
Helping with the housework is not a problem(yes/no)
If you have controlling behaviour (please do not apply)
Share my values and respect my beliefs
Committed to improving yourself
Appreciate my private space and thoughts
Bring me flowers and chocolates (just because)
Willing to compromise at times
Put no conditions on our relationship
Make me a better person
If you feel this is a position you are qualified for, please come for an interview with
a list of your qualifications and picture. Reminder, this is not a temporary job but
a forever thing.
June 7, 2015
Written by Broken Wings
For the Contest, The Interview, sponsor, Judy Konos
Copyright © Broken Wings | Year Posted 2015
A is for Antenna
A is for Antenna, the two-in-one, receiving in and transmitting away.
B is for Broadband, to fire away on the high speed digital highway.
C is for Current, what a beauty, it is all but free- electron- flow.
D is for decibel, not the horrible, but a logarithmic unit and a ratio.
E is for Electrons, the teeny weeny charged particles, so light
F is for Fibre, or simply glass that passes streams of bits as light.
G is for Gain, could also mean loss, a measure of what’s in and what’s out.
H is for Harmonics, often unwanted multiples that are up and about.
I is for Ionosphere, the upper reaches of appreciable ionization
J is for Jitter, Who wants this unwanted, random fluctuation
K is for Klystron, just a tube which, in the microwave range, oscillates
L is for Limiter, thank God, the input to a system , it limits.
M is for Modulation, a wave-on -wave super imposition
N is for Noise, the hated disturbances due to heat’s action
O is for Oscillators, they are from low to ultra high frequency
P is for Pulse, not of the heartbeat, but a quick shot of energy.
Q is for Quartz, the stabilizer that is piezo-electric
R is for Regeneration, recuperating-the- sick- signal- trick.
S is for Semiconductors, not semi-precious, but indispensable
T is for Transmission, making communication finally possible,
U is for Unlimited Plans, the veritable godsend for the customer
V is for Voltage, the difference of potentials, one should remember.
W is for Waves, electromagnetic waves not the ones in the ocean,
X is for X-rays, against which the engineer should exercise caution
Y is for Yagi, it’s only an antenna, not a yogi or a tribal totem
Z is for Zirconium, hungry for neutrons in the context of atom.
That puts in a nutshell the revolution
Of electronics and communication.
02 Mar 2013
For: Cyndi Macmillan’s “ Z is for Zaria-ABC poetry” contest.
Copyright © S.Jagathsimhan Nair | Year Posted 2013
Daydreaming of you is all I seem to do.
Staring at your picture on my computer screen, wishing you were here staring back at me.
Your my computer love, my secret crush.
Leaving me in an intoxicating lush, your body I desperately lust.
If I can get to you through my computer screen, I will be able to show you exactly what I mean.
Long days and long nights of communication with you, helps me fantasize and make my dreams truer.
Love scenes play in my head, love scenes upon a fluffy feather bed.
I am dressed in all white, as if this was our wedding night.
You shirtless and touching me just right.
Delicate biting invited sweet kisses.
Deep staring makes my eyes glisten, and vigilant in guarding a possession.
As the intermittent gleams sparkling, makes the moon and the stars jealous.
I shine my twinkling smile; the thoughts of you are so worthwhile.
So in love with your artistic style, I am leaving your picture as my computer background.
Being your virtual girl, I want to exist in your world.
Hypothetically speaking simply coexisting, sadly admitting we are only acquaintance.
Forever my computer love fantasy boy toy, I deploy.
Fore dreams are all I have of you, in reality I could never have you.
I just cannot seem to delete my computer files of you so…
Until the day we really make love, you shall remain my computer love.
Copyright © twanna Irisha | Year Posted 2013
'Twas a dark and stormy night on that dark and stormy night!
HMS Blunderbuss plied the billowing seas just off the Isle of Wight!
Able Seaman Steer manned the helm when dead ahead he saw the light!
He woke the snoozing Officer of the Deck to apprise him of their plight!
Captain Ironbottom (who happened to be in the 'head') was duly alerted!
He dashed to the bridge in his drawers to ensure that disaster was averted!
"By jove!" he cried, "Her Majesty's ships turn aside for no one, I say!"
He grabbed the radio, "Ahoy there! Turn east 15 degrees! Out of my way!"
From out of the ozone a voice retorted, "Suggest you turn west 15 degrees!
I'll not change course for anyone, so heed my warning if you please!"
"This is Captain Ironbottom of the HMS Blunderbuss!" he thundered back!
"I know the rules of the road! Turn now or I'll see you hung from the rack!"
Able Seaman Steers' eyes grew as large as saucers knowing not what to do!
Communication between the captain and the mysterious light was turning blue!
As the distance narrowed between them, neither would give a nautical mile!
The white-knuckled Officer of the Deck was turning pale with a sickly smile!
"This is Captain Ironbottom again! Are you challenging Her Majesty's might?"
"Yes sir" was the reply, "You see, this is the light house on the Isle of Wight!"
Today the mighty HMS Blunderbuss rusts upon the Isle of Wight's rocky shoal.
Captain Ironbottom faded into oblivion due to the folly of his last patrol!
Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired
© All Rights Reserved
Copyright © Robert L. Hinshaw | Year Posted 2011