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Best Community Poems | Poetry

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

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New Community Poems

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

Love praying for my students at community colleges by Deo, Anil
Community Health Assurance by Dillenbeck, Gerald
Community by Mohohoma, Tswarelo
Community by Robinson, Michael
Community Site by Donnelly, Artsieladie Sharon
THERE WAS A COMMUNITY by Abiola, Oluwasola
A Community Of Friends by Behm, Kurt Philip
a great community by davis, robin
ROGUE COMMUNITY by Wilowski, John
May it be an Evening Star of Peace - In Collaboration with our PS community Poets by Williams, Maria

View all new Community Poems

The Best Community Poems

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The Age of Poet Destroyer

A diamond in the Frost ... I am Emily, gazing through the years, 
Like Poe from rancid taste and dark smoke shadows
Florescent waste escaping a decrepit yet dulcet wilderness
Backward capabilities frontal verse, I am her the almighty universe 

Ascending from yesterday's fall, literally and visibly
Swore to be everything you loathe most - a felicity of illusions
You will dream of me, a parasite you can't get rid of
Ripped open by paper and pen, rising to a new destination
A Destroyer begging to be free in search of a tender rhapsody
Blind by mediocre poets who tend a false nebulous star
No longer, will I impart into defeat - give in to trophy trust
The time of age, my allies whom I call my friends 
You are more than words on any God-Given-Day

To those unworthy of me, can march away from my parade 
Crying wolves, backstabbing clones, long gone stones
Each file is forgiven & forgotten, however, still trespassing 
Under a microscope, some remain to be a decade of lost words 
Grazing a forest grown for old news dripping water on my belly

No matter, after starvation, I found my way back to the same horizon
Finding time and space among a new docile nation
A buried treasure finding face among a fresh myriad generation
With anchors up, I'm headed full force, against every secret endorsed

I am the one you should not fear, I relish this wonderful community
I am she mounted above all years worn rising like a newborn sword 
Forged by the earth summon by the pirate's moon political creed
Ascending to a sweet ascension with the best kind of immunity
With paper and pen, I sit to please and prosper my poetry need
To you I leave --- Echoes of snow, numbing you with a poetic soul 

Love The Poet Destroyer

Copyright © Poet Destroyer A | Year Posted 2015

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Fifty-Three Shades Of Grey

in the uncoloured tint of another everyday amongst the spit polished waxed apples tightly packed in burlap bags they walked like minded in their own burly wrap oblivious to the irony to their similarity of the markets round red fruit unaware of the tragedy the horror of events yet to come it will rain metal shrapnel as human minds grasp with the purpose of their existence as in their ignorance they understand their worth as human bombs with a belief the heavens will open the gates with a fanfare and a promised blessing for their divine act of unquestioned belief the clay shaped bricks the black iron metal stairs the drum sound of engines then the lull not after but before before the pulse of the storm the rain of death yet this moment captured this photograph with man and child in hand smells sweet you wonder bemused why? the world travels aimlessly singularly no one nothing in the universe suggests exposes even a hint even a glimpse not a clue that would lead reveal an answer. life in its contradiction like the proverbial apple offers both the miracle the curse.

Copyright © Maurice Yvonne | Year Posted 2014

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White Cane

He walked down Goverment Road West
With a white cane, in shaking hand
Wearing Stevie wonder glasses
People called him the pop bottle man

With a white cane, in shaking hand
At the time he seemed old to me
People called him the pop bottle man
Searching the alleys for his treasures

At the time he seemed old to me
Frail in a menacing sorta way
Searching the alleys for his treasures
Bottles he spotted a mile away

Frail in a menacing sorta way
Us kids all stayed away from him
Bottles he spotted a mile away
I wondered why he carried a white cane

Us kids all stayed away from him
Until that day I took a chance
I wondered why he carried a white cane
Curiosity got the best of me

Until that day I took a chance
That man had been a mystery
Curiosity got the best of me
When I asked him why he smiled at me

That man had been a mystery
A lonely guy wandering the street
When I asked him why, he smiled at me
I handed him my bottle, he said thanks

A lonely guy wandering the street
Wearing Stevie wonder glasses
I handed him my bottle, he said thanks
He walked down Goverment Road West

I watch

Pop Bottle Man
Doing his blind man shuffle
When he sees a bottle 
he moves towards it with ease
Dancing with glee 
a spring in his step
More fluid than a summer breeze

He can see at twenty paces
Eyesight crystal clear
Through dark glasses 
I watch him peer
Collecting his bottles
In plastic bags
The treasure that he holds so dear

Pop Bottle Man
His cane for protection
Illusion is the game he plays
What some see as crazy
May not be the case
If you take time to study his ways

For Gautami's Sketch a  Character Contest.

I was inspired to write more after the Pantoum because of Drakes Comment.
written by Richard Lamoureux on October 23, 2014.

Copyright © Richard Lamoureux | Year Posted 2014

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A Love Letter to My Friends of India

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

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101  POETS

I want to thank 101 poets, when words have no limit.
All 101 spots full of flowing imagery and spirit.
Nathan Dilts my #1~writing for him was so much fun.
Nikko's, words are like a shot at roulette~smoking writes like a cigarette.
Writes of fashion from Michael J.~Compares nothing to the writes of Chris A.
Linda our Sweetheart poet~the opposite of Sidney the Mad poet.
John Loving iii, your voice and heart are nice~Through God your words are like advice.
Gert Knop, Dr. Ram, and Robb A. Kopp, the inspiration is none stop.
Andrea D.~her poetry can sure teach me
Sara K., Doris C., Karen O' Leary, Carol B., Deborah G., their all okay with me.
What if I left out Billy K., and Royal T.~how rude would that be.
Harry H., Frank H., Robert L.H., Daver A., and Ravindra K. K.,again how young are they.
A special hi 2 Mattew A., Wilma N., Gerard J. K, Sharon Rubel, and Marycile Beer.
Anthony N., Amy Sulivan, and Anthony B.,~three poets who's poetry are a hit  with me.
Ryan E., Dakarai C., Jayne E., and Juan P.G. thanks for always remembering me.
Lynette C. where the H3!! are you~ don't U know we miss U.
Ruben O., John R., Thivia S., Tahera Manna, Katherine S, and Felishia Murphy~hello!
Heather Hill, Joe Maverick, Joy Wellington, Chuck Keys~smile and say cheese.
Audonus T, James P., Cecil H., Diane C., Celene C., Nicole S.B, and Susan Palli.
Kimberly H. Constance, Kevin S., Shelo Morbid~ write poetry that makes you think and hurt.
Delilah V. Jani-K. V., Debra Eckstein, very suave along with Grace E. Song Lee.
Michael G, Anderson T, Taha Effendi, Margeret Bailey, Mia Nuranti~ yes even you Francine.
HI! Sandra Stefanowich, Catie Lindsey, Emily K., Emilia R., and Carrie R.. 
James(JIMBO) ,Valentino J., Kelechi E., Randall S., Yasmin K., and Nette O.,hello!
Linda Milgate, David B., Jamecia B., Kris W., David Smalling, & Sylvia C., hi to all of tee.
a.k.a Lil Princess J, The Rockstarr's Princess this line is all 4 you.
Connie M. W., Daniel C., Daniel L., Sasha M., Kay'Sha T., and Raskin B.
Peter K., Bulinya M., Scarlett W., Ralph T., Larry B.,  Sharon T., & Sarah H.
Teresa S.,  Sydney P., Earle B., Ryland M., and John Freemen
Mike Butler, Rinki N., Joyce J., Robert A.D, Milton T., Pyhllis B.,~are all sweet 
Guy-A.D., Zera M., Hintendra M., and Don J.
Every poet on the soup inspires me in every kind of way.
Might as well add my #1 Nathan D., all over again.
Don't think I forgot about Skat,~ We're like Siamese cat.
To all my poet friends who love paper and pen.
101, profiling friends. 

LOL*** P.D. 

Copyright © Poet Destroyer A | Year Posted 2010

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The New Poet

~Life Support~

Welcome New Poet To Poetry Soup, 
I offer you a warm smile, in hopes you come back another day.
From the moment I spot your name on the new poet list,
I roll out the welcome mat, in hopes you will stay
I am not  afraid of you, I will approach you to say hello
I will Annoy you until you stop by and say "YELL-OW!" 
Please have patience, when my ink has no flame
Don't be intimidated by The Poet Destroyer's name,
I'm sweet looking like a lollipop and fun like a kitten
"Warning!" Don't get too close or you'll be smitten, 
You can choose to adore or instigate petitions of envy
When it comes to PD
Even then I am a friendly poet, protected by God's loving levee

It's time to introduce myself, call me Linda or PD
Unless, you're in constant warfare for the dominance of poetry
Then by all means, express yourself retard-ly  
Verbalize my name, in any which way you like
Call me The Poet Destroyer, when tapping the mic
All though many here know I'm more of a Poet Supporter 
A comment crusader, a poetic hoarder
I have no shame in my game, 
I give, I love, I treat everyone the same

Unwind, Enjoy all the Xoolness coming to your direction
Inspiration, Contest, Friendly Poets, Poems, and Dedications
I am not a mentor, I'm not a preacher advocating the perfect poem
I am me, original as can be, in time you will seek out my troupe
Reminiscing, over the time I was your first,
Regale with loving respect, don't judge my hunger and poetic thirst
To all new poets I promise, I'll be faithful and follow you like a star
Unless, you forget to put gas while side showing in my crystalline car

Don't worry, New Poetic Poe, I got your back
Taunting you with a copy paste smack
Call it a "--Statement--" call it what you want
I call it, Love From PD, enjoying the community 
With a simple hello, and peace out spree
CONGRATULATIONS, to all who made it through the years
Ain't nobody here worth more than you and your poetry
Take this time, and introduce yourself my new friend
Remember New Poet:
If it weren't for you, this place would be 2005 all over again

Always & Forever 
Age Of Poet Destroyer

Copyright © Poet Destroyer A | Year Posted 2014

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The Generous Bard

(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


Copyright © Poet Destroyer A | Year Posted 2016

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Women's circle

Listen to poem:
Taking the risk,
Baring the soul,
Seeking the wisdom
That shall make us whole.

Raising the arms,
Spreading the wings,
Hearing the music
That deep in us sings.

Stepping the dance,
Chanting the song,
Feeling the sisterhood
Tender and strong.

Sharing the love,
Speaking the name,
Calling the blessing
And lighting the flame.

Written 7/28/2016
Take the Dagger from my Heart, Please- Poetry Contest
sponsored by Broken Wing
N/A in Premiere Contest Number 5, Judged 8/27/2016

Copyright © Agnes Krampe | Year Posted 2016

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Tit for Tat Poetry

you read out of obligation
a tit for tat consolation
a "thank you for your visit" affirmation

it's cool, this unspoken rule
I do it too, so what’s new?
It's only being civil
community code of camaraderie
who can break free?
It needs to be done
loyalties need to be won
so do the comment hit and run
then on to another one

I appreciate that, truth be told
this give and take system should hold
on poetic pleasantries, I am sold
“Reciprocity” is gold

oh, but that's not quite same
as being sure that you came
because I'm a favorite name
in your poet hall of fame

Come goaded by greed
Needing each word for your feed
Voyeuristic as I bleed
You need my pain to be freed

Come craving my rhyme fix
The potency of this mix
My poetic party tricks
Lines that give you the kicks

I'm a poet pillaged by pain
who's been baptized by rain
holding on to the sane
let me battle your bane

Read me for you know
You need me to grow
Dip in the stream of this flow
Words above, words below

Read and blaze in the fire
word kindling of your desire
let these flames take you higher
as they make each thought perspire

Obligation is overrated
Though my words might be dated
the ideas?  NOT antiquated
to existence they’re related

Come visit me
Come here so you’ll see
Passion infused poetry
let it meld you and me

Eileen Manassian

Copyright © Eileen Manassian | Year Posted 2017

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A Gentle Slam

Simply unaware....or perhaps I don't care
what others say or do
It's partially true
I'm through

Used to care what they think
of my words, of my ink
not anymore....
So much more is in store
you see...rhymes keep knocking at my door
I write and you explore

I won't be intimidated
slated or hated
my thoughts confiscated
by he said she said judgement calls
and so the mic falls

Applause reverberates
and oh how it sates
this little heart of mine
it sounds almost...divine

approval affixed
on my lines, on the mix
of these thoughts and these scribbles
gone is the dribble
of inconsistent scales
yes, it all pales

for I blossom, yes I strive
here in my poetic tribe
the true and the tried
the ones who remain
the ones who refrain
from unkind jabs
drawing blood, leaving scabs
wounds remain...
sad refrain
Yet, tranquility is my gain

I'm stronger
I've stayed here longer
and I will thrive
"staying alive"
for the select few
people like you
and people like me
who love poetry

Pseudonyms, pseudogames
I've seen them come and go
and this much I know
truth is tenacious
staying power's for the gracious
weathering the storm
an exception, not the norm
this much I can tell you:

rhymes remain resplendid
all the way through time

Eileen Manassian

Copyright © Eileen Manassian | Year Posted 2018

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Please Take The Time

So many times we see someone in need
Most walk by while they piteously plead
Plead for help that may not come
Plead for love because they have none
So many people just don't take the time
To support their fellow man
Like it's too much to be kind
Too much to give a helping hand
To someone who needs it, please take a stand
Stand up for the ones who cannot speak for themselves
Stand up for those who live their lives in hell
They need your help, you may be the one
That saves their life, think of your son
If he were in need and you not around
Would you want others to laugh at his frowns
To see him in need and lift not a hand
To help him up out of no man's land
You'd want strangers to aid him, I know that's true
But don't forget help can also come from you
We are all in the position to assist
I know you know that, but here's the twist
In helping others we also help ourselves
And that is a great reason in and of itself
It feels wonderful to help those in need
To sleep soundly knowing you did a good deed
So please when you see someone who has not a thing
Take time to help, it will make your heart sing

Copyright © April Gabriella | Year Posted 2013

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This is not a poem--- A singled out page


Hey, Poets stop by, give me a shout out.
Tell Me Where You Are From;)
I promise I won't show up on your doorstep.

If you are having a bad day, let me have it
If you have awesome news, don't be greedy 
By all means  --- SHARE THE NEWS!!!

.................  LOVE THE POET DESTROYER 

Copyright © Poet Destroyer A | Year Posted 2015

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Trayvon Brown

Walk with me,

cuz I don't wanna die young, 
I wanna grow old and have 
a daughter or a son, or maybe both, 
to live a full life is my hope,
but the bullets in your gun 
are a noose around my throat.

I promise you I wanna LIVE,
I wanna show the world everything I have to give
and it's a lot, and yea I might smoke a little pot,
but so Bill Clinton and HE didn't get shot.

I got plans for my future,
that don't include a cop saying
stop and let me shoot ya

my hands are clearly in the air
I start school next week and I wanna
make it there.

But you..... SHOT,
and let me die in the streets,
now my people want answers 
No justice no peace.

Copyright © Cairo Asikari | Year Posted 2014

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Better days

                Better days
Is all good 
To hope for
 The better days
But is there 
Actually better days
Without making today 
The best

Oh better days
Can't be without
The best of today

Better days
Too many knees on the
Too many heads kissing
The floor
Too many hands 
with ten fingers
Together straight up
Like a triangle
In deferent pulpits
Deferent temples
All to one just
Praying and hoping
To god
For only the 
Better days

Oh better days
Can't be without 
The best of today

Better days
Too many questions
I ask myself
Too many places I
Like I see life's 
As they live in darkness
While they keep
Hoping for the 
 Better Days
Some believe 
The better days only 
Exist After life
With their religion
While a kind 
Like me live 
the better days
Now with love

Oh better days
Can't be with out
The best of today

Better days
What make a day 
Better than another
How can we hope 
For tomorrow
While we waste today 
Away with our ignorance
Oh live every day with
Love and you will
Always have the best of
The day
With love 
each day is better and 
Here you will always have
Better days

Oh better days 
Can't be with out
The best of today

Better days
Love yourself 
As you love another
Love what you do
Do what you love
Believe in yourself
For you and your image
Is god
Their is no god but you 
And all around you
Love nature respect
Live not with greed 
For your soul not 
To be lost to vanity 
On and on
Above all
Love life for
Life is love
Love is life
As you live with 
This principles 
You always live
Now as each
New day comes a
Better days

Oh better days
Can't be with out
The best of today

Copyright © richard nnoli | Year Posted 2014

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I'm Here Because

I'm here because.....
I need you to believe in me
You...Yes, YOU!
My fellow poet..
You who understands
my love for words and their nuances
denotations, but even more...their connotations
their play and interplay of emotions

I need you to believe in me
believe in my voice 
my selection and word choice
believe that I can make a change
with my catalytic composition of rhyme 
in this present time
when the world is in pain
when there is so much to gain
by the prophetic cry of a poet in the wildness
I need you to believe in me

I'm here because...
I need you to empathize with me
you who sees my words dripping
the blood of my lacerated heart
I'm incomplete
I'm scared
I'm holding on by one last thread
at times overcome by dread
life is hard
I need you to empathize with me
to write a little word
that will lift my heart
and caress my soul
with the balm of poetic love
friendship's bandage
Cover me....
I need your empathy
I'm here because...
I need community
others don't understand
this is not just a pastime
a cute little way to occupy my time
It's my heart and soul
my ever present goal
to live on when I'm gone
in some remembered little song
that you helped we write along
I need community
I need the you and the me
In the communal dance of poetry
They don't see
what words mean 
to you
to me

I'm here because...
I need your wisdom
I fall short
I see only within my vision
my periphery
I cannot keep in store
all the mysteries and more
you bring wisdom daily to me
a feast for my hungry mind
to relish all the truth I find
your wisdom nourishes me
I bloom into what  I'm meant to be:
a writer of sincerity

I'm here because....
When I'm not
I'm so incomplete
the missing parts of me
are here....
they live in my lines
they breathe in your rhymes
you write; I read
I write; you read
and life is born
and I am

I'm here because....
I belong
Here are people who understand
who help me to stand
who lend me a hand
I'm part of a band
of people like me
who taste the ecstasy
of a life that is blessed 
by sweet

For Jerry's Contest (Why are You Here)
December 30, 2015

Copyright © Eileen Manassian | Year Posted 2015

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A country walk

A babbling stream, a peaceful lane
These are the things that I enjoy
As I walk on a summers day
With a warm gentle breeze upon my face

A cottage in a field, with swirling smoke
A family sitting round ready to eat
Rich chicken soup and freshly baked bread
Then five little children all snug in their bed

A flitting bird upon the nest
Protecting her brood from unknown harm
A cow chewing cud all gentle and calm
Then sheep and one dog in one accord

Oh what a beautiful land we have
If we would take the time to see
Instead of rushing through the day
Let’s sit for a while and take it all in

Copyright © julie clark | Year Posted 2014

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Celebarating The Adventure Of Advent: A collaboration with Kai Michael Neumann

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

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*(For Me, the soup tastes good, For others...not so much.)

INDEED, there may be something wrong with the Soup
if spices don't get right many people will be leaving the table soon.

Good people have pointed out problems with taste and temperature to MGMT
only to fall on deaf ears.
Apparently the problems have been stewing for years.

There are hard working mothers, fathers, sons, daughters and grandparents
fighting for a cause in which they firmly believe.
They pay fees each year to a leader who they don't know and cannot see.

They taste and they eat and they share with the community.
They've invested with time and money and poured out their hearts with much 

Forty to one lopsided comment reply ratios have made their day hard
all these folks want is a little quality soup after punching the old time card.

I've sat at the table and witnessed smiles erase in defeat.
I've listen to their requests get neglected each day on repeat.

Where is the owner operator, could someone please step in and perform a 
table visit?
Getting this restaurant up to code ain't everything I suppose, but it'd sure be 

Now I'm just an outsider, secret shopper if you will,
Getting this change in motion would ease so many emotions...
consider it dessert taken off the bill.

Copyright © JSLambert Mister ROBOTO | Year Posted 2014

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Why I am Here at PoetrySoup

I’ve said it many times before,
and so I’ll say it one time more -
the many reasons which brought me
right here to this community.

I was persuaded by a friend
to come here, for it was the end
of a poetic family
I’d loved called Shadow Poetry.

My husband never liked to read
my poems. I realized I need
a way to show my meager art
and let the whole world see my heart.

The other reasons I’m here too
I’m sure are just the same for you.
I  love to write, so came to find
the poets who are of like mind.

Although no single site can be
the Holy Grail of poetry,
Soup’s International, and there
are folks from almost everywhere!

For friendships found here who are dear
is one more reason I am here.
I like the blogs, the comments and
the contests. They are often grand!

At times we see a fight or two.
That’s life; I shrug. What can we do?
I’m here inspired by contest themes-
friends, their poems and my writing dreams!

Written Dec. 28, 2015

Copyright © Andrea Dietrich | Year Posted 2015

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The Return of the Gay Knight

For my satire group, and for Will; a fairy tale

To a fanfare of horns
The young knight returned
With a tale of slain dragons to tell
The princesses blushed
And the old queen flushed
And the gay knights were happy as well

He had cast down his cross
From the height of his hoss
And left the thing there where it fell
For the great and the good
Were in need of the wood
To stoke up the fires of hell

He’d only been back for a moment before
He was begging a poke with a pardon
And a giggle, and “Push!”
From a quivering bush
Could be heard from the end of the garden

No need for a graven memorial stone
Or the ring of a funeral bell
The young knight was back
And well up for the crack
And all in the kingdom was well

© Gail Foster 2016

Copyright © Gail Foster | Year Posted 2016

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Contest Consternation

Do you ever write….just to write
Just to let your heart explode
Into a kaleidoscope of word colors
Embellishing the page of someone's life?

Does everything have to be a contest?
Guided by a theme
You forget the dream
Of your own magnificent thoughts?

Do you ever write…just to write
To release that fantasy
That prowls around in that gilded cage
Not sage
Not tamed
But that wildness that you keep 
hidden inside
oh so unbridled
Let it go free
unleash it for me

Write and break the bars of norms and forms
Of expected rules and lines
Rhymes and syllable straight jacket crimes
Oh…do you ever write
to let that madness free?

Do you ever write…just so you can breathe
To let go of pain so deep
the scream that tears across the page
Primal rage
At all who did you wrong
Killed and butchered your song
Eating you alive
Demon cries
clothed in sheep words by others
Not you
Let it be heard
That rebel yell
From internal hell
"cleanse me!"
Let your tears drop on the page
spent of rage
Knowing I will feel
empathy symphony of kindred souls

For ME
For what will be
No contest consternation 
an disrobing of "spirit's clad in veils"
a naked camaraderie
we are both the same
What a shame
To twist and turn
And dress to please
Someone whose
taste may be stale
Who knows not how to tease
For you
For me
And that contest
for NOW
I want to see
Your naked soul!

Eileen Manassian

The quotation is from Christopher Cranch's poem, Gnosis...I will share an 
excerpt of this amazing poem...

THOUGHT is deeper than all speech,
Feeling deeper than all thought:
Souls to souls never can teach
What unto themselves was taught. 

We are spirits clad in veils;
Man by man was never seen;
All our deep communing fails
To remove the shadowy screen. 

Heart to heart was never known;
Mind with mind did never meet;
We are columns left alone
Of a temple once complete. 

Like the stars that gem the sky,
Far apart though seeming near,
In our light we scattered lie;
All is thus but starlight here.

Christopher Cranch 

So...let's disrobe and undress...without rules...Let's confess. Let our light 
shine...not scattered but whole...body and soul. 

Copyright © Eileen Manassian | Year Posted 2014

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Calling all poets

Wake up, wake up, wake up I say.
There are words for you to find
And your poem is yet to get an end.

You slept for too long,
Some words are now long gone.
Others though still hanging in paintings,
Have lost their meanings.
Did you not heed my warnings. 

Quickly, quickly now
Let me show you how,
While we still have time and your feelings 
Are still living things.
Help save the words and their meanings
But you must use them now.
Abuse them if you must,
But go easy on the lust.
Humour them or wet them with your tears,
While others still have ears.
Whip them if you must,
But don't leave too much dust.
Just get them in line, 
While we still have time.
I promise you they will shine for other eyes,
Even if you lie.

There, there don't pull out your hair,
We are nearly there.
You will soon breathe more lightly here.

You have the words in your heart now,
Your soul is soaring now,
Words are pouring back in now,
Their meanings now on show,
For everyone to know

Take out your polishing cloth
It's time for truly beautiful words to come forth
and show their true worth.

The words are back in focus now.
The canvas's are freshly painted now.
Just take time to remember, that the new member,
Encouraged by the old, will let more words unfold,
So their meanings can be told.

There will be no more lamenting,
The words we lost while we were sleeping.
Only new words in numbers beyond counting
With meanings in greater number
To give us such wonder,
As we awaken from our slumber.

Copyright © David Smith | Year Posted 2016

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Love Is a Four Letter Word: A Collaboration with Unknown

Form: Acrostic
Look in your eyes unveils a smoldering ember that could make Gibraltar crumble.
One in a million heart that magically kindles fire without matches. Nothing...
Ventured, nothing gained in this rewarding game of love; a four letter word that
Emanates such sweet ecstasy. And no, I don't mean the drug
Saving souls
Unrepented to
Saviour is also here for you

Copyright © Steven Henderson | Year Posted 2016

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The Ghostland

it's not the same anymore
this is a haunted place
all the living
happy and smiling
writing a pretty line
feeling sublime's a ghostland to me

poets I used to know
those on fire
dripping passion
after a fashion
laughter resounding
keys getting a pounding
poetry driven
friendships? A given

Now? Memories survive
for slowly they perished
not being cherished
tired and sore
they couldn't take more
and they....walked out the door

dead to this place
they left just a trace
their poetic legacy
forgotten camaraderie
leering at me

word ghosts that haunt
rhyme echoes that taunt
empty places
forgotten faces

I'm one of the walking dead
your words alive in my head
So much left unsaid

The ghostland? It's here
more will leave, I fear
the precious, the dear
but as for me?

I'll remain...complacent and plain
feeling the drain
emotions slain
thoughts on the wane
I remain...I stay
hitting that replay
of your memory
ghosts of what used to be
your words living, breathing
inside of...

Eileen Manassian

*Since this has become POTD and will get exposure, I need to clarify something. This came to me, in part, after reading the news that Jack Ellison is thinking of leaving PS. He's a dear soul. I wrote this because there are several poets whom I miss....poets who are not as active or who have left altogether. This poem is not reflective of PS as I know there are many who are thriving here...AS THE POEM INDICATES. It's just my personal feelings. Thank you for respecting that.

Copyright © Eileen Manassian | Year Posted 2018

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On The Edge

 On The Edge

He lays flat on the floor
on the edge of his mind's cliff.
Taking notes, he wonders
“Is this life worth living?”

He tries to remember,
tries to grasp onto happier times.
Flickers of light flutter beyond his reach.
They tease and torture him.
Figments wrapped in glittering paper.
History books filled with white heroic faces.
His brown skin people
depicted as savages on those pages!
He remembers the gold stars on school papers.
He remembers the smell of Elmer’s glue.
Later he’ll brown paper bag inhale those vapours. 
His way of trying to escape promises and temptation,
the tearing away of his foundation.
There remains bits of himself,
imbedded in all that frustration.
All things geometrically angled away from him,
forced him to lose himself in their sin.
To survive he had let them reshape him like tin.
Red man, tin man, not knowing where to begin.
No one was present to help him,
no friends or Kin.
The tethers to his ancestors,
strong although they’re gossamer thin.
He feels the coolness of the terracotta tile
pressing against his forehead.
Soothing him,
studying him,
absorbing his fever.
Voices promising relief,
whispering to him,
"Let your blood accentuate my redness,
I will protect your bones.”

Light flows through stained glass.
Christ's brilliant blue eyes pierce his sadness.
Reassuring him,
There will be more days,
brighter days. 
“I am the way”
Warmth not clay,
Sadness shall be left to yesterday,
the floor will not be fed today.
Instead the floor is washed with his salty tears.
The edge vanishes.
Was he ever meant to be here?
One moment graciously turns to years.
He sits in a pew looking up away from himself.
It now all seems so clear,
He is released from fear.
What was taken he can’t find here.

So he gets up,
walks across the floor,
walks out the silent door.
Deciding once and for all,
he doesn't need or want,
this horrid place any more!

His heart is healed,
God goes where he goes.
The seed of suffering they planted,
no longer grows.
What he remembers sets him free,
he will not be lost to conformity!
He chooses a life of joy not misery.
Those in the church don’t know his history.
So how can they teach him who he needs to be?

Dedicated to native children abused in church and residential schools. 
Their culture was systematically stripped away. in some cases much worse things happened behind what should have been hallowed walls. 

In writing this I questioned if this piece was honoring to Native people. As I thought about this, I realized that this piece speaks to their resilience as a people. Despite what was done to them they have found a way to hold onto their culture, traditions, art and language. We have much that we can learn from them. I pray that healing comes from a place deep within their indomitable spirits.

By: Richard J. Lamoureux

Copyright © Richard Lamoureux | Year Posted 2018