Best Contacted Poems
To single out special people on soup is such a hard task
So many people have helped me, so it’s a really big ask
I discovered on soup there is an angel without wings
Her name is FJ Thomas and her praises I’ll gladly sing
A month after I joined soup an e-mail appeared
It said I was a ‘Premium Member’ it was so weird
I contacted soup said a mistake has been made
I’m a Premium Member … but I haven’t paid
They said the donor of my gift didn’t wish to be named
But I had no way to thank them, I felt so ashamed
I wrote a thank you poem so that they would know
Someone made it a favourite – but their name didn’t show
I later learned it was FJ Thomas, but by then she’d left the site
I wanted to make her proud of me, so I tried very hard to write
I’d not written a poem for many years,not since I was at school
Began writing when my hubby got cancer – a disease so cruel
Flo’s gift to a complete stranger meant the whole world to me
Writing became my lifeline I hope I’ve used her gift wisely
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Since joining soup I began to collaborate
You really should try it - it really is great
Teamed up with a guy called Darren Watson
His sense of humour was awesome oh boy we had some fun
I was a complete beginner and Darren encouraged me
Telling me how well I wrote and he loved my creativity
We began to collaborate as Jadazzle United
Our friendship blossomed, we were simply delighted
E mails would fly and my self confidence soared
With Darren around there was no time to be bored
My world was shattered when dad was diagnosed with cancer
Darren was there to comfort me, often with a witty answer
Sadly Darren became ill and our writing came to an end
I spent many many weeks trying to trace my lovely friend
Contact was established with his family and after over a year
I got an e mail from Darren, I was overjoyed to hear
Darren’s positivity for the future gave my heart a lift
Our friendship is so precious just like a priceless gift
We’ve both had ups and downs in our lives recently
We're writing together again and we’re as happy as can be
Contest:- Poetry Soup Heroes
Sponsor Catie Lindsey
My Poetry Soup heros
F J Thomas
Darren Watson
Categories:
contacted, angel, for her, for
Form:
Rhyme
[Written during a twelve hour power cut caused by
Storms this past winter]
The storm that arrived in the depth of the night
Got even worse with the new morning’s light
Although I presumed that they’d already know
I contacted the electricity co
I asked if they knew the whole town had gone dark
Are you fixing it or just having a lark
I think that I upset the man on the phone
He told me to wear a coat inside my home
Just listen to me, I said to the geezer
I think you should know I’ve got a dead freezer
Without any leccy it’s gonna defrost
And all of its contents are gonna be lost
We’re trying to sort it all out said the man
But I would suggest that you eat what you can
So I checked the freezer to sort out my tea
My cooker is gas which is lucky for me
I made my selection from my warming freezer
Fish fingers and chips… and ice cream and pizza
Sausages, drumsticks, a tasty rib-eye
Two rocket lollies, a steak and ale pie
Some prawns that I think have defrosted before
(I’m still gonna eat them because I’m not sure)
Some old sausage rolls from Christmas last year
A fisherman’s pie I’d forgotten was here
Another small pizza with awful fake cheese
An out of date bag full of freezer burned peas
Four quarter pounders and thinly sliced beans
I think I might loosen the belt of my jeans
Categories:
contacted, food,
Form:
Rhyme
Wading through flooded streets as hurricane rain poured
A man fell into the flow when sharp thunder roared
As a journalist reporting live from the scene
I saw lightning crack through the sky, heard the man scream
“Is he homeless?” I asked the emergency crew
The director shook his head; the answer he knew
“He lives in our park now, but served in Vietnam
He saved his entire unit from the Viet Cong.”
The team pulled him from the gutter to the shelter
I brought him tea, forgot I was a reporter
I asked why he’d screamed, his memory seemed hazy
“Did you hear the bombs drop?” asked Captain Bob Mazy
The emergency director took me aside
“We call him Crazy Mazy,” he did confide
He suffers from post-traumatic stress disorder
Can’t live with the lives he took following orders.”
When Hurricane Kate passed o’er the Gulf Coast
I’d seen much destruction, but remembered Mazy most
His story I broadcasted and vets contacted me
The donations poured in; so many gave freely
Soon we’d accumulated twenty-five grand
Just enough to buy Mazy an acre of land
Then people from his home state gathered one weekend
To build him a home, much effort they expended
Several social workers set up counseling services
To meet all his needs, everyone made concessions
Local stores gave him clothing, food, even a job
No longer “Crazy Mazy,” he was now just Bob
A gentle man who soon overcame all his fears
On Memorial Day, he was greeted by cheers
Accolades he’d never heard when he returned from Nam
But attitudes had changed and people’s hearts had warmed
Categories:
contacted, inspirational, people, war, ,
Form:
Narrative
Dear Poets,
I know for certain that I can never thank all of you enough for the supportive comments and messages you've written over the last 16 days. Each one represented a 'Get Out of Jail" card, letting me know your thoughts were with me.
With admiration and affection, please know that I respect each of you who took the time to write poems and/or inquire about me with kind sentiments. I could not read them in my own soup mail, but I did learn about your encouraging words through the kindness of friends that you contacted. I will do my best to catch up on reading and replying to all comments left for me but beg your patience in my doing so.
I was able to read all of your beautiful poems written to honor Milt. I can tell that he was respected and loved in the community. How could he not be, considering the fine qualities he had and instilled in many of us? He was my mentor, urging me to start entering contests again, after I'd quit for many months. He wanted me to get past him on that ladder, and I made it to the 2nd rung from the top before we lost him. I don't think I'll continue entering, so Constance, because of your humility and talent, I hope you remain on top. Caren sent soup mail about how sad it is to watch his picture moving spaces down on the home page until it will disappear. He will be gone from view, but not from our thoughts.
Tom, your news of Milton Creek would have made him very happy. You've honored him in such a special way by renaming our town. Thank you for being my voice on the site when I could not speak for myself.
With sincere thanks to all of you who I fondly call my poetic friends... it's long past time for me to write. Jenna's Saloon in Milton Creek is open for business. First round is on the house!
PS: Sheriff, it's time I get my Winchester back.
Categories:
contacted, how i feel, thank
Form:
Free verse
I peruse my list of ‘favourite poets’ and sadness comes over me
My writing partner Darren Watson – his poems I no longer see
We wrote together as Jadazzle United
Had such fun together I was so excited
Then he became ill and writing together ceased
He contacted me in August and our creativity was again unleashed
We have not written together since September last year
I’ve not had any news, for his well being I fear
The door is always open should he wish to write once more
My pen is poised ready for a Jadazzle United encore!
Many lovely poets have disappeared from our view
Robin, Ellie, Nature Boy, come back soon – we miss you!
Contest: Where Do Poets Go. Sponsor Jerry T Curtis
28th February 2016
Categories:
contacted, friendship, i miss you,
Form:
Rhyme
When we so chose, to manifest on earth,
Stirrings of love divine, brought forth a pulse;
Our innate aliveness, bubbling with mirth,
Humming resonation with God’s impulse,
Feeling by touch, each offered sensation,
In playful, blissful, childlike innocence.
Heart outpoured joy in spontaneous verse,
Soul aligned as one with all creation,
Dwelt in glory of God’s magnificence ~
Exuberance had no need to rehearse.
Our body had it’s need, fuelled by greed;
Gripped by desire, our mind was in a fog.
Stirrings of ego, soon started to breed,
Boon now bane, tail began wagging the dog.
Baton of awareness shifted to mind.
Insentient to love, our heart grew cold,
Enslaved by lust, we had nowhere to hide,
Bound head to foot in ego’s ruthless bind.
Love became a trade, soul to devil sold,
Our heart contacted, though God dwelt inside.
Back to the start, the time our soul was free;
By God’s grace, we melded head with our heart,
Throb of love as conscience, our referee,
Soul’s radiance restored as work of art.
Love in love with love offers no excuse,
Beauteous, all embracing, lyrical.
Bubbling effervescence is it’s delight;
Presence then succumbs not to ego’s ruse,
An epitome of God’s miracle,
Love drenched soul again glows as living light.
10-May-2022
10 syllables per line ~ HMS
Rhyme pattern: ababcdecde fgfghijhij klklmnomno ~ Rhymezone
Grammar ~ PS
Theme: Love
Form O- Ode- New poems Poetry Contest
Sponsor: Constance La France
Categories:
contacted, god, love,
Form:
Ode
So I found my decipher placed
on a site on cyberspace
with my name replaced
by a fake disgrace
the rhyme I’d written
where I hadn’t been submitting
now get ready for teeth gritting
yours too has seen a submission
Listen Soupers were all in the loop
cus I found poems I read on Soup
duplicated by this douchey duke
you should see this looters puke
Plagiarist profiles are mine to devour
but this could be a website conflict
their site thinks it has poetry power
been contacted still my poem sits
Ettahoustine this fraudsters name
you’ll find your write just the same
A call for arms or should I say pens
link below have a look my friends
Without a doubt undoubtedly
your own rhyme you’re about to read
a theft and crime so sad to see
copy and paste link Powerpoetry
https://www.powerpoetry.org/poet/ettahaustine/poems
(all poems have now been removed)
ONE SMALL WRITE FOR SOUP
ONE GIANT PUT RIGHT FOR SOUPKIND
POTD 18/08/2019
Categories:
contacted, anger,
Form:
Rhyme
In mania, the body unbinds itself.
The skeleton’s dense marrow becomes hollow,
an avian adjustment. It is accelerated evolution.
Fluttering and floating in a slew of thoughts
like nervous wind chime chatter.
My brother blew in through the rattling gate
accompanied by October’s cruelest gale.
Eyes unwillingly wide, levered by a crowbar
his hazel doorways ripped from their hinges.
He ran fervently through the streets of West Chester
with lungs coated with cannabis and amphetamines
until there was blood beneath his toenails, dripping out
just like Jesus’ wine weeping out from his searing limbs.
As he entered into the home of our distant childhood,
his back burned from the warm wrath of penitent leather
the self-flagellation, the begging for the flames of Purgatory
To appease the eyes of a looming Lord
his fate-sealing gaze hidden in twilight’s comforting veil
He says he holds a guilt beyond human comprehension,
that he is an evil person. I tell him we are just flawed people.
After a decade of intentful detachment, my brother cracks open
his ribcage as it blooms like a flower from his sternum.
He says there is a sickness in his soul, and that I will
never truly know him.
My mother and father have had heads made of granite
since he has come home. There are heavy eyes shadowed with
bags made of storm clouds. They have prayed with their
clergy. They have contacted multiple attorneys.
My sibling is a storm that has wrought ruin, but
he can heal. His violent storm might sow a beautiful season
The warmth of his first real smile will bring upon renaissance,
and as the tears and snot seep into the soil of my shoulder
our cheeks may grow a vibrant emerald moss.
Categories:
contacted, brother, drug, forgiveness, hope,
Form:
Free verse
‘MY BROKEN HEART’
Poem to Richard Madeley and Judy Finnegan
Here is my heart, broken in two.
Because I lost my chance to appear with you.
The greatest chance of my life, I’ve ever had,
To talk about my writing although it’s sad,
To meet denise again, the signed photo she gave me in ‘95’
Hangs on our kitchen wall with great pride.
I would never have gone on holiday to Skegness,
If I had known the outcome would have caused me so much distress,
To be contacted three times by you’re researcher, Nicola McNeleus
To be asked to appear on your show as a guest.
It broke my heart. When I found all her messages, but by then it was to late,
I would have come back from holiday, Done anything to keep that date.
I watch your show every day,
Please god let them give me another chance I pray,
I would give anything in this would to be.
Sitting with my husband with you two on that settee,
With my eighteen-year tranquilliser addiction and agoraphobia, I’ve been to hell and
back,
But now my life is back on track.
To give hope to others, to show the world what I have done,
Who knows it may even be fun.
So please Richard and Judy, answer my prayer,
Please, Please Please, let us be there.
Categories:
contacted, lifeme, me,
Form:
Rhyme
They're selling off our Airport, does anybody care?
The old Gazette's done nothing yet, no 'Save it' campaign there
The Echo there in Darlo seems quite reluctant to
Investigate the Peel Magnate and what they're pushing through
We contacted the BBC to find out what they thought
They built a reputation on injustices they've fought
But Inside Out's done less than nowt, it all seems too much hassle
Imagine the furore if it happened at Newcastle
It seems our dithering councillors sold off the legacy
Of half a million users, all done on the Q.T.
Our MPs tell us nothing, and, quieter than a mouse
Is the sinister young Minister of the Northern Poorhouse
Freedom of Information's not easy to obtain
Rumours of secret deals done, we hear now and again
But calls fall on deaf ears, to them it's all a game
Elected representatives should hang their heads in shame
It looks like asset-stripping, part of the business creed
As Peel dole out their reasons to mask their business need
And those we chose to serve us must surely think we're blind
I wonder who's being treated well, in my suspicious mind. CHING CHING.
We had a bustling airport, to us a little gem,
But giving up our heritage means simply nowt to them,
They're gonna build the factory sites and houses everywhere
They're killing off our airport and no one seems to care.
They're killing off our airport and no one seems to care.
WATCH ME SING THIS IN CONCERT. YOUTUBE
'AIRPORT' LOUIS SPENCE. Thank You
Categories:
contacted, anger, betrayal,
Form:
Epitaph
In one urban area in the Midwest, there lived a young, beautiful lady named A. She wanted to get married so young because she dreamed of having a dozen children.
One day, A met a young guy named B. They felt it's "love at first sight" and so they became girlfriend and boyfriend so early. Nothing too serious happened between the two during the eleven months of good relationship. On the twelfth month, B disappeared. A searched for B the whole month, but never saw him again.
A met a new guy, named C. They became closed so quick and spent eleven months of laughter and enjoyment. On the twelfth month, however, C died. A was brokenhearted and grieved one whole month. A said to herself that she doesn't want to fall in love again.
A month later, she met a different guy named D. A decided not to have a serious relationship with anyone anymore. Their relationship lasted a year and parted ways.
A met another guy, named E. She did the same thing. And every year thereafter, she just changed her boyfriend in the next twenty years -- meeting F, G, H, I... and Y. On the twenty-first year, A met Z. Their relationship lasted almost a year too.
A wrote on her diary everything about her previous relationships, good and not so good that she felt and experienced in her life. She even decided to publish her diary and keep it for life. When she called the publishing company she contacted for printing, she was asked to appear in person. It's the editor who requested her to come over.
When A met the editor, she was surprised. She met B again after twenty-five long years. And finally, A was married.
Categories:
contacted, for her, for him,
Form:
Prose
Dear ‘Depressed’: So you’re in a mess.
You’re not sure what to do.
I think I have your answer, because
Your boyfriend contacted me too.
Now, you may not be happy
With what he had to say.
When I asked him if he loves you,
He made a face and said, “No way!”
Then I said, “She thinks that you love her.
Do you?...or was it just a Summer fling?
“No! Yes!,” he said. I’ve tried to make it clear
It’s over and she doesn’t mean a thing.
I was feeling trapped by my fiance,
So I had a fling. Yes, I cheated… I guess;
But my conscience was killing me,
So I went to her and confessed.
She’s forgiven me. We’re soon to be wed.
She’s who’s been answering the phones.
So, you can help. Just talk to that crazy girl.
Please ask her to leave us alone.”
Well, Depressed. I guess that’s it.
You’d better look for a new ‘steady’.
On second thought, maybe not;
I think you’ve had TWO many already.
Submitted to the 'Aunt Agony' contest
Categories:
contacted, angst, betrayal, boyfriend, break
Form:
Rhyme
I stare at the stark darkness ahead,
My hands squeeze the steering wheel
While a simple trepidation musters its way to my heart
The road is long, my headlights keeping shadows in check
I see the smooth path, intrigued by its uniform contentment
My tires and many tires before have moseyed yonder upon it
In the dark and light alike, with perspectives all their own,
Had they once thought, in the dusk or in the sun,
How much more will this road tolerate?
How much harder will the sun beat upon it,
And will the chilled darkness one night crumble it to nothingness?
There is no answer of course,
For they are silly inquiries, dimming campfire talks
And really, questions stem from a lonely mind blabbering alone…
The road moves unobtrusively,
Or am I moving?
Pressing this car with privilege to play its role,
Bravely contacted with the cold
Running steadily
Through the friction of the tires
This road, it will crack someday, in all the usual places
Dulling, eroding, becoming near-natural
Just to be made new and safe again
Ready for man and roadkill…
I will ask one more time for solitude’s sake,
Why is it so perpetually smooth?
I expected a bumpy night in this desolate stretch
But we should not have the ability to expect what disturbs us…
I am reminded that roads do not mean to satisfy little wonderments
Can care less for these zooming contrivances
That we sit in comfortably, turning on the radio to drown out the mutability
Tonight I bask in it, and though I am not fully lost in the night,
The road and this car keep me feeling secure,
Even when surrounded by wilderness
It occurs to me a lot—
How can one feel so human?
In the comfort of a car, we escape the darkness of the wild
Only barely,
And the road behind me,
Well it is abandoned, forgotten for a while
Till more wheels spin across its surface some other day
It is so smooth,
Barren and ordinary
Not existing to dream its own existence
But it is gracefully real, and getting realer
As I continue to gaze through the glass
Categories:
contacted, car, confusion, emotions, night,
Form:
Free verse
Ted hunted high and low when trying to find the perfect wife
She must be subservient and fit in with his mundane life
The Internet looked promising to find a mail order bride,
and soon a special lady could be standing by Ted’s side
The catalogue was full, brides came in all shapes and sizes,
such a variety of colours, each page was filled with huge surprises
Ted’s eyes widened when he saw Svetlana’s pretty face
She had a gorgeous body and her bits were all in the right place
With her long blonde hair and sapphire eyes
Ted could be the envy of many other guys
Svetlana’s resume said she wanted to marry a foreign man
She was determined to escape from her life in Azerbaijan
Ted contacted a website and said he’d a pay a hefty fee
He wanted to wed Svetlana and he hoped that she’d agree
Ted said he’d pay for Svetlana to visit him in the USA
And if she was suitable they could choose a wedding day
The flight was booked and Ted was getting really excited
He spoke to Svetlana on the phone and hoped they’d be united
At last the big day came and he went to the arrivals hall
Svetlana wasn’t on the flight, oh how Ted’ s face did fall
Suddenly Ted heard someone calling out his name
It couldn’t be Svetlana as her pic was not the same
This lady was enormous and looked like the back end of a cow
Poor Ted was in a quandary… just what should he do now
Ted went over to her and said there must be some mistake
She said no I am Svetlana, sorry that picture was a fake.
Ted felt so sorry for her and took her to his home
He didn’t want to leave her in the airport on her own
They spent some time together and they got on really well
She was a fabulous cook and Ted’s waistline soon did swell
Svetlana stayed with Ted and eventually they wed
Ted is really happy now Svetlana shares his bed!
17th February 2017
Categories:
contacted, confusion, funny love, humorous,
Form:
Couplet
Sodom and Gomorrah...genesis 19;24
Pompeii...August 24 , a d 79....
1859...the great solar flare struck....telegraph offices reported set ablaze across the face of the globe.....
Am I a man of faith?
Am I a man of facts?
By this believing...
And seeing with my own eyes, for what that is worth to one legally blind.
Aye....
Several years ago near hit with a solar flare...setting the earth back to the days of the British sir...Mr Newton if it had contacted....
Do I believe the words of christ?
Do I consider myself totally dependent on solo christi..
Dio willing , aye...
Christianity has become more horizontal hold
Less vertical hold...
Atheists? Well they get in a fix or right and say o good Lord..
As though he is a mere expression...
Categories:
contacted, baptism, faith, internet, science,
Form:
Free verse