Across the Bayou Waters
Into vast trails of wilderness
I follow a sound, a sullen scent
He was out there,
hairy large and in charge
Drugs under the beastly moonlight
Heavy torrents swept me in
Deep, down and dark
Under a hidden den
Between the moon and stars
I gaze into a world unknown
A comparison of salt water and bonnets
Lord of the forest deep
Entrapped in a romantic secret sonnet
Over the corner in every shadow
Red Auburn hair, above a 12 foot pair
Daring to face the lone gallows
In one peek
I observe it was not made by men
The fear became excitement
It offered a moment to think
I don't know if it wants to injure me
It sniffs me repeatedly,
Smearing my skin with his nose
This type of behavior, this smell
Began to arouse my rose
Rough nails grip around my neck
Forest flavored lips
Unravelling a taste unhuman
The touch erupts and fills me with fear
Still, I long to linger near
Sunrise starts with a grin
Revolving around the mood
Upon his long coat of shrooms
Without fear I stroke his thick fur
Rough and sweet I repeat
Living or dying, I stay
To love the fear-driven inside
Day after day
Deep and gray, life fades
Then becomes elusive
11 years the sun hides
Dark eyes, hold me all night
This wild man, by the bedside
Cries from the woods before sunset
Somewhere behind hidden walls
The woods stand tall
Flowers welt from this burning love
My heart owned by the sasquatch
Though rapid dreams and streams,
Of Big Foot and I
Copyright © Poet Destroyer A | Year Posted 2015
'O dreamy night
with wandering eyes
you could not lie to me;
deceive the drifts of snow
with crystal glitter...
Like tender downs in a midnite hour
Not a stirring soul but I in thy amphitheatre
this white night
where backyard chairs nestle snow-cakes
and the maple arbors
soft with wind shadows...
make my eyes wide with sleep
The sheep are calling in the stardust...
and from moonbeams
this muse must fade...
***I wrote this poem a few winters ago, but
I find it soothing to post this hot summer***
Copyright © Keith O.J. Hunt | Year Posted 2017
-Poetry Soup Kitchen-
Grab your aprons and spoon
Today we will not think of the stars and the moon,
Open your eyes, be grateful for all we have
Together we can paint the world
In any which way we desire
Let's give, live and celebrate the New Year
Poetry Soup Style
Happy New Year
Copyright © Poet Destroyer A | Year Posted 2014
They enter the strip
joint like the last
flurrie of flakes.
She hears the music,
hears the voice of the
D.J. Wind, enters on cue.
Her cold poles await her
as she moves to the beat.
One south, one north.
She works them both.
They call her Storm
she is the feature act.
Drawing her minions
in for months now.
Quickly the starkness of ivory
starts to melt off her body.
The long blanched gloves
covered those particular
patches are the first to go
revealing the fresh lustre of
bare skin once again exposed.
she's a professional!
She stares out
noticing the skeletal
frames once only
now with a glimmer
She knows her time
is short now
feels a hint
of life in her
that are telling.
Was that really a chirp
or just a whistle?
The pulse of warmth starts
to pump through her veins.
Now her shiny robe
falls to the ground and
you can sense the smell
of want in the air.
The flow of liquids
previously frozen stiff.
Storm the stripper
slowly teases the crowd.
Down to her Victoria Secret
garb she tugs at our groins
knowing her audience craves
In this case that also
I personally will miss her
in this present form.
Her tidy white lingerie
against her tanned skin.
You just want to
ride up, and maneuver
your way down.
The timing is wrong.
I know she will strip bare
as first the top goes then
down to a G-String of snow.
in front of me.
She will meander a bit
shake with a breeze
of perfumed cold.
Slide onto the floor as she undulates
with her come ons that near a finality.
She saunters off the stage
and me I watch winter's end.
Spring, on winter's barren
ground starts to peek from
around the curtain,
with her touch of green.
Her array of pastel colors.
Ladies and Gentlemen,
Winter has left the building,
Spring is here!
Sponsor: SKAT A
Contest: Winters End
Copyright © Maurice Yvonne | Year Posted 2015
Now I ask you this
A more common name you will not find
Cities have thousands of them
Small towns have at least one
Why pretty much everywhere you go
You will find a Mr. Smith
Why once in china
In the middle of nowhere
This old Chinese man came out of his hut
Shook my hand
Said , Ni Hoa me Mr. Smith
I was truly and duly shocked
Being a Smith, he made me tea and served me lunch
Go to any hockey game and I will tell you this
In the stands
There will be 1000's and more
of Smiths, Mr. and Misses and all manner of Smiths
Why even the Montreal Canadians have one!!!
Now if you turn around, there will be a smith behind
The odds say this is true, and thankfully for all,
To hold a door open
To help an old lady across the street
The Smiths are gods angels
Lending a helping hand
Love and good cheer, you know a smith is near
Now you may ask me how I know all this to be true
The answer is quite simple you see
I know a Tim Smith
A kinder man you will not find
A family that loves him
Friends that appreciate him
A tavern that knows him by first name
Someone who always buys me a DRINK!!!!
A man of loyalty this is for sure
What else explains a Blackhawks fan?
So I tip my hat to my friend Tim
I raise a glass of good cheer and salute
To a family man of honor
With a heart of gold for those lucky enough
To know Him
Copyright © arthur vaso | Year Posted 2015
The evening sun reclines, dips
her trailing skirts into the fire;
she lounges on the edge of dusk,
her sultry lips, crimson desire.
With violet tints, her painted eyes,
brazen behind a blushing cloud,
stare at every lake and pond
to view the beauty she's endowed.
We sigh to see her slip beyond
the rim of sight; her lovely face
may never be just quite the same
as now, framed by the black tree lace.
Faye Lanham Gibson
Copyright, May 8, 2014
Copyright © Faye Gibson | Year Posted 2014
All the slightest detais that make us so far apart, but so alike
Sun :) - A-L Andresen :)
Copyright © All Rights Reserved
Copyright © Sunshine Smile | Year Posted 2017
Each new day I read
Poems from around the world
A great Safari
27.03.2015 A-L Andresen :)
Copyright © All Rights Reserved
Copyright © Sunshine Smile | Year Posted 2015
All that was upside down, turned
They watch over us
Gods small miracle workers
From encounter with Angels
19.07.2015 A-L Andresen :)
Copyright © All Rights Reserved
Copyright © Sunshine Smile | Year Posted 2015
cotton - candy clouds
in my pretty rainbow dress, I
softly sing along with the anthem
of Western Winds. Airy and light, I'm lured-
being invited to sway so slow,
swirling in intimate tango with
the cool - sweet breeze.
Breathing anew, I
clamor for more,
I dip and dive.
With snaps in my tail, I soar high! High
like a ship sailing the playful tides
of the blowing winds, mounting
from lows ~ to ~ peaks
but as the wind rest
I will be
SPONSOR: Broken Wings
Contest Name: Creative Layouts
6:08 pm, October 20, 2015
Copyright © Olive Eloisa Guillermo | Year Posted 2015
Don't rush to wash off the sea salt
drying on your skin;
the hopes it carries from other oceans,
those remain yet to be seen.
Copyright © A.O. Taner | Year Posted 2016
Branches wave naked in the autumn wind,
Leaves being tossed carelessly through the night.
Dark rain clouds are dominating our sky
And my eyes ask where the beauty has gone.
Daybreak shows sleepily its weary head
Just to return to bed, early again.
Cold and wet invading our daily walks
And my eyes search for signs of a blue sky.
Alas, the first of many snowflakes fall
Bringing the beginning of brighter days.
Grey disappears under a white blanket
And my eyes applaud November’s beauty.
The white snow has brought pureness in its wake
And nights are brighter from shimmering snow.
We light a fire, and it brings us such warmth
And my eyes feel the sun shine once again.
Poet Destroyer A's Contest
Impress Me with a Poem
Copyright © Brenda Meier-Hans | Year Posted 2014
>Playing games with tennis balls?
Men, playing games with tennis balls!
Earn far too much dough.
In the game of tennis you know.
Some male players are now acting tough.
Saying they aren’t paid enough.
For playing games with balls not too rough.
Now they say they want more pay.
Than women, who with their balls do play.
Dragon, that last line sounds not right.
Might be read wrong, on first sight.
Guess someone will soon complain tonight.
We’ll blame it on AI, that’s right.
I’m glad they’ve all got the same dough.
When winning Wimbledon you know.
I still feel sorry for all them balls.
When served so fast into the air.
That’s the thing, I don’t think’s fair.
Why is it when men play ball games?
They insult women so.
Them that play tennis, with those tennis balls.
Some men really do you know.
If women should with those tennis balls play.
Men should never complain anyway.
For when women serve those balls so.
Men can volley them back you know.
Women may not be as strong as men.
In all sport games they play.
But neither do they throw tantrums.
If match points, don’t go their way.
I’m not a keen tennis viewer, that I must declare.
As I watch those poor tennis balls, whizzing through the air.
I had a job explaining that, to my friend Planet Nine.
He thought they were small planets, being hit for fore.
I said that was another sport, best we do ignore.
I wish all sports ball game prizes, were at least the same.
Played on a fair smooth plain
Not on a plane that flies so high.
You can’t play those ball games, in the sky.
So come on you men, do play fair.
Pay all prize money equally so there.
When women play, ball games with you.
They can be on equal pay too.
What else can I really say?
As I play with balls every day.
But as a poet, I don’t play swell.
Nor am I paid as blinking well.
Well done Dragon and you Spellchecker, sorry but we will have to divide the royalties with Planet Nine. Why? That simple he is bigger than us. Bye everybody. Stanley (The mad Author)<
Copyright © STANLEY Harris | Year Posted 2016
Your love is real
the love you feel.
Your love is great
the love you make.
Your records are on fire
its your desire.
Take me out tonight
and go wild and crazy,
or be fat and lazy.
So I played some Doors
and saw some whores.
So I said goodbye
and they all must die, fool.
So dig my guts
and eat my brain
and then go insane.
Care I love it
so forget it, Punk!
Copyright © Blake Holland | Year Posted 2015
Just the thought of you
inspires me to heights
of grandiosity and elegance
You coerce me to create
writings, poems of distinction
How does this entrancing
energy transpose into art,
permutations of heights
drifting through ions
of transposition, toughness
It's a mystical phenomenon
that's existed for ages,
from the inception
of humanity's ineptness
through the age of technology
bolstered by craters
of existential drifting
parallel to the Muse.
Copyright © Frank Sheehan | Year Posted 2016
I was here once
But now I'm one of the forgotten ones
I faded away slowly
Like the once vibrant blue of blue jeans
The edges frayed
as I walked along the road of fleeting popularity
I felt my fabric thinning
until I became comfortable
It made me kinda cool in a way
for I was worn almost every day
it felt better than okay
Paired with shirts and sweaters
until a time later other clothes seemed better
My holes became too noticeable
instead of somewhat perceptible
The day came
when I was sorta just a bit out of style
So you washed and folded me
carefully put on me on a shelf
After all I was a favourite
no one wants to throw a favourite away
Right there in the closet I stayed
Next to all the pretty new things
until the day
You might wear me again
things just are what they are
faded old blue jeans
If you ever do find them
You smile and remember
how they made you feel
when you try them on
they don't fit anymore...
Copyright © Richard Lamoureux | Year Posted 2016
Ocean Versus Pool
cool, but unlike days
beside my pool, the ocean lives
a moving thing, with surf and sand it has its fling, and
far out past the eye can see, instead of woods, the sky meets sea…delightful choice for me!
© Sandra M. Haight 2015
All Rights Reserved
Sponsor: Rob Carmack
Syllables Checked: 1-1-2-3-5-8-13-21
Copyright © Sandra Haight | Year Posted 2015
Whenever the sun hides behind cloud,
One could discover lightening & thunder aloud.
When it starts to drizzle, the roads fill up with mud;
Then heavy rains cause it to flood.
Some people feel the rain, others just get wet;
After a few moments the rain gets set.
When anybody is in pain,
But we can't have any rainbow without heavy rain.
Copyright © Muskan Bagdiya | Year Posted 2014
My imaginary resturant is painted sky blue.
Please enter, let me entertain you.
There is soft music playing.
The kind I hope will get you swaying.
Each table has an ocean view.
Never booked out, always a few.
Smiling faces take your order.
The menu will include fresh lobster.
The house wines are oh so mellow.
Poured by a very handsome fellow.
The chef is Italian and sings as he cooks.
He has written a wonderful cookery book.
Wholesome goodness served with flair.
New dishes to try if you dare.
Delectable delights of delicious tarts.
Easy conversation before you part.
Linger over fresh ground coffee.
On paying the bill, offered a toffee.
How soon can you dine again?
Let's meet you here next week my friend.
Copyright © JEAN MURRAY | Year Posted 2016
I called my love on the phone, to say hi!
Duplicating the moments around the sky
With not many things to say :-)
I asked about the climate per say
A nice way to converse,
Nonstop heat throughout the universe
Smiling, without many words to share
I stroked the phone, describing the hot air.
"It’s getting hot outside"
I'm just here Enjoying the sunrise."
--Smooth and slow the steam in Aspen has me beat
--Suddenly 99.9 degrees was the new rising heat
I chuckled and added, -looks like 100% chance of rain
Keeping myself inside, with a wetness calming sane
A new flash flood coming in
Reminding him how easy it is to slip in mud
I continued to talk and toke
Then he joined me with a joke.
Replying, with a tease.
I feel the wetness over there
I would not mind taking a dive in THAT flood
Don't worry I know how to handle slippery mud
---from back to front.
It's looking gloomy out here without my love
Down here in Mandalay it drips a lot
Pure satisfaction when the climate in Aspen gets hot
Could you be kind in sending a picture of how wet it is down there?
I will call you back when the drizzling stops over here.
By: P.D. ( please judge the name, not the poem )
Copyright © Poet Destroyer A | Year Posted 2010
Trees shake old cobwebs from their heads
A kaleidoscopic parade of colors tumbles down
Pretty reds and yellows, parasol shapes
Parachute softly and collect in mounds
Falling leaves that drift and cross our paths
Brought on by climates cooler winds
Leave the trees in all their majesty
To become the magic of the season
Created on 9/03/14 for Autumn Colors poetry contest
Copyright © Earl Schumacker | Year Posted 2014
Welcome September with a brand new moon
New and exciting beginnings occur
Planting new seeds to fulfill new fruit soon
Falling in love with autumn cool breeze stir
Life elegance to be September trees
Sounds of strumming strings unfurl brittle limbs
Fall breeze a soothing kiss of amber leaves
Enchanting they fall round and round with wings
Fickle gaiety among festive days
Departing summer amid cooler nights
My spirit’s pureness admires and sings praise
The last of harvest corn dollies delights
Remember September as Fall enters
Surrendering to hints of cool winter
Copyright © Eve Roper | Year Posted 2016
At the time,
a princess made of ice
appealed to him.
She came across him gradually
on a nice day.
were palest blue,
looking steadfast, but not cross.
She came across him winningly
on a *n ice* day.
At the time,
he did not know her,
but she soon made up for that,
coming across as a princess-wife -
his love in ice pack.
Contest - Don't Fight It.....Write It!!
Sponsor - John lawless
1st place win
Copyright © Julia Ward | Year Posted 2015
In the Calm of Blue
Under a soft serene sky I lie
swathed in a blanket of white clouds.
Sing me a sweet lullaby,
and free me of all cares
in the calm of cool,
Copyright © Pandita Sanchez | Year Posted 2016
Like a pig in heat
Praising God for he believed
He sat, 2 years old
And he looked at the lord
Drew an angels breath
Swatted a toy
A bird that could not fly
Meant for another mans eye
took a colorado bound plane
in the seat pocket in front
was a small toy ostrich
I shoved it deep into my pocket
I could not say why
When I got home
a sickness ensued
with pink cottage cheese chunks
Filled up the sink
and i withered in pain
on the window pane
it was white like a ghost
did not appear on french toast
it was like a laser etching
awoke to the bird symbol awakening
and i had that toy
same exact size
and this symbol on the window
with every feather perfectly detailed
could be traced from the toy to the window
difference was that the tail was composed many fine, white, smooth flowing, intermingling lines
translucent, and seen best by brightest daylight
I thought it was condensation
that it would fade away
but it remained
Copyright © Sir William | Year Posted 2016