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Best Emotional Poems | Poetry

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

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New Emotional Poems

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

Emotional Onset Surges Like Tsunami 1st wave by harris, matthew
Emotional Onset Surges Like Tsunami 2nd wave by harris, matthew
EMOTIONAL LEARNT FLOWERS by Lee Sr., James Edward
Emotional Reparations To Eden Liat part uno by harris, matthew
Emotional Reparations To Eden Liat part deux by harris, matthew
Emotional Delight by Bhat, Archana
Emotional Novel Written with Yearning Memories by Iljina-Pechenova, Valentina
Emotional cubism by Raynes, Lewis
Emotional by Mbalamana , Leo
Emotional Rhythm by Asuncion, Bernard F.

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The Best Emotional Poems

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Starry Starry Night

When Wishes were made on a shooting star The Heavens looked down and smiled With sprinkles of stardust on a whisper of moonbeams They created for us a child Soothed you were by twinkling stars In a crib that faced a velvet sky Did Queen Cassiopeia sing you a sweet lullaby As she heard your cries from ever so high In the years that followed you blossomed Joy abounded at the Wondrous You A rare jewel that we could hardly believe was ours A beacon lighting a path so True We named you Vincent - Our shooting Star We felt with the artist you identified a gifted creativity - an affinity with stars Sharing a world of art personified The ‘Via Lactea’ expanded into names defined Elliptical galaxies pondered while star gazing Sirius the Dog Star the brightest of all Followed by Canopus and Arcturus - Amazing Vega - Alpha Lyrae - the Soaring Eagle You dragged us into your nightly game Willing participants we soared with Him Our mundane lives now never the same Tents were pitched on ink black nights Constellations on high seriously contemplated Of Draconis, Capricornus, Gemini and Aries The Heavenly hand that had so skilfully created You captured the Milky Way in oils and canvas In a fashion shared with artists of old Your palette made up of hues and shades With flaming strokes of colors so bold And then it all Changed Why did it all change? You drew within Shutting us out despite our pleas Your palette changed to blacks and greys A boat rocking on emotional seas We begged and pleaded - you shut the door Leaving us baffled at what was wrong Your light grew dimmer by the day Our sorrow sang its own woeful song And then on one starry starry night The final flame - extinguished by you Leaving utter devastation - bereft in its wake Your parents’ hearts broken in two Time heals all wounds so they say Your farewell note being read and reread Through tears of sadness, the hurt replaced With acceptance and forgiveness instead. And now as we sit years later on our porch Staring at one star that sparkles so Bright The words of Don McLean’s echoes in our minds Of Vincent and his Starry Starry Night ‘For they could not love you But still your love was true And when no hope was left in sight On that Starry Starry night You took your life Like sometimes lovers do But I could have told you Vincent This world was never meant For one as beautiful as you’
Footnote: Though fictitious, this is a story that truly represents teenage Cyber bullying suicides all over the world including Asia today. The innocent victims fear blackmail and repercussions refusing to talk it over with parents or mentors. The parents are not even aware sometimes of the dark void of despair their child is facing and trying to address by themselves of which they have no experience and sometimes think the only way out is to end it all. In this cyber age, these cowardly bullies hide behind anonymity, targeting their innocent victims, spreading and sharing lies and venom. Hat’s off to my friend Kate Pennington of ‘Beyond a Joke’ Anti-Bullying Centre, in Sydney Australia, an amazing lady dedicated to helping the youth. No real names of victims have been used in this piece of poetry and any resemblance is purely coincidental. POTW 23rd April 2017


Copyright © Maria Williams | Year Posted 2017


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Soul Searching Trek Along Winter's Snow Painted Trails


Waking to cold blown tent, ground frozen icy hard woods are my love, as is poetry to a bard. Today starts my anticipated forest trek, seeking salvation from heart's emotional wreck, last night I watched stars twinkle in heavenly skies pondering how to overcome world's darkest lies. Now dawn breaks, sends fresher pair of gem seeking eyes desirous to find what Time, Fate and Earth denies, finding cold breeze that blows snowflakes from white cream ground, thankful for Nature's sanctuary here now found. First step taken, this soul takes its desperate flight, embrace anew, treasures that make life feel alright. Through drifted powdered paths my healing does begin rhythm of my brisk breath is like a cleansing hymn. Serenity in solitude is what I seek, in contemplative meditations I do speak amongst the frosted firs a chapel for my prayers in your Trust surrendering all worries and tears. To slow life’s commotion and hush harsh emotion, quiet communion in woodland is my potion - sweetest swells of ecstasy makes my spirit swoon in whitest snowdrop bloom my heart will follow soon. With every snowy step I purify a thought in this pristine Love I find absolution sought. The winding trail I followed with a downcast face and left behind the sorrow of my past disgrace. Ascending farther to the snowy mountains peak animated to discover my fate unique. I shall not let my courage waver, not this time, with weary steps I continue my forward climb. The final steps to reach my summits divine light, my mind virtuous as snowflakes of purest white, I inhale the essence of life at nature’s hem, finally free from chains of torment I condemn. With Fate and Time to blend with Earth, I shall redeem my dignity and recover my self-esteem. Robert J. Lindley, Susan Ashley, Teppo Gren (a collaboration - joining as one voice and one searching soul) July 25, 2018 _________________________ ~ Poem Of The Week ~ Week of July 29, 2018 It is an honor for me to share in this recognition with my gifted collaborators, Robert Lindley and Teppo Gren _________________________ My poet’s note: Dear Robert, mere words cannot express my great appreciation for extending your invitation to Teppo Gren and myself for a collaboration with you on this special spiritual poem of soul searching and soul learning. I am so fortunate to be able to create poetry with two such wondrously gifted poets and this lovely artistic experience was a thrilling and beautiful poetic journey for me to take with both of you. Thank you, Robert and Teppo, for sharing with me the treasures of your illuminating and creative talents, fruitful friendships and endless exquisite inspiration..


Copyright © Susan Ashley | Year Posted 2018


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The editing of me

My words were rewritten until they became yours
As grammar and syntax perfected your thoughts
Pages lined with highlighters polished me to extinction 

I wanted to resist all of those good intentions
Yet I knew you wanted your best words for me
You weren't listening so you couldn't hear what I was asking for
Poor boy me I lacked the courage to say it loud enough
I felt my voice become tiny as my heart disappeared

Sure my words were somewhat awkward
Still I had things to express that way
My rhythm was imbedded in the word play
You crumbled my granite and turned it into clay
It happened slowly a bit day by day 

I was there hidden in the disconnected details
Crystal blue eyed observations to share
Becoming myself on the verge of aware
You could have found me there
My words weren't lacking weight or substance
Like a series of road signs I pointed in a certain direction
I wasn't looking for polished perfection
What I desired most was emotional connection!

The trip must have seemed hard
You couldn't see past the curves in my road
It was to difficult to decipher my emotional code
So instead you bulldozed through my mind
with a big truck weighted with your own heavy load

If only you could have lingered and waited
Maybe you could have been sated
My words were interplayed and related
The strength of your ego I had not anticipated
In your wake I was left dejected and frustrated

There had been points of interest along the way
sprinkled star dust amidst the Milky Way
Beneath were gardens in which you could have come to play
There was no rush, I wanted you to stay
Until my liquid thoughts were morphed into hay

There before you
I had erected statues of delight 
adorned in billowing fabric made of light 
Perhaps you were blinded by my bright
unexpected in the middle of the night

You could have occupied my pleasure
Below my surface a spring fed treasure
A gift for you beyond measure
You could have witnessed the essence of me
Even though you came so close
you just couldn't see...

This is an old one that I have significantly reworked. 



Copyright © Richard Lamoureux | Year Posted 2016


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WALLPAPER

WALLPAPER

---------------------
Paper Thin
Cut down to any size,
Crumble, crop me wrong 
Pull the insulation from my heart.
Never will I be "A Paper Doll!"
Thank you for calling me a "Friend!"
Thank you for wasting  my "time!"
Enjoy the WALLPAPER display
---------------------

Layers and layers of lifeless brick
KEEPS EVERYTHING OUT! 
Emotional poster boards of doubt 
Envious fiberglass green never seen
Yuletide Carols warped around my energy
Merry and full of acrylic sh!t-
Hand full of putty maintains the makeup on my face
Arts and crafts display my inner fancy grace
Heavy installed Sheetrock so easily replaced

Tough paint chips away silently through the night
Rigid boards transform into fragile crystal light
The greatest illusion blinding reality 
Smooth Tiger Skin, texture of orange simple peel  
Beautiful mud swirl, L'Oreal.
Gypsum soft enough you want to touch

Dark walls of a thousand words
A plasterboard of discordant grey notes
Blots and clots of ink, enslave my skin  
Colorless drywall, resilient to your charms  

Printed designs of cleverly decorated lipstick 
Morbid shadows underneath the ceiling veil
A double coat of Pacific Waterproof Blue-
Printing bags from -- YESTERDAY!

Plastered wounds of cement dry and roughens along the edge
A human-made barrier, not even God comes in.

by;PD


Copyright © Poet Destroyer A | Year Posted 2013


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Frozen Noose

Anxiety    (The Worst Noose In Town)

-- like flooding waters, creeping in
I count 30, seconds, holding my breath again
Drowning in agitation, overwhelmed by fear
I try to hide the pressure in hopes I don't pass out
My pores are soaked, from all the perspiration
I feel the pins and needles pushing in
My skin is ruined from all the peeling
At this point, I can't seem to win

Washed out by dead hope and desire 
My soul is lost searching for a shore
leashing, grasping and ripping the chest wide
I count 40, seconds, once nausea can't be blocked
Everything about this moment is driving me mad,
I need to escape, however, my knees are too weak
I tremble while losing control to the emotional distress
My knuckles are pale, detached from reality,
wounds forced with further embarrassment.
Guaranteed failure surrounds my day
Numbness strikes my very essence - I can't move!

Lost in a room, 
Therapy - even so I feel singled out


HAPPY VALENTINES (it can get the best of us)  
---------------------------- love Linda


Copyright © Poet Destroyer A | Year Posted 2016


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A Tear-ful Conversation With My Daughter



It starts with only one - one like me... a melancholy migrant from the immortal part of her to the locus of her physical being; the center of her emotional wisdom ~ I gain heartfelt strength as I gather my forces rising up en masse riding cresting waves of woe to breach the ramparts; the welling rims of her loving eyes. It starts with only one - one perfectly ripened drop of sorrow; this beautifully packaged pain and a lustrous cascade of soulful pearls ensues wept gems pouring forth from a pure heart ~ I am the tears your mother cries. Susan Ashley May 5, 2018 _________________________________ ~ Poem Of The Week ~ Week beginning Sunday, May 13, 2018 ——————————————— ~ Seventh Place ~ Contest: Early May Premiere (2018) Sponsor: Brian Strand


Copyright © Susan Ashley | Year Posted 2018


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Tears on her pillow - continued from A girl named Sue


Tears for a Mother Fears for a Father gone Fate deals an unfair hand The door to youthful joy closing on adolescent shoulders imposing grown up responsibilities instead
Eyes sadly deprived See not the panorama of pursuing cloud shapes that conceal a frivolous Sun playing hide and seek behind Nor do they see the mischievous stars scurrying in and out of the path of the Moon’s orbital course causing her impatience and wrath
No skipping joyously through fields of heather startling unsuspecting butterflies No fantasy fairy fables of where one seeks an elusive four leaf clover* No Christmas present peeks under a non-existent twinkling tree No answers to eternal questions of love are sought over plucking daisy petals I love you ~ I love you not
Pushed aside let them be For the young at heart for those who see her armour doesn’t slip She has distanced herself from emotional injury Why then under a blanket of darkness do streams of tears copiously flow re-dampening a pillow already soaked from the night before? Reflections of regret as she had watched him walk away The shame of being tagged Placed in a stereotypical box Typecast with irrevocable disparaging words of ‘slag’ ‘skank' ’ whore’ Accusations cast loosely no longer ‘water off a duck’s back’ brutally now strike a hurtful blow
Did she imagine the compassion in his eyes?
No emphatic eyes have yet seen what surely is a disadvantaged life? Providing some comfort to ease the pain for a sick mother who lies dying are fraught with risks and strife
She questions yet again Could the ‘wheels of fate’ be just altered? Truth for Truth the Golden Rule Trading kisses for cigarettes is unquestionably uncool
Could Negative energy be interrupting Life’s Grand Scheme? Where hides that elusive four leaf clover? Or does it manifest to only those who dream? And there he stands nervously at the school gates A bunch of wild daisies in his hand Oblivious to the snide smirks of the others curious to see who he awaits Apprehension and remorse in his eyes Magically erased and replaced with euphoric joy When he perceives her radiant smiles Smiles that bring the curious sun out pushing through darkened clouds Illuminating the end of the tunnel bright So she can see that rare delight As her Hope intervened to send Faith And his Love conceded to intercede Fate to make amends The fairies shower luck and blessings To the four leaf clover friends
*Four leaf clover ~ the first reference to luck might be from an 11-year-old girl, who wrote in an 1877 letter to St. Nicholas Magazine - “Did the fairies ever whisper in your ear, that a four-leaf clover brought good luck to the finder”.


Copyright © Maria Williams | Year Posted 2018


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LOVE'S CHEMICAL DERIVATIVES




Can  love then,  be based
on an index of elements
from which one joyfully tumbles,
or drifts into equations, as we wander
toward a rush of serendipity ...
a metaphysical merging of  ardor
writhing in a shared communion 
like  tuneful whispers in breaths  of helium,
unabbreviated oxygen rhapsodies
from unbidden laughter,
invigorating  the warmth of co-owned stars
on heaven’s destined oracle?

Love transcends chemical derivatives
of  fractals or measurement,
between our atoms, relaxed
in the shuffle of emotional electrons
as we quiver  weightless...
the heart’s embrace suspended together 
in the affectionate cosmos
of a deep kiss.



-------------
“How on earth can you explain in terms 
of chemistry and physics so important 
a ...phenomenon as first love? “-- Albert Einstein

Anthony Slausen’s  Periodic Table Of Elements
12/31/2014





Copyright © nette onclaud | Year Posted 2015


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Soul Searching Trek Along Winter's Snow Painted Trails

Soul Searching Trek Along Winter's Snow Painted Trails 

Waking to cold blown tent, ground frozen icy hard
woods are my love, as is poetry to a bard.
Today starts my anticipated forest trek,
seeking salvation from heart's emotional wreck,
last night I watched stars twinkle in heavenly skies
pondering how to overcome world's darkest lies.

Now dawn breaks, sends fresher pair of gem seeking eyes
desirous to find what Time, Fate and Earth denies,
finding cold breeze that blows snowflakes from white cream ground,
thankful for Nature's sanctuary here now found.
First step taken, this soul takes its desperate flight,
embrace anew, treasures that make life feel alright.

Through drifted powdered paths my healing does begin
rhythm of my brisk breath is like a cleansing hymn.
Serenity in solitude is what I seek,
in contemplative meditations I do speak
amongst the frosted firs a chapel for my prayers
in your Trust surrendering all worries and tears.

To slow life’s commotion and hush harsh emotion,
quiet communion in woodland is my potion -
sweetest swells of ecstasy makes my spirit swoon
in whitest snowdrop bloom my heart will follow soon.
With every snowy step I purify a thought
in this pristine Love I find absolution sought.

The winding trail I followed with a downcast face
and left behind the sorrow of my past disgrace.
Ascending farther to the snowy mountains peak
animated to discover my fate unique.
I shall not let my courage waver, not this time,
with weary steps I continue my forward climb.

The final steps to reach my summits divine light,
my mind virtuous as snowflakes of purest white,
I inhale the essence of life at nature’s hem,
finally free from chains of torment I condemn.
With Fate and Time to blend with Earth, I shall redeem
my dignity and recover my self-esteem.


Robert J. Lindley, Susan Ashley, Teppo Gren
(a collaboration - joining as one voice and one searching soul)
July 26, 2018
My poet's notes: It was a sincere pleasure and joy to be a part of this wonderful collaboration with two of the finest poets on the Soup, Susan Ashley and Robert Lindley. My special thanks go to Robert for inviting me to join this three-way collaboration of a soul-searching poem combining three aspects which I love about nature: winter, snow and the woods. Thank you, Susan and Robert, for your friendship and the inspiration you give me through your beautifully created, deep and emotional poetry.


Copyright © Teppo Gren | Year Posted 2018


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Love Has Its Costs


THIS IS A FICTIONAL WRITE THAT EXPLORES THE QUESTION OF WHAT LOVE IS. IT DOES SO IN A DRAMATIC WAY, AFTER ALL THAT IS MY DNA. IT ALSO TAKES A UNIQUE AND CONTROVERSIAL APPROACH TO THE TOPIC. IT IS MEANT TO STIR THOUGHT NOTHING ELSE. IT POSES QUESTIONS AND SUGGESTS ANSWERS BUT MAKES NO CONCLUSIONS. SOMETIMES AS WRITERS WE HAVE TO MAKE WAVES. SOME WILL RIDE THOSE WAVES ON THEIR SURFBOARDS AND CONSIDER THEM INVITING. OTHERS WILL FEEL THE WAVES CRASHING AGAINST THEIR FLESH AND IT WILL BE PAINFUL.

Love is a streetwalker at the corner of Hooker Lane and Prostitute Crescent.

You wanted to pay. Do it and leave. That's the way it's suppose to happen. But it doesn't quite go like that. She is looking at your eyes and she sees something and it feels like love to her. She cries and her tears are real. She touches your face with her pretty little hand and goosebumps run up your spine and you lose your breath.

You kiss her and stroke her hair and you are staring into her eyes as her pain grabs you by the biceps and touches your heart. So you just hold her you hold her and you love her as if she is a beam sent for you to project sent for you to protect.

She opens up and says words you heard in her tears. You listen you hold her and you just listen as she peers into your subconscious to sit with the frightened child inside of you. You take each others hands and you roll in the softness of the innocence of your childhood. Your silly hopes and dreams. Hopes and dreams that back then were anything but silly. 

She is beautiful. She is barely twenty. And you? Well you are going on thirty or is it forty.

You pray God will save her. Not pray you mumble it. Her smile tells you she knows. She feels like your responsibility and you don’t want her to die on the street working her corner. You don’t want to feel but you do. You are a weaved outer core of veins and you do. You feel everything. You are her. 

She looks in the White Knight eyes she pinned on your face and you know the pins are there and you see her with your Gladiator brights.

You make love to her and she loves you back and holds you in her dream of what might have been. She is your Queen and you have stripped your armor, stripped your flesh and your organs. You are naked in her shine. You are raw in her light.

Sex? Sex costs one hundred and fifty bucks! Sex? Sex is two dogs humping in the park. Sex is not love, it is empty. Empty because the person is a stranger and there is no emotional connection. 

At least that is what you thought.

But one day you are 53 years old and you think of your one hour bought woman. Did I say woman? She was a girl a vulnerable lost girl.

It is more than ten years later and you still remember her. That single hour in your life and it is engraved on your skull. Tattooed to your mind. Just one word. FOREVER. You can barely remember six year long relationships but you can still remember the touch of a woman, yes a woman you were with for just one hour in your life. You can still feel her skin. Her tears still burn like molten lava. 

She is still on your palette; you still feel every word that penetrated your hide and struck the part of you that was her. You remember it. Not as a single moment but as every tick of the clock, and the multitudes of emotions, of thoughts, of realizations, of questions that existed in each and every second and you wonder...

Maybe you can buy love. Or at least find it on the other end of a financial transaction, maybe once you did..

Maybe love doesn't last three hundred and sixty five pages like in a novel. Maybe love isn't roses from the first frame to the closing credits, with a beginning a middle and an end 

Maybe love is the memory of a 60 minute love affair with a working girl you met all those years ago. A memory safe and sound, written and produced, neatly tucked in the black vinyl grooves on the highway between your heart and your brain.

07~12~2014
Maurice Yvonne




Copyright © Maurice Yvonne | Year Posted 2014


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Gothic Love Grind

I find you alone
in your favorite room of sorrow and suspense,
the woman I cherish more than victory or divine sense,
long untouched, you stare into a sonnet of romantic sadness,
supple shadows dress you in stubborn, gothic passion, a quiet finesse,
they know that I am the speed of your tears and the lover in your trance,
as I see what your heart has wept for, tender acceptance
I understand why my soul seeks your emotional opulence, 
with my powerful hands I hug those lonely, sexy shoulders of tired independence, 
knowing by the ease of your neck's pining tilt, by the searching gap of your starving lips
no longer are you startled by our love, no more will you deny the lust righteous,
gliding the backs of my fingers up under your smooth chin skin, beauty so generous,
I find you passion thrown,

I undo your bodice and your soft feminine flesh opens onto me
radiating craving that glorifies yearning,
I entreat you to grab my hard affection, to feel the firm rush replete
to place the head of my love within you like a heavy heartbeat,
you obey with unquestioning need, eyes alight, thighs wide
I lunge in deeply, completely, pushing through you a pleasure tide
as you breathe in the handsome shock of your fulfillment
I kiss the soft space inbetween your sumptuous breasts and taste wild wonderment -

J.A.B.


Copyright © Justin Bordner | Year Posted 2015


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A Must Read For All PoetrySoup Members -Good News For All

FOUNDATION “...we achieve true wholeness by embracing our fragility...” Jalaja Bonheim FOUNDATION i had no script no actors no stage instead let me direct this life my life stage the words add a subtle dramatic tone with fragility once the foundation is built i'll work on emotional recall work in the layers does it sing does it dance does it make you think does it make you feel you can design the most beautiful building in the world but with no structure it will not stand for this one i start with the word "I" yup that’s a keeper next go out on a limb "Love" it can't be all about me so i finish with "You" yes you ‘what happens when you open your heart?, your inner strength becomes an outer foundation.’


Copyright © Maurice Yvonne | Year Posted 2018


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Soul Searching Trek Along Winter's Snow Painted Trails

Soul Searching Trek Along Winter's Snow Painted Trails

Waking to cold blown tent, ground frozen icy hard
woods are my love, as is poetry to a bard.
Today starts my anticipated forest trek,
seeking salvation from heart's emotional wreck,
last night I watched stars twinkle in heavenly skies
pondering how to overcome world's darkest lies.

Now dawn breaks, sends fresher pair of gem seeking eyes
desirous to find what Time, Fate and Earth denies,
finding cold breeze that blows snowflakes from white cream ground,
thankful for Nature's sanctuary here now found.
First step taken, this soul takes its desperate flight,
embrace anew, treasures that make life feel alright.

Through drifted powdered paths my healing does begin
rhythm of my brisk breath is like a cleansing hymn.
Serenity in solitude is what I seek,
in contemplative meditations I do speak
amongst the frosted firs a chapel for my prayers
in your Trust surrendering all worries and tears.

To slow life’s commotion and hush harsh emotion,
quiet communion in woodland is my potion -
sweetest swells of ecstasy makes my spirit swoon
in whitest snowdrop bloom my heart will follow soon.
With every snowy step I purify a thought
in this pristine Love I find absolution sought.

The winding trail I followed with a downcast face
and left behind the sorrow of my past disgrace.
Ascending farther to the snowy mountains peak
animated to discover my fate unique.
I shall not let my courage waver, not this time,
with weary steps I continue my forward climb.

The final steps to reach my summits divine light,
my mind virtuous as snowflakes of purest white,
I inhale the essence of life at nature’s hem,
finally free from chains of torment I condemn.
With Fate and Time to blend with Earth, I shall redeem
my dignity and recover my self-esteem.

Robert J. Lindley, Susan Ashley, Teppo Gren
(a collaboration - joining as one voice and one searching soul)

July 25, 2018

Poet's note: It was with great and deep pleasure that we three poets joined together to compose this poem. As our hearts and minds united to bring a harvest of beauty, treasures and soul finding solace within a journey through Nature's garden and its soul soothing solitude, covered in whitest of snowflakes and heart's seeking desires.
My heartfelt thanks goes to my two wonderful and awesomely talented co-writers, Susan Ashley and Teppo Gren. To have the true honor of creating with such dear friends is a blessing indeed!


Copyright © Robert Lindley | Year Posted 2018


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Unloved

She cocooned herself
Spinning the thread tightly
Around her troubled mind
Knowing out there
Out there were the people
Who watched her unwind
Who could not be kind
Losing ground
Every day
She fought to stay
Sane
Untouched by pain
She cocooned her mind
Her weak troubled mind
With layer after layer of silken threads
Threads of self defense
From a world
Who only loved to see her dance
And smile
And play the fool
For a while
From a world who couldn’t bear
To see the raw pain that was there
Behind the pretty face
And the bewitching eyes
Were the jagged lies
The mirrors into a soul
Incomplete...not whole

Unloved
Unwanted
She was too much trouble
Complicated
An emotional drain
They comforted the physical pain
Yet feared the mental pain 
They could not understand….

"Sh…….keep it a secret"
She told herself as she spun away
"For now….
Play the game
Play everyone’s game
Give them what they want
Whatever it is
Give it to them
Maybe they will learn to love you
Maybe they will see the beauty
Hiding behind the beast
Waiting for release...

No....you know better
They have no eyes to see
So dance....dance....alone
In the quiet of the room
Where there is no one to pry
Or see you cry
Dance alone
Live alone
Breathe alone
Alone
Alone
Hate the world
Hate them all
They deserve it
Damn every single last one
Whoever walked away
Leaving you cradling your throbbing head
Afraid of their own monsters
They keep you at bay
Vulnerability not their game to play
Damn them all
For not loving you enough
For not being tough enough
Weaklings one and all
EVERY SINGLE LAST ONE
Unable to be strong
To carry you along
When you are weak
Unable to think
Unable to speak
Unable to breathe
Unable to muster the courage to live
Unable
And unloved
Finish what you've begun"…..

She spinned the threads tighter… tighter
The cocoon complete
She fell asleep
Her last thoughts
The bitter knowledge
That she would never awake
Transformed
Knowing this would be her tomb
For she was never meant to be
A butterfly…
A beautiful airy creature of the day
Loved by everyone in every way
She closed her eyes
And slipped away
Unloved....

Eileen Manassian Ghali


Copyright © Eileen Manassian | Year Posted 2013


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Saints and Demons on Halloween

 
On the eve of All Saints Day known as Halloween
We've a night where nothing is ever as it seems
 
Abraham, Martin and John hosted a grand ball
In heaven’s huge castle, a white marble town hall
 
Dancing and singing just like every other day
One old soul grew weary of celebrating this way
 
She found nothing special in the harps and trumpets
A more exciting venue she had come to covet
 
St. Peter partied, his gate was unattended
So to a room below the bored soul descended
 
A place where heavy metal was all the rave
Deadheads converged to stomp violently on graves
 
She was tempted to join in their revelry
As demons eyed her with curious envy
 
One grabbed her halo, howled when it burned his hands
Others confronted her with obscene demands
 
Only then did she recall escaping this place
When God sacrificed his son, mortal sin to erase
 
Although hands of the wicked tried to hold her down
She struggled, pushed forward and made her way uptown
 
Fearfully she cried while knocking on heaven’s gate
St. Peter found her in this emotional state:
 
“Why didn’t you learn to resist temptation,
During your tenuous Earthly incarnation?”
 
At a loss for an answer, she pled for mercy
And Peter felt inclined to deem her unworthy
 
But the Master heard her prayers, granted a reprieve
He blessed her and uttered, “Welcome home again, Eve.”
 
Her departure from Eden seemed so long ago
And now most certainly one thing she did know

She should have stuck with Adam when he first said, “No”
Instead of bobbing for apples with the demons below


 
* For Tony Brooks' “Halloween Hustle” contest




Copyright © Carolyn Devonshire | Year Posted 2010


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The Dance of the Water Nymph

Despite the large orange flowering flame tree
That shaded my veranda, the summer heat was intense.
No amount of ice cold beer could quench my thirst.

A stone throw away was my lovely verdant wood.
It lured me towards a more comfortable place.
Iridescent hues filtered through high branches
Of dark oak trees and stately ashes.
I trod the path, dotted with dubious luminous toadstools.

Distracted I mistook my normal path.
A large hawthorn hedge seemed to block my way,
Till I found an opening.
There a rivulet twisted its way among the trees
Growing fast till it became a pool in front of a dark deep cave.

Blossoms evanescence fragrance of the wood supplanted 
The scent of flowing waters adorned with lotus flowers.
Distant vibrant music echoed with euphonic refrains. 

Dancing above the pool was a sight never to be forgotten.
She was beauty in perfection, a palpable poetic water sprite.
Spying me on the bank, she beckoned me to join her.
Who could resist such soft embrace as we danced 
Above the lotus covered pool while a meadow larks
Accompanied us with their warbling tunes?

My heart was filled with radiant love,
Ethereal whispers warmed my yearning heart.
Her luscious lips suddenly brushed mine.
Her loving embrace charmed me into euphoric ecstasy
Her alluring eyes sent loving messages
As somehow I felt the pull of the upper skies,
A feeling of unforgettable emotional attainment
Riding the woolly cooling clouds.

I woke from my rapturous riddle
As I found myself back on my veranda.
I had to find her again but the sun was setting.
I resigned myself to fate,
Desperately longing for a new morn and a new encounter.


Copyright © Victor Buhagiar | Year Posted 2018


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The Gifts Of The Fourth Chakra



Wild spirit - I cherished you tender within my halo of prana careful not to hurt you as I worked to set you free using peaceful hands in harmony with my humanity's heart-song - I beheld your fragile form of freedom lost as your panicked eyes pleaded release and in those precious and few sacred moments of exchanged energy I felt you relinquish your fight or flight to my mission of mildness... a unifying lesson of love befell us that day and when again you flew on turquoise wings through reflective silver winds - you elevated in mindful mercy to compassionate heights in revered reverberations... gratified to be as one with the universe - reborn in your new found freedom ~ Susan Ashley October 7, 2018 _________________________ *For the purpose of this poem, I use the emotional elements of the fourth chakra. The fourth chakra refers to love and self-acceptance, the ability to give and receive love freely and feeling connected with the universe as a whole. Also referred to as the heart chakra, it is associated with the healing energy of love and is regarded as the center of compassion. A balanced heart chakra is considered to be a wellspring of inner happiness and peace.* *I use the color turquoise to represent a dynamic energy of self-love/acceptance/forgiveness, growth, humanism, inner peace and healing.* *I use the color silver to represent a cleansing element for one’s spirit, a mirror for the soul and a letting go of negative energy. Also, as a vehicle in seeking deeper truth and compassionate understanding to enhance one’s sense of altruism and to achieve a state of perfect balance and harmony in body, mind and spirit.*


Copyright © Susan Ashley | Year Posted 2018


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Soulmate Love

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 wish their constant dream to 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


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During Sex I'm Often Naked

You can't make someone love you all you can do is be someone who can be loved.The rest is up to them. No matter how much I care, some people just don't care back. It takes years to build up trust, and only seconds to destroy it. You can do something in an instant will give you heartache for life. It's not what you have in your life but who you have in your life that counts. You can get by on charm for about fifteen minutes. After that, you'd better know something. It's not what happens to people that's important it's what they do about it. Always leave loved ones with loving words. Either you control your attitude or it controls you. Heroes are the people who do what has to be done when it needs to be done, regardless of the consequences. Money is a lousy way of keeping score. Just because someone doesn't love you the way you want them to doesn't mean they don't love you with all they have. Regardless of how hot and steamy a relationship is at first, the passion fades and there had better be something else to take its place. Never tell a child their dreams are unlikely or outlandish. Few things are more humiliating, and what a tragedy it would be if they believed you. You must be able to forgive. No matter how good a friend is, they are going to hurt you every once in a while - you must forgive them for that. No matter how bad your heart is broken the world doesn't stop for your grief. Our background and circumstances may have influenced who we are but we are responsible for who we become. Just because two people argue, it doesn't mean they don't love each other and just because they don't argue, it doesn't mean they do. Two people can look at the exact same thing and see something totally different. No matter how thin you slice it, there are always two sides. You can keep going long after you think you can't. Even when you think you have no more to give, when a friend cries out to you, you will find the strength to help. It is hard to determine where to draw the line between being nice and not hurting people's feelings and standing up for what you believe. Credentials on the wall do not make you a decent human being. Writing, as well as talking, can ease emotional pains. The paradigm we live in is not all that is offered to us. (This is my own personal rewrite or version if you will of a common post on the internet with many contributors and credited to Anonymous) 22~12~2014


Copyright © Maurice Yvonne | Year Posted 2014


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Like a Rock

I carry my mother 
like a rock in my pocket 

that I just can’t seem to throw away 

It serves me 
no purpose, 
it just weighs me down 

~~~
 
When I first found it, 
when I first picked it up 
and started carrying it with me, 

I thought it so beautiful – 
I could look at it for hours 

But, like my mother, 
it never looked back at me, 
never grew warm under my loving gaze 

For the longest, I was blind to that, 
Blind to anything but the beauty, 
blind to the cold, hard, 
beyond-remote nature of the rock,
of my mother,
my stone

~~~

I carry my mother,
a thought without weight

And she’s heavier

and she’s colder

than all the stones
there are

~~~
 
By the time I recognized her 
immutable, emotional unavailability, 
I had run out of joy,
felt depleted of hope –

But I could not,
for the life of me,
stop seeking a beauty, a warmth,
inside her heart

Could not stop
wishing
that one day this stone,
my mother,
deep inside my pocket,

Might just become
its own opposite –

Change from hard to fluid,
from cold to warm

But my rock, my hard burden,
will only turn to water

When my mother
stops being
a stone


Copyright © Rev. Rebecca Guile Hudson | Year Posted 2005


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Umbrella

There she stands 
Centre stage for all to see
Tall and slender 
Precariously she balances.

I reach out for her
Draw her to me 
My hand skims her body 
Slowly reaching her skirt.

Playful fingers find hidden areas
Delighted her legs spring forth
Displaying the very beauty
Of her delicately adorned skirt.

Gaily she dances around
Dizzily twisting and turning
In the brightness of day shading
She gently tends to my needs.

Personal ballerina takes to toes leaping
Merrily bobbing up and down
As emotional to her performance
Clouds cry a thousand tears for her.

Reaching our destination
Slightly shaken, she leans
Watches me quietly drips
Against the wall.

Reminiscent of the day's fulfillment
We acknowledge one another silently
Restful knowing we shall be
One once more.


Copyright © Anna-Marie Docherty | Year Posted 2008


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Love Notes in a Bottle

Love Notes in a Bottle

It came as a last meandering thought
How could I know?
Maybe a thousand years from now
On a far away shore
Would exist a lady of mystical lore
Reciting sonnets of medieval tales
In magic forests, dreaming of love
As I love
Who could feel a bond so delicate as a doves feathers
A pain so strong, like a tiger wronged
That to part would mean emotional low tides to come

That she could feel the loneliness of night
The scent of the morning dew
The feeling of rain upon ones breast
The smell of the rose
The view of the meadows
The Laughter as the children danced
The plea of one whose heart bleeds
The desires to capture love and yet remain free

Her eyes would show her ageless beauty
Her smile would hide her thoughts
Wrapped deep
Inside of old love letters

She would sigh
As I recited old prose
We would hand in hand repose
Knowing growing old is how it goes

Alas she is but an image in my mind
A thousand years till birth
Or even more
A fantasy, that lets me die in peace
That someone could love as I loved thee

You were my past, and my eternity
Lovers who never took flight
Broken wings, and broken borders
Boundaries never crossed
Kisses though we never lost

On every wind swept shore
I wander with the birds scouting overhead
As wave upon wave of desolation slaps my head
A woman is over there by the sea
She but a stranger in the mist
So not at all is she thee

A thousand years from now
On wind swept shore
Will she be forlorn?
Weeping for the likes of me
Whispering inside, he was here but a thousand years ago
Love letters telling loves desires
Inside a bottle and buried in sand

Alas is the ocean not made of ancient tears














Copyright © arthur vaso | Year Posted 2016


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Feeling Blue And Knotted Up

Listen to poem:
in the fervour of my sweat sheets drenched i wake to the toxic bellow of my own voice in the torment of my own thoughts in the complexity of my simple life i lay eyes swollen wide open in the measure of hours set aside for sleep overwhelmed by recent events i struggle with the haunting of their potential outcome in the exaggeration of my emotional outpour i bleed tears dry to the air of the night i shrivel like a plum under light so this is what it is like to be a prey to grief an abhorrent internal pain i forget its feel when it is gone i remember its feed when it is here bent out of sorts barely able to walk i return to the inferno of my now quiet i keep my affliction private and unassuming Feb 28 2016 armand


Copyright © Maurice Yvonne | Year Posted 2016


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Foundation

“...we achieve true wholeness by embracing our fragility...” Jalaja Bonheim i had no script no actors no stage instead let me direct this life my life stage the words add a subtle dramatic tone with fragility once the foundation is built i'll work on emotional recall work in the layers does it sing does it dance does it make you think does it make you feel you can design the most beautiful building in the world but with no structure it will not stand for this one i start with the word "I" yup that’s a keeper next go out on a limb "Love" it can't be all about me so i finish with "You" yes you ‘what happens when you open your heart?, your inner strength becomes an outer foundation.’


Copyright © Maurice Yvonne | Year Posted 2016


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Poem Ingredients

Many ingredients bake writing inspiration. This recipe combines a stirring sensation: Heaps of desires never realized as marinated in teary sore eyes; Quantities of wide open spaces caramelized by nature’s appeal; Ageless genuine emotional traces sifted thru heart rendered graces; Equal parts family and romantic love as roasted within, without and above; Measured creamed ideals of peace with blanched pain and battle grease; Diced wishes braised with thrill bearing aromas of tangy heat or chill; Slices of awe from a glorious tree breaded with traits strong and free; I do not forget sour spices of greed dusted with mankind’s violent seed; A mix of fears dredged in anxiety with stress jelled in complexity; and, lastly, faith garnished spirit grown in a soul conscious thicket. If able, I mix love with ingredients above before sampling my recipe once warmed up. If savory, I enjoy serving in poetry cups.
... CayCay Jennings January 20, 2017


Copyright © CayCay Jennings | Year Posted 2017