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The Best Forward Poems

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Glory of her magnificence

Oceans apart buried under sandy shores, a rare pearl slept comfortably behind her walls. Fate must have been kind, for a common man like me, to stumble upon her shell. As I brushed away her debris, astonished - my eyes could not believe this beauty, revealed before me. Spellbound - I could not help but stare, stunned by the glory of her magnificence. As she took one step forward, unutterable sensations, took a hold of my emotions. Yet I remained motionless, overmastered by this majestic heavenly vision. And I could have sworn it was a dream, until the softness of her fingertips, graced the imperfections of my soul, and for the first time it felt perfect. All of a sudden it felt like we were floating, ascending towards a myriad of stars, with the moon guarding us silently. Stardust sprinkled with the sight of her smile - how fortunate was I, to celebrate this artistry. Her lips blossomed like flowers as they succulently caressed mine. Breathless, without saying a word her eyes acknowledged my vow for eternal devotion with ever lasting love.
Simple Musings Silent One 19 September 2017


Copyright © Silent One | Year Posted 2017


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Rape

October: I'm eighteen, shortcutting home
through an autumn-burnished churchyard -
copper-lustred leaves, moss-skinned stone -
a jaunty swing of skater skirt and arm,
college folder square-sturdy in my hand.
In the moment. In the last pale pulse of sun.

"Hey, can you tell me...?"
I halt. I turn...

Cold earth. Colder blade dimpling my skin.
My coral cameo earrings scatter,
daisy-dotting the green.
My back is spiked by needles of yews.
Sun skews, sky side-slides
until his face is the firmament.
I'm staring into the tumid blank-bloat of blue;
the ground hardening beneath me,
the death-spike trees stiffening.

Heavy Special Brew breaths.
Grubby, moist fingers
like grubs crawling over my breasts,
and, weirdly, I'm smelling pepper -
horror-spice of pungent lust,
its acrid nose-thrust -
and woodsmoke is drifting from somewhere...
lung-flame, tongue-flames
of searing words - his words -
blazing like the umber tumbling leaves.

"Please...Please...I'll..."
Fear-forced bargaining, but I'm beyond care.
And I'm aware
of the church steeple rising,
its phallus penetrating sky.
The tilting church could topple
as tears crystal-crush in my eyes.
Fear-faint, already half gone
in a soundless scream, my muted mouth
mouths silent goodbyes
to Sarah, to Mum.

Time slows to a crawl.
I try to call. Nobody comes
but the man who has me ground-pinned.
Bleachy stink of semen
whitening my ripped skater skirt,
but some things don't fade
and there is no clean in this, just dirt,
wet leaf-mulch, shame.
Ineradicable hurt.

Sacred soil is soiled, sullied.
Stunned, I stumble
shoeless, knickerless,
into the trees and heave
into the mud, into the leaves
strings of spittle-sick,
my thoughts strung out,
reality spun out.

From stinking, pulped leaves I retrieve
crushed coral earrings,
ground-grimy knickers,
my white court shoes
that whitely scream the 80s,
the scattered tatters of essays -
white, like fallen feathers, sunk in the sludge,
muddied, the red-inked words bloodied.
I gather them together.
Gather myself.
I go

forward into my future, stained from pain
and tainted touch, the smears of fear, self-disgust.
And oozing slime-soft into my ears
the mire of incongruous apology: I'm sorry
don't tell anyone - I won't.

I don't.


Copyright © Charlotte Jade Puddifoot | Year Posted 2016


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Big Girls do Cry

They expected her to be the jolly fun one.
The one   w e a r i n g   a smile on her face.
So she became.....who they wanted her to be
She was quick with her wit, telling her practiced fat jokes.
It was a pre-emptive strike of sorts
her attempt to remove the target
from what some thought was her "considerable ***".
Never again wanting to be the "butt" of people's jokes!

She remembers the year she was "Chubby Checker"
the year her parents gave her that checkered jacket
she also remembers how hard she cried.
They laughed, and one boy sang 
"Big Girls Don't Cry----- they don't cry!"
She vowed to herself on that very day
"I will never ever cry again!"

There were the many diets
the yo yo effect..."Yo big girl, lookin good"
 Friends asking her “have you lost weight?"
Those "good for you’s!!!!
The attention felt good in a way
but the weight she'd lose seemed to come back the next day.
Somehow the cursed food felt like her only true friend
the only one on whom she could depend.
The food never judged her
instead it filled the empty sad part
the part that weighed nothing
yet felt like it weighed a thousand pounds!
The part that felt lighter when she was full
it somehow felt like a hug from the inside.

She stopped eating in public
not wanting to hear comments like
"she could do without that ice cream."
There were also the buffet comments
"She's going to get her money's worth!"
Still what hurt even worse
were the nice people
the trying to be kind people
the ones who felt sorry for her people
Saying "all you need to do is lose a few pounds." 
or "you have such a pretty face." 
Some people would tell her "You're just big boned."
Then there was comment she hated the most
"You have such a great personality!" 
For she knew it was all part of the "Fat Girl Show"
the persona she had gifted to them.

Then came the day
that epic day she stopped joking.
When she smiled when she wanted to smile
when she dressed in the ways she wanted to dress.
She embraced the form she was given
she celebrated all her curves.
She decided to eat when she was hungry
nourishing and loving her body
she allowed colorful foods to occupy her plate.
Strangely, she started losing some weight
but it wasn't her goal
for inside she was becoming whole.
Skinny was not who she needed to be!
When tears came she allowed them to flow free
she was no longer her own enemy
The more she cried
the less she felt her empty.

She learned, everyone
y e s.... everyone,
has some kind of insecurity!
No one is completely who they wish to be
some have hidden bits
others are more obvious,
even if   some are somewhat oblivious.
She now has learned to be a compassionate witness
one who is much kinder to herself
she doesn’t keep her thoughts on a shelf
So, when others make jokes
or give painful pokes...
She tells them "That's hurtful and it's not okay",
"I am who I am and I'm perfect this way!"
Maybe next time they will consider what they say.
For today and tomorrow and every other day forward
she is more than some number on a scale that she weighs
or some joke in an insensitive phrase.
She now can be and see her true self in extraordinary ways.


Copyright © Richard Lamoureux | Year Posted 2016


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I want your SEEDS

**"And his name was Jack"**

No one perceives what abides above the clouds. 
A giant, a harp, maybe golden eggs. 
I demand to see and feel before I believe. 
A castle, a dream…. I want the magic beans!!!
~~~

I'm the daughter of a farmer. 
I have a donkey to ride, a story to tell.
“Jack and the Beanstalk” my favorite tale. 
 
Once upon, a morbid dawn. 
I inhale a tiny simple yawn
Like the morning sun levitating over the farm,
I rise towards the village square to sell my ***
Along the open path, my *** and I desired a drink. 
Near the rustic river, 
I'd seen an old Englishman, sitting on a log. 
It looked as if time was approaching his brink. 
In his hand, he had a sack.
A bag, a bag, embroil of ivory and black. 
His eyes were not from this ground. 
His body fragile - it uttered a moaning sound.
He was of dirt. 
I was pure. 
He pledged his life to me. 
I debated .... with many thoughts, 
Although his eyes... 
My eyes... Will never meet again.
"I want what's in the bag!"

In a gasp, he whispers, 
"I'll give you anything for that ***.
my legs and bones can’t hold up on their own!”
I knelt down to where he sat 
Smelling his essence of rot
I reached forward and grabbed his baggage 
He griped, "This bag is all I got!" 
 
I answered, "And this sir is a fine ***!" 
He replied, "I have no cash." 
Scowling at him, “NO I want your demon seeds!" 
My blood grew thin... 
Inhaling and exhaling  - his sin 
The old man all shriveled and timeworn, 
Proposed the birthright of the seeds. 
"Yes, plant them! Plant them!" 
I cried excitedly! 
He pat the field. 
Said "there I am done, 
now clock as it expands"
 
To breed this story short... 
He dispenses his seeds. 
AND, I GAVE HIM MY ***. 
 
  BY;PD   


Copyright © Poet Destroyer A | Year Posted 2013


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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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Ballad of an Unsung Hero

Vivid flashbacks from bloodshed battles his soul still ravaged by devious dictators, cries from fallen comrades still echo in his mind, but he continues to walk upon a path of pandemonium. Reluctantly he ventures forward with vengeance portrayed through embers engulfed within his frenzied eyes - reflecting his mother's irreversible tears. He is no mercenary nor a moneymaker, just a repentant drifter, preparing for bedlam. His purpose in sight, he closes his eyes, but struggles to erase his thoughts, as the sins of his ancestry inflict his mind. Angels attempt to light his path with harmonic chords, but demons cause havoc strumming broken strings. Entering the kingdom of dry fountains, where God has no influence, he is afraid to inhale its corrupt pollutant air. Charcoal clouds rumble, before horizons shed unwelcome tears. Before him platinum priests preach, as court jesters dance with sly grins, hiding metaphorical daggers behind their backs. To his right overfull hospitals have no beds, as penniless patients plead to be cured. To his left the self proclaimed vain king sits on his cardboard throne, throwing dollars into a blazing fire place. To his side his tyrannical hypocritical queen hides behind her simulated smile, oblivious to her narcissistic prince's incest desires towards her clueless imbecilic princess. It's an endless loop of greed cultivating corrupt seed, which continues to breed nefarious creed. Miserable masses attempt to break free, but their liberation is dissected by cretinous henchmen. In the marketplace of Machiavellian thieves, merchant pawns auction fragmented dreams. Sold to the biggest idiot! His eyes full of disbelief, now rage with anarchy! Intoxicated knights raise their half empty glasses, as he calmly walks into this man made sand castle. Gifts the cunning conniving cook some cyanide, which he empties into his delectable broth. Both watch as the elevated ones savour it like dogs, perishing dramatically to their deserved downfall. Beyond his childhood playground, now with rusty swings and slides, he places a crimson rose upon his mother's grave, kissing her untouched headstone. Expressionless he walks into the distance, as storms wash away weak foundations.
Silent One 25 July 2018


Copyright © Silent One | Year Posted 2018


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Yellow Shoes in the Darkness

Walking through the land of shadows 
wearing my yellow shoes
With each and every step
I created color and hues

The shadows started retreating
As color permeated the ground
Out of the shadowy darkness
I heard a horrible sound

"You do not belong here
I command you to go away
You are in the land of darkness
You must listen to what I say"

I kept on moving forward
Not sure what I would see
Where was the voice coming from
I looked behind a tree

Light and color expanded
Traveling up straight to the skies
The entity that so scared me
Was right before my eyes

As my shoes banished the darkness
The entity was reduced to tears
Without the aid of shadows
He couldn't tap into my fears

I then reached down to touch him
I told him that he was safe
He looked up with confusion
As I gazed upon his face

"Are you here to destroy me?
Have you come to take me away?
There is a purpose for shadows
They create hope for brighter days."

I heard what he was saying
The shadows have their reason
In order for spring to come
We need a darker season

So I removed my yellow shoes
Watched as the shadows returned
It was time for me to go home
With this strange lesson I had learned










Copyright © Richard Lamoureux | Year Posted 2013


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The Library of Trust and Hope

The Library of Trust and Hope
The Bank of Trust and Hope

(Cant decide on title, so feel free to pick or suggest one)

She was all but four years of age
Birthdays were such magical moments
The cake was filled with candles
The balloons still in their package twelve on the table

Daddy daddy, I can not fill these balloons!!
They are not magic like you said!!!!!
Do not fret Maria, its daddy who is magical
I shall help you little one, let me see those balloons

Sure enough daddy blew up twelve white and pink balloons
Maria was in awe at daddy’s magical powers
She knew her daddy would fight dragons to bring her but a smile
Maria knew she was safe in daddy's arms, oh what a birthday this will be

Maria was now ten years older
Fourteen years old and already filled with so many happy memories
On this fall day, home from school
There was grandpa in the back yard as usual

He was tending his garden of roses
When she was younger, he told her they were magical roses
Grandma would speak to him in his magical garden
From the heavens above


Now at eighteen, daydreaming in a coffee shop
A stranger picks up a rose from an empty table
A smile oozing in charm, stares into her eyes
This is for you, beauty for beauty


She was swept off her feet, in a whirlwind romance
They danced and dined, it seemed all on her dime
Until the morning she awoke, completely alone
Both lover and credit cards did abscond


Now twenty one, and wise to the world
Absorbed in her studies, somewhat colder than one should be for that age
A chilly fall day in an empty library
A stranger comes, giving her a drawing of a red rose

Hello he says! I drew this for you!
Oh no she thinks to herself, not another one!
Politely she smiles and replies thank-you, but I am taken
This stranger smiles right back and says, the drawing is for you no matter

The next week, and the weeks after, the same routine
He comes to her with a drawing of another beautiful rose
She politely declines his advances
Maria knows that a rose, has a stem, and that comes with pricks

The twelfth week and here he is again
What is the poor girl to do?
She is curious, and she can not quite help herself
She asks, from what do you draw such beautiful flowers?

He smiles kindly and replies
How about next week, I show you?
We can have a coffee, and discuss art
Hesitating she just can not say no to this simple gesture of kindness

They are walking along, and surprisingly she finds herself
Quite intrigued with the ease of their conversation
He takes hold of her hand, and says I live over there, the house in red
She has no time to object as he pulls her forward to the backyard

She stares in absolute shock and awe at what appears before her
Why its the most beautiful, wonderful, enchanting English garden she ever saw
You? she stammers, you made this?
He smiles shyly and says; well now you know what inspires my drawings

Now Maria is eighty and filled with both happiness and sadness
Her husband of all these years has passed on
To be with all his precious roses in the heavens waiting
She sits in their garden, remembering a life time of memories

She picks a single rose, and inhales its fragrance
Contemplating the wisdom's of life
I miss you so much my love
You taught me trust is earned and not given
	Your love was my blanket of happiness, wait for me my love, 
		I am yours eternally





Dear Reader

I was lucky in life to have had a good upbringing. My daddy, showered me with love, but most of all he taught me that gifts were not objects, balloons were not magical, nor was he. I learned that what was magical is the time and effort he took to love me, and protect me and those memories I so cherish, but they also he showed me the values I hold dear in myself and those around me. 

Then there was dear old grandpa. His garden was his passion, and I suspect that if I could have had more time to spend with him, it was really grandma’s passion, and after her passing, this was the activity that kept him close to her soul. In that respect, I guess it was truly a magical garden. Whenever he saw me, his eyes would light up, he would pour lemonades and he told me such wonderful stories. Unlike many though, he listened to all my troubles and told me, that in life I had to learn some things the hard way, but that he himself knew for a certainty that I would find the love and happiness, that as a young women, I felt would be lost to me forever.

I re-tell my story for all the people out there that have lost trust in others, or have lost hope in humanity. You may have your heart stolen for awhile, someone can bring you sadness, but never let them steal your soul. Learn that trust is earned, not given, and never punish the rest of the world, for your bad experience, for ultimately it is you who suffers most. Be giving, kind and generous, with a strong will and mind. If someone does not respect you, then they shall never earn your trust, and that’s how it should be. Be wise, be prudent, be safe, but most of all be open to love and kindness

God bless
Maria Sefue


Copyright © arthur vaso | Year Posted 2015


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- Young Divine Happiness -



She is young and free, and most of her love lies in front of her
As the dawning twilight holds one breathless air under misted whispers 

A sight she often looks beyond the vast land that always ends in the ocean
Upon the rocks driven by a seabreeze salted fragrance lingers 

Waves and natural forces full of power draws upon sound and rhythm
Mixed echoes crying gulls rise and fall as they crash ringing home 

To walk along the beach barefoot, she has time to be young  
Reflecting back on each step forward petals of a sunbeam enters 

Feeling divine happiness every second heartbeat without a special reason
Time begins to challenge the labours of the trodden path 

Live it is to dare, nobody has gone in her step before
Standing upon the apex captivated by thought spiralling 

Form a sculpture of wet sand, without being critical
Leaving an imprint under the shell where holds precious pearls 

A way to expose oneself to something unfamiliar and unsafe
Petals of a flower dancing to a winds melody rings midnight bells 

She dreams of love, with expectations and hope to be a queen 
Under the starlight where a moon's cradle swoons her with a smile 

A hand to hold, the first kiss ... a puzzling thought
Where memories are born a fire always burns regally sealed 








A collaborated poem 
Anne-Lise Andresen and Liam Mc Daid 
08.06. 2017
(unrhymed couplets)
Copyright © All Rights Reserved


Copyright © Sunshine Smile | Year Posted 2017


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This Night

I’m driftwood, and I’m floating out to sea as sun descends upon my home - the grove of trees whose fragrance still remains with me. And likewise, heaven’s work of art, a mauve surrounding me, now permeates my soul. Warm water, in the twilight growing cold, is rocking me. Beneath dark blue, a shoal moves swiftly; overhead there will unfold the myriad of stars in semblance of a giant carousel in dimming sky. Those stars that glitter for the grove I love will glitter too for me, where here I lie alone, enraptured. . . and I think I might drift evermore, enveloped by this night. Written by Andrea Dietrich and entered in the Put Your Best Rhyme Forward!!!!!Contest of Just That Archaic Poet


Copyright © Andrea Dietrich | Year Posted 2009


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a new beginning

with each crest of a wave
forming white crystal peaks
she weeps, inhales, let's go.

beneath a star studded vista
a resplendent guiding light
arms open, palms up, she is free.

the soothing sea winds
carrying away her grief and sorrow
hands posed in devotion, she smiles.

in a seascape of serenity
her baptism place of choice
she steps forward, her new beginning.













02-17-2017


Copyright © Lynn Marie | Year Posted 2017


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Amidst the Fallen Petals

He was ever gentle with her
always careful
composed
never passing the boundaries
never asking too much
a man of his culture
and bearing
didn’t move too fast

She was a flower
pristine...virginal
a flower he had plucked
from her family’s garden
with their blessing
she was safe in his keeping
though her scent drove him mad
its floral fragrance fascinating
deliriously desirous
she was fresh and innocent
he meant to make her bloom

He was patient
It was enough that she had consented to be his
she admired him
that he knew
it would be enough
enough
for now…

And so he waited
willing for her to feel
admiration turn to love
love turn to passion
and so, he put her in a vase
filled with the nourishment of his love
and he tended to her
admiring her
his fragrant rose

Tonight he showed her the home
that would be hers
theirs….

But what was this?
that look in her eye
different
the shyness gone
he saw…. longing
her face radiant
her lips inviting
petal pink
to match her cheeks
his rose
his flower
HIS
and yet
he dared not touch her that way
for fear of crushing her
in his rough hands

She whispered
ever so lightly
perhaps he dreamed it
maybe it was the breeze
whispering through the window
as it danced in her hair

No, there it was again…
“It is time…
I am ready.”
the meaning of her words
hung in the space between them
making it impossible to breathe
or even to think

And he watched
incapable of movement
as she stepped away from him
in the middle of the room
she turned to look at him
and one by one
she unfurled the petals
of her clothing
and let them fall down
fluttering to the floor
layer upon layer…discarded
all the while
as she undressed
ever so slowly
her eyes invited him

There she stood
with no covering
her raven hair
cascaded down her skin
reaching down 
to the curve of her breasts
covering what he had only seen
touched
tasted
in dreams…
but this
this was real
she was real
and she held out her hand to him

"Do I please you?"
her voice caressed the words
for she knew
the power of her beauty
she must have seen the answer
there in his eyes 
for she moved forward
ever so slightly
“Come…come to me, my love…”

He was there
in an instant
his arms around her
he was there
before the lilting cadence of her last word
had a chance to fade away

She smiled,
once again a little shy
She reached up to him
letting him melt into her kiss
as she slowly drew him down

There
surrounded by the strewn petals
on the floor of their home
in the bed of his heart
he claimed her
as his own...
his flower
his rose
amidst the fallen petals...
he heard her sigh

Eileen Manassian Ghali



Copyright © Eileen Manassian | Year Posted 2014


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As fields become barren

What has become of me? Like a madman laughing in the rain, wandering through fields of barley, where ghosts whisper my name. Hesitantly venturing forward, reluctant to turn back, loved ones desperately hold my hand. Time is no longer a friend of mine. I'm aware this path shall be my last, but I'm smiling - satisfied, knowing the pain will end. Reminiscing seasons gone by, memories are like rose petals, softening each step - my mind is at peace knowing thorns can't cut me any more. Images flash by my first kiss, my last tear, words spoken, words lost in silence, and how the wind danced at sunset illuminating golden crops. Birds sing songs of goodbye, tomorrow there will be no sunrise. My heart will never again harvest upon nature's rewards. Scarecrows watch over barren fields, suffocated by absent hands. As each breath becomes shorter, my soul prepares to depart. But I'm lost in thought, wondering: Will it be celestial lullabies, or dancing with the devil? Simple Musings Silent One 2 January 2018


Copyright © Silent One | 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 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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- A One Way Ticket -



Hills come alive with sweet sounds of birds whistling tunes
Filled with harmonious peace, you sail within time
Gentle whispering winds through branches of trees call

When you dare to take the first step forward
Everything feels so easy embracing such beauty 
Mixing voices of nature talk deeply flowering 

Thrown into the unknown life is truly magical
A universe inside feelings explode in one gift
The soul eclipsing delight warmed with sunshine rays

Like a virgin being on guard of the tiger claws, lions, bears and snakes
Only when your starlight kisses clouds evaporate 
Time continues and the butterfly waltzes freely once more

Crossing paths in this journey new beginnings grow
Small wild strawberries threaded upon a stem beg to taste
Opening one gateway within thoughts 

Setting sail into another world beyond 
With you salt of the ocean waves rise and fall
Upon rocks kissing pillar of strength

A cool breeze says goodbye upon your cheek
Loving spices land this boat on paradise sands where gold sparkles warm beams
When we meet at Heaven's gate batting lashes close entering a doorway into a dream 





Written by L. Mcdaid & A-L Andresen :)  05.09.2015 
Copyright © All Rights Reserved


Copyright © Sunshine Smile | Year Posted 2015


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A Near-to- death State Of Mind

He lies, warm and straight; unmoving.
Free from pain in his transitionary world;
safe within a love that shared his body and mind.
Without her altruistic and unyielding care
he'd float through the eternal abyss
of clouds and endless memories.

Images of her weeping pervade.
Her tears flow in viscous streams,
like lava flows that wrap him in
a final expression of love.
Hands, once inseparable, are slipping apart;
yielding to a final, fingertip touch of goodbye.

As they catch a rising breeze, 
closed curtains stroke a stirring caress
like the delicate sway of a grass skirt.
Tiny, impish faces appear then disappear
among the pattern, playing peep
then hiding in their secret, fantasy woodland.

The paintings on the walls become animated,
zooming and retreating like a camera lens.
Their inhabitants: alive and busy
like tiny repertory companies
in their framed microcosm,
creating scenes of a recognisable past.

Strange, vague faces of yesterday
hover in subjective silence as they
claim the gloomy corners of the room.
Some smiling, some scowling;
some turning away without reason.
Why would they turn away?
What secrets do they refuse to share?

Endless conversations with the dead,
yet only one audible participant.
Passed relatives visiting incessantly,
in forms that bring most comfort.
The vertical finger of silence touches the lips
when the living enter the room.
A shuushhh.....and they leave.
Returning to the mysteries
that exist beyond this 'mortal coil.'
But always they reappear:
a night-and-day procession
until exhaustion overwhelms.

Distant voices of children
travel the sky, certain to be heard.
That playground cacophany
amalgamated to a luring hubbub
of childhood communication.
The mind floats back with
the eye of a soaring eagle.
Back through the forest of life,
scanning images of existence past,
to a clearing where children
dance in happy, skipping circles.

Suddenly, the sky turns dark,
as leaves swirl in rustling tornadoes.
Ominous, churning clouds tumble
and roll in a thundering menace.
The children run, drenched,
in an expanding ripple of screams,
for the safety of the trees.

Then, a flash of lightning ignites
a wondrous, refulgent dawn.
He steps forward into the glow,
without fear, as he hears
the cry of a newborn baby,
held within its mother's arms.
He looks up into the eyes of the mother, 
and then.......all memories die.

A rising breeze blows the curtains open.
They unfurl: banners of respect, fluttering
in unison for his last, whispered words.
On whose release, a wistful wind
carries them to an infinite silence:

'I'm tired, my love, I'm so very, very tired.'






















Copyright © Jonathan French | 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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FORBIDDEN

~ZOMBIE NIGHT~ 

WHINING WHISPERS MOVE ACROSS FORBIDDEN LAND
Rugged ruins crumble silent through the night
Echoes of the dead roam the air
Moonlight vanishes to complete despair
Bones slowly desert distorted resting homes
Ascension of the dead -Longing to live again 

Sands of desert flip the hour glass back
WHIMPERING WHISPERS MOVE ACROSS FORBIDDEN LAND
Rugged ruins crumble silent through the night
Echoes of the dead roam the air
Moonlight vanishes to complete despair
Bones slowly desert distorted resting homes 

Taking light from where evil stays 
Feeding away leaving behind a death valley zone
WONDERING WHISPERS MOVE ACROSS FORBIDDEN LAND
Rugged ruins crumble silent through the night
Echoes of the dead roam the air
Moonlight vanishes to complete despair

Dead souls forsake the common land
Shadowing like Equinox light 
Walking corpse covered in rotten barren sand
WINDY WHISPERS MOVE ACROSS FORBIDDEN LAND 
Rugged ruins crumble silent through the night
Echoes of the dead roam the air

Upright, forward broken taboo 
Searching for the perfect breath of fresh air
Sounds of symbols march the ground
Searching to find their missing heartbeat
WHISKING WHISPERS MOVE ACROSS FORBIDDEN LAND
Rugged ruins crumble silent through the night


Ascension of the dead  -Long to live again 
Bones slowly desert distorted resting home
Moonlight vanishing in complete despair
Echoes of the dead roam the air
Rugged ruins crumble silent through the night
WHEN WHISPERS MOVE ACROSS FORBIDDEN LAND

by;PD


Copyright © Poet Destroyer A | Year Posted 2013


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Cookie Jar

Standing on tippy toes
Top shelf 
Reaching
Stretching
Finger tips edging the jar forward
Imagining the taste of chocolate chips on my tongue
Yumm mom's chewy delicious wait till Saturday cookies
Thankful I have grown that extra inch
Thinking she'll never suspect me

The jar 
Tips
Topples
Tumbles 
Turns 
Travels over my head
Lands on the floor
Just as Snoopy comes running through the door
Eating all the cookies except for four
Looks up with his doggy grin
Like he wants some more

I reach down and grab the jar
Surprised that it didn't break
Reaching inside was my second mistake
Mom comes in and says "For goodness sake!
I'm so scared I start to shake.
"Ricky get over here right now"
I drop the jar, she watches it break

Running I try to get away
Up the stairs 
Under the bed
If she catches me I'll be dead
At least that's what she said

She lifts the bed skirt
There I am
With my happy face T-shirt
Just within her reach
She grabs me
Pulls me out
Laughs
Gives me a hug
"Don't worry it's OK
I'll make more
Later today."


For John Lawless's Just within reach contest.
Written April 15, 2015



Copyright © Richard Lamoureux | Year Posted 2015


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Obsidian

An almost stillness came about
as she strode into my door,
like breath itself refused to move,
fearful of touching her mysterious beauty

But her obsidian eyes betrayed her. 

Sharp and gleaming,
with a silver sheen
she looked at me, 
and I knew…

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------

Molten lava spilled forth from her mouth, melting our clocks—
eighteen hundred nightmares compressed in two hours.
Long hand moving forward, as the short hand moved backward
How can memories persist in such an acrid life?

She spoke of a beast in the guise of a man,
 one who ravaged innocence with the flick of a click
A coward that collected milk teeth for hardened bones
of other horny beasts with no spine

That throaty tenderness when she spoke 
sprinkled crystal seeds of frustration in me
She says he loathed him, denied she loved him
but her obsidian eyes betrayed her

There she was, a bud he plucked from the nuns’ garden
He grafted then he pruned her, 
spreading her pollen, wafting her scent
yet folding her petals to himself

Caterpillars feeding upon her leaves,
she lets them devour her,
yet once they are wrapped in their cocoons to sleep,
she stabs them with her thorns.

Tears then slid down from her midnight lace eyes
and it was all I could do to catch them
She said she was weary of curtailing butterflies,
of tearing their wings before they can even fly

I had to ask, how many… how many winged gems?
She lifted her sleeves, and showed me her scars
One ugly mark for each innocent child plunged deep,
my heart getting slashed at least three hundred a beat.



-----------------------------------------------------------------------------


A certain stillness came about
as I strode into her door,
like fear itself refused to move,
letting breath touch her mysterious beauty for the last time....

Her obsidian eyes had betrayed her. 

Sharp and gleaming,
with a silver sheen
I looked at the knife beside her.

Maroon-mapped sheets, a stunted womb.
 
Strains of Bon Iver’s “Flume”
flit past the sighing air like a butterfly,
and I knew…









08112014



Copyright © kabuteng P.iNk k. | Year Posted 2014


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pun with eggs

Benedict was tired, he’d been driving all day.  
This was his last delivery, 2 tonnes of eggs delivered to Safeway.  
The kid came out of nowhere, stared Benedict in the face,
He tried to brake, then swerved, in the wrong place.

The scene was chaos, emergency services scramble into action,
Ambulance officer, Florentine put Benedict’s legs into traction,
loaded him in the ambulance and quickly whisked him from the site.
The bystanders hoped that Benedict would be all white!

Sergeant Skillet arrived on the scene, he was feeling a little queasy.
A witness came forward and told Skillet the truck went over easy.
Skillet gleefully took a statement, finally a case he could crack.
He poached a pen from Constable Quiche, wrote it down on his back.

The clean up took some time, it was a delicate operation.
The fire brigade, were walking on “eggshells”, had been since they left the station.
Scene commander, Dumpty, directed the crew from a nearby wall.
If things went wrong, he knew he’d be the one to take the fall.

A nearby, protest group, trying to shake loose the yoke of oppression,
were called over to help, clean the streets, for these young folk a good lesson.
It’s not all about being self, centred from the cradle to the casket.
And to remember the old adage, Don’t put all your eggs in one basket. 


Copyright © old man emu | Year Posted 2017


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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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In Celtic Shadows - A Collaboration With Lin

In Celtic Shadows."
A Collaboration by,
Lin Lane.
&
Michael P Clarke.

(Villanelle.)

The shadows lengthen as comes Celtic night, 
you are in my arms at the end of day, 
my eternal beauty, my guiding light.

We shall be together 'fore soft twilight
To you I run without pause or delay
The shadows lengthen as comes Celtic night.

Love in our souls as our minds take to flight, 
lost in your eyes, love we'll never betray, 
my eternal beauty, my guiding light.

With emotions soaring to such great height,
I yearn to watch the sun's last drowning ray.
The shadows lengthen as comes Celtic night.

In the gloaming of our passion's delight, 
from our love's blooming we never shall stray, 
my eternal beauty, my guiding light.

Your romantic writings always ignite
this great love our hearts tenderly convey.
The shadows lengthen as comes Celtic night
my eternal beauty, my guiding light.

(Celtic Dreams Series.)

I thank you for once more joining your ink with mine. I really enjoyed putting this piece together. Your words always light up our collabs. Looking forward to our next endeavour already. Hugs....Mike. XX


Copyright © Vladislav Raven | Year Posted 2017


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Bridging the Gap

My sincere thanks to Teppo Gren for bridging the gap and taking time out of his hectic schedule to visit me on his recent visit to Australia from Europe. 

Teppo was one of the very first to welcome me on my debut poem on Poetry Soup, and from thereon in continued to support me with his excellent comments and feedback. 

I really appreciated your encouragement and taking the trouble to get in touch and visit us in Sydney. I look forward to meeting up again on your next trip.  

Miles of endless sands and seas In today’s times can be travelled with ease Bridging the gap between family and friends In a life composed of so many odds and ends Extend the hand of friendship to proceed Beautiful friendships are what we need


Copyright © Maria Williams | Year Posted 2018


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The Red Umbrella

I was going on a blind date and walked across town
The weather wasn’t kind, rain was pouring down
It was my friend’s sister and he arranged the date
She was nowhere to be seen, maybe just running late.

Then a girl with a red umbrella came towards me
Despite the pouring rain she was beautiful to see
She said” sorry I’m late my bus it broke down
I’ve just had to walk half a mile across town.”

“Get under” she said “come and take shelter”
I did as she asked and then I was beside her
I’d never noticed before and I what a surprise
She had an angelic face and beautiful brown eyes.

Our eyes then met and to me that was a good sign
And from this day forward I vowed she’d be mine 
Never before had I ever felt this way
I was lost for words and didn’t know what to say.

I held her closely and we looked at each other
I would never have met her but for her brother
Then she pulled me closer and we started to kiss
I was in heaven, oh this was pure bliss.

I thought in my mind this girl would be my wife
And I was already planning the rest of my life
I’d marry her, buy a house and start a family
Have holidays at the coast, go swimming in the sea.

I then heard a loud ringing, it has just turned seven
I lay there wide awake, no longer in heaven
Sometimes things are not what they seem
The angel with brown eyes was just but a dream.

Got ready for work and went to catch the train
The sky was very grey and it started to rain
As the train was pulling out I looked over to my right
A girl with a red umbrella took my thoughts back to last night.


Written 31st October 2018



Copyright © Tom Cunningham | Year Posted 2018