Best Frequented Poems
In our Asian-cum-Eastern land
No one prefers or admires
the dark-skinned or tanned
Gosh, as if the fair-skinned alone
belonged to the so-called fairer sex
And here, 'black is beauty' a phrase unheard
All falling for the light skinned almost in reflex!
Bachelors on the hunt for a non-fictional Asian 'Snow-white'
Even an ugly heart will do if the skin is white, pale and light
For them lighter skin tis brighter and better at beauty
even if superficial and skin-deep
The dark-skinned maidens thereby left single to weep
But while the ebony dark- pigmented
go on applying whitening and lightening creams
The white Westerners frequented
the sunlit beaches for dark tans from sun beams!
So in westerners females wish to look browned and tanned
Thus the opposite is preferred
so to that end they may sun bathe for hours on beach sand
Ah and though from the point of view of my motherland
I am luckier that God chose
to model me from a peachy whiter lighter clay,
I still feel this tug-of-war between complexions
needn't really join the fray.
For when you and I glance at Naomi Campbell
we know beauty can be white, brown and black as well
Like love, beauty knows no colour, creed or race
As proved by this gorgeous black supermodel.
Besides, we all have come across
both dark-skinned angelic saints
and fair-skinned folks with sinner's taints
Ah, Black Beauty, or Fair and lovely
Beauty has never known any bounds
For God He distributed beauty rather equally
No argument can last on these grounds
Oh, a soulmate's inner beauty ought to be earnestly sought
Too bad lustful passions fall for those merely outwardly hot!
Categories:
frequented, color, prejudice, race, ,
Form:
Rhyme
Come with us Halloweening.
We’ll frolic in the streets.
We’ll race from house to house to house
Spouting “Trick-or-Treats.”
And eagerly we’ll each collect
Confections in a bag.
Fellow ghouls, we’ll abandon you
If you even start to lag!
No slackers in OUR party
As we dash from door to door.
Unlit locations far removed
Instinctively we ignore.
Our goal: to get all we can hold
This wickedly winsome night,
This “Hallowed Eve” of children’s dreams
For fancy and delight.
A time that kids’ imaginings
Collectively take flight
In form of costumes of all kinds-
Of whimsy and of fright.
For Dale and I, that’s part of the fun,
But even better yet
Is what we’ve counted the days off FOR-
The bounty we’re going to get!
And through the dark we onward dart.
Watch as we trespass
People’s lawns, but yards with dogs
We cleverly bypass.
And when we need to go back home
To get more paper sacks,
We drop off treats we’ve got so far,
Then quickly double back. . .
Until we’ve covered every block
Of every foreknown spot
That we had ever frequented
And some that we had not!
Then good and late we homeward speed
With just a little dread,
For darkened windows greet us
And most folks have gone to bed.
We throw our candies on the floor,
So much there is to eat!
We count each chewy chocolate bar,
Each popcorn ball and sweet.
We toss out raisins, apples,
Tiny suckers, silly fruit,
Or give them to our siblings
Who received too little loot.
Then off to bed, our day complete,
We dream of how we’ll feast
Each day with glee, while savoring
Our treasury of treats.
For the Halloween Night Poetry Contest of Nayda Ivette Negron
Categories:
frequented, day, halloween, house,
Form:
Rhyme
How do you define love?
I mean what is it really,
How can I feel so much love for so many
people here that I barely know
...because I do.
You have all been so kind and accepting of me.
Many of you know how I feel.
That I know I am not a poet.
I am not fishing for a compliment when I say this.
I know how kind you all are.
People have been more than complimentary
of my work here.
It is how I feel and I do not want to get
long winded as to why.
It is what it is.
You have an amazing community here
don't let any one trample over it.
Keep supporting one another
Keep your loving ways.
No matter your religious beliefs
there is a light here that shines bright.
So I won't impose my beliefs but I think
I can safely say without offending
anyone this community is blessed.
Forgive those who stray, many of us here
are bruised some worse than others. We
make errors. Again I love the people here.
All the people here.
I have not been able to comment on others poetry
as much as I have wanted to of late.
I am especially sorry to my friends whose poetry
I have not frequented lately. How rude of me.
Everyone deserves their wonderful poetry read.
No excuses just I am sorry.
I want to thank all the people who placed me
in their contests and also thank those who
didn't. I believe in my heart of hearts people
always judged fairly. Sponsoring contests
is difficult everyone second guesses you.
In retrospect I learned and I grew from every
experience. Thank You.
So my loving friends, I am not here to say goodbye.
I am here to say au revoir!
I will be taking a small break from Poetry Soup.
I hope to return soon. To learn my limits poetically
and to stay within them. Enter less contests,
read more, comment more and post less.
I don't know how I can thank you all for your
unconditional kindness.
So many of you have touched my heart,
made me cry.
Sometimes sad, sometimes happy tears.
I am sorry because it is hard for me not
to love you all so much and I know it
must sound insincere but it is me
this is my heart, this is who I am
I love you because of your poetry,
because of your comments,
because you supported me even in my blindness
held my hand and showed me a path I could walk on.
How do you thank someone for that.
With All My Love Always,
Armand.
Categories:
frequented, farewell,
Form:
Prose
Just east of here, in shallow prairie pools
In secret, lives a fleeting little world
Late rains caught in impenetrable clay
Host a brilliant and vanishing bloom
Tiny flowers erupt, golden bursts of color
Fairy shrimp spring from dormant cells
Ephemeral life short lived but vibrant
For those that seek, a precious find
Frequented by birds and little mammals
These small habitats are quickly fading
Another picture of precious life interrupted
Perhaps soon found only in memories.
Categories:
frequented, life, naturelife,
Form:
Free verse
These Hallowed halls
Frequented by myth and griffin
Whose presence Guards these priceless minds
Protecting the unwritten novels
M C Squared and ingenious thoughts
The prophesy of zero one
This gluttony of ideas thirsting on capitalisms juice
Summoning their messiahs to walk among us
The commodities of life, this treasured bible
Children the future and Capitalism dissects,
Yet Another batch of disciples
So what care I for prophets of doom
Population before climate
Religion over peace
Vanity before reason
Pride over poverty
Cap and gown before that which created me
For I live high above these ghetto streets
Yet my peace is drowned by Evening chorus
Screams from the gutter
Another tattoo and the rush of heroin
Another type of messiah
Something for the poor to believe in
Just another nickel and dime resource to me
Yet to hear this is a damnation of me
This arrogance over nature
To control that thing
That shackles our existence
That jails our thoughts
Prostitutes our freedom
And lets us die without reason
This way of life
Of poverty and desperation
Of concrete and aborted foetus
Of welfare cheques and sex for sale
Of unhappy beings behind
Unhappy doors
Protecting their own portals of betrayal
In a private subjugated hell
For Compassion has left these mortal beings
And my mind is closed, for there is no profit for me
But conscience is my jury
And nailed to this holy cross
The verdict is written
Vermin under the butterfly
For compassion was never my thing?
And Human nature can be,
A most desperate thing.
Categories:
frequented, philosophy,
Form:
Free verse
In neatly lined up pots in a row
Flaming red and purple balsams in clusters grow
A visual treat to adoring eyes
A haunt frequented by the bees
Do not need much care, but may fade
If not allowed a little shade
Flimsy they are of delicate stems
With light green leaves of serrated hems
Planted in my skilfully laid up yard
They invariably make me glad
Gleaming in the first rays of the sun
By their simple beauty, my heart they won
When the flowers wither, pods appear
In time, for self dissemination, they prepare
When fully ripe, the pods explode
And seeds fly as birdies from their nest to explore!
Thus Nature’s ways are so amazing
Even in plants is an inherent training,
For seeds to leave the comfort of their pods
And find their own space fighting all odds!
___________________________________
June.2.2022
~Placed First~
Purple Flower Poetry Contest
Sponsor – Nayda Ivette Negron Flores
Categories:
frequented, beauty, flower,
Form:
Rhyme
It rained on and on.
the fire in the hearth
had long died out.
hunger grew,
frustration raged.
vultures swooped down
to feed on flesh in the night
half willing, half resenting,
surrendered, rather subdued,
desire spilled over,
bristles pricking
from organ to organ
thrusting and tearing
devouring in greedy gulp
waves surged past the log
passion spent,
hunger appeased,
purse strings loosened,
silver coins tinkled.
amply paid,
her wages of shame……!
the toil not wasted!
nights came one by one
creatures of the night frequented her more often
and the scenes were constantly replayed
though she abhorred them,
there was no other go, but yield
‘exploring hands encounter(ed) no defense’.
each night closed in smutty h(r) ut,
when the h(r)ut turned a prostitute,
she started to rot.
feeble she grew,
languid she became,
body thinned,
energy waned,
ailments plagued,
and
immunity lost!
now,
she lives an outcast.
a luscious fruit
blighted by the worms!
no more nocturnal invaders…..
no inebriated blather falls in her ears
only the hoot of owls !
___________________________
June.16.2022
Placed Fourth
Creatures of the Night Poetry Contest
Sponsor- Julia Ward
Categories:
frequented, abuse, animal, body, fate,
Form:
Free verse
To you I'm just an afterthought
Endearing name that you forgot
A half remembered romance plot
A once frequented sacred spot
To you I'm just an alibi
Some one to cover up the lie,
for when you're with your ride or die
The hush of do not question why
To you I'm just a sideline thing
Someone to keep there in the wing
Who'll nurse the wound, remove the sting
To treat you like a hero king
To you I'm just a pastime game
You play when bored and feeling lame
A mundane chore to keep you tame
To cool your passion's burning flame
To me you're not even a thought
My mind is here; my heart is not
Your love has been erased, forgot
To me you are a dead end plot.
This truth to you is yet unknown
You're blind to signs that I have shown
One day you'll wake up all alone
Regretful thoughts all that you own
Eileen Manassian
Categories:
frequented, abuse, betrayal, love hurts,
Form:
Rhyme
In tastefully lined up pots in a row,
Multi colored balsams in clusters grow.
A visual treat to adoring eyes,
But never a haunt frequented by bees.
Balsams do not need much care, yet may fade,
If not allowed a little shade.
Flimsy they are of delicate stems,
With light green leaves of serrated hems.
Growing in my neatly laid up yard,
They invariably make me glad.
Gleaming in the first rays of summer sun,
By their simple beauty, my heart they have won.
Unlike the charming red, red rose
Hardly any poet, on them, odes compose
They have no scent, yet as a colorful throng,
In my courtyard, proudly they belong
When the flowers wither, pods appear
In time for self- dissemination, prepare
When fully ripe, the pods explode
And seeds fly as birdies from their nest to explore!
Thus, Nature’s ways are so amazing
Even in plants there's an inherent training
For seeds to leave the comfort of their pods
And find their own space fighting all odds!
Categories:
frequented, appreciation, beauty, garden,
Form:
Rhyme
Meet the happy couple
That's Hilda all in white
Barney's there beside her
Loves her with all his might
They're an interracial couple
No problem nowadays
Frowned on not too long ago
But today it's a-okay
Met at the local horse saloon
Frequented by the equine crowd
She was a pretty show horse
He was boisterous and loud
Pretty soon, she tamed him
Settled him down just fine
Any filly would be proud to say
That stud over there is mine
Soon, a couple of months go by
Hilda's expecting a son
The happy couple race around
High hoof-ing everyone
Had a colt, called him Clyde
So proud of their little guy
Running through peaceful pastures
Then off to the clouds they fly
You can see this happy couple at night
When you view the evening sky
The three stars south of Orion
Are Barney, Hilda and Clyde
Categories:
frequented, heaven,
Form:
Rhyme
there is a brothel there down the street,
built like a palace three stories high,
hear anklets jingle on dancing feet,
with singing and drums as you pass by.
I have chanced within once as a youth,
to savour pleasures of sinful flesh,
in wine and smoke did not see the truth,
the tormented souls trapped in evil mesh.
pretty they who were plying their trade,
vibrant bodies in their early teens,
stained glass windows, moroccan lamp shades
a sale of bodies for living means!
men of wealth leaning on cushioned seats,
aged lustful men aim for a score,
clapping and rejoicing with the beats,
toss money up asking for encore!
men of high repute frequented the halls,
those who spoke morals and values too,
even priests, scholars bought at these stalls,
of suffering they caused, had no clue!
girls were from different parts of state,
some sold through poverty by their own,
some stolen from home or lost to fate,
some orphaned young, some reasons unknown!
here was a trade all chose to ignore,
law makers, elite just let it go,
each year the numbers grew even more,
bodies sold, though their young hearts cried ‘No’!
religion morals preached everywhere,
man’s hypocrisy in full display,
parents showed their own children love, care,
suffering of these girls none would say!
late one autumn I stopped to enquire,
found doors locked, no lights, no sound, no sway,
said one “come morrow, if you desire,
Brothel is closed for Gandhi’s birthday!
4th placement in Premium contest
written 13/02/2021
They closed the brothel contest
Kai Michael Neumann Sponsored
9 syllables each line
7 stanzas!
abab.... rhyme
Categories:
frequented, corruption, desire, fate, lust,
Form:
Rhyme
As youth I frequented harlots
and took dark substances
Paid a price for both!
But I have now found the craft of poetry
to be most redeeming!
Peace will come to you out there in the darkness
Only if you are willing to share your innermost feelings
with that "nation within a nation"
The readers and writers of verse!
Categories:
frequented, joy, poetry,
Form:
Blank verse
In well set pots in a row
Sweet flowers in clusters grow
A sight, pleasing to behold
As their petals they unfold
A treat to adoring eyes
A haunt frequented by bees
Flashing colors in the sun,
My heart and soul they have won.
Flowers always make me glad
What charm, to nature, they add
Butterflies fly like flowers
They dance in the day light hours
They too greatly cheer my eyes
They're flowers' lovely allies
Categories:
frequented, appreciation, beauty, flower,
Form:
Couplet
Motor is nudged to life in an arcing motion, arm pulling
cord. Vein-furrowed hands grasp the fishing pole,
slinging bait and tackle beneath one arm. Another
arcing motion, arm casting pole. Bobber spins
a helicopter course through sun-nipped air.
Loons call a soulful greeting, the moans of centuries'
separated lovers in mourning. Time trickles through
the notes of their songs. Meanwhile, bass glide
with their loud-mouthed sass,
perch and blue gills play tag. A lone
blue heron bills the murky depths for lunch.
Man baits his hook, readjusts his hat. Eyes squint
into the dark undertones of the pond. He casts
his pole, a fermata in the song of the loons. When this man
was a boy, he drove the spires of the Rocky Mountains,
frequented the five-and-dime, nuzzled
a nightly routine next to his wife, who mothered six children, raised
in a house far away from any pond. They bustled themselves
along through school as well as any fish pouncing on
supper-flies, dabbing napkins to the corners
of their mouths. This fisherman sliced their steak, knotted their ties,
held their hands crossing the street
until they were old enough to
mail college resumes,
pay for first dates.
Five years,
fifteen years,
thirty-two years and here is Granddad,
with his child's toddler learning to walk in the bowed
belly of his fishing boat. They stumble,
clanging clumsy feet on the metal, frightening
the fish away. The old man bends low,
a note in the song of the loons.
He places the toddler on two feet, guides her hesitant steps,
each pendulum swing carrying them a moment
further toward separation. In twelve years, the grown child
bends low, a note in the song of the loons, to kiss her
grandfather's forehead, as he casts off on his helicopter
course of afterlife.
Categories:
frequented, childhood, children, emotions, eulogy,
Form:
Free verse
'Our Mother'
Our Mother - a sophisticated lady
Always destined for the top
You'd never see her walk on by
A top designer shop
So impeccably presented;
Amazing handbag, clothes and shoe
Even perfume richly scented
Numbered bottle gives the clue
Never more elegant a lady
Than the stylish Mrs Mannell
Surely can't be just co-incidence
That her name rhymes with Chanel?
For pleasure; Mum rode her horses
Liked playing hard and drinking gin
Slip in friends and glass of champers
And her heart you'd surely win
Of her job she could wax lyrical
And of work being her miracle
A workaholic one might say
Toiled every cent of hard earned pay
Mum frequented finest restaurants
If dined with Margaret you would discern
Whether lunching at the Ivy
Or in Paris, of course; Jules Verne
Mum once painted chairs and pottery
And boiled up fudge to taste
She made luscious chocolate mousse those days
And yoga trimmed her waist
Mum sketched and drew with creative flare
Gave her loving cats amazing care
She sung out loud never just a hum
Then taught me to be a Mum
We all knew different parts of Mum
But between us we all know
Her strength could be a barrier
"Dahhling, don't let feelings show"
No matter what we all admire in her
With love and pride we glow
At the sea of people facing her
Must not let tear drops flow
A formidable woman Margaret
Or as Peggi to many friends
Just 'Mum' to my sister and I
And where this poem almost ends
She was Grandma Peg to four granddaughters
And now a great grand-son
Who knew she stayed and fought
To become a great grand mum
So to the 'bar', let's go raise glasses
For this tough old bird please grin
She'd hate to see sad faces
No tears while drinking gin
'Our mother'
For Margaret Mannell's funeral
By Victoria Payne
Categories:
frequented, death, funeral, mother, mother
Form:
Rhyme