He is the king of words and poets alike
Assay as you may, this man you won’t smite
His armour sparkles in night or day
Defending those too meek to say
His table is round, there's room for all
There are chairs with wheels so no one will fall
He hands out bronze goblets with sparkling wine
This king of lush gardens has spine
Renowned through the kingdom, for deeds he’s done
There is no battle, he has not won
His knights are loyal to a fault
So you better beware who you assault
Lancelot and Guinevere are by his side
Uniting followers far and wide
So sit and drink with us in harmony
And enjoy food presented artfully
Copyright © White Wolf | Year Posted 2017
When all around is darkness
Who provides the sun
When everyone is serious
Who is poking fun
When pollution clouds the bright blue sky
Who brings clarity
Who tries to bring some common sense
To mass insanity
When people kill for a belief
Who is pointing fingers
When bullies push their weight around
Who is the first gunslinger
Who sees the heavenly beauty
In Mother Nature's charm
When the house of cards goes up in flames
Who sounds the fire alarm
When depression comes and pulls you in
Who writes you words of comfort
When they can't think of rhyming words
Who makes up words like bumfort
Who puts their feelings into words
With sonnets from the heart
Who describes a garbage dump
With a color chart
Can jump from sea to star
Or describe the pungent odor
Of their grandpa's stale cigar
What people share a common bond
Make pictures out of words
It's a talent that we happily share
Let every voice be heard
As wordsmiths we are special
Cause we feel what others see
Let's weave our threads together
Show the world our tapestry
September 26 2016
Copyright © Daniel Turner | Year Posted 2016
What's a best friend,
But the smell before rain?
The hand that we give,
When a friend is in pain
It's the things that we do,
The words that we say
That pulls a friend through,
When their heart's torn away
It's the steps that we take,
The songs that we sing
It's the choices we make,
And the hope that we bring
I'm here through the tears,
I'm here through the laughter,
I'll always be here
Until death, and after
It's the things we give up;
The things we give in
When our heart's full of love,
And selfless begins
It's the hearts that we touch,
The things that we won't
We never give up,
We could, but we don't
It's the people we save,
With the hands that we give
When we're lost, we still say,
You're my reason to live
I'm here through the tears,
I'm here through the laughter
I'll always be here,
Until death, and after
Copyright © Dana Smith | Year Posted 2010
At a table in a garden, on a soft, sweet, summer's night
Two friends are sitting talking by the moon's reflected light.
On the table in the garden there are glasses but no drink
And the friends are sitting talking, but they often stop to think.
The topics that they cover seem to range so far and wide
And the glasses sit there empty, since they left the drink inside.
The night is getting cooler but the friends stay close and warm,
The moon just looks down calmly, she has magic to perform.
As he leans across to kiss her, and she kisses him as well,
The friendship starts to blossom into something more to tell.
The tension in the garden needs assistance to decline
So the silver crescent of the moon leans down to pour white wine.
Copyright © Jeff Green | Year Posted 2009
Listen to poem:
Friends, do not forget: there is still beauty
When the darkness comes and shadows fall,
Music, Art, and nature, gentle comforts
When despair is deep and hope is small.
Friends, do not forget: there is still laughter
When we’ve finished choking down our tears,
When the world seems full of desolation
And we grit our teeth and face our fears.
Friends, do not forget: they have not taken
Kindness, love and friendship from our hearts.
If we can resist the hate and anger,
Maybe we can be where healing starts.
We will rise again tomorrow morning,
Sunshine follows even darkest night.
Think of this when you feel close to breaking
As we walk the long road to the light.
Copyright © Agnes Krampe | Year Posted 2016
Ohh the days have been many here
but that day her name was seen
struck a fear deep inside.
Could she really be that mean?
Time passed as her name
echoed in my head aloud.
I looked at her work in amaze
at how beautiful she can inspire
the words in poems she wrote.
Soon we were souper friends
continue to inspire others work
so they would become the best.
Contest she made work
so all could see the finest.
She will be missed here
but a destryoer she was not here.
Dedicated to my best friend the poet destroyer
Copyright © Michael Byte | Year Posted 2014
~Under the Same Moon~
Our days are different, living under the same moon
Down here in TEXAS, life carries a different tune
This world spins on its lovely axis
Listening to our Tex-Mex of our English lexis
We share a world made with the trust of God's hand
Revealing the beauty that life continue to expand
Don't underestimate our football image of our Cow Boy land
A mysterious Mockingbird only we Texans understand
Surrounded by the sweetest Pecan trees
The Northern Winters come in like a breeze and a tease
We also have them Blue Bonnet fields that come and go
Tell me about CANADA, what makes its motion flow?
Branded like a Long Horn, with my Lone Star State pride
How about you, CHRIS A. What's up on your side?
Different lives, different lands, living under the same moon,
waking up to the ghostly calls of the wild loon.
Look upon mountains and forests stretching into infinity-
mighty Sequoias and tall Douglas firs stand majestically.
I could offer stereo-typical images of hockey, snow and moose,
or sockeye salmon, maple syrup and the great Canadian goose,
but we Canucks are becoming tired of idly standing by
as the rest of the world dips its fingers into our Northern pie.
We are a nation of peaceful, open-minded hospitality,
shying away from brutality by offering liberal neutrality.
Before I blow my top as my strong emotions collide,
I should definitely step away from my nationalistic pride,
and ask about the Philippines and its tropical flair-
how about you Nikko, what is happening over there?
Oceans away, here I am, living under the same moon
Sun’s rising over there; here, dish runs away with the spoon
My sleep is whacked, so I’m wide awake when you are,
amazing how we can all be in one place even if we’re all very far
Where islands form the shape of an old man, waters hug our shores
Tropical Paradise here, when you explore the great outdoors
Awesome sunsets, bountiful fiestas, the warmest smiles to greet you...
We here just love to eat when there’s nothing else to do!
Colorful rice cakes, freshest seafood, the most succulent mangoes~
Sunny days or rainy days, the creativity here just flows.
Resilient. This is a word that pops to mind when I think of us Filipinos-
We bend and bounce back, no matter how hard the wind blows.
This is just a sneak peek, but I’d love to know more about Utah
Care to share what’s on your side, my dear friend Andrea?
( 3 Way Collaboration )
Copyright © Poet Destroyer A | Year Posted 2010
HE’S MY BEST FRIEND
Times of laughter under a southern sky
with jacarandas in their ripest bloom.
Those days were left behind as years went by
with summer’s shining light now dimmed by gloom.
With the darkest shadows cast over you
I still see the light that once shone so bright.
With a friendship that lasts a whole life through
I pray for God’s mercy to heal your plight.
Your words are drowned in tears of silent cries
though once your courage was my saving grace.
I feel the forlorn sadness in your eyes
as I give my thanks with a warm embrace.
Through final parting our rapport remains,
memories light the dusk as daylight wanes.
26th October, 2016
Copyright © Teppo Gren | Year Posted 2016
"a shining star"
a shining star you shall always be
a jewel in the cosmos that I see
like the snow that glistens white
like the moon that shines bright
you bring out the best in me
when you stand before the ocean blue
feel a gentle embrace intended just for you
when you see a pearl or shell in the sand
know it is me taking you by the hand
know your heart and soul will renew
a grand piano or a single guitar
a source of strength from afar
with words that I have none to give
with hope and love may light live
a shining star is what you are
SkyWatcher - 04-09-17
Copyright © Lisa Ricci | Year Posted 2017
My pen strives to flow,
saturate virgin fibers
crisp, cool and clean,
desires to spread
through virtuous threads
with thoughts, reflections,
colors from within -
yet at any given time
I’m tempted to resign;
my thoughts are faded,
my ink runs dry.
When your mind is weary
and words silently suppressed
like an empty fountain
your muse drains with scarcity -
take my palette,
let your artistry flow,
Illuminating barren scripture.
With you, my colors shine
more richly, my ink flows
to satisfy my need
to touch, and be touched
we observe in clear definition
as unblemished pages
are no longer innocent.
Copyright © Becca Teagan | Year Posted 2017
Yes, my dear, you know,
You are my source of joy, rejuvenation, hope
I need your emotion spread onto my life,
I need your heart to sing among the darkness surrounding
Do not let our words run dry
Together, in strength, we will always know
And now you know,
So smile, be joyous, and kiss these candid truths
For they proclaim your greatness to the universe
In shouts of glory, in loving whispers,
On every shine of ocean shivers,
You will always know
I love you for you
To all my poetic friends, this poem is dedicated to you! This includes: David Breidenthal, Sharon Breidenthal, Rebecca Larkin, Justin A. Bordner, Just That Archaic Poet(Chan), HGarvey Daniel Esquire, James Peranteau, Guillermo Soto, Mystic Rose(Vienna), Dan Kearley, Liam Mcdaid, Kim Patrice Nunez, Rob S, Jack Ellison, Duke Beaufort, Drake Eszes(Gabriel), Davina Browne, Gary Bateman , Kyle Carlson, John Fleming, Peter Walsh, Sarah Kendrick, Jade Celeste(Eileen), Mikey Scribner, Bindu Vijayan, Don Johnson, Jake Ponce, FJ Thomas, Jan Allison, Emile Pinet, Honestly J.T, Stephen Kilmer, SKAT A, Tim Ryerson, Richard Lamoureaux, Maurice Yvonne, Giorgio A.V, Lyric Man, Mustapha Mohammed, Justin Connor, Tim Smith, Poet Destroyer A (Linda), Olive Eloisa Guillermo, James Marshall Goff, Hannington Mumo, scott thirtyseven, Judy Kronos, Eve Roper, Sandra Haight, Gautami Phookan, Rhonda Johnson-Saunders, Connie Marcum Wong,Rightly Jennings
Nathan Fehr, Devin Irving, Robert L. Hinshaw, Ralph Taylor,Tanja Vermaak,Nicole Viernes,Neva Romaine, Anne Lise Andreson, Nandita Das, Funom Makama, Kevin Leake, Tammy Reams, Dean Marais, David Meade, Debbie Guzzi, Peter Holmes, Sunflower Poetess, Dr.Upma A. Sharma, William Gray, Rajat Kanti Chakraba Rty, Courtney Courtney, Cherl Dunn, David Brown, Casarah Nance, Paul Callus, Ronald Zammit, Jiril Clemons, Carl Fraser, Afolabi Muideen, Dr. Ram Mehta, Shadow Hamilton, Donovan Willis, Cynthia Ferguson, Ed Ebbs, Nette Onclaud, Cindy Cayton, Wayne Riley, Muhammad Safa Thajudeen, Sheri Fresonke Harper, Yeisiel Rios, Chelsea Chords, David Mohn, Gerald Moise, Verlena S. Walker, Kelly Deschler, Ettie Christian, Arild Andresen Ertsland, Malik Yaseen, Kurdt Cohen, Arlene Smith, Karl Marszalowicz, Pace INK-U-SCRIPT, Elly D. A. Wouterse, Pandita Sanchez, Elisabeth Wesley, Carrie Richards, John Loving iii, Andrea Dietrich, Chris D. Aechtner, Robert Petitt, Jay Loveless, KJ Force, Vicky Tsiluma, Craig Cornish, Johnney Rhinem, Keith Bickerstaffe, David Scott, The Situation, Red Fiery, Painted Hunter, Harry Horseman, Edward Orozco, Wayland Bunch, Wally Flint ,James Horn...and so many more!!!
Copyright © Laura Breidenthal | Year Posted 2015
An ancient river, centuries-old shops and restaurants steeped in a 2000-year history and
culture set the scene. The ambiance seemed divinely contrived to facilitate the purposes of
our meeting and the very fodder from which the greatest poets are sustained.
Not newcomers to the area, Kay P. and I were assigned to the Army Security Agency Field
Station in Augsburg, Germany in 1974. We were colleagues in the intelligence community
with no romantic overtures to our relationship, save an appreciation of poetry and profound
philosophical discussions. Kay wanted to spend the evening with a poet, so we planned the
evening to be appropriate for the purpose.
At the time and place, we quickly found ourselves hopelessly immersed in the philosophical
foundations of my writings throughout the evening. It was the first time since Vietnam that
I'd felt worthy as a person. I still recall sipping the red wine and feeling the warmth of the
large hearth inside the Balkan eatery. I still see the swans gliding by on the Lech flowing by
When windowpanes begin to weep with autumn's chilly dew,
I'm taken back through seasons passed to one delight held true,
A rendezvous that time allowed, a gentle evening spent
Amid a time of long discord when days were dreary bent.
I feel the stretch upon my lips, the smile returns once more.
Again, I smell the Balkan fare prepared on Lech's old shore,
The mood is cast in high regard, the wine is tart and dry,
As Augsburg ripples in the wake when swans go gliding by.
The ancient windows frame our view and day begins to wane
As rivulets meander down and streak the dampened panes.
The ambiance of ages passed beseeched us not to leave
And held us in its warm embrace throughout the ebbing eve.
My heart was scarred, without regard and hardened by the war
But her esteem unveiled its worth, while nothing had before.
She saw the child that once was me, I'd long since cast aside,
And bade he climb astride his mount, engage his life and ride.
Now, she is but a memory, whose kindness soothed my heart,
For we embarked upon our lives on paths ordained to part.
Her subtle way escaped my eye till time had made it clear
That her esteem had set me free, that night I hold so dear.
The poetry that filled my soul remains these many years,
Impassioned in my warmest thoughts when autumn first appears,
When windowpanes begin to weep, a-glisten with the dew,
And I return to seasons passed, to one delight held true.
Copyright © Jim Fish | Year Posted 2009
Come my friend,
Do not cry
Tears blur your vision of life,
Distorting thus reality
Come, my friend,
Wipe your tears and see how
Clearer the world appears:
The shapes sharper
The colors brighter
The flowers softer
The sounds more melodious
The scents more aromatic
Come my friend,
Smile and you will enjoy more
The majestic mountains
The green valleys
The impenetrable forests
The mighty rivers
The endless seas
Come, my friend,
Laugh and tell me, aren’t:
Your pains subsided?
Your fears minimized?
Your hopes augmented?
Your doubts reduced?
Your dreams intensified?
Come my friend,
Together we are going to face life, by:
Crying, smiling, laughing, fighting, loving,
Living and dying.
Come, my friend,
You are not alone anymore for I am
Next to you and next to you I will stay,
No matter what may come
I wish to help you
So out of this adventure, that life we call, you
To emerge victorious!
© Demetrios Trifiatis
12 November 2015
Copyright © Demetrios Trifiatis | Year Posted 2015
(For my friend Aisling: da'iman 'amal)
In the night that runs on fear, smile at me.
When nightmares haunt, laugh at me.
When demons show their ugly masks, beam at me.
And always, ever have hope.
When your head is so full it cascades, stare at stars.
As thoughts spill ferociously, softly seek them.
Forget thousands of misplaced words, see glimmers
Of hope, always have hope.
Days where you can't hear your thoughts, listen to music.
Minutes failing to making sense, immerse in singing.
'Seconds' a word without meaning, tune in harmony.
Believe in hope, there always is hope.
When nothing rhymes, you almost lose it,
In darker days, you cannot meet it,
In doubt, despair, or anger, it will elope,
But it will return, not ever lose hope!
January 21, 2017
Copyright © Darren White | Year Posted 2017
Old souls don't drift off and die
Sit there idle, or even care why
Achieving greatness takes time
Values and a certain state of mind
Realize, for once, it's not just what you see
Understand nuance, syntax, and hyperbole
Help yourself, don't get fooled by any old shroud
Though others are silent and lost in the crowd
Rise up, be courteous, let words show them wrong
As free as a whisper and the cardinal's sweet song
Copyright © Tim Smith | Year Posted 2017
You said age's only a number, beauty's skin deep
Wise words to live by, now if I could only sleep
Humor never can be taken away, have no regrets
Live like there's no tomorrow, an elephant never forgets
Since the day we met, things have been so right
Thankful for our meeting, making spirits bright
No more feeling lonely, no more feeling stressed
Friendships have started, I am feeling blessed
Not a day has passed without a smile on my face
Feeling happy has now become commonplace
Brought together by chance or was it by fate
Any way you put it, my friend, you are truly great
Copyright © Tim Smith | Year Posted 2014
Thirty Eight ( Corny Cancer Poem) For Sharon
Hallmark has a million cards in their catalog
And not one of them says,
American greetings had nothing that says
Thirty-eight and Never coming home
So I hope it’s not too late to write this poem
After your eighth round of Chemo,
The Doctor says the best medicine is prayer
Any Pre-med drop out
Or High school Health student
Can interpret what this means
But it still just isn’t fair-
Still who am I to be a pessimist?
And I apologize for screaming at your surgeons
(Telling them to stop comparing
your tumors to fruit)
For telling them you aren’t a damn fruit stand
Even for tossing those fruit diagrams
In the Hazmat can
Sorry if I let things get out of hand
Tomorrow they get to pull out
Their zapper instruments
And shoot at your cells like you are
One of those Nintendo video games
Over and over again
And I get to sit in the waiting room
Hoping the red cells surrender
And the white ones win
And Tylenol has a zillion dollars
And can’t even find a cure for cancer
Bayer pharmaceuticals has no answer
And if you die at thirty-eight
I’ll probably boycott Tylenol
For the next twenty-three years
Advil for the next twenty-two
Blaming both of them
For not saving you
Forty calls to Bayer pharmaceuticals
And not a single one returned
What kind of heroes are they
When they aren’t even concerned?
And I’m pissed off at Obama
And Dr. Phil and Oprah too
And all Nationally syndicated talk show host
Who are talking about who slept with who
When they should be talking about
I’m also ticked at a thousand Nazis
And twenty millions gangbangers
And eight-hundred serial killers
Who have working organs
When all you need is just one-
Still I know you wouldn’t even accept it
Even if there was a law that said you could
And you would say something corny like
God loves bad people as much
As he does the good
And i wish i could snatch
half of my lymph nodes
And give them to you
But no Doctor would approve the surgery
So what else can i do
Except write this silly poem for you
except watch you lose weight and hair
And listen to doctors suggest prayer
And more chemo only means
More Hallmark moments at the hospital
And more crying, more dying
More doctors and chaplains lying
But mostly I’ll never get to figure out
How it took you thirty minutes
At Build-A-Yogurt in the mall
And they only had six flavors-
Even after I told you
Chocolate Coconut Sprinkle
Was really the best of all
Tonight your children get to sleep in your bed
And pretend You’re coming home
And I get to cry for them and finish
This corny cancer poems
Copyright © Poet M.e. | Year Posted 2015
A path strewn thick with ruddy-faced leaves
led to nowhere and everywhere in fantasies,
our near-death rescue from boredom
come afternoon chores and homework pages
wrinkled in time.
I try to recall all I tried to forget.
Back home, under the willow trees, I weep
for childhood, friendship,
for innocence surrendered,
all I thought I could keep, fuzzy lines
between love and loss,
practical days that come with age.
I close my eyes to see through tears -
you, a dance in rain showers, oval-spheres
of costume jewelry, tea parties and dragons slain
rays of sunlight climbed,
diamonds in darkness,
restless dreams fell like leaves
on the wrong side of the tracks.
Two kids set free in skies shaded gray -
we said forever, a pinky swear I remember,
naïve in make-believe worlds. How many years
passed by, miles kept between you and I?
A phone call once-in-a-while reminded
of our bitter, listless eyes,
our disappointment in distant words.
I hope you always knew the truth,
I loved you, dear friend.
It was myself, I hated.
Time cradled our laughter,
held it on the breeze,
shared with ease on our path,
thick with summer's dead leaves.
We, too young to notice,
fell into brittle leaves
before first snow.
Our laughter now echoes in dreams,
chaffing our willow trees
still sulking low,
moss brushes away tears in timeless beauty,
and waits for you to come home.
An old poem, revised 3/15/17
249 words total
Copyright © Rhonda Johnson-Saunders | Year Posted 2015
Waiting to be free
I am dying, but not like anybody who died.
I am living, but in the rainbow I do reside.
How much longer I will go until secrets unveil?
My mind cannot comprehend but my heart will decide.
My problems are too simple, my remedy complex;
Love is my medicine, which I have identified.
Destination is unknown; the journey is too short,
My vehicle is broken, our driver is mystified.
My body is a cage, my soul is shackled inside.
Speak not of troubles, my pain will be justified.
The door is half open; I can see the ray of love,
My heart will take over until we’re all unified.
Tomorrow, I will fly with swallows, they know the path.
Who can you trust “Haloo”? There is no one to confide.
March 1st 2016 Haloo
I dedicate this poem to Daniel Turner, for all his love and friendship.
Copyright © Pashang Salehi | Year Posted 2016
There once was a bum. He
was the neighborhood drunk.
He had a unkempt demeanor.
His salt and pepper hair had not
been washed in years.The
clothes he wore were ragged.
His shirt had giant holes in them.
He looked twice his age. In his
drunken state he cursed every-
one that came his way.His smell
was so horrible you might as well
say he showered in whiskey.That
didn't bother this young missionary
who lived nearby.Every day she would
bring the old bum food and clothing.
She would offer him shelter as well.
"Hi sir . How are you today?"
"Why don't you just leave me alone.
Can't you see I don't want to be
bothered."he stated with a slur.
"Sir I'm going to leave your food and
your clothing right here". As she said
those words she bent down and placed
his things on the ground.This was their
routine for well over a year.But on this
in particular day the ole drunk appear-
ed to be coherent. He was sober.As
the young missionary approached him
she said, "Hi Sir. How are you today?"
"I'm fine ma'am. How are you?"
"I'm well Sir. Are you hungry today?"
I brought you some food and water
and some clothes and shoes."He
shook his head no.
"Ma'am I don't want anything.How-
ever I do appreciate it so. I'm going
His statement took her by surprise.
"Sir I didn't even know you had a
"Ma'am I do indeed have a home.
I'm homeless by choice. I want you
to know your kindness will not go
She knew it wasn't right to judge but
she thought to herself he has gone
" Miss I stopped believing in God a
long time ago but your loving kind-
ness showed me God today."
"Okay Sir.I'm going to leave these
things and I will see you later.How-
ever the next day the old bum was
not in his usual spot. And sad-
ness overwhelmed her spirit. That
old bum had become a big part of
her life. She grew to love him very
much. As the days went by she con-
tinued to look for him and he wasn't
there. It was as though he dropped
off the face of the earth.Today was
a beautiful day and she was at the
corner, in the spot where the bum
sat.Deep in her thoughts as she be-
gan to walk she nearly bumped into
someone. As she was about to speak
she saw this well groomed middle
aged man with dashing good looks.
" Hi Ma'am. How are you?" She recog-
nized the handsome stranger's voice
"Sir is that you?" She asked just to
make sure her mind wasn't playing
tricks on her.
"Yes Ma'am it is me. I just came by
to formally thank you for all of the
kindness you showed to me. I was in
raggedy clothes and never once did
you show disgust. You see I am a
millionaire that had lost his way. You
see my wife of nearly thirty years got
ill and passed away. In that moment I
lost my mind because my home didn't
As he finished telling his story little
tears began to fall from her eyes.
Through small sobs she said,
" I'm sorry for your loss. I will con-
tinue to pray to God on your behalf."
" Ma'am your prayers is why I stand
here today.If God had not sent you
my way I would probably still be lost.
Please don't cry for me I will be okay".
He reached in his pocket and pulled
out an old business card and handed
it to her.
"Take my card. Feel free to call me any-
time. All that I have now belongs to you.
Do you remember that day when I told
you that your loving kindness would not
As he said those final words he turned
and left, leaving the young missionary
Copyright © Alexis Y. | Year Posted 2016
Looking down my tree lined street
the setting sun casts her glow
upon the Chestnuts, Maples, and Oaks
dressed in worn out yellow ribbons
telling the story of friendship and loss
strength and courage.
How there was hope and there were dreams.
That life wouldn't pull us apart.
There was community and passion
and smiles each time you went through that revolving door.
We prayed, yes we prayed for us that we wouldn't lose you
that we wouldn't be missing someone so true.
I raise my head up to the skies
washing away a lingering tearful cry
and remember ....
Your amiable soul, dynamic, invincible and unique
Your stupendous dose of humor, indulging, infectious and unstoppable.
Your enthusiasm to give, to share, and your boundless care
Your friendship, a treasure trove of trust worth.
Wherever you were, there was harmony, and a breath of fresh air
You were a friend, who never postponed one minute of life
You used every minute to fill ours with joy
I raise my head high and remember
i remember the moment my laughter died
that moment when I asked why
Why are the good, the chosen ones, to suffer for others 'evil
Why do they go first, why do they die young
Why are they now far, so far ?
In that moment of helplessness and doubt
In that moment when faith was provoked
I cried like a child, I didn t need another hero,
I just wanted my friend back
I wanted him so bad to be near, to survive
Once again I raised my head,
I got lost in the sky,
And I swear I saw him with these eyes
And I swear, I heard him with these ears
He said, 'Death is not for the living, I am so much alive '
Then, it was night !
I raised up my head, and a luminous star lit
my once darkened sky with warm breezing light.
Copyright © Cupids Arrow | Year Posted 2015
Meeting my homegirls Wilma Neels
and Kim Van Breda with shrieks and squeals
hasty introductions and we're on our way
for a night of reading at Poetry Café
We've Yasmin to thank for arranging the meet
with fellow Soupers, a veritable treat
Yasmin the sneak had their names withheld
we're apprehensive yet still by curiosity propelled
My fingers are crossed to meet Eileen
fave poetess mine, the Passionate Queen
dare I wish to meet hamsome Ryerson
not to mention Anne-Lise Andresen?
On first glance the café seems somewhat rowdy
from one of the corners a chorus of "Howdy!!!"
heaven help!! I'm rooted to the spot
all my fave poets from the Souper pot
The Queen of Passion, my special friend
Eileen Ghali, an angel heaven-sent
with open arms and that beguiling smile
that's touched us all over thousands of miles
I spot our Father Christmas, Jackie Ellison
Oh my, mercy me, the hamsome Tim Ryerson
then the beautiful being, Anne-Lise Andresen
and our pretty young doll, Anne Poetess Currin
Andrea, crack writer and popcorn freak
and Nette Onclaud, Madame Linguistics
the talented and sweet Leonora Galinta
oh, for a long time I've longed to meet her
There's the much-loved Reach-Out Lamoureux
a stylish gentleman, delighted to meet you
our very own Linda who happiness spreads
memorable the day as Brown Licia meets Red
He who writes poetry with a golden pen
bestest, fantasticest, hamsomest friend
Rich-Heart Seal-ed Door, my bruv from abroad
by his smile I'm bowled over; by his charm I am awed
I'm jumping with joy at my fave poets meet
befuddled, bewildered; who first to greet?
midst the mountain of talent I'm on a positive high
overwhelmed, I simply break down and cry
This one needs a whole lot of polishing and smoothing
out, but I was too excited to submit it. I'll iron out the
crinkles soon. LOVE TO YOU ALL, LICIA <3 <3 <3 <3
Copyright © delysia hendricks | Year Posted 2013
I slipped on a teardrop and landed in muck.
No inkling had I of my future bad luck.
The tear I had cried started out, oh, so small
I’d felt little need to be crying at all.
But crying that one single tear was enough
To bring to me to this! Now my life’s getting tough.
The muck where I landed is not disappearing.
And sometimes these days I can feel my eyes tearing.
I do what I can though to stop tears from flowing.
It doesn’t much matter; the muck just keeps growing.
The muck is becoming a loose and wet sand.
Yes, quicksand! It pulls me. I reach for a hand. . .
Then hands from my loved ones; then hands from each friend.
With so many hands out, this can’t be the end!
The muck turned to quicksand could swallow me whole,
But I must believe that it can’t take my soul.
My family and friends are comfort for me.
Their hands I grab hold of; then strong I can be.
I’ll keep loving life, and I’ll laugh. In a while
The quicksand will have to subside, and I’ll smile.
I’ll next be the one whose comfort gets handed
To one who has slipped on a teardrop and landed.
Written 6/21/16 when cancer befell me and for a few months I felt sad but had the support of many friends and family members!
Now used for Laura Loo's Uplifting Poetry Contest
Copyright © Andrea Dietrich | Year Posted 2016
Though we’ve never met
I comprehend your beautiful words
I feel your pleasant persona
Never a mean word to be said
I ache from your kindness
Making others feel ten feet tall
Picking me up when I may fall
Talent beyond compare
Are you brunette or fair?
But that wouldn’t matter to me
If I never had the chance to see you face to face
Your wonderful personality I could never forget
You’ve help build a community of friends
Steady and true
I wish you peaceful skies of cobalt blue
Fields of flowers brushed in rainbow colors
I pray for love from God above
For you and your family beloved
Know that you touched lives that may not have been touched
You changed someone
And brought me a new reason to write
You’re an inspiration and a friend
And you’ve touched my heart polite
Gratitude pours forth
Written for and about Sharon Weimer !
Copyright © Laura Mckenzie | Year Posted 2009
Listen to poem:
When Do We Start To Live
Collaboration poem: Space Cadet and Darren White
Voice: Wesley C.
How do I know we’ve lived?
If you’re certain then tell me when?
When? When have I lived?
Do I live now?
Is it the tap-tap of my hand against the window;
the drum played by my fingers on the chair?
Is it the slowed back-beat, or the snare drum speed,
under your hand at rest,
on my chest,
in this 2 AM discotheque.
How do we know we’ve lived?
Is it a faint notion, or
movement in my legs:
A lotus reed on my calves
I'd never felt until it tickled me?
How do I know I’m still alive?
Is it when the ice-blue swaddles
me in abyss, of
Or when I’m a borne flutter of this butterfly
crinkled away in my chest
Or as sun rays play
with light and words that tumble,
crumble, and fall to pieces,
in their own stubborn way,
on this paper?
Is it found in a friend’s voice
that pulls me from dark,
penetrates a radiance inward,
up from me, out,
to my face,
ablaze with why I'm here to exist?
Copyright © Darren White | Year Posted 2016